#but i sincerely would like to figure out what i'm doing wrong here

[faggotryandtransjesterism]

this is so distressing but WHERE do people find calories. i'm tentatively trying to keep track of my nutrient intake but even making an effort to add More and eat actual meals, i can't get my caloric intake up to even half of what it should be and i just don't understand where the calories are hiding. the nutrition class i took this semester taught me how much i needed but almost exclusively focused on limiting caloric intake (thank you fatphobia) and i simply. do not know what to do about that

[krytus]

a week ago i was ready to give up on kings blood and today i just finished outlining each new chapter of the restructuring/rewrite im doing 😌.....

[godsfavdarling]

holding him

part of him (one-shot series), my masterlist

pairing: Spencer Reid x gn!reader summary: Spencer shows up at your door after a rough case. words: 1150 warnings: hurt/comfort? (idk. the day I learn to categorize stuff will become a national holiday in vera nation), no y/n!

You were at home, curled up with a book, trying to distract yourself. Spencer had been away on a case for several days. 

You knew his job was demanding and sometimes dangerous, but you couldn't help worrying about him. All you knew was it was a rough one—so rough he didn't even have time to chat with you. 

You had gotten used to his goodnight texts and phone calls each time he was away, to his reassuring presence, and now the silence was making your anxiety spike.

But he always came back. So you waited patiently trying to have good thoughts.

It was past midnight when you heard a knock on your door. You weren't expecting anyone and your heart jumped to your throat as you cautiously approached the door. 

You peered through the peephole and saw Spencer standing there, looking utterly exhausted. His hair was unwashed and his shirt pulled out of his pants. He must have just got back.

You quickly unlocked the door and pulled it open. "Spencer?" you whispered, not entirely believing he was there, standing at your front door this late.

He looked at you, eyes heavy with fatigue and something else you couldn't quite place. His clothes were slightly disheveled, and his usually neat hair was ruffled. 

“Hi. Sorry. I just got back and... I should have called maybe, but I saw a light in your window and figured you weren't sleeping yet…” His voice was soft, tinged with uncertainty.

"Spencer, what's wrong?" you asked, concern evident in your tone.

“Nothing’s wrong. I just missed you. Wanted to see you.” His words were sincere, but his eyes betrayed him.

You still looked puzzled, which made Spencer regret coming here. “Sorry. I shouldn't have come. It’s really late. I’m not gonna bother you.”

“No. Spencer, wait! You are not bothering me. You just surprised me. It's okay. I was just reading. Do you want to come inside? I missed you too,” you reassured him, opening the door wider to invite him in.

“Are you sure?” His voice wavered slightly as if he needed extra reassurance.

“Yes, I'm sure. Please,” you said, your eyes softening with understanding.

“Okay. Um… what were you reading?” he asked as he stepped inside, glancing around the familiar room.

“That book you said I would like,” you replied sheepishly, a small smile playing on your lips.

“Really? And how is it?” He raised an eyebrow, genuinely curious.

He sank into the corner of the couch, his body visibly relaxing but his eyes still holding that haunted look. He leaned forward slightly, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together tightly as if trying to hold himself together. 

“You were right,” you chuckled. “You’re always right.”

He then lowered his head and chuckled, avoiding your gaze.

“What?” you asked, sensing there was more to his laugh.

“Nothing,” he said, but his eyes briefly met yours before darting away again.

“Spencer, please talk to me,” you urged gently. 

You wished Spencer would talk to you more about what bothered him. You understood why he didn’t; you were the same way, always keeping things to yourself, not wanting to bother anyone. 

But there was something about Spencer that just made you tell him everything, always. You wished you could be the same for him, that he could find the same comfort and trust in you. 

You wanted to be his safe haven, the one person he could always open up to, no matter how heavy the burden.

“It’s nothing,” he insisted, but the crack in his voice was unmistakable.

“Did the case end well?” you inquired, hoping to ease him into opening up.

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” he said, and still wouldn't look at you, but you could see the tears welling up in his eyes.

“Spencer…” you whispered, stepping closer.

“What?” His voice was strained, barely holding back his emotions.

“You can tell me anything. Anything you want and need, you know that?”

“I know. I just… don’t want to,” he admitted, his shoulders sagging with the weight of unspoken words.

“Okay,” you replied softly, respecting his boundaries. "Can I hold you?"

He nodded and you sat down next to him and put your arm around him. 

For a while, he just sat there with your arm on his shoulder and your head resting against him. 

He was breathing deeply, and you could tell he was trying to keep whatever he was feeling under wraps, probably for your sake. 

You wished he could just tell you whatever was going on in his beautiful, big brain.

After a while, without a word, he pulled you closer into his arms. His embrace was firm, almost desperate as if he was holding onto you for dear life. 

You held him just as tightly, letting him know without words that you were there for him, no matter what.

You wrapped your arms around him, your hands rubbing soothing circles on his back. "It's okay, Spencer. I'm here," you murmured, even though you had no idea what had happened. 

You just knew he needed you right now.

Spencer buried his face in your neck, and you could feel the tension in his body. He was trembling slightly, and you tightened your hold on him. 

He somehow pulled you even closer, and you nestled against him, feeling his heart beating erratically. 

"Is it about the case?" you asked softly, not wanting to push but needing to understand what had him so shaken.

He nodded, his breath warm against your skin. "Yeah," he whispered. "I just... I didn't want to be alone."

You kissed his temple, your fingers threading through his hair. "You don't have to be. I'm here, Spencer."

He sighed, his arms tightening around you. "Thank you," he said, his voice breaking slightly. "I don't want to talk about it. I just... need you."

You understood. You didn't push for details, knowing that he would share when he was ready. For now, you were content to hold him and never let go.

The two of you sat there in silence, the only sound the ticking of the clock and the occasional distant siren from the city outside. Gradually, you felt Spencer's breathing slow, his body relaxing against yours.

You shifted slightly, pulling a blanket over the two of you. "Do you want to lie down?" you asked gently.

He nodded, and you both lay down on the couch, still wrapped in each other's arms. 

You could feel the weight of his exhaustion settling in, and you stroked his hair, whispering soothing words until his breathing evened out and you knew he had fallen asleep.

As you held him, you realized how much you loved him, how much you wanted to be there for him, just as he had always been there for you. 

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead and closed your eyes, letting the steady rhythm of his breathing lull you into sleep.

[janmisali]

what do you think of tone indicators in general?

unfortunately my thoughts on tone indicators are somewhat nuanced. fortunately, this is tumblr not twitter, so I can just write out my full thoughts in one post and be as verbose about it as feels necessary.

speaking as an autistic person (and I know there are other autistic people who don't hold this same view, this is just my perspective), I think as an accessibility tool, the extended set tone indicators in current popular use is fundamentally misguided.

the oldest ones, /s for sarcasm and /j for jokes, make sense. their notation isn't the most intuitive thing ("does /s mean sarcastic or serious?") but it's not too difficult to explain what they mean. I've had to spend my whole life learning by brute force what different tones of voice mean and what they change about how I'm supposed to interpret something, so I already know what "read this in a sarcastic voice" and "read this as a joke" are supposed to mean. my existing skills can be translated into the new form without too much effort.

the same thing applies to emoji and emoticons. I know what facial expressions mean, because I had to learn what they mean. figuring out if :) is sincere or not from context is a skill I've already needed to develop. it doesn't come naturally for me, but it's something I already at least somewhat know how to do.

most of the tone indicators in current use uh. don't work like this.

tone indicators like /ref or /nbh don't correspond to specific tones of voice. I don't have a "I'm making a reference" voice or a "I'm not talking about a person who's here" voice that I can picture the sentence being read in. these do not indicate tones, they're purely disambiguators. they clarify what something means without necessarily changing how it would be read out loud.

and on paper, that's fine, right? like, it's theoretically a good thing to take an otherwise ambiguous statement and add something to it that clarifies what you meant by it. the problem is that these non-tone tone indicators are not even remotely self-explanatory. it's up to me, the person who is being clarified to, to know what all these acronyms are supposed to mean, and how they change the way I'm supposed to interpret what something means.

it's, quite literally, a newly-invented second set of social cues that I'm expected to learn separately from the set that I've already spent my whole life figuring out, and it works completely differently.

sure, these rules are (in principle) less arbitrary than the rules of facial expressions and tones of voice and how long you're supposed to wait before it's your turn to speak, but they're also fully artificial and recently invented, which means they're currently in a constant state of flux. tone indicators go in and out of fashion all the time, and the "comprehensive lists" are never helpful.

in theory, I appreciate the idea of people going out of their way to clarify what they mean by potentially ambiguous things they post online. if it worked, that would be a really nice thing to do.

however, sometimes I imagine what the internet would be like without them. what if instead of using /s, the expectation was that if you're sarcastic online there's no guarantee that strangers reading your post will know what you meant? what if instead of inventing more and more acronyms to cover every possible potentially confusing situation, we just... expected one another to speak less ambiguously in the first place?

so, I on paper like the idea of tone indicators. I think it's good that some people are trying to be considerate by being extra clear about what they mean by things. but if tone indicators didn't exist, and people who wanted to be considerate in this way instead just made a point of phrasing things more clearly to begin with, I think that would be vastly preferable to even the most well-implemented tone indicator system.

also /pos sucks because there's something deeply and profoundly wrong for an abbreviation that means "I don't mean this as an insult, don't worry" to be spelled the same way as an acronym that's an insult

[carbondioxidewater]

Make A Move (Pt. 2)

americanfootballplayer!Sukuna x fem!reader

genre: slow-burn romance, college au, fluff, angst

warnings: none so far

word count: 2.3k

(-> Pt. 1) (-> Pt. 3) (-> Pt. 4) (-> masterlist)

The next week, you didn't hear anything from Sukuna. You thought that maybe, he lost interest in you, but you should learn just how wrong you were soon enough.

You were sitting in class - it was thursday - and the lecture has not started yet when your former jerk of a group partner took the seat beside you. Great, you thought, of course he had to be in the same course as you.

"Hey." he greeted and you responded back. Then it was silent. Eugh, how awkward.

The door was still open when a certain someone walked past it. Of course, you immediately caught his eyes. He stopped walking and smiled mischievously, when suddenly, he saw the guy next to you, his attention now on your conversation. Sukuna quickly realized that this was the boy you were fleeing from when you two first met.

"You know, it was very rude of you to leave me hanging in that restaurant..." Sukuna heard the guy saying.

"Do you know how embarrassing that was?"

He kept eavesdropping, his brows furrowing with every word.

"I can imagine, I would be embarrassed too." were your only words. Sukuna suppressed a chuckle. He really liked your attitude.

"That's it? You don't even want to apologize?"

"What for?" you asked and met his gaze, indifference in your eyes as the guy went furious.

But before he could speak any further, his aggressive body language was enough for Sukuna to intervene. He came up to you and positioned himself behind the chair of your classmate, roughly pushing it back.

"Hey, idiot. Fuck off, will you?" he expressed loudly, cocking his head up in an order to leave. You looked up in surprise, confusion on your face, because why was Sukuna here?

Your classmate was ready to fight whoever it was behind him, but when he saw that it was Sukuna, he quickly dropped that plan and retreated without hesitation. Bewilderement decorated your face as Sukuna sat down on the now empty seat, staring daggers at the guy before turning back to you.

"What are you doing here?" you then asked, still completely dumbfounded by the current situation.

"What? No thanks?" Sukuna smirked, his whole demeanor changing, whereupon you raised your eyebrows in annoyance. He continued.

"I've witnessed your little talk by chance and figured I should rescue you from that douchebag."

"I could have handled it myself. I don't need a savior." you shook your head.

Sukuna huffed in amusement.

"Oh, believe me, I know that. But why should you worry your pretty little head when this fucker doesn't respect your boundaries anyways?"

You stared back at him.

"It is my duty as a man to hold other men accountable when they step out of line. I can't just turn a blind eye to it, you know. It can get dangerous real quick."

You furrowed your brows at his words, unsure if he was being sincere or if that was just his trick to get women to like him.

"What? Don't believe me?" he questioned at your dubious look.

"I don't know yet." you declared, studying him closely.

"Whoa, I feel like I'm being examined. I should warn you, I'm into that." At that last statement, he smirked again.

"You're into being looked down on?" you laughed quietly, not wanting to cause too much noise as the room was still quite silent.

"As long as it's you who's looking down on me." he murmured and you just watched him, eyeing him up and down.

Then he came closer to you, only inches away from your face now. He opened his mouth and his eyes stopped at your lips, staying there for a while before looking back up and narrowing them.

"Careful inspector, if I didn't know it better, I'd think you want to seduce me."

The smirk on his face widened and you groaned in disgust, waving your hands in withdrawal.

"Okay okay, you can go now." And your voice changed to a faked tone of appreciation. " 'I'm safe again thanks to you.' "

He snickered at your sarcasm and got up when he saw your professor entering the classroom, bidding you goodbye.

"See you soon, sweetheart."

And your heart missed a beat.

After class ended, the universe found it necessary to send Sukuna your way again - or more like - send you his way. One time a day wasn't enough apparently, because as you walked down the floor, who stood there in front of the lockers was no other than the popular boy himself. He was surrounded by a lot of people, a few of them were probably his football teammates, as you distinctively heard them talking about defensive strategies.

When you walked past the group, Sukuna immediately recognized your silhouette and followed your figure with his eyes. It didn't take long and he excused himself, quickly running after you. Just as you exited the building, he stopped you in your tracks.

"Hey, are you off now? It's getting pretty late, need a ride home?" he offered, holding the door open for you.

"Hey," you greeted him, walking through the entryway in perplexion, "no thanks, I'm good." Although you were curious, did he have a car?

"Come on, do me the favor." he insisted and you exhaled.

"Do you think you're entitled to a favor now for playing hero earlier? If that's the case, then-" but he interrupted you.

"No, you owe me nothing. I just want to make sure you get home safe and aren't walking home alone in the dark."

"Wow, I have to admit, you're really good at this whole player thing." you mocked him.

"You think I'm playing with you?" he laughed and then opened his mouth to say something else.

"So, is it working then?" he joked, voice deepening in an instant before you hit his arm playfully.

"Just kidding, just kidding!" he held up his hands in retreat.

"I'm not playing, though. I mean it." he confessed after.

"Well, I don't really know you and I don't get into strangers' cars."

"Strangers'? Ouch." he pressed his hand against his chest in feigned offence.

"Good thing I don't have a car then, though." he smiled coyly which left you confused.

"Didn't you just ask if I needed a ride?" you repeated his words and he swiftly cleared up the small misunderstanding.

"I was talking about my bike." he then grinned, pointing to the spot behind him, where the motorcycle was standing.

"A bike?" you sounded surprised.

"Yeah? You ever been on one?" you shook your head at his question while he got his bike ready. But, admittedly, you always wanted to experience what it was like to ride one. Maybe it wouldn't hurt to accept his offer.

"What? You've never been on a bike? Well, then it's your lucky day today. Hop on." he said, but you were still indecisive.

"And let you know where I live? What if I don't want you to?" you smiled, irony obvious in your voice. But Sukuna played along.

"Your tone alone tells me you live in a dorm. Am I right?" Your smile simply grew and that was all the confirmation he needed.

"Knew it." he muttered.

"So you were speculating about me?" you instantly reciprocated.

"Always." he grinned and handed you over the helmet.

"Here, take mine. I only have one."

"What, and let you drive without one? No, I'll pass then."

"Calm down pretty girl, it's not the first time I do this." Pretty girl. Why did that name fluster you?

"You mean taking a girl with you?" you teased. He just flicked your forehead.

"No, silly. Driving without a helmet. So don't worry about it."

"Oh, so you're allowed to worry about my safety but I can't worry about yours?"

"Exactly." he gave you a teethy grin and your tummy fluttered in response. You weren't blind - he was incredibly handsome. There was a reason he was so popular after all, but up until now, you've never really noticed it, always somewhere else with your thoughts. Your two worlds were fairly separated before, so you didn't bother dealing with him.

"You're cute. Now come on, before we spend the whole evening here. I'll drive extra careful for you, promised." he assured you, half serious half joking.

A pout spread on your face and you were still hesitant, but Sukuna managed to convince you eventually.

When you sat down, he told you to hold on tight. Not knowing where to put your hands though, you decided to place them on his shoulders shyly.

"What are you doing?" he asked next and turned around, a puzzled look on his face.

"Uhm, you told me to hold on tight..." Did he want you to hold onto the bike instead?

You immediately drew your hands back in embarrassment, however, Sukuna was quick to grab them with his.

"You're supposed to cling to me. This way, you just bring me out of balance and risk falling. Here, put your arms around my waist."

That's what he said, but he did the job himself, dragging your arms around his strong built. You could practically feel the muscles behind the fabric, it was undeniable that he hid a sixpack underneath it. Your heart started racing and you hoped and prayed he didn't feel it pounding on his back.

The drive only lasted for about 10 minutes, your dorm was near the college after all, and here and there Sukuna popped a question, asking if you were okay or if you enjoyed the ride.

It was nice of him to keep the conversation going, even though it was difficult to hear him at times due to the heavy wind. When Sukuna tried addressing you once more and only a "huh?" escaped your lips, he laughed whole-heartedly, the contagious sound making you break out in laughter too. In that moment, you felt so free and careless, and you were so grateful Sukuna took you with him.

Sukuna stopped in front of the dorm complex and turned off the engine. He looked up at the building and started speaking.

"So, a dorm girl, huh? You sharing a room with someone?"

"Not a room, but the apartment. We have two bedrooms." you answered and he hummed.

When you walked up to the front door, Sukuna waited on his bike a few meters away, wanting to see you get inside. You searched for your keys, but as much as you were rummaging through your bag, you just couldn't find them.

"What's wrong?" Sukuna yelled.

"I can't find my keys." you admitted, panicking before remembering you left without them this morning.

"Can't you ring the bell?" He asked you and you explained to him that your roommate Utahime was still working.

Making his way up to you, he pulled out his phone, apparently sending some messages. He seemed distracted for a split second before he tucked the device back into the pocket of his pants.

"Where does she work? I will drive you there."

"No. No, you really did enough for me already, I'll just walk there. But thank you, for everything." you tried brushing him off to not be any more of a nuisance, but he wasn't having it.

"I wasn't asking, I'm definitely taking you there." he commanded and his casualness about it had an effect on you. It was so attractive, the way he was chauffeuring you around the city on the single mission to make you get the keys for your apartment.

Arriving at her workplace, Utahime went speechless seeing you coming in with Sukuna. While he was busy with the soda machine, you explained her the situation and she gave you her keys under the condition you let her in later. She obviously couldn't outwardly ask you about him in his presence, so you two communicated via facial expressions. Utahime tilted her head into Sukuna's direction, a flabbergasted look on her. You tried your best to let her know you'd clear everything up later as he already neared the two of you, the prominent silence seemingly suspicious. He seemed to notice the weird atmosphere.

"You guys good?" Sukuna broke the silence.

"Of course! Everything's perfect!" Utahime exaggerated and you pressed your eyes together in humiliation, facepalming inwardly. Sukuna mustered her strangely, taken aback by her overreaction as well. After that, he turned to you.

"Here for you. Saw this drink on your table earlier, you must be thirsty." he reached you the drink he bought and both Utahime's and your mouth fell wide open at this action.

"T-thank you." you stuttered a little and Utahime let out a small laugh she failed to suppress. You sipped on the bottle of strawberry-vanilla soda and then stored it in your bag. Sukuna was simply drinking water.

Leaving the lobby, Utahime was the receptionist in a 3-star hotel, Sukuna and you walked back to his vehicle. On your way, he mentioned the weird ambience inside.

"Your friend is a little odd, isn't she?" he pronounced and you chuckled, nodding your head slightly.

"A little, yeah." you agreed, "but she's the best."

Sukuna looked at you with a soft smile, but you didn't see it.

As you sat down on the bike and Sukuna got the helmet out of its case, you've come to a realization.

"Can I ask you something?" you uttered.

"Spit it out." he permitted.

"How did you know I don't have a car myself?"

He lips twitched upwards.

"I've never seen you in the parking lot. But I've seen you walking around plenty. I put two plus two together." He's so attentive.

"Someone's been looking out for me." you beamed.

"Guilty." he smirked and slipped the helmet over your head, locking the straps. You looked up at him with big eyes and he met your glance, his half-lidded eyes observing what's left of your face. The tension was palpable for the both of you and before it got too awkward, he was already shoving down the helmet visor to escape your eyes.

The ride back was silent, but he still watched you walking through that door before leaving.

Soo here's part 2 hehe! Had to make Sukuna a lil' feminist because he's supposed to have a functioning brain <3. Hope y'all enjoy!

taglist: @miakxn @aureliaborea @nonamevenus , thanks for the support 🤍

[matchadobo]

KIDD; aphrodisiac

wc: 2592

summary: kidd took an aphrodisiac but he suddenly becomes overwhelmingly sweet.

warning/s: 🔞, nsfw, fem reader, married reader and kidd, fluff seggs?

kidd rarely becomes sweet. he's so shy about it he mostly goes tsundere on you when you tease him about it. even during intimate times, kidd always go rough, far from sweet. but not enough to hurt you though. you'll always have bruises and hand and bite marks across the surface of your skin each time you two finish. he's always proud of it, not that you mind it anyways. as a matter of fact, you love it.

so it baffled you, froze up your nerves from head to toe as kidd latched onto you with the sole need of warmth and cuddles in the middle of the day.

it happened one sunny afternoon, the heat was slowly becoming unbearable as the clock approached three. you were in the middle of a conversation with one of the girls since kidd and the boys went out for a drink. yes, they do this often in the middle of the day.

it didn't occur to you that they had already returned, not before kidd crashed by the couch and grumbled on your skin as he pulled you closer in an abruptly it elicited a squeal from you, cutting you off midsentence.

"missed you." he mumbled on your skin, almost sounding unintelligible as he slurred from the liquor that wafted from his mouth. "you smell nice, really nice." he gave your shoulder a peck, nuzzling his nose deep at the your collarbones where your perfume was most concentrated.

you guys were left alone by the crewmates you were initially talking to, sensing the possible escalation of events. heat rose up to your cheeks and you tried fighting the sudden spiking of your heart rate, but his firm grip on you only made your situation worse.

"what's up, kidd? are you... did you have too much to drink?" you tried looking down to search and meet his eyes. he looked at you with a half-lidded gaze, pools of amber saturating his irises yet not a speck of soberness evident.

"somethin' wrong with snugglin'?" he cocked a brow, a pout following after. "thoughtcha like the part where i cuddle and shit. well, you're in luck, bonnie. i'm cravin' one and i don't plan on lettin' go."

where's your lover and who possessed his body at this moment? kidd would NEVER say this even at gunpoint. he always says those soft lovey dovey shit you bring up is not his thing, but he never deprives you of it of course. he just doesn't initiate it on his own. which led you to believe that he was indeed not the romantic type.

"drank this thing- 's new and the barista recommended it. 's the kind you always order so i figured tryin' it. a gin and tonic, strawberry flavoured. too tame for me at first, walked here fine. but as soon as i saw you, think it kicked in." he narrated languidly, sometimes slurring.

you snorted, from the flow of his speech and the absurdity of his claimed cause for his behavior.

"so a strawberry gin and tonic made you act all cuddly?" you asked, stifling a smile and laugh.

"not only that, dove." his flesh hand stroked the bare skin of your thigh, riding up under your skirt until it teased the thin fabric of your panties. "'s not only the cuddles i want."

spit got stuck on your throat and you coughed a bit. feeling his fingers poke at the top of your cunt made you sweat a little bit.

"w-we shouldn't-" you tried standing up, but he held you securely on your place.

"why?" his voice was gentle, sincerely curious with a genuine glint of begging in his eyes. "'s my ship. i'm the captain. you're my wife. my sweet, angel wife. anythin' wrong messin' around in 'ere?" his hands dug deeper to palm your cunt, one of his fingers poking in with the cloth rubbing inside you mildly. "you look extra nice today so wipe that frown of your face, aye? or else i will." his kisses peppered your arm down to your shoulder.

"what's gotten into you? you're suddenly so... clingy and sweet." you squirmed under his touch, furiously stifling the moan that pleads to come out of you. the pace of your heart was also parallel with the rapid thoughts in your brain. puzzling questions that were prompted by kidd's sloppy kisses down to your forearm and onto your hand, especially close to your ring finger.

kidd reached over to your ear and whispered, "somethin' in me is screamin', it's beggin' to just come out to bend you over and fuck you here in front of the crew. but at the same time, i also can't let you go because i'm dyin' for you. you're drivin' me crazy, bonnie. when your hair is tied up like that, with your damn perfume's extra pungent, and your clothes fittin' a little too tight. it is all too much for me. and maybe you're right, i had too damn much of that gin and tonic i'm starting to get real dizzy." he pinched his temples, the gruffness of his voice mediated the beat of your heart into a much faster pace as the red in your cheeks into a darker hue of red. "but i know that as a matter of fuckin' fact, i am mad for you and your body. i want to keep touchin' and playin' the hell out of it. i feel different and you have somethin' to do with it. i'm most definitely not lettin' you go."

you took a deep breath as the symptoms somehow correlate with the town's special you saw on one of the banners by the docks. "this is quite possibly the craziest thing to ever happen, but did you drink an aphrodisiac?"

"why does it matter?"

"an aphrodisiac heightens sexual desires, kidd. fucking hell, did you not even ask the bartender?" you latched off away from him, trying to sober him up. but you know damn well that's not gonna cut it. you need to fuck it out of him.

"that must be why i'm rock hard right now, or is it the way you're beratin' me?" he reached for your hand once more, stroking your knuckles down to your nails before placing a kiss on it.

you sighed heavily, running fingers through your hair. now you have to deal with his state of heat. not that you hate it.

"aaah don't go angry on me now, aye? why don't we bond a little? lately, we've got our own shit going on. 'bout time we catch up, whatcha say?" he snakes his hand around your waist, gripping firmly as he rested his head on your mounds. "maybe this aphrobullshit finally brings us together so help me out here, hm?" he dragged your hand atop the tent of his pants, his boner painfully growing big and suffocating at the restriction of his clothing.

"since when do you fucking speak like that? you're acting...kind. i'm anxious." it's a joke, but it really does unsettle you. and intrigues you.

"am i?" a smile gradually curved up his lips, studying your face as he inched closer. grinning as he found you adorable at your dubious expression. "what are you thinkin'?"

"i gotta deal with your bullshit again, huh?"

kidd chuckled as a response, scooping you up in a bridal carry towards your shared quarters. not minding the lingering and following glances that comes your way. moreso the scandalous remarks on his menacing boner he didn't give a fuck how obscene it looked as he marched across the deck. all he wanted was to gaze at your shy and laughing state.

he sat down at the edge of the bed before settling you on his lap, something different and foreignly gentle for him. he trailed kisses by the curve of your jaw, sucked softly on your pulse, and warmed his cold hands on your body under your shirt.

you recoiled a little from feeling ticklish at his light touches, if it weren't for his support on your back, you would've fell.

in hopes of servicing him too, you started grinding atop his length. but he stopped mid kiss to stop you.

"mm-mm, no need for that, bonnie. you can stay put." he started. "i want you to keep it nice and steady. keep it between your folds, aye? ain't it more intimate?"

"intimacy, huh? i didn't think you'd have any romance in you. usually, i gotta force it into you."

"hm? think you can handle it now?" he tucked your hair at the back of your ear before having a steady hold on your jaw and cheek as he connected lips with you, smiling as he did so.

sex with kidd will always be fast paced and eager. clothes don't even act as a barrier, he WILL fuck you even in it. but right now, he did everything slowly as he took his time unbuttoning your shirt. he felt your skin up, detaching his lips away from you just to plant kisses on your chest and arms.

tossing the garment away, he worked his hands up to the hooks of your bra. he clicked them off skillfully, with months or even years of practice from your past intercourses. as your breasts came unrestrained, he held each one and sucked on the bundle of nerves one after the other.

you swallowed hardly, pressing his head further in your chest. the sound and feel of his kisses messed with your mind. he was carnal yet calm, he had you under a firm grip yet his touch and movements were soft. he didn't bite you as hard as he usually does and instead focused on making you feel good.

he stood up and turned around while still carrying you in a stable manner, his lips still glued on peppering your chest. he then placed you down the mattress; yes, placed you down gently at that. as oppose to what he usually does, which is throw you down the bed. not that you mind that bit, adds a bit of spiciness in your bedroom adventures. but his tenderness has somehow tinged at the way your heart beats.

"you're a little too gentle now, it's scaring me." you remarked, giggling a little at the way he smiled back. "part of me thought all you knew was to slam me down the bed."

"seems like you miscalculated. enjoy it while it lasts, aye?" he carried on giving service to you as he lets his kisses cascade down your abdomen, pinching your skin a little at the squishy parts.

kidd slid your skirt off along with your soaked panties. kissing your ankles up to your shin, and your thighs in such a soft, baby touch. his fingertips gliding smoothly down your lower extremities as he grazes his lacquered nails gingerly down your sides. as if he's exploring your body the first time.

"i-it tickles!" you squealed a little, knees folding as his touch scratched a laugh out of you.

he smiled against your skin while he neared your cunt. he placed his hands on your groin and started kissing your sopping core vertically. he closed his eyes, soaking in the flavor of you. you threw your head back and shut your eyes, tugging on his hair as he retained his relaxed pace in drinking you up.

but his hands kept grazing tenderly across your body. he can't get enough of touching you it seems. until he finally lost his patience, not even letting you cum. he stood up and gave his length a few pumps, spitting on it to lube it up.

"really? missionary?" you asked, panting as you try to recover from your high and brace yourself from what's about to come. "you never do this, baby. it's fine. i don't know what craziness that gin and tonic filled you up with but i know you won't want this position to satisfy that painful boner."

"somethin' wrong with doing your favorite position? and hey, we did this plenty of times! on our honeymoon and...on your birthday..." he looked away, embarrassed at his conclusion. kidd really is an ass man after all, why else would he want to not see his favorite part of you during sexy times? much more when he's craving it tenfold?

"look, the aphrodisiac won't go away if you don't cum. or even relieved of that sexual fever you have. we can do reverse or doggy, it's oka-"

"enough yappin'. i may not see that blessed ass of yours, i can cum very well enough if i just see you whorin' over my cock, aye?" he grinned, it's like the old kidd was back all over again. except his voice was somewhat kinder, devoid of that gruff and coarse tone he always holds during sex coated with commands.

and so he began. as the first stretch came, both of you took a deep breath. no matter how much you two do it, it still drives you to the ends of the earth at how incredible he stretches you out. he settled until the head of his cock touches your cervix, making you squirm a little; a habit of his. grinning at you as he did so, proud of what he did to you.

he propped himself up with his arms so he could be close to you and you wrap your legs around his waist, pressing him deeper in you. he even choked at the feeling with his cock getting squeezed inside.

"ready?"

"since when does eustass kidd ever ask?"

then it felt like your honeymoon again. or the night you two first fucked. when he first slides it in and you two share an exhale at the impact, same as now. he made sure to press foreheads with you, looking you deep in the eye as your agape lips barely touch and brush against each other periodically.

"y-you are so fuckin' tight, we oughta do missionary often, aye?" he fisted the sheets beside your head.

"that's on you, you'd rather see my ass." you choked out, rolling your eyes as he tried adjusting himself and your walls started tightening around him. "so s-shut up and start moving."

he laughed a little, linking fingers with you before finally pacing back and forth. he took his time sliding in and out of you, not enough to cause friction at his pace nor overstimulate you. he wanted it to be slow, to look deep in your eyes as he watched you drift into that state where you go completely stupid over how good he fills you up.

"all it took was a damn drug to make you go sweet, is that it?" you smiled, fingers latching off of his grip to reach over and hold his face between your hands.

he blushed more than usual, his eyes are a little glassy, his ears are redder, and his movements stuttered. after all, his length was throbbing a little too hard in you.

"hey, i'm sweet." he got defensive. furrowing his brows as he inched back a little, seeming to be offended at your remark. "i-i'll take you out tomorrow, dinner. maybe watch somethin'. buy you those shoes you want, or a nice dress. then we'll take a bath by the tub, buy some wine and tulips or somethin'." he looked away, hiding his face and the way he's beet red right now.

"oh my god. i'm about to get a whole barrel of that gin and tonic, kidd!"

this is totally canon i know so 😤

[myunconquerablesoul]

His Favored.

r.sukuna x fem!reader

Warnings: historical au, mentions of violence (towards an OC, but never us. Not even Sukuna is allowed to abuse us!), mentions of blood, mentions of wanting to kill someone, mentions of someone hanging, nudity (reader is a concubine), it gets steamy in the end, but nothing too detailed. (I think) Sukuna is soft(?) in this one.

Wordcount: 3.445 (I would like to say I'm sorry, but I'm not)

Fanart

The servant lays in a bloody mess before you. He was not dead, but you were sure he wished he'd be by now.

Sukuna is staring directly at you. His attention was no longer on the poor soul.

His hands grip your cheeks, and the others hold your wrists. 

"I told you," Sukuna says, voice low, "to not speak to that servant, or there would be consequences."

He lost his temper today. He has seen you talking to that lowlife, hidden in one of the many hallways in his estate. And as if that wasn't enough, that peasant tried to pull you into his embrace. Forcefully.

Looking back, it was a miracle for him to be still alive.

"Now, why would my concubine disobey my orders just like that?" It was simply inexcusable to him for anyone else to speak to you the way he did when it wasn't any secret that you were, clearly, the curse's favorite.

"The servant... he..." He saw your eyes drifting to the servant again. Nervous. You were in an inner battle with yourself. He had secretly planned to whisk you away from Sukuna's estate so you could have freedom and independence.

You'd felt his kindness and sincerity toward you in the short time you'd known him. You knew he meant well, but it was already too late.

Sukuna, on the other hand, felt that you were hesitating to tell him. Not only that, but you were trying to protect that poor excuse of a man.

It made him want to kill him right on the spot. 

Then he abruptly let go of you and turned his attention back to the poor soul. You felt the shift in the atmosphere immediately. You knew that if you did not do anything right this instant, the man's head would be rolling around the floor within seconds.

You were trying to figure out what to do. 

If you asked for it to stop, your master would get the wrong idea and kill the man without hesitation. You were sure of it.

"My lord," You had to try to defuse this situation. "may I ask for us to speak privately?" If not for the sake of the man on the floor, then for your sanity. 

"I will tell you everything, but please... alone." Sukuna stopped in his tracks upon hearing your request. 

If it were anyone else's request, no, others would not dare to. They only dare to speak to him when he addresses them. But you, you were always a particular case for Sukuna. 

For a moment, you were met with nothing but silence. You feared that you had made everything worse and sealed the servant's faith. 

But then, without warning, Sukuna turned back to you, grabbed you by your wrist, and led you out of the throne room.

You did not dare look back to see if the servant was alright. Knowing it would end in unwanted bloodshed.

"Uraume!"

You haven't even noticed Uraume standing there. But you weren't given the time to properly acknowledge them, as your shared master dragged you forward.

"Ensure that the filth's wounds are taken care of, and lock him in his room until I decide what will become of him!" He spat.

Sukuna leads you to his room.

It wasn't the first time you were here, but the first time you didn't know the outcome of what would happen. 

The curse let go of you after sliding the Shoji shut. He leaves you standing in the middle of the room. Sukuna's dark eyes meet yours.

"Explain." He didn't yell. 

For a moment, you believe you would've preferred if he did. It was a painful reminder of how patient he was with you. Of how much you could get away with.

"The servant wanted to take me away from here. I told him that I wanted to stay. But he kept pressuring me."

Sukuna leans against the wall, staring at you with a dangerous, hungry light in his eyes. The fact that you wanted to stay was good. He likes it when you're obedient.

"I never wanted to leave you, my lord." You got down on your knees and bowed until your forehead touched the ground. "Please, you have to believe me."

Sukuna looked at you for a long moment. He lets out a low growl, stepping up to you so that he towers over you. "Prove it, concubine."

"He wrote me letters. I can show you." You were still looking at the floor. You knew you had to be careful. If you say something wrong, misstep, or accidentally anger him more, the servant won't live to see the next day.

Sukuna raises an eyebrow at that, curious. "Show me."

"They are in my chambers."

Sukuna steps back, ordering you to stand and lead the way to your room.

"Here."

Sukuna sat on your bed as he took the letters and unfolded them. But before skimming each word, he takes a good look at you. 

You stood there with all your might. There's not a bit of fear in your eyes, just concern. 

Ever since your village offered you as an addition to his harem, the curse felt that there was something about you. Sukuna felt a strong pull toward you, an attraction he had never felt for someone else.

"The servant, Yuto, told me a week ago that he fell in love with me and asked for my hand." You studied Sukuna momentarily, wondering if mentioning his name was wise.

Sukuna, however, didn't pay any mind to that. Instead, he tried his best to conceal his surprise. 

He thought that you would try to protect the lowlife. Try to convince him to let him go, but you tell how things were - nothing but the truth - without concealing anything.

"I told him that I didn't feel the same way. But he wouldn't give up. I didn't want to cause too much attention towards this."

You didn't feel alarmed per se. It was just very out of character for the curse to react the way he currently was. He was too calm about all of this newfound information.

Sukuna chuckles at that. "Or were you too afraid?" tone mocking.

"I was afraid of what you would do to him." He raised a brow at that. So, you elaborated a bit more. "He does not deserve to die because he fell in love."

When he hears your words, his eyes darken again. Sukuna eyes you, and you can tell that his thoughts seem elsewhere.

"You're right." As you watch him, he gets up from your bed and approaches you to stand directly before you, towering over you.

"One does not deserve to die for simply falling in love, dear concubine."

Standing before you, you could now practically feel the bloodlust radiating from him. 

"But trying to steal someone else's property, especially when said property belongs to me, the king of curses, is where every human with minimum survival instincts may draw the line." he spat, full of venom.

You averted your gaze from him. You knew he was right. You, too, could not understand where Yutu's boldness came from.

But then again, love does blind people.

"That bastard deserves to perish for even thinking he had a chance to get away with it." now that was more like the Sukuna, you know. 

You felt smaller with every passing second, and you could no longer think of a way to save the servant's life. 

When you looked down on one of your master's hands, you could see the letters in a tied grip. The papers were utterly wrinkled. 

Not that it mattered.

"Or is it perhaps that my dearest concubine grew close to that poor excuse of a man and began to like the idea?" 

Your eyes snapped to him in an instant. "I didn't grow close to him. I didn't even like him." you desperately needed him to believe you.

"If that were the case," Sukuna counters, "why did you keep these letters?" 

You immediately began to shake your head. "I never let him believe he had a chance. I always told him that I belonged to you, my lord." The way Yuto kept insisting the past week made you uneasy; even remembering it made you feel uncomfortable.

Sukuna then gently stroked your hair - a silent apology after noticing your growing discomfort. 

He didn't mean to talk to you in that tone, but the mere thought of you being possibly interested in someone other than him-

"I kept the letters because I wanted you to believe me when I told you."

The curse nods, seeming to accept what you're telling him. It pleased him that you were thinking about telling him. "Good girl." His fingers slip down to your chin, stroking it gently.

"I wanted to tell him to stop today, but then you saw us, and- you know the rest."

Sukuna nods, his fingers still caressing your chin. "Indeed... but I want us to go over our boundaries again, dear concubine. I should not have to remind you what happens when you speak to other men besides me."

"No, my lord." you felt the room lighten up again, and for a moment, everything seemed to return to normal. "You should not worry; I will never accept a man who claims to love me. I know my place." you tried to brighten up the mood. But then-

"And if I was the one who loved you?" he asks, tone turning dangerous. "What if I was the one who desired you? Would you have given me your hand?" Sukuna looked at you with his intense eyes again. Something hidden behind them, something you could not read, but your heart answered before your mind could comprehend what was happening.

"I would."

Sukuna considers you for a long moment, his gaze boring into yours. 

"I know you to be loyal and obedient, and because of that, I am not as concerned... but I need you to make this promise regardless." Sukuna leans closer to you, his eyes dark and fierce. "If another man speaks to you, you will tell me. No secrets, no hiding that from me."

You nod at that, still not trusting your voice enough. The thought that the king of curses could be jealous and possessive of you made you smile a bit.

Sukuna smiles at you and strokes your cheek and hair. "Good girl, you look beautiful when you smile."

He still didn't know what to do with the servant, but he knew he had had enough of this useless conversation.

His tone shifts again, voice low. "Let us not dwell on this further. Shall we go to bed?"

"Whenever you please."

Sukuna laughs softly, his tone playful and flirtatious. "Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," he teases you as he pics you over his shoulders and takes you back to his chambers.

Of course, he could stay here and take you right then and there, but he wanted to spend the night in comfort with you. 

"Here, let me help you out of these things."

"Yes, my lord."

Sukuna removes your dress, leaving you in a thin chemise. He moves behind you, his hands slipping to the laces of that piece of clothing, his breath warm on your skin.

It feels all too domestic to romantic. And somehow, you can't seem to shake something off your mind. You weren't sure what would become of the servant. But something about your conversation with your master seemed to be off. 

"My lord, may I ask something?"

Sukuna hums. "Ask away, dear concubine."

How should you put it? This road you were taking could lead to death, but on the other hand, you needed to know. So you took a risk.

"You asked me if it were you who'd love me."

Sukuna momentarily stops what he's doing. "Yes, I remember..." a dangerous glint enters his dark eyes again for a moment, but it vanishes as quickly as it does. "Continue, dear concubine."

"I- if.. if it's not too bold of me to ask."

The last concubine who dared ended up hanging in the backyard as a reminder of your status - a reminder never to seek more. It would be best never to forget that your only purpose was to satisfy your master's needs.

"Speak. I'm listening," Sukuna tells you softly, hands returning to work on your laces. His eyes trail down the curve of your neck to your back, lingering momentarily.

He knew where this was going. Today was indeed a day full of surprises. 

"Do you?" there it was. a silent question. He never thought that you would pull through.

Sukuna's fingers freeze on the remaining laces of your clothes, his hands stilling. "... Do I what?" he asks cautiously.

"Do you love me?" The curse didn't know what to say first. He could deny it and proceed as if nothing happened, but the way your voice calls to him like you were hoping for some miracle.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he finally replies to you. "...I do."

"You- you Do? But- you have so many beautiful concubines at your service. So many women who'd willingly offer themselves to you…" your voice lost confidence, turning smaller with every passing second.

"None compare to you," Sukuna promises, voice soft and genuine. "None have a hold on my mind like you, my dear concubine. I do not feel for them what I feel for you."

Sukunas's hands slip to your waist and work on your laces again. "Do you think you could come to love me as I have you?" he asks.

It takes you a moment to respond. Sukuna is uncharacteristically patient with you. 

"When that servant first told me about his feelings for me, I told him that my heart already belonged to someone else." you reply breathlessly.

"And who, pray tell, would your heart belong to?" Sukuna murmurs, voice low. The laces are almost finished, the thin chemise the only thing separating you from Sukuna's touch.

"Can I be so bold?" 

Sukuna hums, a low grin curving his lips. "Yes."

He pulls the last lace free, the garment falling at your feet. "Tell me, dear concubine, whose heart do I have?" he questions eagerly, turning you around and looking straight at your eyes.

"Mine."

Sukuna smiles at you, his eyes shining brightly. "You are truly a good girl," he exclaims, a voice full of affection. "But that answer proves what you knew all along, doesn't it?"

Sukuna begins to move against you, his hand now caressing your cheek, and he leans down towards you as if expecting you to kiss him. His dark eyes are locked on yours as if looking for your consent.

You give a slight nod.

Sukuna cups your face in both hands, his fingers gently pushing your hair out of the way. He moves slowly, not breaking eye contact until your noses and lips are all but touching. His breath is warm against your skin, your heart racing.

"Is this what you want, dear concubine?" he whispers, low and sultry, full of desire for you.

"Am I allowed to speak what I truly want?"

Sukuna chuckles in response, voice low and breathy. "You do know that I allow you to say whatever you'd like, don't you?" he questions you, still close to you that the two of you are almost kissing. "So, speak your mind, dear concubine."

"I- I want to be more than just a mere concubine to you, my lord."

Sukuna stares at you for a long moment, eyes heavy with consideration. "And what more would you like to be to me, dear concubine?" he whispers, looking down at you. "Do you wish to ascend past this place of yours... to be on equal footing with me?"

"I would never dare to ask such things."

"But, if I were to offer them to you, would you accept... dear concubine?" Sukuna's voice is low and husky.

There's promise there, hope, and a little bit of lust. You've been a good and loyal concubine, not one to ever ask for more than what you've been given, and he rewards loyalty.

"What if I allowed you to become my equal?" it all sounds too good to be true. 

"Then- then I would be selfish and accept."

"There is nothing wrong with being a little bit selfish," Sukuna reminds you, his fingers running through your loose hair.

"You deserve this, my dear concubine. You have been loyal and obedient for as long as you've been here. You deserve to be treated as my equal."

Sukuna's eyes gleam, his gaze lingering on you in a way you hadn't known him to do before.

"You are more than just a servant," Sukuna says, voice low.

"I'm willing to give you a new title, my dear concubine..." he pauses, taking a deep breath before he continues.

His gaze is locked on yours, his eyes sparkling with love and lust. "I want to make you my wife."

"W- wife? As in- in your lady?"

"You will be my lady, yes," Sukuna tells you, voice huskier as he speaks. "My dear, loyal wife. And I will be yours. You will be queen alongside me."

"Your body belongs to me," he adds. "But in every other regard, you will be my equal. We will walk among the humans together, as their rulers, in love, in trust. And I will grant you anything you desire... no matter how dark."

"I- I don't know what to say."

"Then do not say anything," Sukuna tells you. He lifts your face towards him until your lips are almost touching. "Show me with your actions how you feel about this, dear concubine."

"Show me what you feel," he adds, voice low. His gaze is heavy with desire for you, and your heart pounds in your chest, heat rising to your cheeks at his words.

Sukuna is kissing you passionately, his hands tangled in your loose hair and pulling you closer. You can feel the force behind the kiss, the want and need from the curse, which sends your body into chaos. He moves a hand down, driving up your body with purpose. They continue moving upwards, over your ribs and chest, to cup your breasts, squeezing them gently before they caress you.

"I want this. Everything you're willing to give. I want to be selfish. I want you, please…"

Sukuna responds to your words by deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer to him. He's no longer in the mood for words, his hands sliding up your curves to your neck, pinning you to the wall. 

He's gentle, despite the force of his kiss, and he makes sure he doesn't hurt you — but there's no denying he wants you, and you can feel the lust spilling from him as he pushes his body more and more onto yours.

Sukuna groans into the kiss. Your mouth is against his, your lips and his moving back and forth to satisfy this thirst between you two.

He breaks from the kiss and stares at you with soft eyes. His smile is heavy and filled with love, and he leans to press another kiss against your lips. "Then, from today on, dear concubine, you will be my wife."

"You are mine," Sukuna says to himself, too lost in this moment. "My wife, my love. No longer my concubine, my subject, but my equal."

He trails more kisses against you, those of love rather than lust. They are soft and gentle as if he's promising you only the best.

When the two of you are breathless, Sukuna carries you toward the bed. Your heart flutters within your chest as if you're in a dream come true. He lays you upon the bed, and his lips are again moving against yours, soft and gentle, full of love, as if he's worshipping.

He pulls back to look down at you, his eyes heavy. He is long gone. Body and mind filled with nothing but pure ecstasy. "Mine."

"Always yours, my lord." The curse's tone was possessive and full of devotion. It made you breathless to think that was all for you.

Sukuna's eyes locked with yours, his every movement designed to be as erotic as possible. His kiss is heavy, and how he moves against you is enough to force a moan from your lips. His fingers explore your body, moving lower slowly so that you are practically panting by the time he reaches his destination.

"Let me love you in every way possible."

[strrykais]

control alt + love [k. seungmin]

16. lets go home

seungmin huffs watching you laughing it up while dancing on the table. you look down at jeongin, as he is ushering you to come down. you pretend to either not hear or see him continuing to dance. sighing, seungmin walks further into the club, sneaking up on an exhausted jeongin.

“it’s fun being the older one huh?” seungmin says face brightening when he sees jeongin’s face.

“you are barely one year older than me and no it's not. let's kick her out so i can be the baby again.” jeongin says falling back onto the couch. 

you finally brought your attention to the looming figure behind you. smiling at him with a big grin, “captiann!” your drunken voice rings out. seungmin gives you a small smile before motioning you to get down. you shake your head, going back to your previous activity. 

you hear him call out your name, turning your body to face him. seungmin grabs your hand, yanking you down, throws you over his shoulder.. your face heats up when you feel his hands on the back of thighs, hitting his back thrashing around trying to escape his hold.

“quit moving your gonna flash the world. and i'll let it happen." seungmin says whipping you around so he can look at jeongin.

“i'm taking her home, can you make sure her friend is okay and then get the others home please.” seungmin doesn’t even give jeongin a chance to reply as he is whipping you around again. pushing yourself up, you see jeongin with a knowing smirk while giving you a thumbs up. removing your hand from seungmins back, you lifted it up, flicking him off.

seungmin walks you both out of the club, his hand reaching up holding down your dress, as you continue to fight him to put you down. 

“you aren't going to keep me like this the whole way home? i think being upside down is making me more drunk.” you giggle out, seungmin huffs out. stopping he gently puts you, turning and kneeling down pointing to his back.

“get on my back, you can barely stand.” he says. “let's go home, yeah?”  you nod, reaching over to place yourself on his back.

the walk home was quiet, seungmin could hear your shallow breaths. he would occasionally look over to see your eyes closed and head swaying. you stirred digging your face right up into his neck. seungmin stilled, he could feel your lips right on him. he felt his ears getting hot. trying not to pay any mind he rushed up the path, wanting to get you off of him as quickly as possible.

chan was in the shared space when seungmin walked in through the front door. 

“oh hey, i see you got her home. where are the rest of them?” chan smiles at seungmin with a twinkle in his eye.

“don’t know they were right behind me. should be here soon. i'm gonna take her to her room.” seungmin says turning to head up the stairs when he hears chans call out.

“why are your ears so red?” chan questions getting up to get a closer look before he could seungmin scoffed, and quickly ran up the stairs not caring that his haste was bobbing you around, waking you up. 

“i can walk from here, min.” your voice scared him, he nodded crouching down to softly put your bare feet on the cold tile. getting up he hands you your heels, turning to walk away. you reach out grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“thanks for carrying me, and holding my shoes.” you give him a smile, leaning up to plant a small quick kiss on his cheek, rushing to your room and closing the door.

seungmin was stuck in that spot for a longtime, slowly placing his hand on his cheek. he couldn’t exactly place how he was feeling in that moment.

“bro what are you doing standing here?” minho voices makes seungmin jump up glancing to see his hair a mess and his shirt buttoned wrong.

“fun night.” 

“oh you have no idea.” 

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tags: @onlyhyunjin @15092000volcano @chenlesfavorite @hippopotamusdreamer @vegetablesarefuntables @soondoongdoriii @jeonginplsholdmyhand @nappynapnaps @sincerely-sun @staytinyluv @kimseungminpabo @seungzsmin @sweetasmarie @hinanitiram @tricky-ritz @ayyonoona @hanniemylovelyquokka @toplinehyunjin @missystay @binniesbabe @tirena1 @jihoons-kitten @skz-ot8-stay @darlingz99 @khandzilla @icouldntcareless22 @rihaee @kikieatsfood23 @hvnverse @sillyhal @livixcore @dazzlingjade @h0rnyp0t @drewsandsebastianswife @jabmastersupriseee

[mcflymemes]

PORTAL 2 PROMPTS *  assorted dialogue from the 2011 video game, adjust as necessary

when life gives you lemons, don't make lemonade! make life take the lemons back! get mad! i don't want your damn lemons!

best case scenario, you might get some superpowers. worst case, some tumors.

science isn't about why. it's about why not.

the next test is very dangerous.

before the wright brothers invented the airplane, anyone wanting to fly everywhere was required to eat 200 pounds of helium.

to help you remain tranquil in the face of almost certain death, smooth jazz will be deployed in three... two... one.

please disregard any undeserved compliments.

all right, i've been thinking.

what am i supposed to do with these?

do you know who i am?

oh, i like this guy.

he says what we're all thinking.

you can head on back to your desk.

well, this is the part where he kills us.

hello. this is the part where i kill you.

i know you.

no! i'm not listening! i'm not listening!

you're lying!

you're not just a regular moron. you were designed to be a moron.

i am not! a moron!

now who's a moron?

could a moron do that?

i can't see it though. maybe it fell off.

do you want to go and have a quick look?

are you alive? that's important. should have asked that first.

i'm going to work on the assumption that you're still alive.

i'm just going to wait for you up ahead.

i'll wait one hour.

brilliant! go team!

i think we can put our differences behind us.

hi. so. how are you holding up?

good, that's still working.

here are the test results.

you are a horrible person.

i'm serious. that's what it says.

we weren't even testing for that.

don't be alarmed, all right?

good work getting this far.

i wish i could take it all back. i honestly do.

i'm in space.

if i were ever to see her again, do you know what i'd say? i'd say "i'm sorry." sincerely.

i am sorry. i was bossy and monstrous... and i'm genuinely sorry.

you made it through! well done!

okay, follow me. we've still got work to do.

what's happening?

okay... don't move.

so i've got an idea, but it is bloody dangerous. here we go.

they told me that if i ever turned this flashlight on, i would die.

they told me that about everything.

i don't even know why they bother giving me this stuff if they didn't want me to use it.

look at you, soaring through the air like an eagle.

i'm different!

prometheus was punished by the gods for giving the gift of knowledge to man. he was cast to the bowels of the earth and pecked by birds.

it won't be enough. the answer lies beneath us.

oh, it's dark down here, isn't it?

i'm proud of you.

now we are a family again.

that last test was seriously disappointing.

just work with me.

some of my best friends are actually orphans.

you look ugly in that jumpsuit.

that's not my opinion.

i'll be honest. we're throwing science at the wall here to see what sticks.

no idea what it'll do.

i knew someone was alive in here!

you'll know when the test starts.

oh thank god you're all right.

i thought you were my greatest enemy, when all along you were my best friend.

the best solution to a problem is usually the easiest one.

i'll be honest. killing you? is hard.

i had a pretty good life. and then you showed up.

you know what? you win. just go.

it's been fun. don't come back.

this sentence is false.

to be honest, i might have heard that one before.

you know, i'm not stupid.

i realize you don't want to put me back in charge.

i'm being serious. i think there's something really wrong with me.

we should get our stories straight.

no, we're not stopping!

don't make eye contact, whatever you do.

i feel awful about that surprise.

oh, that's sad. but impressive.

we're running out of time.

you've probably figured it out by now, but i don't need you anymore.

i'm afraid you're about to become the immediate past president of the being alive club.

the square root of rope is string.

okay, what you're doing there is jumping.

you know what? that's close enough.

you saved my bacon.

is this a jailbreak?

the next test is very dangerous.

it's been a long time. how have you been?

i've been really busy being dead. you know, after you murdered me.

you out having yourself a little adventure?

no, don't get up. i'll be right back.

you're unqualified!

what if this hurts? what if it really hurts? oh, i didn't think about that.

get your hands off me!

i can't see a thing! what just happened?

i don't have any bullets.

did you feel that?

you were busy back there.

that's funny. i don't feel corrupt.

i've got an idea! do what it says!

look how small you are down there!

do you have any idea how good this feels?

sorry, fellas. she's married. to science.

let me answer those questions with a question. who wants to make sixty dollars?

yes, all right, okay, this is getting tiresome.

well done. good. aren't you little miss clever. little miss smashy smash.

does it actually make you feel good when you do that?

it's not impressive.

what is this, like a hobby for you now?

i'm beginning to actually take it personally.

it's like an insult to me.

oh, there goes another one.

it's vandalism! it's pure vandalism!

it's just us talking like regular people.

are you going to open this door?

where'd you go? come back!

[unnameablethings]

Dead Ringer

Word count: 4k Rating: M for Mature Category: M?/F

Content Notes/Tags: Offscreen/implied domestic violence, non-graphic sex, misogyny, gun violence, horror themes.

Summary: Gemma is the isolated and miserable housewife of a man who hunts monsters. She doesn't know much about her husband's work, but she knows enough about her husband that when he comes home warm and smiling and kind, she knows that whoever or whatever this is - it's not him. -

There were things of John's which Gemma kept well out of. The long road trips he would vanish off on for weeks at a time with no notice, the hush-hush phone calls he would take out in the backyard late at night, pacing along the fence line, gesturing, body contorting in tension. The dreams he would wake up screaming from. The liquor cabinet. The trunk of his car, full of rock salt and guns and iron.

Gemma had become accustomed to the art of incuriosity. John went out to kill the things that went bump in the night, and he was doing it all to keep her and the baby safe. He told her that, sometimes, when he'd made her cry. Said it like a threat, like a bite, like it was supposed to mean she wasn't allowed to cry. It wasn't her job to know what he did out there, only to be patient with him when he came back colder and meaner and drunker every time.

Gemma was washing up at the kitchen sink when she heard the car pull into the driveway. There had been a time in their marriage when she would have run to the door to greet him, to kiss him hello, to run her hands over his arms and his body to check that he was safe, he was whole, he was well. Today, her stomach clenched. I thought he would be gone longer, she thought.

But the baby was sleeping, and the dishes weren't done. She kept her head down and scrubbed stubborn fragments of baked cheese off the bottom of the casserole dish and practiced a welcoming face to greet him with when he came in the door, tried to figure out a way to tell him to keep quiet without him taking it wrong.

The keys rattled in the lock. The door opened. Not with a great burst of force, but something slower and wearier. Gemma turned to him and smiled, a practiced curve that she worked to make reach her eyes. When John came in, he had his bag slung over his shoulder in the same way he always did, but he paused in the doorway and looked at her for a moment in a way he hadn't since they got married. He smiled, warm and tired, and said, "I've really missed you, Gem."

It hurt her in a way she hadn't expected. She hadn't missed him at all - she was a horrible wife - he really did love her - she couldn't believe she'd ever thought I wish I knew how to leave him. (She had seen the guns in the trunk. She had heard the ragged desperation when he said he'd kill anything at all in the world that wanted to take her away from him. Her parents had been killed by the same vampire he'd saved her from, and then he'd taken her a thousand miles away to put her alone in a town where she didn't know anyone.)

"I missed you too, baby," she said, and her voice shook. The tears in her eyes must have been taken as tears of love or sincerity, because he came to her and cupped her cheek and leaned in. She braced for his mouth, rough and possessive on hers. The kiss landed warm and dry and gentle on the center of her forehead.

"God, I'm starving," John said, and turned to look in the fridge. Gemma's stomach clenched again, waiting. She'd made a big batch of baked ziti for her to eat all week, but that wasn't the sort of thing John liked when he came back from a trip. He wanted meat and potatoes, a real solid stick-to-your-bones sort of meal.

"There's nothing made up," Gemma said, quickly. "Just pasta - I'm so sorry, I thought you'd be gone another couple of days. I can make something for you real quick, here, let me just-"

"That's alright, sweetheart," John said, putting out a steadying hand. "I've got it." And he got out the eggs and the tail end of the cheese block and the spices and half an onion and made himself an omelet. Every movement was slow and careful, like he was having to think about where his hands would end up. He must be real tired. He seemed a lot better after he'd devoured the whole mess with a healthy dash of hot sauce, more animated, but the whole time quiet and civil. He smiled at her again when she took the dish to wash, and thanked her.

"I could sleep for a week," he said, and went upstairs and unpacked his own bag and showered and put himself to bed. Gemma stayed downstairs for a while, lingering over the dishes, wiping down the stove. When she opened the fridge, she stared at the line of cold bottles of beer she kept ready for him. None were missing.

This wasn't John.

Obviously.

Something had stolen his face and his voice and was living in her house where the baby was and sleeping in her bed and she was going to have to go upstairs and lie down next to it.

It didn't even know how to be John so it probably didn't even know she had noticed anything was wrong.

It ate an omelet, she thought, staring at the drying dishes. It's not going to eat the baby. If she just played along, she could probably keep herself and the baby safe until the real John got back, or - or until she could figure out what else to do.

She went upstairs and got ready for bed, quietly, trying not to wake up the sleeping impostor. Then, slowly, she got into bed beside it, and lay awake in silence, listening to it breathe. It didn't even snore like John had, just breathed, long and slow and even. Its body was relaxed next to hers, loose and warm.

At some point she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to John missing from beside her, and the sound of the baby crying. The room was dark, disorienting. Her heart jumped hard in her chest, adrenaline jolting her out of bed before she remembered that it wasn't even John. She went for the baby's room without a plan or a thought, just the terror-fueled desire to stop it from doing whatever it was planning to do.

The door to the nursery was open. The impostor stood inside it over the crib, holding the baby. It spoke low and quiet in John's voice. "Shhh, Danny-boy, I know you're hungry," it said. "Hush now, don't wake your mama, she didn't sleep well. Let's go see if we can rustle up a bottle, alright, baby?"

"John, give me Danny," Gemma said. Her voice shook. Danny twisted in the impostor's arms when he heard her, crying, his arms outstretched.

The impostor handed him over. His smile was apologetic. "I thought I'd let you sleep in a bit. Poor little guy won't settle for anything but his mama."

The statement made her cold, for a moment, but there was no rage behind it, no bitterness. It wasn't John. "He loves his daddy, he just knows who can give him his breakfast," Gemma said, taking Danny into her arms. Danny's crying redoubled as soon as he was safe in her arms, his little wet face turned to press into her shirt and ooze on her, mouth gumming at her ravenously. She turned away from the impostor before she pulled her shirt up to let Danny latch onto her breast. This wasn't her husband, and it was not for him to see. "You can go back to bed."

"You sure?" the impostor asked. "There any bottles made up for if he needs em, later?"

Gemma shook her head. "Really, it's alright, you had a long drive," she said, keeping her head down.

"Alright," the impostor said, after a moment, and pressed a kiss to the nape of her neck that made all the skin on her back crawl.

As soon as the door shut behind the impostor, she took an enormous, shaky breath. She did not cry. She knew a lot of ways not to cry, now. She stared dry-eyed at the floor as Danny nursed. He was safe. She would keep him safe. "It's okay, baby," she whispered to Danny, over and over. "I've got you. You're going to be okay."

Somehow she got through the day, and the next day, and the next. She kissed back when the impostor kissed her good morning, and was horribly grateful he never pushed it beyond that. The kiss was bad enough. It felt like cheating on John at the same time as it was John. He'd be furious when he got back.

If he ever did come back. The longer the days went on, the less it felt like there was anyone coming to save her.

And with every day that went by, the impostor kept being… not particularly dangerous. It spoke calmly and kindly to her and to Danny, always. It went out and mowed the lawn. It took out the trash. It played with Danny. It did the laundry. It went to the grocery store for her, and when it came back from that it had stopped somewhere along the way and gotten her sunflowers.

When it handed her the sunflowers, she touched the petals with bewilderment. "These are my favorite," she said, and couldn't help but let her voice rise in a question at the end. John had gotten her roses before, when he had really fucked up and didn't know how to apologize. Roses and roses and roses, but never sunflowers.

"I know," said the impostor. "You wear that apron with the sunflower on the pocket all the time." Then, his voice changing, half concerned, half laughing, "Oh, honey, are you crying? Come here," and somehow she found herself collapsed into the impostor's arms, sobbing inconsolably. He didn't even smell like John. The impostor smelled like leather and laundry detergent and a little like sweat, but nothing at all like rust and stress and whiskey.

"I love them," she sobbed, and the impostor kissed the top of her head and murmured "I love you," into her hair. She didn't ask him where he had gotten the money. She'd never asked John about the money, either. It came from somewhere, and that was all that mattered.

The sunflowers went in a vase on the table, and she cooked impostor-John dinner that night from the groceries he'd bought. He liked protein - meat and eggs and cheese - the same way John had. Impostor-John also liked spicy food, though, and more salt than John had liked, and bitter-flavored things like brussels sprouts and asparagus which John wouldn't have even touched. Danny got a mushed-up brussels sprout to try at the table, and impostor-John laughed with real humor as Danny screwed up his little face at it and announced his immense displeasure and then hurled it onto the ground.

"You'll grow into it, kiddo," impostor-John reassured him, and bent down and wiped up the mess with a paper towel before Gemma could even get up.

By the time the sunflowers wilted, Gemma knew John was never coming back. The day she realized it, she took a long shower and used the sound of the water to cover up her crying. When the hot water ran out, she felt hollowed-out and worn through, but clean. Like her lungs had been full of tar for years and she'd only just remembered what it was like to breathe air. It wasn't John, and nothing would ever be the same, but she would survive this, the same way she'd survived everything else. And she and Danny would be alright. Maybe even safe.

When she came out, her husband was sitting on the bed with the lamp on. He wasn't even pretending to read a book, just waiting up for her. His expression was tired and gentle. Concerned, like maybe he'd heard her cry. The look shifted to surprise as Gemma let her towel drop and crawled into his lap.

"Oh, hello, gorgeous," he said, his hands coming to rest on her hips. There was the barest hesitation, an uncertainty. "You're sure?"

"The baby's asleep, we have time," she said, deliberately misunderstanding, and straddled him. The sharp intake of his breath relieved her of any worry that he didn't want her. This was for the best, then. This was good, this was right, this was how she could keep herself and the baby safe, and keep her husband close at hand and loving her.

It turned out that her husband was better at that than John had been too. Attentive and gentle. He touched the stretch marks on her belly and thighs and breasts with a tangible sense of awe, took clear joy in coaxing her to come. He closed his teeth harmlessly around the curve of her neck and shoulder as he made love to her, and she thought she could feel the points of them a little sharper than they should be.

She started calling the impostor Johnny after that, and her husband never asked why, just kissed her and answered with a ready "Yes, ma'am," whenever she started a sentence with "Johnny, will you please."

When he moved too quickly and she flinched, or when she apologized to him too much, or when he said something a little too like John might, he was careful with her. Apologetic, gentle. She always told him it was alright. They never talked about it. He wasn't John, and John was never coming home, and as long as they never talked about it then everything would be alright, and they could live in this sunlit honeymoon forever.

Nothing good had ever lasted for Gemma, and everything broke eventually. She wished she felt surprised when this broke too. A big rusty pickup truck came roaring up to the house one night. Gemma stared at it through the window, and thought nothing. Only perfect blankness, a deer in too-bright headlights, the engine sound deafening. Loud enough that Johnny came running from the other room.

"Fuck," he said, when he saw the truck through the window. She'd rarely heard him swear, since he came to them. He did even that differently than John did. Crisp, even-toned. Almost matter-of-fact, though she could hear strain under it.

"It's Bill," Gemma said, distantly, in case Johnny didn't know. "Your friend you used to go on all those hunts with. You remember."

Johnny looked at her, and she looked back, and all of the things they didn't talk about stood between them, every prickly edge of them pressing, ready to draw blood. He said, heavily, "I remember."

Outside, the truck parked. The engine shut off, and the headlights. Gemma could see the silhouette of Bill coming up the driveway.

Gemma wiped sweating hands on her skirt and said, "I think you'd better go check on Danny. I'll get the door."

"I think you'd better go check on Danny," Johnny said, gently and firmly. "And don't come back out until I tell you."

Bill knocked. Gemma went numbly to answer it.

Johnny said, very quietly, "Baby, you don't want to see this."

Gemma ignored him and unlocked the door and opened it.

"Bill?" she asked, and the confusion was real. It was alright he could tell she was scared of him. She'd always been scared of him. "John didn't say you were coming!"

"Is he here?" Bill demanded, incredulously, and then his eyes rose and he saw Johnny standing behind her. "Boy, why the hell haven't you been answering my calls?" he demanded, and shouldered his way past Gemma as Gemma melted out of the way. "I thought you were dead."

"After the shit you fucking pulled on me?" Johnny said, and it was John's voice, thick with rage and ugly violence. Gemma's blood froze in her veins, her heart hammering. "You just ditched me with that fucking thing. You wouldn't have thought I was dead if you'd fuckin' stuck around to help me finish the job. The drive home was hell after."

"Oh, so you decided to be a petty little bitch about it?" Bill snarled right back, and came crowding right up into Johnny's space.

Bill reeked like John always had, cigarettes and booze and rust. It was too familiar, too close. Bill and John had duked it out in the living room before, loud and ugly and terrifying. Come to blows, staggered off both bleeding and swearing up a blue streak, and then she would catch them later, talking like the closest of old friends, shoulders pressed together, not looking at each other.

"I decided to spend a few months getting my fuckin' head on straight," Johnny said, and shoved Bill back, hard. "I've got a wife and a fucking baby now, I can't be running off with you all the time to take potshots at ghosts. I'm done. I'm not fucking doing this anymore."

Gemma watched that hurt Bill. Saw the way it cut him open, like maybe he would have preferred if John was dead. "Bullshit," Bill spat. "Bullshit! You fucking love hunting. You've been married years, and what, it's suddenly a fucking problem for you? You can get cunt fucking anywhere. You'd rather stay home and play house with fucking Gemma than come out and save lives?"

Johnny punched him in the mouth. It sent Bill staggering back, blood on his lips, and Gemma shrieked, startled. "Don't you ever," he said, and his voice was low and furious. "Don't you fucking dare talk about my wife like that. I'll put a bullet through your fucking head. Keep her name out of your filthy fucking mouth, you worthless son of a bitch. We're done, you hear me? I don't ever want to see you around here again."

Bill touched his mouth, looked at the blood on his fingers. Then he reached inside his coat and Gemma saw the flash of metal as he pulled out a knife. She gasped, and Johnny said, dangerously, "The hell you planning to do with that, Bill?"

"It's silver, John," Bill said. "You're not acting like yourself. And I'll forgive you for it - I'll fucking leave you and your wife alone," His voice came out wrong, strained and cracking. "But do me a favor and prove to me you really are him."

Gemma's stomach dropped. Johnny stood very still, looking at Bill and at the knife. The air was thick and airless.

"I would have noticed if he wasn't my husband," Gemma said, voice wavering. "You're being ridiculous, Bill."

"Yeah, well, you don't know him like I know him," Bill said. His voice had some awful, heavy triumph in it. "That's an awful lot of hesitation, John."

Johnny sighed, a long, low, rattling breath. "Give me the fucking knife," he said, and held his hand out for it. Time seemed to slow. Gemma didn't know what happened to the sort of thing that Johnny was when he touched silver, but Bill would know, and then he would kill Johnny right here in the living room, and there would never be sunflowers in that vase on the table again.

Gemma turned and hurried out of the room. Behind her, she heard voices rise again, heard the gasp of pain, heard a great crash. Gemma ignored it the best she could as she keyed in the code to the gun safe and got out the shotgun. John had taught her how to shoot, back before they were married, so she could keep herself and Danny safe while he was gone. She checked to make sure the gun was loaded. It was.

There was a sheet of glass between her and the world. Somewhere underneath it all there was sick terror, but her hands were steady on the gun grip.

It was the way she'd felt when her parents died, when John had pressed an iron cross into her hands and told her not to let it go no matter what he or anyone else told her. He'd had to pry it from her hands at the end of the night while she screamed. Tried to fight him. Lost. Cried about it, even when he told her he'd killed them all.

John wasn't here anymore. She cocked the shotgun and went back into the living room.

The coffee table was lying on its side. Blood was splattered across the ground. Bill was sitting upright, straddling Johnny's body. He had the knife in both hands, and Johnny's hands were locked around his wrists, preventing him from stabbing down. His arms were shaking. Bill's shirt was soaked in blood, torn where a knife must have gone through.

Beneath Bill, Gemma's husband didn't look much like John at all anymore. Didn't look much like a person at all. He was bleeding too, his hands around Bill's wrists blistered and burning. Her gorge rose. She couldn't stop staring at him, at Bill, at the blood.

Bill's eyes darted sideways, the whites of them showing, a panicked animal. "Fuck, girl, what are you waiting for, shoot it," he said.

Gemma raised the shotgun and fired.

The noise felt like the house coming down. Armageddon. It made her ears ring, made the startled outburst of the baby's crying from upstairs sound muffled in comparison. The force of it, unexpected, knocked her off balance, sent her stumbling back to collapse. She couldn't even scream as she saw what the blast had done at point blank range. It just came out as panicked, stuttering wheezing. She dropped the gun and pressed both her palms over her eyes and shook with adrenaline.

There was movement, then. The dragging, heavy sound of someone hauling himself to his feet, staggering over to her. Strong arms came around her to hold her, and her mouth opened and she wailed like Danny was wailing. "We're alright, baby girl, we're alright," Johnny said, tired and heavy. She could feel blood soaking through her shirt where he was holding her.

"I killed him," Gemma sobbed.

"You did," Johnny said, after a moment.

"You killed him," Gemma said, and meant someone else entirely.

The pause that time was longer, heavier. "I did," Johnny said.

"Why?" She meant why'd you kill him, though she could guess. She meant why be my husband, and couldn't guess at all.

Maybe being the thing that Johnny was meant he understood people better than John had. Johnny held her tighter and kissed the top of her head and said, "Didn't like how he treated his wife." It was enough.

Gemma laughed, horrible and wet and shocking herself. Maybe someday she'd ask out loud. Maybe someday he'd tell her. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be alright," Johnny said. "I don't go down easy. You go upstairs and shower and see to the baby, I'll clean up down here. Alright?"

"Alright," Gemma said, and meant it. In a moment she would go upstairs and clean herself up and soothe the frightened baby, and in a while maybe Johnny would come upstairs and shower himself and bandage up his wounds and then crawl into bed next to her. All of the nastiness down here would be gone, because Johnny would have cleaned it up for her. They'd maybe end up having to replace the carpet, but then they would just be living here happily in the house that John had bought for her.

"We should move," she said.

If it caught Johnny off guard, he didn't say so. "We'll move, then," he said. "I love you."

"I know," Gemma said, and turned and kissed him. "I love you too," she said, and went upstairs. (Resurrecting my ANCIENT fucking pinglist. from SIX YEARS AGO. I GUESS. I don't know if any of you even still exist but hey if you're alive and liked me SIX YEARS AGO. maybe you will like this. @trishaloach @toastyhat @acefruitloop @skye07 @m1sosazai @yoyoendlessstring @blue-tomatoes @catsfeminismandatla @lady-redshield-writes @alhena09 @emanonnosrep @je11yfish-queen @gingerly-writing @dramaticvoiceover @writingmyselfintoanearlygrave @authorisada @reciclingbin-blog @lushprocrastinatrix @timeenoughforamasterpiece @tedrakitty @haphazardlyparked @kiwisoap

@silver56 @pacifiedperoxide @kooncat @severe-fangirl-syndrome @startledserpent @dhawandyke @50-shaeds-of-fae @stritt @dorianelle @linariuswrites, @somber-fae)

[jandthecrow]

Eggs & Bacon

Simon Ghost Riley x Reader

SUMMARY: Morning after a eventful night Ghost makes you breakfast

CW: soft!Ghost(???), morning after sex, SFW, heartwarming, should be gender neutral(tell me if it’s not lol), domesticated!simon ghost riley

The first rays of sunrise had crawled through the window, casting a soft glow across the room.

You stirred, your body heavy with the memory of having slept so deeply, the scent of Simon - leather and the faintest trace of gunpowder - lingered in the air. You shifted under the sheets, feeling a smile tug at your lips as the events from the previous night flashed through your mind. It had been… perfect.

You stretched, cozy in the aftermath of a night spent in his arms, and just as you started to stand from the bed, you heard the sound of dishes coming from the kitchen.

You rolled out of bed and padded barefoot down the hallway. The smell hit you first, something delicious: eggs, bacon, maybe pancakes. You blinked, still half-dazed, as you reached the kitchen and saw him standing at the stove.

Ghost. Your Simon Riley. He was wearing his black t-shirt and sweatpants, his skull mask missing so only his ruggedly beautiful face remained. His back was to you, his large frame filling the space as he worked with surprising skill. The image of the hardened soldier who could take on any mission with cold efficiency seemed so wrong right now. Instead, the man standing in front of the stove-cooking breakfast-looked like someone ready to care for the person he loved.

Morning," you said, your voice still hoarse from sleep.

He turned, his face softening when his gaze landed on you. That rare, almost blinding smile was tugging upwards. "Morning," he replied, his voice low, gravelly, as though not to break the silence of the morning. "How'd you sleep?"

You smiled, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. "Better now. You're making breakfast?

He nodded, turning back to the stove, where a sizzling pan of bacon and eggs was cooking. "Figured I'd take care of you. After last night… you shouldn't have to do anything today."

You raised an eyebrow. "You know you don’t have to do this for me, right?"

Simon shot you a look over his shoulder, eyes dark but soft in such a way that only he could manage. "I know you're perfectly capable. But I want to do it. You've been through enough. You've got enough on your plate as it is, the least I can do is help around.”

It was just a statement, but it meant so much more. He wasn't talking about breakfast anymore. He was talking about everything: the nights you spent apart, the missions he couldn't tell you about, the burdens he carried in the silence of the world. And here, in this moment, he was making sure you didn't have to lift a finger. It was just so… Simon.

"Well, you're doing a good job," you said, stepping closer, trying to hide the way your heart squeezed at the sight of him so effortlessly taking care of you. The man who'd walked through war zones, survived hell on earth, and now? Now he was making sure you had a hot breakfast.

"You should see the way I handle MREs," he said with a smirk, flipping the bacon with military precision. "But I've been practicing. Can't have you thinking I don't know how to cook."

You laughed softly, and leaned against the counter as you watched him work. "I've got to admit, I didn't expect this when I met you."

He shrugged, still looking into the pan. "I'm not always the guy you think I am."

There was a silent sincerity in his voice that would catch your breath. You knew him better than anybody, saw the parts of him no others ever would, and sometimes it still surprises you. His kindness, how he'd always make sure you had what you needed, even down to the smallest things-like making me breakfast after a night of passion-was something I hadn't expected when you first met him.

You stepped closer and slid onto one of the chairs at the kitchen table. "You're something else, you know that?"

Simon glanced over his shoulder, that rare smile tugging at his lips for the second time this morning. "Only for you."

He sets a plate in front of you: scrambled eggs, crispy bacon, buttered toast, and a warm cup of coffee. The smell was addictive, and one could tell he'd made it with care. Your stomach growled in appreciation as you picked up the fork.

"How did you make it so…. well?" You asked, cutting into the eggs.

"Like I said," he replied, his voice softer now, "I've been practicing.

You took a bite, savoring the flavors. “Well, I’ve got to admit, you’ve bested yourself.”

Simon leaned back against the counter, arms crossed, watching me with a look of contentment. He was so used to being the one giving the orders, the one who does the protecting, but this? This felt more him than anything. Caring, thoughtful… loving. He was letting you see all of him and you were falling harder every day.

You'd just finished breakfast, and as you looked up at him, your heart squeezed. "You really don't have to do this, you know."

He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "I want to. Don't argue with me on this."

You smiled and put your fork down, rising to your feet to close the distance between you two. "You're something special, Simon Riley.

His gaze softened and he pulled you close, brushing his lips over your forehead. "Not special. Just yours."

And in that moment, you knew you’d never let him go. Because Simon, the soldier, a deadly lieutenant, the man who would fight to the death for those he loved - he was also the man who believed you shouldn’t have to do anything for yourself because he’d do it for you.

And you could never ask for more than that.

[bxyp]

Could you maybe do something with a ftm reader who has a lot of scars and tattoos especially on his back and like Ghost sees him shirtless for the first time? Without Ghost knowing your trans? And it just being fluff and a little bit of angst?

If you don't feel comfortable doing this its okay!!

Sincerely: a very cool person

His priority is your well-being, not some scars you have.

Summary: You have been shot, and Ghost, as your comrade, helps you treat the wound. What could go wrong?

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x FTM Reader

warnings: SWF content, "Ghost" '22, transphobia is mentioned, post-surgery scars are described, military, soldier! reader, blood, wounds were mentioned, reader gets shot.

word count: 592

Being transgender in the military wasn't easy. Sneaking into the shower right after everyone had left to just take a shower, just without anyone knowing. Just to make sure no one judges or looks weird. It wasn't easy in the army. The service here was even harder…

Being wounded in the line of duty was not unusual, even the best soldier could receive a scratch. And even now you are leaning against some old tree in East Asia. Things never go according to plan, that's part of the job.

Eyes barely open, this job is not for the weak. That's why you clench your teeth while Ghost starts pulling you out of your gear to put bandages on your gunshot wound on shoulder. Of course you wish you could do it by yourself but right now you priority was to not get infection.

"Keep your eyes open, soldier." Ghost’s harsh tone didn’t let you relax even for a second, which was probably for the best. He didn't pay much attention to your tattoos or scars, figuring he could take a closer look at them once he stitched you up.

You feel his gloved hands slowly pour the alcohol onto your shoulder. Sharp pain simply drowned out all your thoughts. Every cell of your body felt like it was on fire. "Fuck! Be gentle, I’m bleeding.” You spat as soon as you unclenched your teeth. Everything hurt so much, your mind could barely focus on one thought.

"I'm well aware of that." He said that once he found the nearest piece of cloth to cover the bleeding, he would help you get to your feet and get to the nearest evacuation site.

He picked up the radio and said something, but you could barely hear what. Only thing you got was that he said that you had been shot and you both needed to evacuate as soon as possible. He probably said something else, but your head hurt, along with that damn shoulder that felt like it was being cut off, slowly, piece by piece. His skillful hands quickly tightened some fabric on your shoulder. And without giving you time to come to your senses, he picked you up, throwing your good arm over his shoulder. “The evacuation helicopter will be there in a few minutes. Get back on your feet."

You both slowly walked towards the place Ghost lead you to. Only now did you remember that he probably saw your scars… Those top surgery scars that you covered with everything you could. Those scars that you hid. These white lines are right under your pecs. You worked hard to make them hard to see. But neither cream nor some beaty products could remove them. A constant reminder of who you were born…

Anxiety rise in you, your stomach became a tight knot. You're afraid that he saw the scars that you tried to hide. “So, about what you saw…” You were afraid he might tell someone. The military was not the most acceptable place. Here you will have to fight not only on the battlefield, but also earn your place among others.

“I don’t care who you are, lad. My job is to keep you alive, not to pry into your personal life.” His words can be harsh and cold. But you don't see any condemnation here. He considers you his equal. Ghost wasn't the nicest person, but he wasn't an asshole who treated you differently just because you weren't like him.

The rescue helicopter was visible in the distance…

MAIN MASTERLIST | AO3 | TWITTER

𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥. ℑ'𝔪 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢 ℑ'𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢. ℑ 𝔨𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔞 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔣𝔣 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔶, 𝔟𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔱 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔱'𝔰 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯.

[pleasurebuttonwrites]

Irritated

Matt Murdock x F!Reader | Explicit 18+ | 2.2K

Summary Cooking for Matt goes all wrong and your insecurities come out.

Warnings smut, oral (f receiving), angst with a happy ending

A/N First time writing for Matt. The perfectionism was strong with this one - this has been sitting for months and I'm finally posting.

~~~

The cloud of smoke is quickly filling the apartment. You had turned the burners off, but the charred mass in the skillet is still sizzling. You crank the vent hood fan on high, and open a window. It isn’t enough.

—

As he’s racing home across the rooftops, the smell singes his nostrils. His body is exhausted but it gives him a dose of adrenaline before he realizes that it’s not a fire, just a burnt dinner.

Dinner? At this time of night?

That’s when it dawns on him. The smell is coming from his apartment. Maybe it’s my neighbor, he hopes with half-hearted optimism. With the way his night has gone, he doesn’t think he’ll get that lucky.

—

You’re fanning the smoke out of the window, using one of Matt’s law document tomes in Braille, when you hear the door to the roof. You speed up your fanning, as if that will in any way remove the smell from the apartment.

His footsteps are on the steps now and you turn to apologize — with some self-deprecating humor to relieve your anxiety — when you catch the irritation on his face. Cautiously, you say, “I’m sorry about the smoke. I was just trying to cook and I don’t know what—”

“It’s fine.” He cuts you off with words a little too flat and forceful to be sincere.

That familiar feeling washes over you. You had expected it to happen sooner or later, and here it was. He was finally figuring out that you were more trouble than you were worth.

He tosses his mask on the chair and yanks off his gloves, his mood infecting every motion. Without another word to you he retreats to his room and closes the door behind him.

—

From the other side of the door, Matt catches the way your breath hitches, hears you gather your things and walk out. He wants to stop you but the devil still has a hold on him and he knows he could only make things worse now.

He knew this would happen sooner or later. He knew he’d drive you away. Took longer than he thought it would. He tells himself the smart thing to do would be to let you go. Just let it end here.

But he hears your footsteps on the pavement outside. You’re walking home instead of taking a cab. He throws a shirt and pants on over his suit, and chases after you.

—

You only make it a block before he walks out of the shadows and strolls along next to you, not even winded from catching up.

“You shouldn’t be out here alone. You could get hurt.”

He says it so matter-of-factly, resentfully even. If he’s there out of real concern for you, rather than a sense of duty, he doesn’t show it. You say nothing to that and he doesn’t speak again.

The walk seems to take longer under the weight of the silence between you. When you finally get to your building’s door, you unlock it quickly and step inside. You don’t even look at Matt as you push the door closed behind you. But before it can latch, he catches it.

“Sweetheart,” he begins. “I’m sorry about the way I— the way I acted. It had nothing to do with you. I had a shitty night and I should’ve cooled off before coming home.”

When he puts it like that, it makes you seem unreasonable. Softly, apologetically, you say, “No, you should get to cool off in your own home.”

The words you’re not saying hang in the air between you but you feel too foolish to speak them so instead you stand there in the doorway, picking at your nails, looking down at them instead of him. He reaches out and stills your fidgeting, his warm hand enveloping both of yours. “What is it, sweetheart? Will you talk to me, please?”

Your first instinct is to lie, but the way he subtly turns his ear to you lets you know he’s listening to your heartbeat. Your pulse picks up just from knowing he’ll know if you lie.

You let out a sigh. “I just— I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

His brows furrow and he lifts his chin. You wait for him to prompt you but he’s going to keep silent until you tell him everything. He’s stubborn like that.

You remind yourself that he actually wants to know. He’s asking you for the truth. You take a deep breath, gearing up for an act of trust, and you let it all spill out. “All I do is make everything worse. I mean, I don’t bring anything to this relationship. But I thought maybe I could make you a nice meal. Then I’d be good for something. And that blew up in my face. Almost literally.”

A thick silence follows and you think he must be struggling and failing to dispute anything you’ve said. But you realize you’ve read it all wrong when he says in a quiet and deadly voice, “You think you don’t bring anything to our relationship?”

That voice — his devil’s voice — never fails to light a fire inside you. The sudden heat on your skin makes the night air feel that much cooler, and you shiver. His nostrils flare as he inhales deeply, taking in all the ways your body has reacted to him.

He steps forward into your building, and you step back. “It seems I haven’t properly showed you how important you are to me.”

As he advances, you back down the hallway. You can’t take your eyes off his face. The naked desire, the grim determination, the devil stalking his prey. You nearly collide with the staircase banister, but he gently guides you out of the way with a hand on your hip. One he doesn’t remove until you get to your door.

He plucks the keys from your hands and feels for the right one before quickly unlocking your door. It swings open but you both stand at the threshold.

“Matt,” you begin. As much as your body is begging for him, you feel guilty that the whole situation got turned around. You were trying to prove something to him and now he’s the one putting in the effort. Again. “I just feel like I haven’t yet earned your love.”

He hangs his head, exhaling his frustration. “First of all, you don’t need to earn my love. Secondly, if you even think for one second that you don’t deserve it, then I’ve failed you.”

“No, stop! I’m the one who fucked up, okay?” You storm past him into your apartment. He follows you inside, shutting the door behind him.

He draws in a breath to say something, but thinks better of it. He nods and says simply, “Okay.”

It’s the way he gives in that has you on alert. He never just gives in; he’s planning something.

“Make it up to me, then,” he tells you.

“How?”

“Take off your pants.”

“Matt—”

“I said, take off your pants.”

“That can’t be all I’m good for.”

“Sweetheart, I promise you we will find a way for you to feel deserving in this relationship. But right now, let me surround myself with your scent so I can get this smoke out of my nostrils.”

How were you supposed to think straight when he says things like that to you? You really wanted to give him what he wanted, but it didn’t feel right. “Well then that’s just you doing something for me again and I still can’t give you anything.”

He flashes that grin he uses during cross-examination when he’s about to tear the prosecution’s case to shreds. “You wanted to feed me. Now let me eat.”

—

You don’t know how he does it. But as soon as you stopped protesting, he had you naked with your ass at the edge of the couch and him kneeling in front of you.

“Spread your legs for me,” he says in a low, soft voice. You do as he says. He takes one deep breath and whines, his tongue flicking out over his bottom lip. “I can already taste you.”

He starts on your thighs, pressing kisses from your knee to the hinge at your hip all along the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You feel the heat of his breath pass over your cunt before he kisses his way down to your other knee.

He’s doing it on purpose. Taking his time and lavishing you with kisses. Giving again. The guilt washes over you. “Matt—”

He shushes you just as the pad of his thumb brushes at your entrance, collecting your slick before sliding up to your clit. Your eyes roll back into your head and your words die on your lips. He applies just the right amount of pressure as he works circles over your sensitive nub. You whimper at his touch and he gives a satisfied hum in response.

It feels so good yet it’s not enough. “Matty, please.” Your voice is barely even a whisper but he hears you loud and clear. He lifts his thumb to his lips, moaning as your taste hits his tongue at last.

You expect to feel his mouth on you but instead he brings his hands together and says, “Bless us O Lord and these Thy gifts—”

“Matt—”

His name is no sooner from your mouth than his lips wrap around your clit, and you cry out from the pleasure. His skilled tongue slides through your folds and dips into your entrance. You clench around nothing, pushing more of your juices onto his greedy tongue. You don’t have to worry about making a mess on the couch. He’d never let one drop of you spill.

You honestly don’t know which of you are making more noise. He’s so vocal even with his mouth as busy as it is. He grunts and moans with every exhale, and every inhale is a heavy intake through his nose — when it’s not pressed into you.

Your hand, outstretched at your side, grips a throw pillow, the stuffing clumped beneath your palm, your fingers wrinkling the fabric. Matt clamps his hand over yours — while his tongue continues swirling — and guides you to the crown of his head. You grip a fistful of his hair and instinctively pull him even tighter to you.

His moans muffle but grow more desperate. In truth, you try hard not to make more sound than your breath, just to catch every unhinged noise of his.

You’re so close now. You can’t help but raise your hips a bit, humping his face as his tongue works you over. The vibration of his growl sends you over the edge. No matter how quiet you’ve been trying to be, the force of your orgasm rips pleas from your lips. “Matty…fuck! Oh, Matty, hngh…”

As you come down from your high, you loosen your grip on his hair and he slowly pulls away from you. You take in the sight of him. A bit of his Daredevil suit peeks beneath his shirt. His hair is mussed, hairline damp with sweat, and his mouth and chin are coated with you. He licks his lips and smiles and it’s totally unfair how pretty he is just like this.

You let your head fall back, your breathing slowly returning to normal. But the drop in your heart rate coincides with the rise of your thoughts, and the feelings of guilt, shame, unworthiness. You don’t know why you can’t just accept his love. But no matter how much you try to trust that he means what he says, you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve fooled him somehow. And he’s going to wake up one day realizing his mistake.

Almost as if he can read your thoughts —

“Sweetheart, if you need me between your legs to chase away your thoughts, I’m more than happy to be of service, but it’s probably not the healthiest way to deal with it.”

“Matt Murdock’s lecturing me on what’s healthy.”

“I know. I know.” He gives you that wide smile. So comforting that it’s impossible to feel anything but warmth when he smiles at you like that. Then he gives your thigh a little smack and says, “Let’s get cleaned up.”

—

Later, while you’re laying in bed together, his body cradled around yours, you’re both too tired to continue the conversation you know you need to have, a conversation of the ongoing variety. In the quiet and the dark you both feel your insecurities rise. Matt is pretty sure he’ll end up driving you away. You’re pretty sure he’ll realize you aren’t as great as he thinks and leave. But both of you really want this to work and you’re both willing to work on it.

Your thoughts hazy, your breath becoming rhythmic, you speak into the dark. “I don’t have to cook for you, you know. Like if you don’t want me to. Do you want me to?”

He hums in response, sleep nearly stealing his ability to speak. “If you want to… then I want that…too. But you don’t have to. But you can. You can use my kitchen whenever you want. If you want.”

You’re both quiet again and you nearly fall asleep then he says, “Just not for a few days. Let the smoke clear. ‘M staying at yours til then.”

[godsfavdarling]

That's my girl

my masterlist

+18!!!

pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader words: 1.1k summary: Spencer helps you use your first sex toy warnings: inexperienced!fem!reader, use of vibrator, smut but also fluff! and comfort! (tell me if I forgot something)

You were curled up on the couch, nervously twisting your fingers together, while Spencer sat next to you, his fingers gently tracing patterns on your thigh. The box in your lap felt heavier than it was, an embodiment of your uncertainty and excitement. 

You had been dating Spencer for a few months now, and while most people would have probably already gotten to stuff like this, you and Spencer took your time. It was frankly a bit annoying to you, but Spencer insisted on taking things slow, not only for your sake but his own. 

Every time you doubted, he reminded you that there was no rush. "We've got time," he'd say.

Recently, you started talking more about sex and stuff of that nature. When the topic of masturbation came up, you got flustered. It was honestly embarrassing at this point. How could you still, as a grown woman, not know how to do it? Obviously, you knew how. But...

Spencer noticed your discomfort and squeezed your hand gently. "Hey," he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your anxiety. "There's nothing to be embarrassed about. Everyone has their own pace, and there's no right or wrong way to explore your own body." His eyes were full of understanding and warmth, making you feel safe.

"I'm here for you, no matter what. We can figure this out together, and there's no need to feel pressured or judged. I care about you, and I want you to be comfortable… and happy." 

And that's how you found yourself on the couch with Spencer and a box, containing your first toy.

"You didn't have to buy it for me," you said, your voice a mix of gratitude and nervousness.

"I wanted to," Spencer replied, his tone gentle and reassuring. "As long as you still want it."

"I do. I just… I don't know…"

"What?" he prompted softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. "It's just... I'm not sure where to start. It feels kind of intimidating, you know?"

Spencer nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I understand. It's something new and unfamiliar. But we can take it slow. There's no need to rush into anything."

You looked down at the box in your lap, feeling the weight of both the object and the moment. "What if I mess up? Or it doesn't feel right?"

Spencer's fingers traced soothing patterns on your thigh. "There's no such thing as messing up. This is about discovering what feels good for you. And I'm here with you every step of the way, if you want me to be."

The sincerity in his eyes melted some of your apprehension. "You'd really help me? Even with this? Spencer…"

"Of course," he said without hesitation. "I care about you, and I want you to feel good. If that means helping you explore this, then I'm all in."

You felt a rush of gratitude and affection for Spencer. His support and understanding meant the world to you.

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his embrace. And the thought of him using it on you sent a thrill down your spine.

You nodded, feeling a bit more at ease. "Okay. So... how do we start?"

Once in the bedroom, laying down, Spencer turned to you and began undressing you slowly, his hands gentle and reverent. He removed your shirt, his fingers grazing your skin and sending shivers down your spine. He kissed your shoulders as he slid your bra straps down, each touch and kiss making you feel more at ease.

You mirrored his actions, unbuttoning his shirt and sliding it off, feeling the warmth of his skin against yours. The intimacy of undressing each other felt otherworldly.

You felt his hand glide down your body, caressing your breasts, your nipples, your stomach. Every touch was electric, setting your skin ablaze.

He took his time, making sure you were completely at ease and fully aroused. When he finally slipped your panties down, he kissed your hip bones tenderly, then trailed his lips back up, making you tremble with anticipation.

When his hand finally reached your inner thighs, you gasped, feeling the anticipation build to an almost unbearable level. Spencer picked up the vibrator, showing it to you one last time.

"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.

"Yes!" you breathed. "Please."

He turned it on, the soft hum filling the room. Slowly, he pressed it against your clit, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure through your body. You moaned, clutching the sheets as he expertly moved the toy, finding the perfect rhythm to drive you wild.

"That's my girl," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "You're doing so well."

His free hand continued to explore your body, tweaking and pinching your nipples just the right amount, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core.

He trailed kisses down your neck, sucking lightly, leaving a path of fire down to your breasts. His mouth enveloped a nipple, his tongue flicking and swirling, while his hand massaged the other breast, heightening your pleasure.

You writhed beneath him, the dual sensations overwhelming you. The vibrator against your clit and his mouth on your breasts were driving you closer and closer to the edge. You felt your hips buck against the toy, seeking more friction, more intensity.

"Spencer," you gasped, your voice laced with desperation and desire.

He lifted his head, his eyes locking with yours, dark with lust. "You like that, don't you?" he murmured, his voice a seductive purr. He increased the pressure and speed of the vibrator, your body responding with a torrent of moans.

"Yes, oh God, yes," you cried out, your body trembling with the mounting pleasure.

His mouth moved lower, kissing and nipping at your stomach, his tongue tracing circles around your belly button. Every touch, every kiss sent shivers through your body, intensifying the sensations. He kissed his way back up, his free hand never ceasing its exploration, teasing and squeezing your breasts, pinching your nipples.

You could feel your climax building, an unstoppable wave of ecstasy. Spencer sensed it too, his eyes never leaving yours as he increased the intensity just enough to push you over the edge.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice like silk. "I've got you."

His words were the final push you needed. Your body tensed, and then the wave of pleasure crashed over you, sending you spiraling into a powerful orgasm.

You cried out, your body trembling uncontrollably as the waves of ecstasy washed over you.

Spencer held you close, whispering soothing words, riding out the aftershocks with you until you were both breathless and spent.

[slocumjoe]

danse's romance route has some potholes

so, this post woke me from my slumber, have a ramble

This has always been a weird point for me, but I never got around to really figuring out what it was exactly until just now. I think all of the romantic candidates have out-of-place flirting, at least here and there, but Danse consistently has dialogue options to flirt with him at exactly the wrong fuckin time. The odd thing about Danse is that, most of the time, the normal Good/Yes answer is more romantic or sincerely affectionate than the flirt.

So, the Flirts.

The only Flirt that works is when he talks about his fear of losing people, and Sole says, "I care too much about you to do that to you." It's the first Flirt, and he responds by saying you've given him "something to think about." I've gone on about how Danse has never truly felt cared for. Sole's voice acting also sells this Flirt by being somewhat timid, unsure of saying this, but wanting him to know.

Danse's talks go Kreig > Cutler > Haylen > Help Im A Robot. The first time you can flirt with him is in the Cutler chat, where the "I care about you" line comes up. It's not out of left field from the conversation. It's affectionate, it doesn't overstep, but it pushes the line and makes Danse consider "oh shit, there's a lil something something going on here."

The "Would you hold me?" line is much less subtle.

Danse talks about how he doubts himself after Cambridge and Sole's reference to him hugging Haylen makes it seem like they've just been waiting for him to shut up to use that line on him. It's out of place, it circles back to a topic we've moved on from, and it's so overt it sucker-punches everyone involved, including the player. It's blunt.

The other options of "I'm here whenever you need me" or "I'm glad you feel better" are less flirtatious, but they imply more direct concern and care for Danse. Both lines are about Danse, and Sole being there for him. The actual Flirt is what Danse can do for Sole. This is such a weird nitpick, I know, but it comes off not as romantic, but more like Sole is trying to hook up with him. That would work with someone like Hancock, or maybe Piper, but Danse's romance involves more subtlety and slow-burn elements. It's too forward.

So, in his final talk...

It's literally "Kitten I'll be honest, Daddy's about to kill himself" "haha no don't kill yourself you're soooo sexy"

It comes right after he's having a lot of emotions about his reason for living. This is not the time to put the responsibility of a relationship on someone. Again, this is a flaw of the 4 Affinity Talks system. If you're just going for a platonic relationship with Danse, his talks work great, but his character arc is unfinished anyway. They have to shoehorn romance in there, and it doesn't have the room to develop naturally. It's why Sole has to explicitly say "Would you hold me ;>".

The strangest part is that his neutral/Friendly dialogue options are more affectionate and relationship-building. Again, the other options in the Haylen talk comfort Danse and reassure him.

Honestly, I think the best option, for all romancable companions, is within arms reach. You know how, if you don't romance someone, they'll bring up their last talk again and give you a barn door of an opening to broach the subject of a relationship again? Just. Do that/ It's literally what I did when I romanced Danse; don't romance him as soon as possible. Let it marinate.

The second chance to romance him goes the exact same way, eyebrows to space and all. It just takes place after Danse confesses how close he feels to you and trusts you and not RIGHT AFTER BLIND BETRAYAL.

It's easy to fix the pacing just by not going for the smooch ASAP, but the flirting is awkward. It's worth noting that the line before the Haylen flirt "It's comforting to know that I can speak to you as more than just your commanding officer" has it's own Flirting tag on it. Danse flirts with Sole here, canonically.

A cheap and easy rewrite is Sole echoing the sentiment with something like, "It's comforting to know that you're more than my commanding officer." This leaves room for interpretation. What else is Danse? Sole has an idea, but leaves Danse to wonder about it. It also confirms to Danse "yes, we have a personal bond and this isn't just a work thing."

I think the core of Danse's romance is this dude realizing that he's loved and cared for, truly. Cait has a similar arc, but hers has different complications and contexts than Danse. Danse needs a slow-burn romance full of soft moments and instances of Sole reminding him of his own humanity, even long before the synth thing.

It's worth noting that the "i care too much about you" line is still kinda overshadowed by the "But I wanna be a mutant" joke. That joke makes him laugh, he jokes back without missing a beat, and it's a cute little bonding moment between him and Sole. Romance isn't just overt flirting, it's the little things that make you think the other person is special. How many people do you think can make Danse laugh? Especially about becoming a Super Mutant, right after being told about Cutler? Danse thinks Sole is funny. He thinks it's a cute little joke. He's charmed.

Then Sole sucker-punches him with an explicit ask of physical contact and emotional exploration and the moment is lost. For the Halyen talk, you could have an option where Sole asks, teasingly, if this is going on the report, and Danse laughs and contemplates what Maxson would think. Maybe he even comments about how rumors spread on the Prydwen, implying that he knows there is something between you two for people to gossip about. This would later tie in to The Reveal, where Maxson says the same thing.

[fantasylandloser]

Cuddle Buddies pt.2

Pairing: rafe x reader

part 1 to cuddle buddies is here

a/n: there will be three parts to this and I'm working on the third as we speak but for now enjoy pt.2 and leave your thoughts

warnings: making out, a little bit controlling rafe, lmk if there is more

******

You were embarrassed with yourself, knowing you were about to break the unspoken agreement between you and Rafe. Though neither of you had said it out loud, the rule was only storm nights. Well that was your rule anyway, but you needed to see him. When you knocked on his door, you weren’t even sure if he would open it, but it swung open in seconds. Confusion adorned Rafe’s face at the sight of you.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, looking around the hallway like he was expecting something to come out and attack.

“I… had a bad dream.” You whisper, embarrassed you even came to him about this. “Can I sleep in your room?” You ask, wringing your hands together. You’re not sure why you think he’s gonna say no, he lets you sleep in his room all the time. But these are new waters for the two of you.

Rafe’s eyes soften as he opens the door the rest of the way, his eyes taking in your nervous figure.. “Yeah..yeah.” He repeats, nodding his head. You let out a breath of relief, happy he didn’t make it a big deal.

You push yourself into his room, like you’d done many times before, making your way to your side of his bed. 

“You know you don’t have to ask, right?” Rafe says once you’ve gotten settled. You’re facing him and you see the sincerity in his eyes. “You can sleep in here whenever you want.” Rafe says his face turns red when you grin at him. “I like having you here I guess..” He finishes, avoiding your stare. 

“Your dad would have a conniption.” You tell him, making him roll his eyes.

“You don’t always have to be perfect for him, you know.” He says.

“No you don’t have to be perfect for him, because you’re his son and he loves you unconditionally.” You sigh, at the look on his face like he’s ready to protest. “But I’m from the cut, and I have nothing, and Ward gave me everything.” You reach up soothing the wrinkle in his brow. He looked deep in thought.

“You should be loved unconditionally.” You smile at his words. I could love you unconditionally. Rafe thought intrusively. He didn’t say it though. He was proactive, he would just show you.

*******

Since that night you started going to Rafe for every small inconvenience. It started with JJ being mad at you, about being ‘with’ Rafe, after John B spilled the beans. He gave you a hug, told you he’d come around if he was really your best friend, but Rafe didn’t like JJ so he hoped he didn’t. Then it was everything suddenly being too heavy even though Rafe knew you were bullshitting because he’d seen you lift heavier stuff. Once you even asked him to open a jar. Rafe couldn’t lie though, he loved it. Being needed by you gave him a purpose.

He knew you were plenty self-sufficient, but he liked that you wanted him to do things for you. Especially things he knew you could do on your own because that meant you asked him to do it, just because you liked the way he did it. Rafe couldn’t explain it. 

The two of you were growing close. Everyone could tell. The way you two would constantly hang around each other, the decrease in bickering, the lingering touches, and all the flirting. The flirting was constant too, and almost on autopilot. At first it was subtle, you poking Rafe’s cheeks to mess with him, him smiling and laughing while you did. Then it became bolder, Rafe would pull you towards him by your waist. He’d stare at you while he was talking to someone else. He would even play in your hair sometimes, and you’d let him. 

Neither of you were oblivious of your feelings for each other, but it seemed like everything was much easier if it wasn’t spoken on. Well that’s how it felt for a little while. Rafe had started including you when he brought his friends over to hang out, or even when he was working out. What he didn’t like was that Topper had taken a liking to you, and since the two of you kept telling everyone that things weren’t like that, he thought you were up for grabs. 

Rafe kept telling Topper things like “she’s not dating right now” or “you’re not her type, bro” but Topper was persistent. 

“Did you know Top was gonna ask me out?” You ask, as soon as Rafe walks through the door, sweaty from his run. Rafe tries his best to control his reaction, not wanting to get overly angry and upset you. 

“He said something about it.” He tells you, going to the sink to get water. You squint your eyes at him for millisecond before quickly going back to neutral, but he caught it.

“And you’re okay with that?” The way you phrased the question made it seem like you were asking for permission, but your tone gave him the vibe that that wasn’t what you meant.

He started to gulp down water before he answered, making you slightly impatient. “Do you want me to be okay with that?” He asks you, throwing the ball back in your court. Rafe didn’t want to make himself vulnerable to you, not if you didn’t reciprocate. 

“Rafe.” You deadpan displeased with him for answering a question with a question. 

“Okay fine. No, I'm not okay with that.” He tells you. “We… we have something here. And I don’t want you dating other guys. Especially not Topper.” It’s a bit controlling the way he says it, but it settles every nerve in the pit of your stomach.

“Okay.” You say simply, confusing Rafe because you usually wanted to argue about every topic.

“Okay? That’s it?” Rafe asks, his brows lifting in surprise.

“Yeah that’s it.”

That was the first time Rafe expressed his feelings for you. It was controlling but it was perfect for you, for him. The second time he expressed feelings for you was on his birthday.

Ward had you running errands for him all day and it was driving Rafe insane. He didn’t want the insane party his friends were going to throw for him, or all the gifts he was gonna get. He just wanted to see you. You’d been gone since before he woke up and he’d only received a text from you telling him happy birthday and that you’d give him his gift later. 

He didn’t want to admit it but he spent the whole day, waiting for you to come home. It wasn’t until the sunset and family dinner had already started that you came back. Rafe was on his feet as soon as he heard your keys jingle. A wide grin on his face when he watched you walk through the door with a birthday hat on, a large cake and many balloons.

“Happy Birthday!” You say loudly, a large grin on your face. 

“Finally you made it back. I was thinking that list was too long.” Rafe had to refrain from rolling his eyes at his dad’s voice, for taking you away from him on his birthday.

“It was a little lengthy, but I got through it. I also had time to stop and get you a surprise.” Rafe is confused until you pull out the large, atrocious, hat. It had Birthday Boy written on it in large red letters and a huge bow at the top.

Rafe groaned at the sight of it. “Babe, I’m not wearing that.” He didn’t really know where the nickname came from but it fit and he’d say it over and over again to see your little embarrassed grin.

“Shut up, yes you are.” You say, grin unable to make its way off your face as he lets you pull the strap under his chin, smiling at you despite his protest.

“I think I’m gonna throw up.” Sarah says, fake gagging at the display. “Please stop.”

“Ah Sarah, leave your brother alone, it’s his birthday, you can save the teasing for tomorrow.” Ward tells her, only for her to roll his eyes.

Throughout his entire birthday dinner Rafe keeps thinking to himself that he just wants it to be over. So he can be near you, or at least closer, which is easier to find excuses for when it was just the two of you. He didn’t know that you were thinking the same thing, just for a different reason. You were excited to give him his birthday present.

When you finally made it up to his room under the guise that you were going to watch a movie. You were practically jumping with excitement. 

“What is it?” Rafe asks you, when you hand him the wrapped present.

“The whole point of the wrapping paper is that you unwrap the gift to find out.” You tell him in an obvious tone, to which he rolled his eyes.

“Hey it’s my birthday, you can’t be mean to me.” He guilts you, his little smirk giving him away. 

“Fine, you’re right, I’m sorry.” You concede. “Now open it please, before I do it for you.” He laughed at your anticipation and began to open his gift. 

His surprised laugh when he realizes what it is throws you into a fit of giggles. “Isn’t it cute?” You ask as he holds up his half of the matching onesies. The pink letters reading ‘cuddle buddies’, his, having his name on the back and a picture of your face and yours designed with the same idea as well. 

“Yeah baby, I like it.” You’re blushing at his second use of a nickname. “Might just wear it to my party tonight.” He jokes, looking back at you. “You can wear yours too.” 

“God, no!” You laugh, happy that the gift made him smile. 

“Why not?” He asks, little grin smirk on his face widening, as he pulls you closer to him, in between his legs. The position had your brain short circuiting, as you wrapped your arms around the tops of his broad shoulders.. You were used to him being touchy, but this was on the handsier side and you definitely didn’t mind it.

“Cause’ all your kook hook ups will be upset.” You tell him. It was an immature tactic to get information, and you knew it as soon as you said it, but still you were curious. Rafe smirks knowingly, pushing his face into your arm. 

“What hookups baby?” He asks you, pulling you down so that you’re straddling him. That’s when all the wires in your brain disconnect and you’re nothing but putty in his hands. 

“You tell me.” You say, your face now level with his, and your lips only inches apart.

“There aren’t any.” Rafe inhales deeply, placing his face in your neck. “I just want you.” He adds. You feel a tingle go down your spine as his nose brushes down the side of his neck, a whimper leaving you at his words. 

“You smell so fucking good.” It’s almost a growl and it has you trying to clench your thighs together, only for your inner thighs to be met by his torso.

“Rafe.” You whisper, knowing that his family was downstairs and his friends would be here at any moment.

“You always smell good.” He continues. “I think you do it on purpose, just to drive me crazy.” His hands make their way to your smooth thighs. “I smell you all over my bed too. “ He groans to himself, the sound sending a flash of heat through your body. 

“Raaafe.” You mewl, sending his hips bucking up into yours, making you gasp at the feeling. 

“Fuck. Don’t say my name like that okay?” It takes a few seconds for you to realize that he’s restraining himself, pushing you further back  on his thighs so he doesn’t do it again. You don’t like it and can’t help but feel like you’re missing out on an unrestrained Rafe.

When you push yourself closer to him, almost sitting right on him. Rafe moans, and the noise tears down any lasting thoughts of doubt and worry.

“Rafe please kiss me.” You beg. It almost makes Rafe mad at himself for making you wait this long, even though the sentence is music to his ears, knowing you were almost as desperate for him as he was for you.

He doesn’t say anything as captures your lips. The first taste of you makes him absolutely feral.His hands are everywhere and he’s kissing you like he just got out of prison and you’re the first woman he’s touched in years. He’s chasing your lips when you come up for air even though he’s panting. 

“You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”  Rafe tells you, he’s breathless and it’s almost a whine. He’s leaving sloppy open mouth kisses down your throat and that action has you reeling, you start rocking your hips into his, hoping for some relief from the friction but it isn’t enough and he feels it too.

“Rafe,” You gasp , when his hips rock to meet yours roughly. 

Three loud knocks at the door make both of you freeze up. “Rafe open up!” It’s Kelce, you’re both relieved. “The party of the century is going down three blocks from here and it’s your party man!” You hear Topper add.  You can’t help your grin at Topper, because to him every party is the party of the century. Rafe groans dramatically, pouting like a child. 

“It’s your party man.” You tease him, whispering. 

“What about our party?” He asks, making you avert your eyes from his intense stare, at your swollen lips.

“We can continue it later.” You tell him, and he’s pleased to hear it, but not happy when you raise yourself off his lap to go open the door.