#but in that desperation for SOMEONE to care | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alwaysmoncheri · 3 days ago

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can I request something for spencer?? I know you haven’t written for him in a while but I love him sm🥺

I literally forgot decaf coffee existed when writing this. thank you for requesting, muah! <3

cw: fem!reader, pregnant!reader, slight lack of self-care, fluff, 1k

Derek watches you walk through the office doors—if you could even call it that—you shuffle through the doors, hand resting on the bump of your growing stomach. The other clutches a stack of files to your chest. There’s a frown upon your lips, you look exhausted. Hair slightly disheveled, and blouse partially untucked, you’re clearly in need of some time off, but you’re trying your best.

On a normal day, Spencer would be right by your side. Brushing the hair from your face, leaving a lingering kiss to your temple. He would take the files and gently guide you to your desk. You’d beg for a small coffee, and he’d remind you that, “Drinking more than 200 mg of caffeine per day during pregnancy has been linked to an increased risk of pregnancy complications, such as low birth weight and miscarriage.” You’d shut up after that. Not that Spencer meant to scare you—but you always are.

You’re scared about those things, the what-ifs. At the beginning people are happy for you, always wishing you congrats and sending smiles your way. It’s supposed to be that way, it’s exciting, you’re carrying the result of yours and Spencer’s love—another life. But the whispers always find their way to you. You’ve heard the talk about the chances of miscarriages—that no pain could ever compare to carrying a baby for months only to lose it during childbirth.

On a normal day, Spencer would be there to silence your worries. But, today he’s in a meeting. A stupid meeting. It makes you want to cry.

Derek notices your eyes tearing up and stands from his desk. Blocking the path to yours. He grimaces when you almost collide into his chest. You blink a couple of times, like you hadn’t even known he stood up. Now, you’re exhausted, sad and embarrassed—not a good combo.

“How’s our girl doing?” Derek hums with a careful smile, offering a hand to guide you to your desk. You grumble something incoherent, shooting him a quick look. A second later he’s out of your path, allowing you a straight shot to the coffee machine.

You clutch a mug, the heat against your hands comforting. A sigh leaves your body, and your shoulders relax. You’re about to take a sip of your coffee before it’s snatched away from you. You pratically moan at it’s absense, before narrowing your eyes at the traitor in front of you.

“You can’t be having this,” Emily says simply before taking a sip of your coffee. Your blood boils.

“Give it back,” you demand, placing your hands on your hips to look as threatening as possible. You can’t imagine how effective it is, though, given your current state—but you’re determined.

“Nuh, uh,” she tuts, pulling the mug away from you. You watch her step back and dump the hot liquid into the sink. God, you’re too tired for this.

“I can just make another.” you shrug, reaching for the other mug resting on the counter. When Emily snatches that one from you too, your head lulls back, and you groan in annoyance.

“Nope,” she shakes her head with an amused smile tugging at her lips. You swear, this has to be her deah wish, “Spencer will kill me if I let you do that.”

“He wouldn’t.” You argue, but it’s really a desperate plea.

Emily raises her eyebrows at you, “Yes. He would.” she says, emphasizing each word. You roll your eyes but give in—you know she’s right.

“Fine,” you mumble, throwing a final glare in her direction before turning to hobble over to your desk.

The rest of the day is long. Your co-workers watch the way you wince when Hotch calls someone into his office, voice booming across the room. They watch as you slump at your desk, your head propped up by your hand, trying—unsuccessfully—to keep your eyes open enough to focus on the documents in front of you. After a while, Penelope approaches, her smile wide, and a glass of water in hand. Her cheerfulness only makes your head throb harder. You gently brush her off, taking the water with a quiet sigh. You wish you didn’t feel this way—but your sour mood only worsens by the hour.

Then, finally, your savior arrives.

Almost the entire office visibly relaxes when Spencer emerges from the meeting room. He looks panicked, like he’s more worried about being without you than you without him—the truth is the latter. His eyes sift through the office before finding you at your desk, slumped and half asleep. His eyes soften and his shoulders drop. You’re still breathtaking—though when he tells you that, you only protest. Long strides bring him to you, and just like on a normal day, he’s by your side.

A gentle hand in between your shoulder blades brings his presence to your attention. You tilt your head up while his other hand brushes your hair out of your face. Then, he presses his lips to your temple, like he always does—it makes you smile.

You wrap your arms around his waist, and Spencer’s bent at an especially awkward angle, but it doesn’t bother him.

“Spencer,” you sigh, the weight of every negative emotion from earlier lifting off your shoulders. Pressing your face into his chest, you breathe in the comfort of his warmth.

“Hi, honey.” he returns, rubbing small circles on the small of your back. You say something into his chest that doesn’t quite reach his ears.

“Hm?” he hums, asking you to repeat yourself. Nearby, Derek’s mouth hangs agape when you do without protest.

“I missed you.”

Spencer presses a kiss into your hair, “I missed you too.”

You’re both silent for a moment, wrapped up in each other’s embrace. But eventually, Spencer shifts, wincing as his back aches, and gently pulls away. In turn, he kneels in front of you, hands resting on your thighs.

“Have you had anything to drink today?” He asks simply—out of habit. Your smile again, he’s always trying to take care of you.

“A little.”

There’s no hesitation before he’s on his feet, “Okay, I’ll be right back.”

“No, no, wait.” you protest, catching his hand, “Just stay for a minute.”

Spencer can’t bring himself to say no.

So, he pulls up a chair, and the two of you settle in, working side by side at your desk until the end of the day. Hotch, watching from his office, would normally call out the inappropriate behavior—but today, he decides to let it slide. Just this once.

masterlist . spencer reid masterlist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

#my works ──★ ˙🦋 ̟ !!#masterlist #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid angst #spencer reid criminal minds #doctor spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #dr spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x pregnent!reader

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jackawful · 3 days ago

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This actually perfectly articulates my issues with electoralism? The powerful will try to constrain your options to a binary wherein both choices are evil, but one slightly less so, to disguise that there ARE options outside the lever. You can throw something in the path of the trolley. You can run to cut the ropes holding people on the tracks.

Do you really think the family of the single guy you chose to kill is happy with that choice? Can you, yourself, earnestly feel good about having pulled the lever when you just killed one guy instead of five? What if the one guy was the person you cared most about in the world, would you still pull the lever? Would you scold someone for failing to save the other five people if the one person was their family? This isn't your fault, you tell yourself, casting your little Harris vote while considering any direct action too dangerous and risky to do yourself. You took the moral high ground.

What else were you supposed to do, you ask of the people risking their own lives and safety to desperately attempt to untie those on the tracks, to derail the trolley altogether. You can praise yourself for having the good sense to pull the lever instead of pursuing such unrealistic options as derailment.

Of course, in real life, it's not an either-or - there are people who vote AND take other, more direct political action. But scolding people who can't stomach voting for either genocidal politician when they're focused on, say, fundraising for palestinians or fighting police training centers or harassing politicians or getting hrt and misoprostol to people in red states? Morally repugnant. Those people are doing more to stop the trolley than you are, because they haven't let their choices be constrained to the fucking lever.

All y'all fuckers when you say you ain't gonna vote

#of ballots and barricades #idk like I voted but a lot of my homeless friends straightup can't #and I KNOW those people have largely done more and more effective political action than the people trying to scold non-voters online #I am. very very angry and disillusioned this election cycle and I have very little patience for this sort of thing

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amazinglyashy · 1 day ago

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Sylus is for the ones who want security

Sylus is for the ones whose feet always seem to find the cracks in the pavement, who always seem to stumble over themselves as they try desperately to make something- a name for themselves, a conversation, a new relationship, a stronger existing one, anything- only to fail again and again.

Sylus is for the ones who find themselves holding up their hands as they watch them shake. Why you? Why was everything always on you? Why did you always have to make the effort, the connection, the fake-happy face to appease someone, just so that they might love you?

Sylus is for the ones who truly try, but have longed since reached the breaking point. Don't worry darling. Hide the cracks. If they're hidden, you surely can handle a little bit more disappointment. A little bit more 'being alone' no matter how hard you try. A little bit more on focusing on everyone else's needs while neglecting your own. Why are you breaking? Why are your pieces on the floor? Chin up, darling. It's only for a while longer. How much longer? Well, how much more do you have left to give?

Sylus is for the ones who sit wondering why. Why is there suddenly the foreign feeling of care, of love, of endearment? When everything has been 'nothing' for so long, how are you supposed to cope with 'anything' at all? Much less 'everything'? The stack of bills are paid, the cupboards no longer have ramen, rice, and beans. The texts come frequently, and your phone rings randomly whenever you cross someone's mind. When have you ever crossed someone's mind? And the clothes bought for you fit like a glove.

Sylus is for the ones who have given everything all of their life, who have found themselves desperate for connections that no one wants to make with them, who give their everything in exchange for more anxiety and demands at their expense.

Sylus is for the ones who want security.

#.writey #love and deepspace #lads #lds #x reader #sylus x reader #lds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #shoots myself in the process again #ive done nothing wrong your honor

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creamflix · 1 day ago

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gojo satoru x female reader; 18+ content, minors or ageless blogs do not interact. established relationship, you two match each other's freak. reader & gojo give heavy switch energy. use of onahole, m. masturbation. thigh riding. so much of dirty taalk. 69 >_<. oral (f. & m. recieving, seperate). overstimulation. handjob w/ onahole. continuation of this drabble ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა — masterlist here ☆

the days felt longer without him.

every day, the calls lit up your phone like clockwork; sometimes brief, sometimes winding well into the night until the two of you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

but even with those late-night conversations, you could hear it — the subtle longing in his voice, the way he’d go quiet after you told him you’d be busy the next day. you could practically hear him pout when you’d mention you had to go.

day one

"hey, hey, babe," he murmured over the phone, his voice low and gravelly as if he’d just woken up from a nap. "how was work? and don’t just say ‘fine.’ i want details."

you laughed, sinking into your pillow. "fine" was exactly what you were going to say, but with him, that never flew.

"i spent most of the day in meetings, missed lunch, and i think i’m gonna start seeing spreadsheets in my sleep."

“poor baby,” he teased, though his voice softened. "need me to come down there and save you from the horrors of corporate life?"

you smiled. “tempting offer, but you’d probably distract me too much.”

a low hum of amusement escaped him. "good. that’s what i’m here for."

day four

“are you eating enough?” he asked, almost sternly.

“yes, toru,” you reassured, even though today’s lunch had been a stale sandwich grabbed between meetings.

it was one of those nights when he was missing you a little harder than usual, and it showed in the way he couldn’t go two minutes without hearing you say something.

"liar," he laughed, though there was a hint of worry behind it. "come back home, and i’ll make you something edible, yeah? you don’t need to be a starving martyr for your job, y’know.”

“okay, okay, you’re probably right,” you said, biting back a grin. “i’ll let you take care of me. i miss that.”

the silence that followed was heavy, and you could almost picture his hand running through his hair, his gaze distant. “miss you, too. a lot.”

those words stayed with you, keeping you grounded as the days dragged on, until you finally decided to surprise him by coming back a day early. the craving for his warmth, his touch — it gnawed at you, a need left unfulfilled for too long. the longing was more than physical, though that was undeniably part of it.

he left a satoru-sized hole in your life, in every way.

as you stepped into the apartment, trying to keep quiet so you could catch him off guard, a faint sound drew you down the hall. the door to the bedroom was cracked open, and curiosity got the better of you. when you peeked inside, your eyebrows shot up at the sight that greeted you.

there was satoru, sprawled on the bed, looking every bit as gorgeous as ever —though, the onahole in his hand and the flushed, slightly desperate look on his face were not what you’d expected.

“well,” you drawled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at your lips. “i go away for a little while, and this is what i come back to?”

his eyes snapped open, pure shock flashing across his face as he hastily sat up, cheeks pink. “w-wait! you’re —” he fumbled for words, his usual cocky attitude momentarily replaced by genuine surprise. “what are you doing here? you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow!”

“i wanted to surprise you,” you teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “looks like i wasn’t the only one missing someone, huh?”

his mouth opened and closed, and then he scoffed, trying to regain his composure. “oh, please. as if i was just sitting around here pining away,” he huffed, though his expression betrayed him. "just... y'know, needed a little stress relief."

"mhmm, sure," you laughed, walking closer. “well, by all means, don’t let me stop you. though, i have to say, this isn’t quite the 'stress relief' i was hoping for when i came home early.”

satoru’s eyes trailed over you, a mischievous gleam returning. "oh? and what were you hoping for, then?"

“someone who didn’t need a toy when the real thing's right here,” you whispered, reaching out to trace a finger along his jaw.

he grinned, finally dropping the onahole and leaning back on his elbows, looking you up and down with an exaggerated sigh. "guess i’ve been missing you more than i wanted to admit." he tilted his head, studying you as he spoke, a playful glint in his eyes.

"so, you were so eager you couldn’t wait even one more day?"

“exactly. but i didn’t expect to come back and find you so… needy,” you shot back, nudging his knee with your hand. “is this what happens when i leave for work?”

he let out a low laugh, catching your hand and tugging you forward until you straddled his lap. “when you leave for too long, babe. you know i’ve got a high tolerance, but i’m not superhuman.”

his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers tracing along your spine, and you felt a familiar warmth pool low in your belly. "let me make it up to you, then,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that your noses brushed. “since i left you all alone, poor thing.”

“you’re too kind,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of sarcasm and something darker. then his grip tightened, his other hand sliding up to hold your waist firmly in place. "but you know, i don’t just want ‘kind’ right now. i want everything you’ve been holding out on me."

“oh, trust me,” you murmured, brushing your lips over his in a whisper of a kiss. “you’re going to get everything and more.”

“good.” his hands slid down to your hips, guiding you as he pulled you against him, his breath hot against your ear. “just don’t expect to leave anytime soon.”

gojo’s lips curled into a smirk as an idea danced behind his eyes, his gaze flicking between you and the discarded onahole. “y'know,” he drawled, a wicked gleam taking over his face, “since you couldn’t resist coming home early and lying about it… maybe i should give you a little punishment.”

you raised a brow, half-amused, half-intrigued. “oh? and what would that be, mr. punishment master?”

he grinned, tapping his thigh. “you get off here,” he said, patting his knee and thigh as he spread his legs wider, inviting you closer.

“only here. no touching me — just use my thigh, babe.”

then he grabbed the onahole again, lifting it with an infuriatingly smug expression. “i’ll just keep myself busy with this.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, though a thrill ran through you. “seriously, 'toru? that’s your big idea?”

he shot you a taunting look. “unless you’re chicken?” he teased, patting his thigh once more. “don’t think i’ll be holding back over here, either. let’s see if you can keep up.”

you knew it was a challenge — a nasty one at that — but something about the idea had you biting your lip and inching closer, already feeling the pulse of excitement.

satoru chuckled, settling back against the pillows, his eyes darkening as he watched you straddle his thigh, your core already aching at the sensation of his strong muscle beneath you. his free hand squeezed your hip, keeping you steady. “theree we go. make a mess if you want, babe — ’m sure you’ll need to.”

heat flushed through your body as you started to move, grinding down, feeling the friction build with every subtle roll of your hips. meanwhile, his other hand lifted the onahole, and with a shameless, slow smirk, he slipped himself inside. you watched as his breath hitched, and his head tilted back, a low groan escaping him as he started to move it along his length.

“feels good,” he murmured, giving you a challenging look. “almost as good as the real thing.”

“almost?” you muttered back, pressing down harder, letting the friction against his thigh send a delicious pulse through your body. “don’t sell yourself short. maybe i should leave more often if you’ve got yourself so covered.”

“don’t tempt me,” he chuckled, but there was a heat in his eyes as he watched you move, hips bucking up slightly to give you just a little more to work with. “’m not the only one who gets needy, clearly.” his hand on your hip tightened, guiding you into a rhythm that only made the pleasure more intense.

but as much as you tried to focus on the friction against his thigh, the sight of him, jaw clenched, his chest heaving as he moved the onahole, kept drawing your attention back. he wasn’t holding back — loud, shameless sounds slipping from his lips as he threw his head back. he wasn’t making it easy for you to ignore him, not at all.

“enjoying the view?” he teased, breathlessly. “i’d say you like this punishment way too much.”

you rolled your eyes, even as heat burned your cheeks. “maybe, but i doubt you’re thinking about anything other than the real thing right now.”

he laughed, low and husky, clearly relishing every bit of it. “oh, don’t worry,” he murmured, meeting your eyes with a wicked glint. “i’ll make sure you know who wins this little game of ours. maybe next time you’ll think twice about trying to surprise me.”

you pressed down harder on his thigh, each slow grind sending waves of friction that had you teetering on the edge of control. a soft, slick sound escaped you as you found the perfect spot, the steady roll of your hips growing a little more frantic with every push. you could feel the heat radiating through every inch of his body, the roughness of his thigh adding a tantalizing burn that only heightened your need.

“shit — look at you,” gojo’s voice cracked just slightly, his smug smirk slipping as he watched you, his eyes practically glazed over. he pumped the onahole around himself with a tight, almost desperate grip, his breath hitching as his hips jerked up reflexively. “god, fuck — such a lil' mess, aren't cha? comin' back early, thinking i’d just — goddamn — just let ya off easy.”

his jaw clenched as he rocked the onahole faster along his dick, the slick, obscene sounds of it mixing with the soft wet noises coming from where you rode his thigh. the sight of him losing it, each push and pull of his hand getting sloppier, had your body tightening in response, thighs trembling against him.

“don’t stop — don’t you fucking stop,” he growled, his voice dropping lower, rougher, as he struggled to keep the control he’d so confidently held. “look at you, grindin' like some — some desperate lil' slut. can’t even wait, huh? already makin' a mess on my thigh. bet ya missed this cock more than you’re letting on.”

your rhythm faltered as his words hit you, but he gripped your hip tighter, guiding you right back into pace. “thought you’d come home and i’d just — nngh — just give it to you? nah,” he laughed, though it broke into a groan.

“you’re gonna earn it, babe.”

his own composure was unraveling fast. the slick, loud sounds of his own movements filled the room as he drove himself into the onahole with reckless abandon, his hips bucking up, muscles tensing under your touch.

“shit — fuck,” he choked out, words blurring together as he continued, “you’re — oh god, look at you — grindin' like it’s all you need. needy little thing, can’t even wait another day without throwing yourself at me.”

your pace quickened, matching his breathless rhythm as your eyes locked onto his. he was practically a mess, eyes half-lidded and unfocused as his breath came in harsh, broken pants. his control shattered entirely as he abandoned any semblance of pace, pumping the onahole roughly around himself, his hips jerking up each time as if he were imagining you instead.

“can’t — can’t believe you’re actually gettin' off like this,” he babbled, words tumbling out in a rush. “look at you, drippin' allll over my — nngh — thigh while ’m right here. so fuckin' desperate for it — goddamn,” he groaned, his own voice pitching higher, “bet nothin’s as good as that wet lil' cunt, though. you know you’re better than this thing.”

the words alone had you grinding harder, each movement becoming a plea for more as you felt the familiar coil tighten within you. his eyes caught yours, and you saw the hazy, almost dazed hunger there, his face flushed, and his lips parting as he let out a string of ragged moans.

“fuck — can’t even — shit, gonna lose it, babe,” he panted, his voice breaking as his hand slowed, struggling to keep up with his own need. his head tipped back, a strangled groan leaving him.

“i’d ruin you so good — make sure ya can’t even stand after this. you’d just take it, wouldn’t you? such a good lil' thing.”

and that was it — the filthy, raw sound of him breaking under his own need, the slurred degradation spilling from his lips, was all it took. with one last grind against his thigh, you came undone, clutching at his shoulders, a loud, keening moan escaping you as the tension finally snapped.

he watched, eyes wild, chest heaving, and you felt his grip tighten on you, anchoring you in place.

“there it is,” he muttered, voice hoarse, a dark grin tugging at his lips. “s'pretty when you fall apart.”

you let out a breathless laugh, pushing a damp strand of hair from your face as you catch him staring at you, a flush still painted across his cheeks.

“y'know,” you smirked, tracing a finger down his chest, “for someone who wanted to ‘punish’ me, you sure sounded like you turned yourself on way more than you planned.”

his eyes narrowed, a mix of irritation and amusement flashing across his face as he rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, keep talkin', smartass,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

his chest was still heaving, his skin glistening, and it was painfully clear that, despite how hard he’d come, he was already getting riled up for a round two. especially with you straddling him, looking just as spent and flushed.

“oh, don’t act all annoyed,” you teased, leaning down until your lips hovered just over his, “can feel how bad you want it right now.”

he huffed, but you could see the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “you’re not wrong,” he muttered, hands lazily finding their way to your hips.

“all that talk and now i’ve gotta remind you why the real thing’s better than my ‘little toy.’” his grip tightened, and you felt him shift beneath you, pressing himself against you with an unmistakable intent.

just as you started to shift off his lap, unready to unwind from the high you’d just shared, gojo’s hand shot out, catching you by the waistband.

“oh, where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, almost dangerous, and before you could reply, he’d yanked down your pants, leaving you standing half-exposed.

“'toru — !” you gasped, but he was already pulling you back, turning you so you were straddling his face instead, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessive strength. the warmth of his breath against you sent a jolt up your spine, and just as your brain registered what he was doing, he pulled you down the last inch, pressing his mouth flush against you.

a moan tore from your lips as his tongue slid over you, hot and slow, before dipping inside, making you tremble.

“don’t think i’d be so considerate, huh?” he murmured, his voice muffled, sending vibrations that shot through you. “lettin' you get all needy on my thigh and leaving you like that? hell no.”

but as you felt his hands grip you tighter, angling you just the way he wanted, an idea popped into your head. your eyes drifted to the onahole, and with a devilish smirk, you wrapped your hand around it.

if he wanted to make this interesting, then you’d up the ante.

you tapped his shoulder lightly, making him pause for a split second, and leaned down just enough to murmur, “let’s make this fun, 'toru. if you make me cum before you do, then maybe i’ll use my mouth on you… but if not,” you grinned, lowering the onahole onto him with a slow, deliberate stroke, “this’ll do just fine, don’tcha think?”

a muffled groan escaped him, his grip on your thighs tightening as his hips jerked up into the onahole involuntarily. “you’re — shit — such a lil' tease,” he muttered, voice strained but amused, even as his breathing started to turn ragged.

but he wasn’t backing down.

with a renewed determination, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at you with messy, unrestrained hunger.

you gasped, gripping on to dear life for balance as his tongue flicked up, swirling over your sensitive spot, each pass sending shivers through you.

“f-fuck, 'toru,” you whimpered, trying to keep a steady hand as you moved the onahole up and down his dick, watching as his thighs tensed under you.

but your rhythm wavered when he groaned deeply against you, the sound sending a wave of pleasure straight through you.

“you’re already slippin',” he murmured, breath hot against you. “better focus, or i’ll have you begging for more before you even get me close.”

his mouth closed around you, sucking and teasing in a way that made your head spin. every pull of his lips, every languid slide of his tongue, had you gripping the onahole tighter just to ground yourself. his own hips bucked under you, and you knew he was fighting the same battle you were.

still, you weren’t about to let him win so easily.

“you think i can’t handle it?” you whispered breathlessly, leaning down a little and twisting the onahole just right, watching as his body arched up, a low, strained moan escaping him. “seems like i’ve got you right where i want you, babe.”

“oh, you think so?” he chuckled, though the sound was edged with desperation. his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you down harder onto his face, and his tongue plunged deeper, flicking over every sensitive spot like he was mapping you out by heart. he was relentless, and soon enough, you could barely keep the onahole moving, your rhythm stuttering as pleasure overtook you.

“s-satoru,” you whimpered, trying to hold onto the last shreds of your composure as his mouth worked you over, his teeth grazing your inner thigh before he latched back onto your core. “fuck, that’s — too much —”

he groaned into you, hips jerking into the onahole with every thrust. “don’t stop,” he growled, voice muffled but insistent. “give me every last bit of that attitude, babe. just know you’re gonna lose.”

the slick sounds filled the room, the wet pull of your movements on him mixing with the desperate, messy noises he made as he devoured you. your thighs started to shake, pleasure building to a peak you couldn’t hold off much longer, and he knew it.

"c'mon,” he murmured between laps, voice rough with a mix of amusement and sheer need, “you’re close, aren’t cha? feels too good?”

his words broke you, and with a strangled cry, you came, your body trembling as he held you down, his tongue lapping up every last drop. he didn’t relent, even as you tried to pull away, the overstimulation making your legs go weak.

you slumped against him, catching your breath, but he didn’t miss a beat, pulling you off just enough so he could look up at you with that lazy, satisfied smirk.

“looks like i win,” he murmured, a teasing glint in his eye as he tapped his lips. “ready to pay up?”

you sank to your knees, his hand threading through your hair as you looked up, meeting his gaze with a smirk before taking him in. your lips wrapped around him, and his cock twitched at the first warm, wet slide of your mouth, his grip tightening almost reflexively as you took him deeper.

“fuck,” he breathed out, his head falling back against the headboard as he felt your tongue swirl around him, every inch of him swallowed by the heat of your mouth. his hips bucked, and a half-formed moan slipped past his lips, the sound raw and needy. “god, you’re — so good at this,” he panted, his words coming out in broken gasps, “shit, babe, the way you — ah, fuck —”

you glanced up, watching him unravel, his eyes barely able to stay open, a dazed look painted across his face as you bobbed your head, each motion making him twitch and groan. his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your pace, but you took it even further, letting his dick slide to the back of your throat, gagging softly as he pushed deeper.

“fuck, babe,” he moaned, a deep, shaky sound that filled the room, his voice strained as he struggled to hold back. “you’re gonna make me lose it already — oh shit, you’re perfect, just —” his words dissolved into a mess of curses, hips rocking up into your mouth, his control all but shattered.

you hummed around him, and the vibration had him practically keening, his hand tightening its grip on you as his body jerked, his breathing turning ragged.

“god, i can’t — can barely think,” he muttered, voice hoarse, a delirious grin crossing his face even as his eyes half-closed. “all i wanna do is…fuck that mouth until i…fuck, babe, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

each time you went down, he let out a stuttering moan, his thighs tensing under your touch as he tried to keep up with the intensity of it. his head tilted back, mouth dropping open as a stream of filthy praise spilled from him.

“so good, so fucking good…can’t even think straight,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he choked on a moan, his hips starting to snap up into your mouth, matching the rhythm you set.

“bet you love this, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice breathless, almost incoherent. “love it when i — when i fuck that pretty mouth raw, don’t you, babe? fuck —” his words dissolved into another desperate moan, his hips jerking forward as you took him deeper, gagging softly with each thrust.

“shit, shit, shit —” his hand trembled in your hair, his breath coming out in short, broken gasps as he finally lost himself to the rhythm.

“gonna make me cum, you’re — oh god, you’re so fuckin' good at this, can’t — can’t hold back.”

you felt him tense, his thighs tensing as he hit the edge, the low, guttural groan that ripped from his throat sending a thrill through you. his grip tightened, and with one last thrust, he came, his hips stuttering as he cums down your throat, his groans fading into a low, contented moan as he slumped back against the bed.

when you pulled back, his breath still ragged, he looked down at you with a dazed, satisfied grin, eyes filled with lazy admiration. “damn, baby,” he murmured, reaching down to pull you up beside him, “you just…you just knew how to shut me up, huh?”

you grinned, catching your breath as you curled up beside him, voice still a little raspy. "you know, maybe i should take more business trips if this is how we end up shutting each other up. kinda think we both need it.”

he shot you a sharp, playful look, a laugh rumbling low in his chest as he pulled you closer. “oh, don’t even think about it,” he muttered, leaning down to press a rough kiss to your lips, tasting himself on you.

“i don’t think i could handle going this long again. you’d come home to a whole new level of desperate boyfriend next time, and we both know you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

“is that supposed to scare me?” you teased, fingers running along his chest. “because if anything, i’m more tempted now.”

“careful, babe,” he said, voice low as he nipped at your bottom lip. “keep talking like that, and i’ll have to give you a reason to stay grounded right here with me, every damn night.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "fine, fine, i’ll stay,” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper, “for now. but if i do ever have to leave again…”

he cut you off, lips pressing against yours with a possessive edge. “then i’ll just have to make sure you don’t forget what you’re coming back to.”

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daenysx · 3 days ago

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3:23am sirius? With reader waking up from a nightmare? Mayhaps mayhaps ...

3.23 AM I SIRIUS BLACK

you can almost feel the hand on your shoulder that connects you to reality.

it's like slipping from unconsciousness, you're being pulled back, you're desperate to lift your body from bed. there's something wrong but you can't focus on it, trapped in your sleep.

"it's okay." someone says. you feel too warm. "you're okay, baby, wake up."

the slightly scratchy voice tickles your ears deliciously, you open your eyes. it's not like you flinch or anything, but the first thing you see is sirius's worried eyes. his thumb draws circles on your shoulder, does he even know he's been doing that?

"what-" you try to lift yourself on your elbows. the words get stuck.

"i think you were having a nightmare, lovely girl." sirius murmurs with a kiss on your head. "you looked so uncomfortable, i was worried."

"i don't remember." you tell him, and it's true. the feeling of discomfort is remaining, but you don't know what you dreamed of. your face aches from frowning.

"that's okay, and we don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." he says. "do you need me to turn on the lights?"

it's the middle of the night, and he's losing sleep because of you. you know sirius doesn't care about that, but still you want to take your time with processing the negative emotions you felt unconsciously, you don't even know what you saw.

"no, thank you." you say softly, and settle down in bed again. "um- did i make any sound?"

sirius fixes his hair briefly before bringing his hand to your cheek. "only a few of them. you didn't say anything, but you were feeling nervous, i think."

"maybe i'll remember later." you say.

it's mostly okay, sirius hugs you the way he was doing before he woke up. you put your head on his shoulder, safe in his embrace.

"will you be able to fall asleep again?" he asks silently. he'd stay awake with you until the morning if you can't.

"i feel exhausted." you confess. "i want to sleep, i hope i can."

sleep doesn't come easy. sirius spends the next thirty minutes by rubbing your back with slow circles, kissing your head many times, and speaking in soft encouragements to your ear. you feel like a mush in his arms, desperate for some good rest and unable to find it.

he doesn't let this become insufferable, though. you know he's there with you, you won't sit alone in bed in the middle of the night if you can't find sleep.

sirius pushes his luck a bit harder by adjusting your positions under the covers. he helps you put your head on his heart, you don't protest. it beats steadily, and so beautiful in a way that makes you want to listen to it forever. a nice rhythm in the dark, you follow it. you don't even know when your mind gives up, but at some point it does, leaves you into sleep again.

sirius is proud of himself, and happy with the way you take easier breaths. the night turns into a peaceful one, now that he knows you're feeling better and getting some sleep. you squeeze his fingers. a pretty smile forms on your lips, he can see it this close. he hopes you're having a nice dream this time. he hopes you dream of him.

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featherandferns · 2 days ago

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I got inspired by this post and deeped it probably a bit too much lol

"I can't read cursive".

It was the sort of thing his friends laughed at, giving scoffing remarks and rolling their eyes at JJ's quirkiness. He'd laugh too, shrug it off like he was in on the joke. But underneath was an insecurity; a panic as to why. He'd look down and the letters were merely scrawl. They were swooping and swooning characters that made no sense, illegible and intelligible. If he tried to focus then they'd start to dance around the page. He experienced that too, though to a lesser extent, with print text. It was as if the words were mocking him. Taunting him.

But being the way he was with school, nobody paid it much mind. Not even JJ. He didn't care for reading. He'd rather smoke or surf. Books were dull and drab, what with growing up in an education system that force fed Shakespeare down an eleven year old's throat. JJ started to skip class the older he got. He'd sneak off to the bathroom to light one up or just ditch the day entirely. Maths was a bore and science utterly useless in his planned profession of handy-man side gigs, and so the concern with his reading got swept under the rug.

He had tried once, though. It was when he was nine and they had been reading collectively as a class, playing 'popcorn'. Someone had innocently passed over to him and JJ spent a good ten minutes stuttering over his syllables and stammering over the vowels and constantans. He was so glad when he reached the end of the page and could pass the burden off to someone else. Afterwards, he lingered behind and spoke to the teacher. The sting of embarrassment lingered like a prick from a bee. But the teacher shrugged him off. You're still learning, they'd said. For some it takes longer. He'd been too humiliated to bring it up again. Future popcorns were spent with JJ being the class clown, making lewd jokes that had the other kids laughing until the teacher banned him from popcorn altogether. That was that.

"You can't read cursive?"

"It just...It's harder for me to follow, s'all," JJ halfway lies. He looks up from the card that you gave him to meet your gaze. Your brows are tugged together in concern and JJ immediately wants to crawl under the covers like a child, embarrassed beyond belief. But instead of poking fun like the others (as well-natured as they mean by it), you take the card back and clear your throat.

"JJ, I hope you have a wonderful birthday and get everything you ever want. You deserve it. With love," you read aloud. There's a warmth to your face and a meekness to your tone as you tell him your message. It was the sort of sweet thing someone recites in their head like scripture, keeping it safe on the page and not out in the world. Smiling shyly at him, you offer the card back out to him.

"Sorry," he mumbles. "Thanks, though. That's, uh...that's sweet."

You chuckle. "Well, I mean it."

JJ takes the card back with a smile and you lean forward, pressing a kiss against his cheeks. His face feels hot like sunburn. You sit back on your haunches, perched pretty on your bed, and then your smile dwindles into something of worry.

"Do you often struggle," you wonder, nodding down to the card, "with reading and things like that? I mean, is it just cursive?"

"I can read," JJ replies, a little defensive. You thankfully laugh.

"No, I know you can read JJ," you chuckle, shaking your head. "I just mean is it easy to read? D'you think you need glasses or somethin'?"

"I don't know," JJ murmurs, shrugging. He looks down at the card and closes it. His thumb swipes across the front. A small ruby red love heart bobbing on rolling waves as if it's a boat, alongside a phrase that JJ focuses desperately hard on to read. With you, I feel like I'm floating. It's something so unexplainably you to pick out. Clearing his throat, he looks back up at you. "Never really thought about it before."

Humming, you get up and walk to the bookshelf by your closet. You ponder for a moment before retrieving a thin paperback and taking your previous spot on your bed. A random page is picked out and you hold it out to him.

"Read this to me."

It's popcorn all over again. That same dreaded panic bubbles in his throat.

"Feels like I'm in school," JJ chuckles, hoping to play off his nerves. "You're like my sexy teacher or somethin'."

"Har har, you wish," you say with a roll of your. "Read, though. Please."

Sighing, JJ relents and takes the book. He squints down at the pages and tries and tries and tries. The letters won't cooperate. They jive and jig on the lines. Shaking his head, sighing again, growing frustrated, JJ blinks and focuses. The anxiety builds in his chest like a hammering train on tracks. As his lips go to form the first word, your hand on his has him taking pause. You smile kindly at him.

"S'alright. You don't gotta read," you tell him. You take the book back and close the pages and JJ feels like he can take a breath. Ditching the flimsy paperback, you clear the small gap between the two of you and cup JJ's face in your hands. The kiss the two of you share is tender, lingering like a mist. "I love you, y'know that?"

"Even if I ain't a reader?" He means for it to sound like a joke but there's a sincerity in JJ's voice. His insecurity that has been there since childhood, that fights to come out whenever he hangs with Pope, that growls with jealousy when you lounge back on the boat with a book. His insecurity that he isn't all that smart and maybe you - someone who lives and breathes education like a bong hit - would figure that out sooner rather than later, and find someone who is.

"Even then," you hum, kissing him again. "Just gives me another excuse to spend more time with you, huh?"

And when you put it that way, maybe it ain't all bad.

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jj #obx #outer banks #outerbanks #jj blurb #jj drabble #jj x reader blurb #jj x reader drabble #outerbanks blurb #outer banks blurb #obx blurb #outerbanks drabble #obx drabble

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thefeistydragon · 4 hours ago

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I am once again emphasizing do not listen to the "home surgical option" aka "coat hanger method" suggestion. You will most likely die. The horrors that method brings to people are part of what pushed abortion to be allowed in the first place.

Suggesting that is in no way harm reduction. Just a different kind of irreparable harm. And it gives a false sense of security by suggesting an untrained friend could do better.

Not to mention, you don't know that your "friend" is fully on your side. Some pro deathers won't make their stance known until they can do someone irreparable harm.

The medicines and B C mentioned above are your best bets. And no it isn't right that that means many people are going to be unable to access the care they need. And I know many people will be desperate. But the herbal, oil, and back alley surgery options all lead to death or worse too.

hey let's start spreading the reminder now that you cannot safely self-manage an abortion with herbal medicine or essential oils. natural abortifacients function by poisoning you; you wait for your body to realize you're dying and reject the pregnancy in order to conserve resources, and hope that happens before the rest of your organs shut down.

i think there will be an upsurge soon of unscrupulous and/or malicious actors preying on desperate pregnant people; do not help them kill people. don't spread recipes for herbal medicines or ingestible essential oil mixtures that purport to cause a pregnancy termination.

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jaal-ama-daravv · 3 days ago

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alright, I am dissecting the Emmrich graveyard scene below for how down bad they are for eachother

pls note I have attached screen caps

find my other post here

we begin -

"I would hate to lose you whilst I am still mortal"

this line is directly after Rook questioning all the flirting and what that means for them should he become a lich. which Emmrich responds witht he above. this is a tough one for me to break down as either way Emmrich retains his soul, emotions, and thoughts if he becomes a lich. I believe this line is tied to the fact of being afraid Rook will not want him anymore once he explains his desire to be a lich, as alluded to throughout the rest of the scene.

this one is kind of self explanatory. Emmrich states that nothing will change if he becomes a lich, apart form the no death thing, but would still consider Rook in the decision.

then we are met with a sigh - this is a sigh of desperation. 'how do i choose my words so carefully that Rook see's my desire and doesn't shun me for it' - hence Emmrich goes on to explain what being a lich would mean in hopes rook will still desire him. (this becomes a big factor throughout the rest of the lich romance - desire)

'considerations'

as above, and again now with considering rook. now the first conversation cuts out after this. it is my belief that these considerations are considering Rook and their perspective, whilst also including the fact that it is later revealed that Emmrich might die during the rite, therefore losing Rook whilst still mortal. I believe this line is both a statement of care for Rook, and his fear od death.

throughout the quest, Rook asks Emmrich a bunch of questions, more so just filler content so Rook can understand lichdom and the process.

then Emmrich shows you something that is probably the closest thing to his heart before Rook. his parents graves. keep in mind that Emmrich had these made, and he engraved 'they walk eternity hand in hand'. Then the next shot is Rook and Emmrich walking side by side to the shrine.

walking eternity hand in hand is also mentioned in the lich romance scene,"find you in another world" aka the fade. this man has believed in soulmates for decades.

subtle conversation tactic of, 'what would you want me to be, rook'. here you either say happy with someone who cares about him, or break up with him (i do nOT reccommend).

simple to the point, emmrich is looking for subtle validation here for rooks feelings

and the fact that there is only one correct option is wild too.

If you choose, "Whatever you want", you reply by saying Happy. which very close to the romance committment line of "Happy with someone who cares for you."

Emmrich is looking for that connection so so badly, hence why only one option

Emmrich's gaze towards Rook as he asks them what shes wants, and baring his soul to her.

after committing - Emmrich does not look away from rook once.

rook is fucked. rook is head over heels in love and smitten with this man. keep in mind that throughout the rest of the game, there are conversations with companions where Emmrich will straight up shut them down when pressed about them 'moving too fast' or 'do you know what you are doing'. Emmrich is very clearly defensive about these things, which is so hot.

in my playthrough, they are necromancers, well aware of how short life is, especially facing the apocolypse. ofc they are going all in.

this man is gonna go home and jump up and down on his bed

do i need to explain this? the shrine of passion and devotion, the ETERNAL SHRINE.

anyway im really, really down bad for this dynamic and them. im also in love with my rook so that doesnt help.

ill most likely do a break down of each scene

#dragon age #dragon age veilguard #datv #datv spoilers #emmrich #emmrich romance #dragon age emmrich #emmrich volkarin #dav #da4 #da4 emmrich #maeve ingellvar #rook ingellvar

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anyroads · 1 day ago

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One of my oldest and best friends, an educated man who's spent his entire career working for humanitarian NGOs, considered not voting this election because he hated both candidates so much. This man understands politics thoroughly and still resented having to vote for Harris to keep Trump out of office so much he almost didn't do it. I'm not a big fan of hers, just like I'm not a fan of any politician - they're public servants, not celebrities, and politicians tend to be manipulative and ambitious in ways that I can only hope will mostly serve the public good. But my friend hates Harris. Indefinably. Unjustifiably. In a way I've never seen him hate a politician. This was the first election where he didn't vote for any down ballot candidates or issues.

My immediate thought was, what brainrot got to him? What propaganda convinced him that it was moral not to vote as they preyed on his activism burnout? Because this is what happens when you don't take care of yourself. The work is not sustainable if you aren't keeping track of your needs and taking time to meet them. And when you burn out, that's when bad actors can take advantage of how desperately you want someone to tell you it's ok to sit down and stop the work, that it's somehow just as moral for you to stop fighting as it has been for you to do it for all this time. We've spent this whole election talking about interference but I think it'll be months before we learn how they did it this time.

Idk guys, maybe people are blaming leftists who refused to vote because of genocide because I literally saw them holding political rallies last weekend in a swing state telling people not to vote

Like it wasn't just tumblr leftists saying not to vote for Kamala, or at all, because of Palestine. Those were real people I walked past last Saturday in Pennsylvania, a key swing state. They had megaphones in front of Philadelphia city hall and a sizeable crowd. I feel like we can, in fact, say they are partly culpable here.

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dorabellingham · 1 day ago

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Just drive

warning: none

characters: jude x fem!reader

summary: when your water breaks but he doesn't know how to drive to take you to the hospital

may contain spelling and translation errors!

It was a typical summer day in Madrid, the sun was shining brightly, and the heat seemed to increase by the minute. You, nine months pregnant, were relaxing on the couch with the fan on, trying to ease the discomfort of the final stretch of your pregnancy. Your big belly was proof that Amala was almost here, and you already felt a mix of anxiety and excitement at being so close to meeting your daughter. Jude, attentive to your every move, approached you every few minutes, asking if you needed anything, if you wanted water, if everything was okay. Even with his anxiety and care, he couldn't hide his nervousness about the upcoming birth.

—Honey, I'm fine, stop looking at me like I'm going to explode at any moment!

You laughed, seeing your husband's worried look.

—It's not that, but... what if it explodes? I mean, what if... —He hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. —What if your water suddenly breaks?

You laughed more, already used to his exaggerated concerns.

—I'll let you know, don't worry.

But ironically, that's exactly what happened moments later. You felt a strong contraction and then...water running down your legs. Your water had broken.

—Jude...

You called, trying to stay calm as you felt the wave of pain increase.

Jude, who was in the kitchen, dropped the glass of water he was holding when he heard the serious tone in your voice. He ran into the living room and found you with your eyes closed, breathing deeply, trying to deal with the pain.

—Is...is it now?

He asked, his eyes wide.

You nodded, still breathing deeply.

—Yeah. She's coming.

That was enough for Bellingham to panic. He started pacing back and forth, grabbing his cell phone, putting his hands on his head, clearly not knowing what to do.

—Okay, breathe, Jude, breathe! I just need to take you to the hospital, that's all! I just...uh...where are the car keys? I'll drive!

Between contractions, you looked at him and noticed the despair on his face. It was true, he didn't know how to drive. In the rush of moving to Madrid and with the intense routine of games, he had never taken the time to learn. You were the one who always drove, which wasn't a problem... until now.

—Jude... you don't know how to drive...

You said, with a mix of concern and pain.

—But you can't drive like that! Not when you're... with... with Amala coming.

He started gesturing, trying to find a solution.

The pain increased, and you grimaced. Even in the midst of the chaos, you tried to stay calm.

—Babe, I'll guide you... you'll have to... you'll have to try.

With a mix of desperation and determination, he helped you get up and, together, you walked to the car parked in the garage. You, still in pain, sat in the passenger seat, while Jude took the wheel for the first time.

—It's okay, honey. Just… just stay calm.

You said, trying to focus between contractions.

Jude took a deep breath, adjusted the seat and the steering wheel, but his hands were shaking. He started the car and looked at you as if waiting for some confirmation that everything was okay.

—Jude, step on the brake before putting it in gear. That’s it, that’s it… now take it easy, don’t rush, just go.

The car moved slowly through the garage, and you tried to hold back your laughter, mixed with the pain and the surreal situation. With every meter traveled, Bellingham concentrated as if he was about to score a decisive goal.

—Babe, just… go straight. It’s not that hard, just relax…

You said between contractions, trying to stay calm for him.

Jude murmured softly to himself, a kind of mantra to keep from panicking. You finally reached the street, and he accelerated a little more, but with the same excessive caution of someone driving for the first time.

—Jude, can you go a little faster… I… I need to get to the hospital before Ama…

You said, trying to breathe between words.

—Okay, okay....I'm going.

He sped up a little, but any slower car seemed like an insurmountable obstacle to him. It was as if he was facing the biggest match of his life.

Halfway there, a new wave of pain took over you, and in reaction you squeezed your boyfriend’s arm tightly. He looked at you quickly, worried.

—Sweetheart, are you okay? I… I’m driving as fast as I can.

—Jude Victor, focus on the road, please! Just… just get there.

After a few streets, you finally saw the hospital. With one last awkward turn and a somewhat crooked parking lot, Jude managed to stop the car in front of the emergency entrance. He ran out of the car, calling for help, while you tried to keep your breathing under control, already relieved to be there.

Nurses arrived quickly, putting you in a wheelchair and starting to guide you inside. Jude held your hand until the last moment, making it clear how much he was with you, even without knowing how to deal with the situation.

—Sorry, Y/n… I didn't know driving would be so… so complicated!

He said, his voice still shaking.

You smiled, despite the pain.

—Jude, you did a great job. Now… go ahead, come meet our little girl.

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flowergoddessblooms · 3 days ago

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I will never forget that day. In the middle of the night, as the storm raged, wind bellowing, we were safe in our house. It wasn't huge, but we were quite well to do compared to others in our community. The wood burned and the fire crackled, providing warmth much craved. There was enough food to last a month. We all sat in the light of the burning embers. I remember thinking how unfortunate that the others weren't so lucky.

Oh how I hate myself for even having had that thought. For moments after, we heard the sound of glass breaking. Our eyes darted across the room, now staring at a man brushing glass pieces off his black cloak. You would recognise the emblem on his cloak anywhere.

The Black Raven guild.

Mercenaries.

Before my brain could process what had just occurred, the man rushed through the room, armed with a dagger. It was over in a split second.

I stood agape, watching the crimson flow.

My parents were dead.

Blood seeped through the carpet, under the floorboards. Time was at a standstill.

The man looked over at me.

"A scrawny brat, eh? Well you weren't in the request and I couldn't care less about a little shit like you."

And he was gone.

My tears wouldn't stop. For days and nights I sat there clutching the bodies of my parents, as the rain and thunder never stopped. The stench of decaying corpses is something you can never imagine. One whose face is filled with absolute fear and desperation. It was etched into my heart.

And so, after a long time spent crying, trying to fix the wounds, venturing out into the storm to ask for help only to return dejected, I swore. I swore to myself that I would make that man regret being born for taking away my happiness.

It's been 21 years. 21 years of hunting for this man whose face I didn't know. 21 years of traveling around the country, spending days at inns, flocking bars, approaching information guilds, anything and everything. And I finally found him.

I found out everything about him.

57 years old. Muscular. Tanned. Shaved head. A thick beard. Lived in a little village on the outskirts of the country. He would protect the villagers from bandits. He was quite loved by the community.

But I know who he truly is. Beneath all that facade of a good man and the protector of women and children, he is someone who would kill people for money.

It didn't take me long to find him. And boy oh boy, it was infuriating.

He was a changed man. He didn't talk like the way he did that night, in a rugged tone, without an ounce of humanity. He had a slow speech and spoke as though he was an enlightened monk.

How. Funny.

He didn't recognise me at first. It was only when i mentioned who my parents were, that he looked at me with a forlorn gaze and sighed.

Was this asshole pitying me? This person, who wasn't worth being called human, was showing sympathy?

I remember what he said, word for word.

" All those years ago, I was someone who only lived for money because I had to take care of myself and my family. My sisters were about to be sold off if I hadn't paid off my father's gambling debts. I didn't have much choice. I don't do that anymore. I've found my place with these people here. I take care of bandits for them, they feed me and my family in return. It's quite a peaceful transaction." He said gazing wistfully towards the village.

Not a single apology.

And was that story supposed to make me feel empathetic for him? Where was his empathy when he mercilessly murdered my parents in front of a 9 year old?

Did he expect me to droop my shoulders, cry and hug him?

He deserved to die and I would give him that.

I raided his home late that night. It was dark and stormy, quite fitting really. I broke the window and jumped in. He wasn't ready and it wasn't much of a fight for me, he was old and slow, barely able to dodge my attacks. It was soon over. I stood over him, as blood splurted out of his neck, staining the wooden floorboards with a rich crimson hue. I sat there, laughing, relishing my victory, when I heard little whimpers from close by.

It didn't matter anyway. I had fulfilled what I had sworn all those years ago. I was finally at peace.

No matter how much of my humanity it took from me.

I was finally at peace.

When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- …only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.

#writers #writers on tumblr #writing prompts #writing inspiration

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dynamightimagines · 20 hours ago

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Can you write some headcannons of Izuku, Katsuki, Denki, Kiri, and Tamaki Amajiki dating a reader whose quirk is basically her being a magical girl.

Hey hey! Sorry this one took a min! This is so cute I have just been so mf busy with work and everything in like (why is finding new health insurance so mf hard) Hope you like it!! headcannons under the tag!! (I'm switching canon a little around for a few to fit reader into the story!)

Izuku, Katsuki, Denki, Kirishima, and Tamaki with a magical girl! S/O!

Izuku Midoriya

The first time Deku had seen your quirk he was absolutely stunned.

You guys were doing the villain and hero scenario's and you had been partnered with Uraraka to stop Iida and Bakugou from taking the bomb

It was normal at first, until the bright light went off

At first Izuku thought it was Bakugou setting off a particularly big explosion, the white of the blast blinding the cameras they were watching the fight from

But as it dimmed he realized it was focused around you, and as it went away he realized why your hero costume at first was so basic

It had completely transformed, you now adorned in a cute (favorite color) outfit, complete with bows and a small staff now in your hands

You seemed to move faster, even with the complicated outfit you were dodging your enemies left and right, sending out blasts from the staff you now carried

Izuku desperately wished he had his journal right now. How did your entire outfit change? And the increase in your stamina and dexterity?

You were keeping up very well with your opponents, dodging Bakugou's blasts left and right and moving faster than Iida could reach you

You were able to keep them long enough for the timer to run out, signaling your win against the hero team

As soon as you got back to the meeting room you were flocked by everyone, all of them aweing over your new costume and how your quirk worked

Another bright flash was sent out and you were back into your normal clothes, fatigue now visibly apparent on your face

Deku offered to take you to the infirmary to rest since his trial was already done

He tried really hard, but he couldn't stop himself from throwing question after question at you, wondering how your quirk worked, its drawbacks, and what all you could do

You were happy to answer all of his questions, bashful at the idea of someone so interested in your quirk

This blossomed your friendship, and little did you know how far your relationship would go

Katsuki Bakugou

Everyone teased him for your relationship

How did he, the angriest and most volatile student in UA, get together with one of the most upbeat and sociable students?

He made everyone who knew swear up and down they'd never let it out that he was the one that fell for you first

When he first saw your quirk, he thought it was the most obnoxious thing in the world, bright lights and frills and a wand?

But the power you had, the strength and how well you wielded the quirk's possibilities was admirable

Your sociable personality bounced off of his brash one well, making you two a popular couple

He knew you could handle yourself, sitting back during training knowing you'd always kick your opponents ass

Plus, he found it absolutely hilarious to see hardened, scary villains get demolished by you in your adorable costume, like a doll beating down Godzilla

He will also never admit it, but he finds your outfit adorable

He swears it changes a little bit every now and then, morphing to your growing personality

No matter what, its a perfect personification of you, and he will never get tired of it!

Denki Kaminari

The first time Denki saw you in action he swears he died and went to heaven

We know this guy watches anime, so the fact that, right before his eyes, a beautiful magical girl is here, just for him?

Technically just for him, as you two were sparring and you were coming right at him with your staff at the ready

He didn't care if he got teased for the quickest knockout in today's class, the fact that you carried him back to the infirmary and waited for him to wake up is all he needed to see before he decided he loved you

He hits you with so many flirty comments, calling you magical and asking you if you could sweep him off his feet

Luckily for him, it worked, and you two began dating

He will never stop bragging about you, showing off your quirk and cuteness to everyone he meets, daring them to fight you just so he can see you kick their asses, and see their faces as they realize the adorable and seemingly harmless girl they dared to fight could probably send them to hell and back

If anyone makes fun of your quirk he's quick to defend you, threatening to fight whoever dares to be mean to you, even though he knows you can defend yourself

He will never get over your magical girl outfit, begging you to activate your quirk just so he can take pictures of you in it

He will beg Momo to make a replica of it so you can wear it even while not activating your quirk

You are his beautiful magical princess and he will always treat you as such!

Eijiro Kirishima

You two are such a power duo

you both are power houses in a fight, and when you're partnered you are practically unstoppable

Imagine trying to block Kirishima while you're in the back shooting blast after blast of pure power

Any opponent would be overwhelmed quite easily

If anyone doubts you because of how your quirk looks he is the first to defend you, telling whoever is being mean to you that you are probably much stronger than most macho looking guys out there

If anyone's words ever get to you and you start doubting yourself he makes sure to shower you in reassurances, telling you that despite how girly someone may think your quirk looks you are a beast on the battlefield

He would ask you to help him train, to shoot blast after blast at him to help him increase the durability of his hardening

You two are easily the most popular couple at UA, your guys' kindness and strength make everyone feel safe and appreciated

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki first noticed you when you got second place in that year's sports festival, just behind Mirio

Mirio quickly became your friend, so of course you became good friends with Nejire and Tamaki too!

You and Nejire became best friends first, two of the cutest girls in your year made you quite popular

Tamaki was very intimidated by you at first, your flashiness and power was enough to make anyone shy

But you were so nice! How could he not respond to you and hang out with you when you asked so politely, and made sure to make plans in calm places so he wouldn't be overwhelmed?

Plus Mirio loved you, so that was good enough reason for him to open up to you

You're definitely the 'leader' in the relationship, taking lead of plans and any interactions you guys had while you were out

"He asked for no pickles" type of dynamic

You thought his power was absolutely amazing, and you never failed to tell him so, even though it made him a blushing mess

You got lots of love letters, many boys and girls alike showed affection for you and it made Amajiki very self conscious

You always reassured him, promising you would never leave him for someone else

He loves you with all his might and he will never stop showing it to you

Can you tell I lost all writing capabilities and motivation half way through this LOL I love this prompt I just suck at keeping focused. Love ya!

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adrift-in-thyme · 2 days ago

Text

Anyone up for an angsty little fic? XD

I wrote this for whumptober but never could find a prompt that fit it. So I’m publishing it now instead!

CW for blood and injury, referenced torture, and burn wounds

———————————————————

The world is blinding and it burns.

Time grits his teeth, turns from it in an effort to escape the light. Endless and crackling, reaching out, snapping back, a whip seeking an unsuspecting back.

Someone is screaming. He knows it is not him.

“What-what…no!” A foot clad in crimson stomps once, twice, a masked face bobbing in time with it. “No, no, no! This wasn’t supposed to happen!”

Fools. Time thinks. Fools and cowards.

The Yiga have brought this upon themselves.

Days, perhaps weeks of torture and experimentation have led to this. He only wishes he could have stopped it. Not for their sake. No, never for theirs. For all he cares, they can writhe beneath lightning’s brutal claws, screech, and scramble like insects trying to escape a boot.

Not for their sake does guilt pierce his soul. For Sky’s.

He lies in the center of the room, the sun in the center of a universe of destruction. Trembling with power, choking on fear, his cries ring in the hero’s ears like the bells in the Temple of Time.

The Yiga are running – the surviving ones, at least. Time can smell the smoke of their stealthy escapes. It hardly manages to permeate the heavy scent of electric death.

He breathes in, exhale hitching as he tries to move. His wounds ache and blood clings to him, dripping from the shreds of his tunic. He must get up though, he must get free.

He has to reach Sky before this power tears him apart.

The ropes around his wrists are frayed, bristling with the relentless aggression of his struggles. Day after day the Yiga had yanked him back, sliced at the fingers trying to pull at the hulking knots, aimed kicks at his stomach, his head, his back – anything to get him to cease trying to escape.

Cease trying to reach Sky.

His throat aches from shouting his name. His head pounds from sobbing.

Time contorts throbbing hands in a half-circle his wrists shriek against, pawing desperately at the same bonds that have held fast all this time.

Their strength had not been their own. This moment, they crumple beneath his force. This moment, they fall.

He is up in an instant, scrambling, gritting his teeth against the way everything shouts and screams and erupts into dazzling bursts of light and color, color and light that all take on the shade of red.

He coughs. Something damp and clammy hits the ground.

“Sky!”

One of his feet isn’t moving right. It feels like someone has wrenched it off, screwed it back on backwards. It doesn’t matter. What won’t move, will be dragged.

“Sky!”

“Time!”

The eyes that turn, tear-filled and pleading to him, match the tongues of lightning that lash out at his unarmored form. They are like the shooting stars he and Malon used to watch as they blazed across the Hyrulean sky.

Sky inhales and the force of it is nails scraping against metal, calloused fingers against a blade.

“Help me!”

The scream is a collection of shattered glass, raining down upon the room in terrible, glinting projectiles. Time winces with the pain of it.

“I’m coming.”

He chokes it out more than speaks it.

“I’m coming, Sky, just…”

He coughs again, stumbles, catches himself on the wall. It is wet with a substance he would rather not contemplate the existence of. He pushes off of it and keeps going.

The lightning reaches for him, tantalizing, hypnotic. Determined, he fights to reach it.

“Just hold on. Hold on!”

The first of them snaps back, connects with vicious precision with his thigh. He cries out, nearly crumples, and trips right into another. It sends a jolt through his side, snaking rapidly in and out of bones he didn’t even register having.

What will you do once you reach him? His mind hisses, doubtful, pessimistic. What will you do when, bloodied and broken, you fall beside him? Will you touch his shoulder? Draw him into your arms?

What good will comfort do?

He reaches for an answer. He has none. Only his mission and his determination to accomplish it.

Time grits his teeth and he presses on.

Sky screams his name again. Lightning strikes again. It is all around him now, a hurricane whose eye he is swimming towards. A hurricane that is tearing him apart.

They devour like ravenous wolfos. Streaking through muscle and sinew, razing them like fields of sun-warmed wheat; splintering bones, boiling blood. He is breathing the life-giving liquid, tasting it, smelling it. It pours from his mouth and eyes and nose, peppers the ground like a morbid artwork. It mixes with the pungent wetness of his tears and tears, melds with sickly yellow bile he cannot keep down.

“Sky…” He tries to call. He is close to him now, so close. If he just extends his arm…

His next inhale is hardly enough to be called one. At some point walking became impossible. He can’t recall when. But now he pulls himself along like a newborn babe.

Even that is too much for his body.

It smells like death. It smells like burning bodies.

He will not give up, though, not now. Sky needs him.

A trembling hand goes up, goes out, seeking its destination. An exhausted body exerts the last of its strength to lunge.

Time won’t allow himself to scream. But as he brings Sky into his arms, he can’t keep back a cry.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I so, so sorry,” sobs the shattered boy who has collapsed into him. “I can’t stop it. I can’t stop it!”

It hurts. Darkness is beginning to join the endless light.

The world is blinding and it burns. Oh, it burns. Worse than the magma of Death Mountain, worse than the clawing grasp of a deadhand, the sting of a skulltula.

It doesn’t matter.

“You can,” he croaks and pulls Sky closer. “I believe that you can.”

Time has not thought of himself as naive in a very, very long time. But for a split second, drenched in guilt, he wonders if, perhaps, he is being so now.

He shoves the thought away, drowns it beneath the battle of staying awake and staying alive.

Sky lets loose a cry like a warrior who has lost a great battle. A sound that is dazzling in its ferocity, terrifying in its grief.

“Please, please just leave.” He lifts his face, blood and soot and snot made stark against a backdrop of silvery white. “I’m gonna hurt you more than I already have! Leave!”

He tries to shove away, but it is a weak attempt. Time holds him closer.

“I won’t leave you.”

Talking is a struggle, breathing is a struggle. How long can he keep doing both?

As long as it takes.

“I am used to storms.” He smiles and that hurts as well. The expression tears at fragile flesh. “I have never run from one.

“And I refuse to do so now.”

#trin writes #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fic #lu time #lu sky #angst #hurt/comfort #but there’s only a teensy bit of comfort heh #tw injury #tw blood #tw torture

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