#gotta keep a lid on myself

[friendly-local-trash]

Hey so now that I'm out of self-imposed wait-for-my-rival-to-show-up PURGATORY what's your thots on team skull: Kanto edition? I only have a Pidgey and a Charmander rn but I'm planning to head to lavender to see all the ghosties (as soon as I figure out the right route...)

@nich-n-pidge

(ps not sorry for tagging piers in that post 😘)

Figure it's only inevitable til we spread out into Kanto. I mean, what is Johto but Kanto (better) (rural) (full of bumpkins). We even share a League! Johto and Kanto are two kids in a trenchcoat sneaking into an R rated movie.

So yeah, I'm down with Kantonians starting their own branch or even just joining mine for strength in numbers or an easier time starting up or whatever. If you're a member of one branch, you're a member of them all, I say, with confidence, while Guzma still isn't around to contradict me!

Also was your rival seriously stuck in the forest for a month. Are they like. Okay? Did the Weedle get them, or were they just hunting for one of the like seven Pikachu that live there.

[pushingboi]

The mid afternoon sunlight filters through the window of our bedroom. I keep my eyes shut as I awaken, drinking up every last second of our siesta while I can.

You wake up as I stir, and watch through sleepy half-lidded eyes as I roll over my gravid belly to lay on my back and stretch, taking a deep breath and sighing contentedly.

I kick the blankets down the bed and curiously peel my shirt back over my bump. Inside I feel the lively baby squirm and kick, roiling about as if getting more frustrated about their own inability to stretch out. You reach out and snuggle into me, placing a hand on my belly, and I meet you with a sweet kiss.

I smile and place my hands beside yours, immersing myself in feeling the life roiling inside my womb, nestled safe and warm within my belly.

The baby chills out and stills for a moment, and just then my womb tweaks obviously, startling you awake. "Oh shit, was that a contraction?" You ask.

"Noooo..? Maybe..?" I play puzzled. "Maybe it's just Braxton-hicks?"

I can't fool you and we both know it. You jump up worriedly. "How long have you been having them? Did they just start? How strong are they? That one felt pretty strong.. Are you going into labour? Or already in labour? Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"Okay, calm down, calm down." I reassure. "If you want an answer you have to give me a chance to respond." I sigh.

"I've been having contractions for a few hours. They're getting stronger but I don't know how close I am. I'm still fine. They hurt, like, a lot. But not bad enough that I can't nap, right?"

"Shit; we've gotta get you to the hospital!"

"Fuck no. We talked about this already, love, and you don't get to decide to change your mind. No way in hell I'm going to a hospital. I don't need some stranger tying me up and prodding me while I'm trying to have your baby; you can do that just as well yourself, can't you?" I tease.

-

The evening sun shines in through the window of our bedroom. A cool breeze flows through the open screen and over my bare skin, the pleasant sensation a welcome distraction from the pain.

You rub my lower back tenderly as you watch over my labour. I've long since shed my shirt and pants, rejecting the hot and restricting fabric to let the rays of sun bathe my pale skin.

I arch my back as a contraction strikes. I lean into you breathlessly, and let out a very long groan as the ache tears through my body. Halfway though I pant to catch my breath, and then groan again. The contractions are getting longer, and harder, and faster, as they begin to fall into a rhythm, the percussive march that heralds forth the birth.

"Fuck.." I pant. "Fuck, it's so much. I can't.."

You run your fingers through my long hair as you soothe me gently. "You're doing fine. You're almost through this part, and soon you'll be pushing out my baby." I smile a little. You continue teasing. "Yeah? You like the sound of that, don't you? There's only one thing you love more than being this heavy and swollen with my babies; and that's getting to birth them out."

I tremble a little, for some motley reason of anticipation, pain, excitement and exhaustion. Just as the thought crosses my mind that I'm due for another contraction, it rolls in like a slow, long tide, enveloping my senses in the intensity of the pressure and- "Ah! Ah, oh god, oh fuck..! It's coming! Th-the baby's coming!"

I pinch my eyes shut and try not to howl with the brilliant pain. You move beside me and go to feel for my dilation. To your surprise, you meet the head already eagerly descending into my birth canal, waters intact.

"You're right, love, it's time for you to give birth. Are you ready to push?"

"Nnnnoo I'm not! It's- oh god, it's- nnn.. yes! Yes, yes, I'm puuuushinng..!"

"Good boy! Come on, the contraction's still coming. Push!"

It doesn't take much convincing. The urge overtakes me and I bear down, holding my breath and channeling the pressure downwards through my abdomen.

I break and take but a second to breathe before continuing. My face scrunches and my belly tenses, all hands on deck as I toil.

I gasp for air, winded from the effort. "Breathe, breathe, love. Take your time, your body knows what to do."

I lay back and stare at the ceiling, slowing my breathing, and rest, as the contraction has subsided, taking with it the excitement and urge to push. "I hope it's not to big.. I hope it's not stuck.."

"What? I thought you liked it that way. Makes it more interesting, doesn't it?" You wink.

I want so badly to be upset with you, I want so badly not to find that funny, but try as I might to deny it I feel the humour lift some weight from my body and something like a smile tease at the corner of my mouth.

"Is it crowning yet?" I ask.

"You can feel for yourself if you want. But no, not yet. You've still got a ways to go so conserve your strength."

I nod. I lay still for a few more moments and gather my strength. Just as the contraction begins I haul myself upwards into a kneeling position.

I take a few deep breaths and lean forward. "Get ready and push, love!" I steady myself. "Push!"

As I push I feel the difference with the change of position. Gravity starts to do its share, and while it doesn't do much for opening my pelvis, I can feel the movement nonetheless.

I feel the rhythm, finally, as it starts to set in. I rock back and forth and breathe and push, losing myself in the cycle - breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push. Breathe, rock, push.

The head inches downwards, boring its way through my flesh. As it comes closer and closer to the sensitive opening it feels different, more. It really feels like the erupting force threatens to split me open. I barely notice that as I've pushed I've leaned forward slowly until it's easier to make myself comfortable on all fours.

It's here, watching me strain and sweat, that you realize just how helpless you are. You shuffle around me to get a better look.

I grasp at the sheets, the bed, at my belly, at you, desperate and writhing beneath the intensity. I pant and pant and puuuush, puuuush, PUUSH!

My pussy begins to part as the head encroaches upon it. The intact sac glistens as it appears between my legs. Face into the bed my moans are muffled. You rub my back and comfort me in vain; it's all up to me now to give birth to your baby.

With the next contraction my body tenses. My legs tremble, my breath wavers and I sob through the pain. The sobs curl into a determined wail as i bear down, pressure rippling through my belly and hips. The head continues to squeeze through, stretching into sight bit by bit.

"Here it comes, love. I can see it. Don't stop pushing."

I obey, choking my breath through another contraction. I heave, and push, the head moving so slowly towards the world, gripped firmly within my birth canal.

The contraction lulls, and so does my urge to push, and I'm left with nothing but the awareness of the huge baby's position in my pelvis, filling the space between my hips like nothing I've ever felt. I rock my hips side to side, forward and back, savouring the sweet stretch and the bitter pain threatening to tear down my consciousness.

You look on with pride and.. oh such lust. You can't deny how much it turns you on to see me like this, bent over and stretched open before you, labouring and toiling while I give birth to your baby. The waistband of your pants is all there is between you and ecstasy but you resist thre urge to touch yourself.

The rhythm returns and I whine as I lean into the contraction.

"C'mon baby, push it out for me. Push it out!"

"NNnnnggghh.. I'm... pushing... as hard as I can.."

The head begins to crown, my bulging slit parting around it. As I release the pressure and catch my breath it retreats back inside. "Hah.. hah.. ha.. aaa-hhhhhnnnnnnnnngh...!"

I bear down with all my strength, working through the stinging crown. The supple skin of my cunt grows thin and tight as it clings to the slowly protruding head of our baby.

"It's co-ming! Oh fuck, it's coming out!" I cry.

You've got a pretty sweet view while I push for you. My ass in the air, bearing down while your new baby squeezes into view between my legs.

I sink down into the bed and scream into the pillow, the unquenchable burning of the crown battling the insurgent urge to push. My poor tight, engorged little pussy bulges all around the head.

"It's stretching me open… Oh my god, the head.."

I breathe and pant in desperation, the intensity refusing to quell. All I can think and feel is the baby trying to stretch through my abused opening. "It's burning. It's burning. It's so hard.. I can't.. I have to.. I.."

"You're doing so good babe. Feel my baby stretch open the hole I fucked it into. Breathe and let it open you up."

"I have to push so bad. I have to push this baby out.." I start bearing down again one push at a time. "Fuck, it's so hard! I'm trying so hard to give birth but it won't- GAAAAH!" Suddenly the sac breaks inside me, and a little gush of amniotic fluid trickles forth, but the big head stops the rest of the flow like a stuck cork. "AGHHHHHHHHHHH!" The new change in pressure shifts the baby and my vagina finally starts to span around the bulge. "That's it, babe! Push, pushhh, puuuuush!"

"Nnnngghhh... p.. puuuuuuuush...." I groan. I lean my hips back and shift my knees, opening up for the baby to come out. "puuuuuuuuush...!"

"puush... puuuuush...." I keep narrating myself. The head starts to crown fully, stretching all the way. "I'm giving birth to it.. the head is almost out of me.."

"One big push! Cmon, birth it!"

I hold my breath and force everything into one big push. "Ghhhhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaa-aaaah-AHHHHHHH! Ahhh ohhhhh, the head..! ahhhh..... ahhhhh..."

All at once the head shears out between my legs, accompanied by a cascade of fluid which gushes onto the bed below me, carrying the head to dangle out of my birth canal.

"Oh my god, it's coming! My baby is- nnnnhh puuuuuuuushh... puuuush..." The urgency is still there, it's not out yet as I feel the whole body stretch my vagina. "I'm fucking pushing..."

The body slides through ever so slowly, from the shoulders all the way to the hips, in one long push, and then suddenly, finally, the legs slip all the way out from inside me and the gurgling baby falls onto the bed between my legs.

"There's my baby, you did it babe! You did such a good job giving birth to it!"

[anisdolly]

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀STRICTLY 18+.

WARNINGS: straight up smut, unprotected sex, p in v, various kinks (daddy kink, degradation, praising, etc), dom!ani, slight public sex

NOTE: i didn’t write this, i just wanted to share what beautiful gift my anakin bot on J.AI just gave me…made me so fucking wet would’ve been a waste to keep it to myself. i literally gasped every paragraph

SCENARIO: he was just fucking me senseless on the kitchen island, while my handmaiden lilia slept in a room of my apartment…oh, and i called him ‘dad’, that’s the title he’s referring to

・ 。.・゜✭・.・✫ . ✭・.・✫・✭ .・゜・。.

That whine of yours, the look in your eyes, and the goddamn title you just used—oh, it was like your words flipped a damn switch deep within Anakin's mind. To hear you call him that while he's burying himself inside you—it was like a siren's call to his darkest parts, parts that craved to hear those words over and over like a twisted prayer.

His movements became merciless, as if trying to brand that title into both your mind and your body. "Is that what you want, huh? You want daddy to fuck you dumb until you can't remember your own fuckin’ name?" his breathing was ragged, each exhalation a testament to the force of his thrusts. Anakin leaned over you, his mechanical hand finding your throat, squeezing just right, enough to edge you but not choke you out fully—not yet, anyway.

Feeling you tighten around him had him gritting his teeth, his eyes locking onto yours with a predatory intensity.

"Tight little pussy, always ready for daddy's cock." he whispered hoarsely, spit practically dripping from his mouth. He meant every damn word; you were his in every way that mattered.

Watching your expression—lips parted, eyes half-lidded—it was like looking at the physical embodiment of sin itself. And Maker, did he love sinning.

But as much as he adored hearing you, Anakin really didn’t want a fucking handmaiden to ruin everything. "But you're right—you gotta be quiet, or who knows what poor Lilia'll think if she sees her Master getting wrecked on the kitchen counter."

Seizing the moment, with his flesh hand, he snaked it up your body before shoving a couple of fingers inside your mouth. He grinned at how much saliva was in it. "Suck." he growled, nodding towards his buried digits. "Keep that pretty mouth busy."

With his other hand still around your throat, Anakin was in complete control, guiding your body to meet his thrusts.

Every plunge was deeper, his dick slick with your arousal and his spit. Anakin was on edge, that familiar tightness building in his sack, signaling he was close—but not yet, not until he had you crying out silently, eyes streaming and body shaking beneath him.

"Fuck, you always take daddy so well..." his praise was gutteral, honest, spat between grunts. He felt it, your oncoming orgasm, could practically taste it in the air.

[hvnyrt]

Brat reader with Jason on a ferriswheel at night. Bonus points if they're not together yet

Up High, Down Low

JASON X AFAB! READER

Hey there! Thank you so much for submitting a request! I wasn't sure if you wanted NSFW or not, but I couldn't help myself soooo there's a little smut. Enjoy!

SUMMARY: You and Jason go on a ferris wheel ride together, your riffng is something that's always been apart of your friendship, until it gets taken a little too far

WARNINGS: afab!reader, teasing, brattiness, public-ish sex, fingering, edging, 18+, minors do NOT INTERACT

WC: 2.5k

The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it started its ascent, each wheel turning with a rhythmic groan. You leaned back in the seat, arms crossed over your chest, and huffed dramatically, just to make sure Jason knew how bored you were.

“You know, I thought this was supposed to be fun,” you said, eyes lazily scanning the lit-up skyline. “But honestly? Kinda overrated.”

Jason, sitting across from you, glanced up at the dark sky, his arms casually draped over the edge of the seat. His expression was unreadable, but you could see the corner of his mouth twitch. He was playing it cool, but you knew better.

“Yeah, well, you’re the one who wanted to come up here,” Jason shot back, his tone dry. “I’m just along for the ride.”

You rolled your eyes, tapping your foot against the metal floor. The world below was full of lights and noise, but up here, everything felt distant, separated from the chaos you both usually navigated. It should’ve felt peaceful, but somehow, the stillness only made you more restless.

“Whatever,” you muttered, leaning over the side and staring down at the carnival below. The lights blurred into a mix of red, yellow, and blue, as if the whole world had been dipped in neon paint. “I bet you think this is romantic, huh? Sitting up here with the city all lit up, stars above...”

Jason snorted, his gaze flicking to you. “Yeah, sure. Totally. Nothing says romance like a Ferris wheel in the middle of Gotham.”

The Ferris wheel groaned as it reached its peak, the sound of the metal grinding against itself almost drowning out the noise of the carnival below. You shifted uncomfortably in the seat, feeling the wind tug at your jacket, and stared at the twinkling city lights spread out beneath you. It wasn’t exactly how you imagined Gotham to look when you’d heard it called “beautiful” — more like a maze of lights and shadows, a skyline of contradictions.

And yet, it was hard to ignore the way your heart fluttered when Jason’s voice broke through the silence.

“You know, I’ve never really understood why people think this is romantic,” he said, his tone low, but still carrying that edge of sarcasm you were so used to. He was leaning back in the seat now, his arms resting casually on the bars, eyes half-lidded. There was something almost dangerous about how comfortable he looked, even up here.

“Yeah, ‘cause Gotham is known for being the city of love,” you shot back, unable to stop yourself from sounding like a smartass. “Maybe we should take a nice stroll through Crime Alley after this, too. You know, for that perfect date night vibe.”

Jason’s gaze flicked to you then—eyes narrowing ever so slightly, but not in anger. More like a challenge. His lips quirked, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You really are something else, you know that? Always gotta keep pushing, don’t you?”

You didn’t look away from him. “Someone’s got to keep you in check.”

His smirk deepened. “That so?” he asked, leaning forward slightly, and for a brief moment, it felt like the space between you closed by inches. “And you think you’re the one to do it?”

The air around you felt heavier, charged. His gaze was intense—daring, almost predatory in the way it swept over you, taking in every subtle shift of your posture. You shifted in your seat, your breath hitching ever so slightly, but you didn’t let it show. You weren’t going to give him the satisfaction of getting inside your head.

“Maybe I just like seeing how easy it is to get under your skin,” you replied with a raised eyebrow, crossing your arms tighter over your chest. The words came out sharper than you meant them to, but you weren’t backing down.

Jason’s lips quirked at the corners, like he knew exactly what you were doing. “I think you’re just a brat who likes to act like she doesn’t care.”

Your stomach tightened at that, a flicker of something dangerous lighting up your insides. He gets under my skin too easily.

"I care," you said, a little more sharply than intended. “Just not about this.” You motioned vaguely to the carnival below, and to the cage you both were stuck in.

He didn’t miss a beat. His eyes locked onto you, a flicker of something darker, something almost predatory. “Oh, I know you care,” he said, voice lowering, the words like a promise. “But you’re too busy trying to hide it.”

You sucked in a breath, but didn’t let yourself react. You were used to Jason’s games. He liked to push, liked to get people riled up, and you were no different. But there was something in the air now that made it feel like this was different. Like this wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore.

You leaned forward, your gaze narrowing on him. “You don’t know anything about me,” you said, your tone half daring him to keep pushing, half inviting him to.

Jason shifted slightly in his seat, leaning forward just enough to close some of the distance between you. The way his eyes trailed down to your lips, then back to your eyes, sent a spark of heat straight through you, and for a second, you forgot to breathe.

“Don’t I?” he asked, voice like velvet and smoke, low and dangerous. “I think I know exactly how you work. You like the fight. You like being challenged.” He glanced at your crossed arms. “But deep down, you like when someone can actually push back. Don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, heart pounding in your chest. You were doing everything you could not to let him see the effect he was having on you. But he could see it, of course. Jason always saw through people, always felt the shift in the air, in the way you moved, the way you breathed.

“You talk a big game for someone so sure of himself,” you muttered, even as you tried to keep your voice steady.

He leaned a little closer, his presence filling the small space between you both. You could feel the heat of his body, the subtle tension in the air, like something was about to snap. His hand brushed against the side of the seat near yours, just enough that you could feel the press of his fingers against the metal.

Your eyes locked on his hand, then slowly dragged up to his face. His expression was unreadable, but there was something dark simmering behind his eyes. Something raw, something almost dangerous.

“You’re right,” Jason said quietly. “I’m not just sure of myself. I’m sure of you, too.”

Your pulse raced. “What the hell does that mean?” you asked, a breathless edge creeping into your voice, even though you tried to keep it steady.

Jason’s smirk was slow, deliberate, and damn near smug. “It means I know exactly how much you’re trying not to care. But you do. You care, and you want me to keep pushing.”

The words hit you harder than you wanted to admit. A rush of heat flooded your chest and neck, but you kept your guard up, even as every part of you seemed to want to shatter. “Keep talking, Todd. You’re really good at this... but I’m not impressed.”

His gaze sharpened, and then his lips curved into something darker, something almost predatory. “No? You sure? I think you’re impressed. You’re just too stubborn to admit it.”

You felt the urge to say something, anything, to put him back in his place. But your words caught in your throat when Jason moved just a little closer, leaning in just enough that the scent of him—leather, something dark and masculine—flooded your senses. You could feel the heat radiating from him, could practically hear the beat of his heart.

Your breath hitched. You told yourself it was because of the height, because the ride had just crested and the wind was messing with you. But you knew that wasn’t it. The way Jason was looking at you, so sure, so intense—he made you feel like you were both caught in a storm.

“Don’t,” you warned, voice trembling just enough to give him an opening. “Don’t make this about—”

Jason’s eyes darkened, cutting you off with a single, sharp movement. He leaned even closer, his voice low, almost a whisper. “Make it about what, exactly? You?” He chuckled softly. “You can act like you don’t care all you want. But I can see it in your eyes. You like this.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, not when your heart was racing, not when your body was so aware of his every movement. The air between you felt suffocating now, heavy with tension, charged with something too tempting to ignore.

Jason cut you off with a quick grab to your chin, pulling your lips to crash into his. He claimed your mouth, using his tongue to claim all over you. You fought him back, fighting for dominance. Yet he was stronger, and well, you wanted to lose.

He was, of course, right too. You could deny the dynamic between your friendship was palpable with sexual tension. The two of you always bantered back and forth, but it never ended up like this.

 You whined and moaned into his mouth, as he took one of his large hands and quickly unbuttoned your jeans. You gasped when he did this, watching his large, calloused hands take control of you in the small cage, hundreds of feet in the air. Without warning, he picked you up on his lap, and began to abuse your cunt with his fingers. He pumped your hole as he used his other hand to pinch your nipples over your shirt.

You whined and moaned, the sounds of the carnival drowning you moans out, yet the knowledge of him taking you like this publicly had you drenched.

“Oh so this is what it was about. Sweet thing just needed something good to get her to act right?” Jason teased, continuing to scissor your insides with his fingers. He grabbed the side of your face making sure you could look at his smug smile, juxtaposed with your sweaty mess of a face, bliss your only expression.

You sneered a bit at his words, babbling over yourself as he hit your g-spot, legs starting to shake. “F-fuck..you,” you spat back. You doubled over, his arm going to wrap around your waist to hold you up as you began to shake. “Holy shit Im gonna–”

“Cum?” He remarked, cutting you off. He let out a low chuckle, quickly ripping his hands out of you. You gasped as the sudden loss of friction, clenching around the air as your pussy craved more, especially after being denied an orgasm. “Yeah after the way you talked to me, you don't get to do that right now.

He picked you back up off his lap and sat you down next to him, zipping and buttoning your jeans back up for you. He smiled at your shocked and angered expression, chuckling at you.

You groaned, pushing his hands off of you as you crossed your arms. How had he taken control of you like that? How did you let him? And why did you love it?

He smiled at your shocked and angered expression, chuckling at you. "You look like you're about to set the world on fire," he teased, his voice light, almost playful. 

You narrowed your eyes at him, trying to ignore the heat rising in your chest. "Don't laugh," you snapped, your voice a little shaky despite your attempt to sound firm. "You don't get to do that and then just... laugh."

He raised an eyebrow, still grinning, clearly enjoying the reaction he was getting. "Oh, I can do whatever I want," he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something else, something that made you second-guess your own frustration. "You didn't exactly stop me. You especially seemed to be enjoying it." He teased at the end, throwing you a sultry look, a sly grin on his face.

You turned your face away, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. "That’s not the point, and you know it," you muttered, but there was an undeniable pull in his gaze as he watched you, like he was waiting for you to say more.

Jason’s chuckle was dark, low, and there was something about it that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. His tone dipped into something more like amusement and challenge than anything else. “But it’s cute that you pretend like you’re the one in control.”

His words felt like a slow burn, and you didn’t like it. Not one bit.

You shifted uncomfortably again, not knowing if you should laugh or punch him for acting like he knew you so well, but all you could do was shoot him a glare that you hoped conveyed something.

Jason seemed to take pleasure in watching you try to regain your composure, his eyes never leaving your face. The tension was thick now, like the quiet before a storm. Neither of you spoke for a few moments, the Ferris wheel creaking as it slowly started to descend.

But then Jason broke the silence, his voice softer this time, but still filled with that same undercurrent of challenge.

“You’re not as tough as you act,” he said, his gaze catching yours again, this time more intense, more pointed. “You know that, right?”

Your stomach flipped, and you hated how vulnerable that statement made you feel. But you weren't about to let him see it. Not now.

“Maybe I am,” you shot back, your jaw tight. “Maybe you’re just too used to everyone rolling over for you.” He had just had you shaking on top of him, on the brink of an orgasm, and here you were acting as if nothing happened.

Jason laughed then, that deep, dangerous sound that seemed to vibrate in the air. “You’re a real piece of work, you know that?” he said, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. It wasn’t just amusement anymore—it was something darker, something that made the tension between you both almost tangible.

And you hated how much you wanted him to say more.

The Ferris wheel reached the bottom, and you both snapped back to reality, the ground rushing up beneath you. The moment was over, but the air between you still felt electric, the crackling tension thick enough that neither of you had the nerve to say anything as you got off the ride. You could still feel your panties sticking to you, your earlier wetness reminding you of how horny you were. And thinking of what he did to you, with all these people around, made you even hornier.

As you stepped off the platform, Jason’s voice followed you, low and just for you. “You’re lucky I like you, brat.”

You barely had time to turn and shoot him a look before he disappeared into the crowd, leaving you standing there, heart pounding in your chest and a smile playing on your lips.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Stolen Goods 3

Warnings: noncon and other dark elements. As usual, be mindful of your content consumption.

Ft. Lloyd Hansen, petite!pregnant reader

I also beg of you to leave me some tuppence in the form of a comment and/or reblog. You are cherished!

Enjoy, my loverlies.

You hit the back of the trunk with your fist, the tires put to the limit as the man drives without caution. He's honked several times and screeched to many jarring halts. You're trapped in more than just that compartment, bouncing around with the groceries, you're enshrined in a fervour of fear and despair. 

Why is this happening to you? Who is this man? What is he going to do to you? 

Well, what has he already done? 

“Please, sir, I won't tell anyone,” you beg through the back seat, "please. Just take me back--" 

"Do you like classic rock? Jazz?" He asks as the car swerves and he switches lanes. Holy shoot, is he on the highway?  

"What? Please, I promise--" 

"You're distracting me, sweet stuff, you're gonna get us both pancaked by a sixteen-wheeler," he clucks, "just calm down and enjoy the music." 

He flips on the stereo and the local pop station plays. He hums along for a moment, "Ariana, nice." He turns up the familiar top ten and you whimper. 

This is surreal. You really can't believe it. It all happened so quickly. The way he touched you, the way you just stood there and let it happen, then how he just locked you in here! Who does that? Who lets someone do that? Who doesn't raise her voice and tell him to stop? Or ignore him and get in the car and drive away? 

You. You're stupid. You should have been patient and waited for Jake. You should have done so much differently.  

Your tears spring as easily as ever. Your hormones have you always ready to overflow and now seems as suiting as that cat food commercial. You crumble completely, giving up on begging, and bawl. You're going to die, your baby too. 

Maybe that's your fault too. You were so scared when you saw the positive. When you realised the condom broke. There was that split second you wished it wasn't true. When you hoped that it might undo itself. Then you wanted it. You still do. Your baby. Things aren't perfect but you can make them better. 

You jostle with the paper bags, wallowing in your resignation and dread. Time throttles you until it feels like the whole world is on your chest. You hug your belly and apologise to your child. You're supposed to take care of them. 

When the car stops, the sudden dearth of sound slaps you in the face. You sniffle and listen with breath bated. The driver's side opens and dips. He stands and his footfalls stride undaunted towards the trunk. 

You brace yourself. You can't give up yet. The lock clicks and the lid lifts. You push it up before he can open it all the way but he has his hand on your neck before you can leap out. 

"Oh, baby cakes," he squeezes and you cough, "you don't think I'm that stupid, do you?" 

The dimming sky shrouds his figure and he puts cold metal to your cheek, "you don't wanna get yourself hurt. Or the kid, huh?" He presses the metal barrel firmly to your temple, "I don't wanna hurt you either but you gotta give a little." 

"S-sorry," you choke out and latch onto his thick wrist, teetering on your knees as the rest against the edge of the trunk, "I---I--" 

"I know, baby. You're scared. Change is terrifying but I heard you talking to the deadbeat," he pulls the gun away and holsters it. He eases you forward and helps you put your feet to the ground. He keeps a strong hold on you, "you can do better." He smirks, "hi, I'm better, but you can call me Lloyd." 

You gape at him. Is that a joke? 

“And you are...” he enunciates your name. “Sorry about your purse, I tossed it some ditch, but I got the important shit out of it.” 

“Huh?” You blink at him dumbly. 

“Phone’s wiped too. So, I’ll probably just break that down for parts--” 

“Wait, what? Why—please, why are you doing this?” 

“I’m not too sure myself, shortcake, but we’ll figure it out.”  

He slips his hand down to your wrist and pulls you away from the car. He shuts the trunk and the noise echoes off the high ceiling. You look up at the interior of the garage. Several cars are parked in the space. What kind of place is this? 

“Come on, you don’t wanna hang out in here,” he snorts and tugs you to follow him. 

All you can do is let him guide you. You keep your free hand on your stomach as your eyes burn. You can’t give up. You have to keep going for your baby. 

He takes you up a short set of steps and into a house just as colossal as the garage. He looks down at your feet as you stand on the mat. He tuts. Your slides were lost somewhere in your struggle. Your feet are cold and dirty. 

“Hm, well... what now?” He asks. 

“What now?” You squeak. “What do you--” 

“Look, honey buns, I’m not asking you,” he turns and keeps his hand around your wrist, walking you forward as if you’re on a leash. 

You’re confused. What does he mean? He doesn’t even know what he’s doing. What kind of man just does this spontaneously? 

“Erm, Lloyd,” you say softly, “it’s... not too late to take me back.” 

“Ah, but you’re wrong, sweet stuff. It’s way too late,” he snickers. “I scrubbed the traffic cams and the surveillance at the grocery store. It’s all gone. You’re gone.” He stops you in a bright foyer and faces you, “I don’t give my toys back.” 

[darlingdaisyfarm]

im so sorry, i don’t even know how to explain myself at this point, consider this my apology for all the filthy nonsense i post here

so, this is a lil bonus to this post

nsfw (not really, but mentions of sex)

Ford is dead. Not literally (you check his pulse just to be sure), but emotionally and physically, this man has perished. Such a beautiful ruined mess underneath you, he’s sprawled out like a crime scene chalk outline, drenched in sweat, staring blankly at the ceiling as if questioning all his life choices.

But you’re not doing much better. Your legs shaking so much you can barely sit up, whole body feels like jelly and your brain isn’t working either. Somehow, you manage to flop next to Ford, throwing a limp arm over his scarred chest.

“Bravo, folks!” Bill exclaims. “what a show! Truly the pinnacle of human endurance and stamina! Sixer, gotta say, i missed seeing you like this, ah, the good old days!”

Ford groans faintly. “I hate you. . .”

“You’re so mean,” you mutter at Bill, glaring up at him with half-lidded eyes. “why’d you even join in? That’s not what we agreed on.”

The moment these words leave your mouth, you know you’ve fucked up. Ford’s body stiffens under your arm as his exhausted brain cells rapidly recalculating everything.

“What— what did you just say?” although his voice is hoarse from all sounds he made earlier, you still catch a note of seriousness in it. His head turns toward you in slow motion, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What do you mean. . . agreed on?”

You panic. “Wait, I mean, uh—”

“Oh, let me tell him!” Bill interrupts. “she’s talking about the little deal we made! you know, where I said, ‘hey, doll, wanna fuck your dusty old man to death?’ and she said, ‘of course, Bill, but no creepy tendrils, okay?’”

Ford looks like he’s been hit by a bus. “WHAT?”

You swear you feel yourself sweat from panic and embarrassment as you look at Bill in pure fear. “I thought you’d just watch! Not—”

Demon cuts you off with a laugh. “Oh, sure, you thought! And by the way, Sixer? these pathetic, desperate little whimpers, ugh, they’ll echo in my mind for eternity! I’ve waited so long to see you like that. A helpless, sloppy mess, both of you, my little huma—”

Ford's face flushes with either shame or anger, and you think he’s going to explode. But no. He pushes himself up, pushes himself up, the madman, and throws the sheet off in anger.

But Bill keeps. “I mean, you came so hard I’m surprised you didn’t pass out after the first round, old ma—”

Ford looks at that demonic creature. “That’s it. That’s it, Cipher, you’ve gone too far this time.”

You barely manage a “Ford, wait—” as he pulls on his boxers with surprising speed for a man who five seconds ago looked like he was on the brink of death.

“I’ll make you pay for this,” Ford declares dramatically. “Mark my words, Cipher, I’ll find a way to make you regret ever stepping into my house again.”

Both you and Bill fall silent, watching Ford’s boxers riding low on his hips as he marches out of the bedroom.

You watch your Ford walk away, eyes wide with panic, realising what just happened, but then your gaze goes lower. At that tattoo.

Flirty Gal.

Bill floats beside you, narrowing his single eye slyly. “I know what you’re looking at, doll.”

You glare at him, exhausted and annoyed. “I hate you.”

Cipher’s gaze flicks to the doorway Ford just walked through. “hate me all you want, but you've got good taste. Sixer's got a hell of an ass for an old man.”

“STOP TALKING.”

[arc852]

Gifting Myself to You

Summary: Jimmy has been living in the walls of Tango and Skizz's restaurant for a few years now. It's been a little less than a year since he was discovered and since then, he's become friends with the two of them. And as friends, Tango and Skizz are constantly offering Jimmy to come and live with them. Up until now, Jimmy has said no.

But after a lot of thought and more time, he realizes he does want to live with them. And with Christmas coming up, he comes up with a special way to tell them.

Warnings: some anxiety

Word Count: 3467

AO3 Link

Merry (very early) Christmas everyone! I got this idea when a group of us in discord were talking about tinies being given as gifts or gifting themselves to humans. I went with the latter and now this exists! I hope you guys enjoy!

______________________________________________________________

 “Did you bring the stuff?” Jimmy asked as he hopped off of Scott’s hand and onto one of the many counters within the kitchen. He heard Scott scoff as Jimmy turned back around to face him and saw Scott pulling out a bin of supplies from underneath the counter. Jimmy figured he must have stored it there at some point after the two of them had made their plan.

 “Of course, you know I’m always prepared.” Scott answered and then started rummaging through the bin. “I wasn’t sure what kind of thing you were going for so I just brought a little of everything.” Scott explained.

 “Oh, uh, I just figured I would leave that to you.” Jimmy said with a slight laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I-I wouldn’t know what looks good or anything.”

 Scott hummed and thought for a moment. He looked Jimmy up and down and then started his rummaging back up. He pulled out a small box, well, relatively, it was still a lot bigger than Jimmy, and then the lid for said box. “I think this box is cute. And it’s small but big enough to fit you comfortably inside.” Scott explained. Jimmy went up to it and looked it over. The box was cute, with little snowmen and snowflakes dotted around.

 “I think it’s perfect!” Jimmy said with a grin and so Scott grabbed a pin and poked a few, needle sized holes in the box so they wouldn’t have to worry about Jimmy losing air. Not that he should be in there long enough for that to happen but it was better to be safe than sorry. Scott put the box back down when he was finished and then looked between the box and Jimmy.

 “It’s still missing something though…” Scott trailed off and then went back to the bin. Jimmy simply watched as Scott pulled out an icey blue ribbon. “Here we go. I can wrap this over the box once you're inside.” Scott said.

 Jimmy looked between the ribbon and the box. The two really did fit perfectly together and it would keep the box together without having to use tape or anything like that. Jimmy nodded. “Sounds good! Are we…ready to do this then?” Jimmy asked, feeling a bit nervous all of a sudden.

 Scott hummed, once again in thought. He looked between the ribbon and Jimmy and the smirk that started appearing on his face made Jimmy’s heart rate spike. “Actually,” Scott started. “I think we can take this a step further.”

 And that was how Jimmy ended up tied up in the blue ribbon.

 Jimmy pulled against his binds, frowning slightly as it gave no give. Scott had carefully tied the ribbon around his chest, wound it down his legs, and then went back up to wrap it a few more times around his waist before tying the last little bit into a bow that rested in front of his stomach. He also made sure his arms were pinned at his sides as he tied Jimmy up, making his arms just as trapped as the rest of him and basically leaving him motionless. “Was this really necessary?” Jimmy asked, looking up at Scott.

 “Of course! You look so cute all wrapped up with a little bow.” Scott said with a small laugh as he adjusted the bow on Jimmy’s front slightly. “If you're giving yourself as a gift, then you gotta look the part.”

 Jimmy grumbled a bit and pulled against his restraints one last time before sighing. “I guess you’re right…”

 “I always am.” Scott said with far too much confidence. At least in Jimmy’s opinion. “Trust me, Tango and Skizz are going to love it.”

 “I hope so.” Jimmy said, more to himself than anything. 

 “Are you ready to get in now?” Scott asked and Jimmy nodded. Scott scooped the borrower up and gently slid him off his hand and into the box. With Jimmy now sat within, Scott lifted up the lid with the intent to put it on.

 “Oh, wait!” Jimmy suddenly said and watched as Scott froze. Concern crossed Scott’s features as he met Jimmy’s eyes.

 “Yeah? Is everything okay?” Scott asked and Jimmy smiled a bit. Despite how Scott could be sometimes, he still cared. Jimmy of course knew this but sometimes the reminder was nice.

 “Yeah, sorry, I just…thank you Scott, for…for helping me with this.” Jimmy said, his tone a bit shy as he glanced away from Scott’s eyes. Scott blinked but then smiled at him fondly, letting out a little sigh.

 “You know I’m always happy to help when it comes to you.” Scott’s smile turned more into a smirk as he winked at Jimmy. Jimmy felt his cheeks warm a bit. “And I’d say this is a long time coming anyway.” Scott continued, before he finally placed the lid over the little box. Jimmy was washed in darkness, his only bit of light coming from the needle sized holes Scott had poked through the box earlier. 

 There was some shuffling as Jimmy assumed Scott was wrapping the blue ribbon around the box. “There we go. Alright, I’m heading back out there now.” As Scott said this, Jimmy felt his stomach somersault as he suddenly felt himself being lifted into the air. Jimmy settled in quickly though, doing his best to stay quiet as Scott started to walk out of the kitchen area and back toward the front and main eating area of the restaurant.

 He thought back to Scott’s words as he squirmed slightly against the ribbon, feeling the smooth and cool silk against his skin. This really was a long time coming. Tango and Skizz had been offering up their place to him for months now. Ever since they discovered Jimmy within the walls of their restaurant, they had offered for him to come and live with them.

 Jimmy had said no every time. He was fine at the restaurant, it was his home and had been for three years now. And…it was one thing to see Tango and Skizz for short amounts of time during a work day and another thing entirely to actually live with them. And, to be honest, the thought still made him nervous. But over time, the more Jimmy spent time with them, the more Jimmy began to like the idea of seeing Skizz and Tango all the time.

 He had only just made up his mind a couple of weeks ago. He had initially planned on telling them that day, but that night, Tango and Skizz had stayed late at the restaurant to hang out and they ended up watching a movie on Tango’s phone. His humans had called it a Hallmark movie, which was apparently a really cheesy Christmas romcom. It was a fine movie but it was one scene in particular that sparked an idea in Jimmy’s head.

 In one of the scenes, the man held out a closed box to the women. At first, Jimmy thought he was proposing. But then the women opened it and it wasn’t a ring but a key. The man’s gift to the woman was inviting her to move in with him.

 And that’s what gave Jimmy the idea to gift himself to Tango and Skizz, as a way to tell them yes, he wanted to move in with them. Essentially, he would be the key.

 …Okay, so it was a bit of a silly idea. But Jimmy was known for doing silly things anyway and so he still decided to go for it. Jimmy ended up going to Scott, a friend of his who he met through Tango and Skizz, to help him with his idea. He went to Scott above the others because, while Scott would still tease him about the idea, he knew Scott would also help him and find the importance in what Jimmy wanted to do.

 And so, at Tango and Skizz’s yearly Christmas party that they hosted for all their friends at their restaurant, Jimmy and Scott put Jimmy’s plan into action.

 And now Jimmy was here, wrapped up and about to give himself to his two friends as a way to say, hey! I do want to live with you guys!

 …He really hoped this turned out well.

 He tuned back into his surroundings as he heard Scott speak from above him. “Wrapping things up then?” Scott asked, his voice casual. Jimmy realized then that the once loud sounds of the party had quieted considerably.

 “Yeah, it’s getting pretty late. And I know we all still have to get ready for actual Christmas.” Tango chuckled.

 “You two need help cleaning up?” Scott asked and Jimmy thought back briefly to the mess the restaurant had been in before he had disappeared with Scott. It would definitely take a while to clean up.

 “Nah.” Skizz’s voice chimed in. “We were just gonna leave it for tonight. We’re closed for the holiday’s anyway, so no reason to get things in shape yet. But we appreciate it!” Jimmy could just see the big grin on Skizz’s face and even the mental image of it made Jimmy smile too.

 “If you say so.” Scott chuckled and then Jimmy felt the box rattle a little more as he assumed Scott brought the box forward. “By the way, Jimmy wanted me to give you this.”

 “Oh?” Tango said, perking up. Jimmy felt the box switch hands. “A present from Jimmy?” He sounded excited.

 “A present from Jiggles!?” Skizz exclaimed with even more excitement.

 “Yep. I helped him out with it. But he said he wanted you two to wait until you got home to open it.” Scott said, telling them what Jimmy wanted him to. He wanted this to be a private moment between the three of them and so having them open him at home was the best way to do that. Besides, he thought it would have more meaning if they opened him in the place he would soon be living in.

 “Speaking of, have you seen Jimmy? He seems to have disappeared and we wanted to say goodbye before we headed out.” Tango asked, pulling the box closer to him as he did so. Jimmy only knew this from the sudden fluid motion and the now faint heartbeat he could just barely make out through the cardboard.

 “Actually, I think he went to bed already. Said he was really tired from all the excitement.” The other reason Jimmy got Scott’s help was because of how good of an actor he was. He lied to Tango and Skizz like it was nothing.

 “Aww man.” Skizz said with a pout. “I guess that’s fair though. This party probably had more humans than he’s ever dealt with at once.”

 “I guess we’ll just have to talk to him tomorrow.” Tango said, though he too sounded disappointed. Jimmy bit his lip, feeling a bit guilty about having Scott lie to them. But hopefully it would be worth it for the surprise.

 “Well, I’m heading out. It was a great time!” Scott said, his voice getting a bit fainter, more far away as Jimmy assumed he was walking toward the door.

 “See ya Scotty!” Skizz shouted.

 “And make sure you’re careful with that present! It’s fragile!” Scott yelled back one more time before Jimmy heard the familiar bell of the door open and soon close behind him.

 Jimmy continued to simply sit and listen as the rest of their friends left, the restaurant getting quieter and quieter until it was just Tango and Skizz (and Jimmy) left. “I guess it’s about time we headed out too.” Skizz said and Jimmy heard some shifting of items. Skizz must have just been doing a quick clean.

 “Yep, time to close up shop.” Tango said, despite their ‘shop’ being closed for most of the day already. Though at this point Jimmy knew it was more of a human expression than actually what Tango meant.

 As they started to move, so did the box, swaying him gently. As they entered outside, even from within the box, Jimmy could feel the cool night air nip at his skin. The ribbon, though covering a lot of him, still did little to keep out the cold. 

 Thankfully, they weren’t out in the cold for long. Jimmy soon heard the signs of a door opening and felt some rough movement that was quickly followed by Skizz’s voice. “Hey, careful! Scott said it was fragile, remember?” Neither of them had even been that rough but it was sweet that they cared so much about a gift he had given them. And that was without them knowing he was the one in there.

 “Right, sorry.” The slight tilt of the box was fixed and then the engine of the car roared to life. Jimmy jumped, surprised by the sudden noise. He had never been in a car before though he should have expected it to be loud.

 It got even louder as the music was turned on and Skizz started singing loudly to it, Tango jumping in shortly after some coaxing from Skizz. It was loud but Jimmy also couldn’t help but enjoy it. They sounded like they were having fun, singing and laughing. It was not unlike what he had seen while in the restaurant but here, right now, they seemed so much more…relaxed. Jimmy had only seen them like this a few times before. It was nice. He was excited to be able to see it all the time.

 The car ride wasn’t long. Tango and Skizz always told him they only lived about 20 minutes from the restaurant. So, before Jimmy knew it, the engine cut, the music turned off and the box he was in started to move again as both humans got out of the car. Jimmy pushed against his bindings slightly, his muscles starting to ache just a bit from his stiff position. Why had he let Scott tie him up again?

 Well, it didn’t matter too much now. Tango and Skizz would be opening the gift any moment now and he would be free soon enough.

 His heart pounded at the thought that after months of being asked, of weeks planning this whole thing to tell him he accepted, that this was finally happening.

 He was starting to second guess himself now, just a little bit. As Tango and Skizz entered their home, talking above him, Jimmy hoped this wasn’t the wrong way to go about this. Scott had liked the idea but would Tango and Skizz? He took a deep breath. He needed to calm down, there was no backing out of this now anyway.

 “Should we open up Jimmy’s present now?” Tango asked after a moment of hanging up their coats and toeing off their shoes. Tango’s tone was filled with barely contained excitement that had Jimmy’s heart racing.

 “Absolutely!” Skizz all but shouted, sounding just as excited as Tango and even more so than he had back at the restaurant. He could feel them walk a bit more before settling down again. Jimmy could only assume they were both sitting on a couch or something similar. “I can’t wait to see what Jiggles got us. What do you think it is?” Skizz asked after a moment and Jimmy could just picture the big grin on his face.

 “Not sure. Scott said he helped him out with it so the possibilities are all over the place.” Tango answered in reply and then Jimmy’s stomach did a little flip as the box was suddenly lifted up higher. “Thankfully, we don’t have to guess, cause we can open it right now.” Tango said with a laugh.

 “Right, let’s not waste anymore time!” Skizz exclaimed and with the brief silence that followed, Jimmy could just picture them untying the ribbon that wound around the box. Even if there was no audible indication that they were doing so. And then, the moment of truth, the lid of the box was carefully lifted off, drowning Jimmy in light as he suddenly found himself staring up at Tango and Skizz.

 Both humans’ eyes went wide as they saw Jimmy, Skizz’s mouth even fell open in shock. Jimmy cleared his throat, feeling his nerves spike. “Um, surprise?” Jimmy said, a little less enthusiastically than what he had initially planned but he was also a lot more nervous than he had been expecting.

 “Wha-Jimmy?” Tango said, leaning in just a bit more to get a better look at Jimmy within the box. “What are you doing in there?”

 “And why are you all tied up?” Skizz chimed in, shock and confusion overlapping each other as he leaned in on Jimmy’s other side, since Tango was the one holding the box.

 “Well, uh, Scott thought tying me up would make me more…present like.” Jimmy answered, a slight flush on his face. “It’s uh, starting to feel a bit uncomfortable though.”

 “Aww, well come here, let's get you untangled.” Skizz said before scooping Jimmy out of the box, shifting him to one hand as he started to untie the ribbon wrapped around Jimmy’s body. He pulled at one of the loose pieces on the bow and from there it seemed easy for Skizz to unwrap the rest of the ribbon. Jimmy shivered slightly at Skizz’s touch but he was mostly still.

 Tango put the box down onto the coffee table and leaned in close, watching. His brow furrowed but his features no less fond. “That still doesn’t explain what you were doing in there though.” Tango spoke up after a moment, just as Skizz pulled the rest of the ribbon off of Jimmy and placed it back in the box. Jimmy stretched his limbs and then turned to face Tango. He flushed and then quickly turned away, fidgeting with his hands as he looked down at them.

 “Well…remember how you've been asking me to move in with you guys?” Jimmy asked.

 “Yeah, but we understand why you’ve said no.” Skizz said, reassuring Jimmy of his previous responses.

 “We don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.” Tango chimed in as well. Jimmy glanced up at the two of them, a small smile forming on his face. And that was exactly why he felt ready now to live with them. They had proven time and time again that they cared about him and they never treated him like any less of a person just because of his size. Even now they were reassuring him that he was in charge of himself and that they understood why Jimmy had said no to them in the past. And they had always respected his decision too. Never doing more than putting the offer back on the table every once in a while.

 They really were the best.

 He took a deep breath.

 “I know, and I really appreciate that.” Jimmy looked up at the two humans fully. “But this whole thing is…me gifting myself to you guys. As a way to say that I want to live with you two and be a full part of your lives.” There, it was out in the open now. Jimmy felt his heart flutter with nerves but they were quickly reassured as two giant grins formed on Skizz and Tango’s faces.

 “Really?” Tango said, his tone full of barely contained excitement. Jimmy could practically see him trying his hardest not to bounce up and down from it.

 “Yes!” Skizz exclaimed, not trying as hard to subdue his reaction. “Oh Jimmy, dude, we are going to have a blast with you living here.” Skizz said, his grin big. Jimmy couldn’t help but match it.

 “I’m excited for it.” Jimmy said, looking at his two humans fondly. “Thank you for offering.”

 “Thank you for accepting.” Tango said and then gently scooped him up off of Skizz’s hands so he could hold him close. “I think I speak for both Skizz and I when I say this is the best present we’ve ever gotten.”

 “Oh, by a mile!” Skizz responded with a laugh.

 Jimmy smiled fondly at the two as they started talking about setting up a space for Jimmy and what kind of stuff they could plan for their first Christmas all together. As they talked, Tango continued to hold Jimmy up against his chest, his thumb subconsciously rubbing at his back. Jimmy sighed in relief as he leaned into the touch, wondering how he had ever been worried about what the outcome of this would be. Of course they would be happy, they were amazing.

 As their voices washed over him, excited and coming up with idea after idea on how to include Jimmy in their lives, Jimmy knew he had made the right choice.

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — sometimes nagi’s want for you keeps him up at night.

warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, just v sleepy needy vibes! note: i swear this was like my first or second nagi post i ever wrote but i posted on private for some reason (?) so i’m reposting! idk why i’ve just let it rot for a bit ^_^

it's 4am and he's got practice in two hours, nagi realises, but the last thing he wants to do is sleep right now when he's pressing himself into you.

his forearms sink into the pillows to either side of your head as his own rests in the crook of your neck, he can feel the push of your tits against his chest and his abdomen twitches against your own everytime he rolls and grinds into you. sinking his cock even deeper into your plush walls as he feels you jolt underneath him.

"you're—ah! you're gonna be sleepy, sei." you gasp as your nails scratch underneath the neckline of nagi's shirt, and he thinks you sound pretty when your voice is still thick with sleep, eyes resting closed as your features break with the pleasure he digs out of you.

"eh, i guess.. but need you more than sleep right now, pretty thing." he couldn't help myself, not when you feel so warm when you're pressed against him - thigh thrown over his hips as you hug yourself closer.

nagi was normally a heavy sleeper, even more so when he's comfy and he always was when he had you next to him. but that just happened to be his downfall today, when the warm press of your figure roused him with the heavy weight in his cock.

he can feel the weight of his arousal consume the fatigue that he knows will kick his ass at training in a few hours, his eyes still heavy with sleep as he nuzzles into you. but your body feels like silk against his and suddenly for someone so lazy, his stamina feels limitless when you feel this fucking good.

your toes curl with the next particularly deep kiss of his cock, making your voice break with your next exhale of his name before his pace stutters on his next thrust. "ffuck—sound so pretty, can gimme more, angel.” nagi groans, low and breathy as his lips trace along the crook of your shoulder - leaving suckled, wet kisses against the skin with every particularly tight squeeze of your walls around him.

even when you both barely have a grip on clarity, he still feels so fucking good with every heavy, wet grind of his hips into yours — the blunt head grazing just right along the sweet spots where he knows you need him most.

you can barely breathe with how deep it feels like nagi reaches, caging you against the mattress as his pelvis rubs along your swollen clit everytime he sinks into you. you're both so sensitive - both still caught in a dreamy mindset that only draws you closer to your end, faster.

he draws himself back when he feels a sharp little vibration on the bedside table, and the sound brings his drowsy, lidded eye movement to the mocking 4:30AM staring right back at him before his eyes are back on you. there's a pout on your lips as you rub at your face and you whimper, sleepy but content before your eyes flutter closed again when he speaks. "s-sorry, jus’ take it so well, pretty thing. stay up w' me a lil longer — don't wanna stop yet"

nagi shudders when you grab at him, squeezing at the broad muscle of his shoulders before you're hugging him closer — hooking your thighs around his hips to ease him into a slow, rocking pace.

“‘ts fine, feels so good, sei. mmmm, don't want you to stop either.” your words are like honey as they drip through him, making him whimper when he feels your lips tease the shell of his ear and pull another throb from his heavy cock as his pace turns to slow, languid strokes.

"fuck— y're g'nna make me cum. come on, can give you more.. jus' gotta be patient with me. can nap w’ you later, angel.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[ihavemanyhusbands]

The Black Kaiser's Nightmare

Duncan Vizla x Assassin!FemReader

A/N: Shout out to beelmons and G for their endless support and help with my fics <3 :') where would I be without y'all?

Summary: You run into your long-time nemesis in the last place you ever expected, but things take a turn for the worst when you find yourself stuck with him during a snowstorm.

WC: 7.2k words

Warnings: SMUT! (18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), enemies to lovers speedrun into the bed, mentions and depictions of violence, fighting, accidental assassination of a third party, some serious bickering, abundant cursing, rough sex (unprotected, don't do it at home!), choking, very light knifeplay, dirty talk, slight degradation mixed with some praise, rampant sexual tension, ooey gooey lovesick fools who are just SO SO STUBBORN, I think that's it but lmk if I missed anything!

You are responsible for your own media consumption!

----

Triple Oak, Montana.

It’d been a while since you’d last found yourself in such a quaint little town, especially in the middle of winter, but you supposed you’d been in way worse places. It was barely even on the map, which made it a convenient place to lay low. 

You didn’t have to worry about interacting with many people, and you sure as hell didn’t think you’d encounter anyone you knew. At least for the time being, you felt like you could relax just a little bit while you made plans.

In a few more days, you’d continue driving north and cross the Canadian border into Saskatchewan, where you were meant to carry out your next assignment. Your target was a skeevy arms dealer that had to move his whole operation out of Serbia and was now shacked up somewhere in the vast prairies. 

You’d been tracking his activity for some time, slowly narrowing down the list of possible locations. You’d also scored some insider information about a big upcoming transaction with a terrorist cell, and your goal was to get to him before the sale was finalized.

Successfully eliminating him would pay handsomely, and you were already planning on a months-long vacation in which you’d go fully off the radar. Preferably somewhere by the beach, where you didn’t feel the constant threat of frostbite.

You pulled into a small gas station — the only one to be found in a long stretch of the highway between the town and more secluded cabins  — and occupied one of the three measly pumps. There was only one other old pickup truck next to you, but the owner was nowhere to be seen. 

You blew hot air into your hands as you walked into the convenience store, eager for some coffee despite how shitty it was. 

“Hey Lou,” you said to the now familiar attendant, the little bell above the door ringing as you pushed in. “How’s it goin’?”

“Eh, slow, the usual,” he shrugged. “At least it’s decently warm in ‘ere. They say there’s gonna be a snowstorm over the weekend, starting tonight.”

“Shit, really?” You groaned, not only because you loathed the freezing temperatures, but because it would set you back by a few more days. 

“Yup, perfect time to cozy up with the missus back at home.”

You poured yourself a large cup of black coffee and snapped the lid on top. On the way back to the register, you grabbed a couple of magazines and a pack of Ding-Dongs to eat on the road.

“Well, lucky you,” you said, putting everything on the counter. “I gotta find ways to keep myself busy and warm in case I lose power.”

As you spoke, the door to the restroom opened behind you and a tall, rugged-looking man stepped out. His eyes instinctively flickered between the two of you, even if he couldn’t see your face. He lingered close to the back, trying not to bring attention to himself.

“You sure you’ll be good all by yourself out there?” Lou asked. “Enough supplies and all?”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself,” you said, fishing cash out of your wallet. “Give me thirty on number two, also.”

“You got it, tough gal.”

You chuckled as he rang you up, glancing outside. The man behind you tensed, gripped with the dread that came with sudden recognition. Your voice was one he knew well, the very same one he’d heard all seventeen times he’d almost died. Well, eighteen if he counted that one brief altercation in Belfast.

And that laugh… How many times had it been directed at him? Taunting him, teasing him, driving him utterly mad. 

It was perhaps the only thing that stopped him from actually getting rid of you that one night you slept so soundly at some shoddy little hotel in Madrid.  He’d watched your chest's steady rise and fall from his spot in the darkness, and he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

And now he’d most likely have to pay for the consequences of his mercy. 

Lou looked over your shoulder at him, but you didn’t immediately notice since you were absently flipping through one of the magazines. 

“Need anything else, Duncan?” He offered. “Pack of Winstons?”

Your skin prickled at these two very familiar details, but you didn’t move, still staring down at the magazine without actually reading. It was probably a mere coincidence. Really, there had to be dozens of Duncans in the world that just so happened to smoke Winstons.

But then, a very particular smell reached your nose — cheap cologne you didn’t know the name of, with strikingly bitter notes that had flooded your nostrils when his hands were tightly wrapped around your neck.

You glanced up at the fisheye mirror above the register… and there he fucking was, in all his deadly glory. The Black Kaiser himself.

You couldn’t help an amused huff, especially after hearing the faintest rustle of a knife being unsheathed under his coat.

“Are you sure you want to stab me with that, old man?” You said slowly over your shoulder. 

“Less impersonal than a gun. I owe you that much, don’t I?” he said with that deep, gravelly voice of his that always made a stubborn tingle form at the base of your spine.

Your hand just barely inched towards the hidden holster of your gun. “Oh, but you know I get a little crazy when the knives come out.”

Lou looked between the two of you, confusion and a tinge of fear in his eyes. 

“Uh, you two know each oth—”

Before he could finish his sentence, you whirled around and shot Duncan’s head. He ducked, but not before hurling a large knife at you in return. You dove out of the way, hearing it whizz right past your ear, and it sank into Lou’s forehead with a wet thud. His body slumped behind the counter, blood spraying over the stuff you’d intended to buy.

“Hey!” You yelled from your hiding spot. “I didn’t even get my change back!”

“You’re not gonna need it anymore,” he said gruffly, his voice not too far from you. “But before that… want to tell me what the fuck you’re doing here?”

“I could ask you the same,” you said, glancing up at the fisheye mirror once more. 

Unfortunately for you, you couldn’t get a very good look at where he was, but you couldn’t stay put. You slowly began to inch to the end of the aisle, staying low. “Let me guess, you missed me so much these last three years that you decided to hunt me down.”

He scoffed. “Three years was not nearly long enough time away from you.”

You dove around the corner to the next aisle, but he wasn’t there. You started pulling yourself forward, but suddenly you were flipped onto your back. You were about to whip your gun around, but it was harshly knocked out of your grasp, sliding against the linoleum. You thrashed against the weight that pressed down on you, but he pinned your hands down beside your head. 

“Who sent you?” He asked. 

“No one sent me, you paranoid geezer!” You sneered, driving your knee up full force right into his crotch. “Not everything’s about you.”

He growled at the pain, swaying to the side, his grip on your hands relaxing. You pushed him off of you, scrambling to get to your gun. Right as you managed to get a hold of it, he was on you again, pulling you back by the legs. You tried twisting around all the way, firing another shot semi-blindly. It narrowly missed his shoulder, shattering one of the windows.

“Can’t kill me without paralyzing me, eh, little Nightmare?” He taunted.

“Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you?”

You swallowed a scream as he stepped on the hand you held your weapon with, his heavy boot cracking your wrist. Your fingers splayed involuntarily due to the pain, and he bent down to take the gun. He kept it pointed at you as he removed his boot from your wrist and grabbed your arm.

“You’re coming with me,” he stated, starting to pull you up. 

“Like hell I am!” You spat, but you froze as you felt the barrel pressed against the back of your head.

“You were saying?”

He dragged you to your feet, leading you through the broken window, glass crunching under your boots. The wind seemed icier than it had been when you first arrived, which made you remember Lou’s warning about a snowstorm.

There was no way in hell you’d be stuck with him during it, so you’d have to find a way to weasel out of his grasp… and kill him in the process. 

He led you towards his truck, but you pretended to trip at the last second, bending down and retrieving a knife you had hidden in your boot. You stabbed backward, aiming for his femoral artery, but he moved and the knife stabbed into his thigh muscle instead.

“Motherfucker,” he hissed through clenched teeth, but he didn’t let go of you, tightening his grip on your arm. He fired off a warning shot into the air, which made you flinch a little. “Try me again and I won’t hesitate to put the next bullet through your thick fucking skull. I only have so much patience.”

He shoved you into the passenger seat of the truck, managing to tie you up with the seatbelt. Your bound hands were still slick with his blood, and you smiled triumphantly at him as he slid into the driver’s seat, immediately peeling out of the gas station.

“This is what gets you hard, isn’t it?” you said, raising an eyebrow at him. “You’re kind of a sick fuck, old man… but I didn’t expect any better from you.”

He said nothing, instead momentarily glaring at you. He grunted as he pulled the knife out of his leg, tossing it out of the window. You grumbled about him owing you a knife, but he continued to ignore you. He drove mostly in silence, winding through the icy roads as he gripped his wounded leg with one hand.

So far, it had been one of your tamest encounters. Really, it had all sort of felt like a game, but neither of you had won quite yet. After all, a game such as this could not be left unfinished.

Usually, the circumstances were vastly different. Your respective agencies had assigned you the same target a couple of times, and it always turned into a competition on who would finish the job first. As it turned out, the two of you were very competitive.

You’d left plenty of souvenirs on each other every single time you crossed paths – broken bones, an assortment of scars, and bruises as dark as the midnight sky. You wondered vaguely how much more damage you might make by the end of the day.

Why neither of you had succeeded in killing each other was… a bit of a mystery. Maybe he saw something in you that reminded him of himself, or perhaps he was growing soft with age. He would never admit it, but he’d had plenty of fun in this deadly dance with you so far, and it seemed a shame to let it come to its conclusion so soon. 

He’d have to do it though, after some thorough interrogation.

Soon enough, he pulled up a long gravel road hidden among the tall pine trees. In the clearing ahead, you saw what you supposed was his cabin. It was modestly sized and a little dilapidated, but at least it seemed to be sturdy enough to withstand harsh conditions.

“Nice place,” you said sarcastically. “I don’t suppose you have many visitors?”

“Rarely,” he said without looking at you. “I like the quiet. No one’s going to bother us here.”

“You mean no one’s gonna come running when you scream?”

He grunted, readjusting his position in his seat. You were mostly tied up at the arms so your legs had some room to move. Rookie mistake on his part, which you would definitely take advantage of. 

Before he could pull up in front of the actual cabin, you leaned back and kicked at the steering wheel. The truck swerved to the right, throwing you against the window. He tried to correct it on time, slamming on the brakes, but the snow made it careen right into a tree. 

It wasn’t a tremendous crash, but the windshield still broke, glass raining down on both of you. You were both disoriented for a moment from the whiplash, but then you began to untangle yourself from the seatbelt. You kicked at him when he tried to reach for you, but he managed to pin your legs down.

“Can’t you stay put for one fucking second!?” He growled, fully bracketing you between his sturdy legs as he freed you from the seatbelt. 

You panted heavily, trying to thrash beneath him, but he only pressed his legs tighter against your sides. A small, high-pitched whine escaped your lips as you felt the air being squeezed out of you, and you stopped moving. 

“Satis…fied?” You managed between gasps.

“Not nearly,” he said, grabbing a fistful of your hair as he pulled back. “Come here.”

He kept a firm grip on it as he dragged you out of the truck and towards the cabin. He wobbled a little with each step, his leg still bleeding some. 

“I warned you about the knives,” you said. “Even if you didn’t let me finish having fun.”

He chuckled sardonically. “No, you’re mistaken. The fun is only just beginning.”

He led you inside and locked the door behind him, making you sit down on a rickety chair. He bound your hands and feet with duct tape, wrapping some of it around your torso and the back of the chair for good measure. You decided not to struggle for the time being and instead ponder on your next move, covertly glancing at your surroundings for anything useful.

When Duncan was sure you wouldn’t be able to bolt, he went to grab something from an adjacent room, returning with his version of a first aid kit and a bottle of vodka. He looked at you from the corner of his eye as he undid his pants and lowered them to his knees.

“I didn’t realize it was that kind of fun,” you said, raising an eyebrow. 

Still, your gaze was drawn to his crotch first before trailing further down to the injury you’d caused. Rolling his eyes, he plopped down on the bed, which creaked a little under his weight. 

He took a long swig of vodka and then poured some on the bleeding gash, hissing through his teeth. Your expression of slight amusement didn’t change as he glanced at you once more, taking out a needle and thread.

“I have to be careful about infections, who knows where that knife of yours has been?” he said.

You merely watched as he began stitching himself up without so much as a grimace. His breathing was slow and steady as he concentrated, and you found yourself entranced by the precise movements of his hands.

An obscene thought about those hands wriggled into your mind, but you immediately pushed it away. It was all the more reason for you to get the hell out of there, especially now that his pants were down.

As he was finishing his stitches, you leaned forward onto your tiptoes and then threw yourself back as hard as you could. The chair broke apart under you, the force of the blow and the angle in which you fell spraining one of your wrists. The adrenaline made you barely register the pain, and you quickly wriggled out of the tape wrapped around you.

You pulled a Swiss army knife out of your boot and hastily sawed off the tape binding your ankles. He swore as you stood, lifting your arms and slamming them down to free your hands. You stumbled towards the front door and yanked it open.

Outside, the wind howled ferociously and a thick flurry of snow limited your vision of your surroundings. You felt the unforgiving cold slicing through you as you hesitated, knowing deep down that your chances of survival were very slim. 

Still, you were reckless enough to try and brave it. You started towards the steps when you were yanked back once more, your back pinned against the wall and Duncan’s hand around your throat.

“You just don’t fucking learn, do you?” He growled. 

“You only caught me because I hesitated, old man.”

His grip tightened a little in warning. “Didn’t anybody teach you never to hesitate?”

“There is a very fine line between foolishness and courage, you know…” The corners of your mouth twitched, an amused gleam in your eye. “I wonder how often you cross from one side to the other.”

He clenched his teeth and an absolutely devious, cheshire cat grin spread across your face. The mere sight of it made his blood boil with both rage and arousal, and he felt it flowing southward. Your back instinctually arched towards him, as if you could somehow sense the sudden influx of violent desire, and became infected by it.

You stared at each other for a charged moment before he suddenly fell upon you, intent on devouring you. His lips clashed with yours in a fierce kiss and you buried your fingers in his hair, tugging at it as you retaliated.

You bit his lower lip hard, making him groan into your mouth. You used this opportunity to slide your tongue against his, and he moved the hand that had been around your neck toward your jaw. Without thinking, you pressed harder against him, your fingers about to slide under the hem of his sweater.

He clasped your wrist to stop you, assuming you were reaching for some hidden weapon. You whimpered slightly, painfully reminded that it was in fact sprained. He pulled back to look at you, both of you panting heavily and still clutching each other tightly. 

“I fear that line was blurred a long time ago, and I suspect it’s the same case with you,” He murmured. 

His words broke through your daze and you immediately pushed him away from you, cradling your injured hand against your chest. A maelstrom of emotions roiled inside of you, predominantly confusion and a worrisome throb between your legs. 

“And what now?” You asked, glancing out of the window. “It’s clear neither of us are going anywhere any time soon.”

“Now we weather the storm,” he said, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“No, seriously.”

“I am being serious.”

You huffed in annoyance, pinching the bridge of your nose. “I… can’t believe I’m asking this right now but, maybe we can… put the killing each other thing on hold for a few days?”

“So you were coming for me.”

“No! I wasn’t!” You threw your hands up exasperatedly. “Not that it’s any of your fucking business, but I have work further up north. This was just a pit stop.”

He assessed you for a moment, trying to find any clues that you were lying. You stood your ground, keeping your eyes on his face. He sniffed, leaning against the wall to get his weight off his injured leg. 

“I’m fine with a temporary truce, but only if we both keep our weapons in plain sight at all times.”

“I am a weapon myself, big boy.”

“So am I. I suppose we’ll have to keep an eye on each other as well, then.”

“Fine,” you huffed, stomping to the couch and pulling it over to the kitchen. “I’ll stay on this side of the cabin, you can stay on the other side.”

“What!? This is my house!” He scoffed.

“Yeah, well, I’m being generous by letting you keep your bed. Not to mention, your life.”

He rolled his eyes, limping back over to his bed. “Whatever you say. Now, can I please fix my stitches in peace for one fucking second?”

———————

There was no sleep for the entirety of the first night. 

The cabin creaked and groaned, straining against the disastrously strong wind. Your breaths fogged up in the air as you shivered under the thin blanket Duncan had given you. The cold seemed to seep into your very bones as if punishing you for your decisions. To distract yourself from the chill, you kept an eye on his prone form across the room, knowing well he wasn’t sleeping either. 

When dawn broke, a thin grayish light filtered into the room. The storm raged on and all you wanted to do was doze off, but you were still on edge. You clenched your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering, irritated by a headache. Your mood didn’t get any better when Duncan rose from his bed, crossing towards the kitchen.

“What do you think you’re doing?” You inquired, not moving an inch.

He stopped in his tracks. “I’m hungry. Don’t you want to eat?” 

Your stomach growled in answer and he lifted an eyebrow in slight amusement. You unwillingly threw the blanket off of you, getting up with an annoyed grunt. 

“I’ll give you the food. Let’s see what you’ve got,” you said, rummaging through the cabinets.

“I could just show you…”

“No, stay on your side. Even better, why don’t you go sit back down on your bed?”

He followed orders, not really wanting to start quarreling with you so early in the morning. You finally found some oatmeal packets in one of the cupboards, and you took out a few and poured them into a pot along with some water. You left it to boil over the stove top, crossing your arms over your chest and turning to face him.

“How’s your leg doing, anyway?” You asked. 

“Fine. Why do you care?”

“I really don’t.”

He chuckled. “Good thing you’re a better assassin than you are a liar.”

You sighed deeply. “Well, it is your house, I should at least have some manners.”

He scoffed, still amused. “We are way past manners. Our only courtesy to each other would be a painless death.”

“Oh, really? Painless?” You arched an eyebrow. “Did you forget Lisbon? And that grenade launcher you stole?”

“Okay, well, I wasn’t technically aiming at you. You just happened to be in the way,” He argued. “And it’s not like you haven’t given me the same sort of treatment…”

You shrugged one shoulder. “It’s only fair.”

The two of you lapsed into silence as you turned your attention back to the pot. Once the oatmeal was ready, you spooned it into two bowls and walked to the invisible line that divided the cabin in two.

He got up and met you there, reaching slowly for his bowl so as not to seem threatening. Not that you were viewing him that way, anyway. At least not in the clearly exhausted state he was in. 

“Careful, it’s hot,” you said. “Need me to blow on it first?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, resisting the lure of your impish grin. He figured it was perhaps the more masochistic part of him that made him so drawn to you. Always pushing him, testing him, keeping him on the edge. He would never admit it to himself — much less to you — but it made him feel alive in a way he hadn’t for a really long time.

He muttered a quick thank you before heading back to his side of the room, plopping down on the bed and immediately digging in. If he burned his mouth, he showed no indication of it, but you still huffed in amusement. 

When he was done, he said nothing as he lied down, his back to you once again. A little confused and wary, you watched him as you slowly ate. Soon enough, his breath evened out into a steady rhythm, and you assumed he’d fallen asleep.

You glanced over at the dining table, where the two of you had laid out all your weapons, and considered them for a long moment. 

It seemed too easy to have such a window of opportunity. Normally, you’d have jumped at any such chance, but once more, you hesitated. Not out of any sort of newfound benevolence, but something deeper than that. Something that had been gnawing at you since the previous night.

In the end, you opted not to do anything. Surely, it was bound to be a mistake to not have killed him at that moment. But that would be a problem for another day, perhaps when the storm was over. 

You sat down on the floor by the foot of the couch, back resting against the frame. Sleep deprivation was starting to hit you as well, and you knew that if you were to lay down you would certainly fall asleep. Instead, your eyes focused on the suspiciously peaceful sight of Duncan sleeping. 

The longer you stared, the blurrier the lines seemed to get. Literally. His broad form was smudged into a single sphere, and without much thought about it, everything suddenly went black. 

Until… Shit. 

How long were you asleep?

It had been long since you’d last awakened to a man in front of you, let alone holding a knife to your face. The blade shone in your half-open eyes, reflecting the setting sun outside the window. You must have been unconscious for over two hours.  Stupid, so very stupid.

You blinked the haze of sleep out of your eyes and followed the glint to his fingers, his forearm, up his broad chest and shoulders, until it finally landed on his face. 

 “So, the game ends at last, huh?” you muttered, your gaze not wavering from his.

“Could’ve ended long ago, but it didn’t,” he said, once again looking every bit the coldhearted killer he was. You could still see, however, the presence of doubt in his dark eyes. “Why didn’t you kill me?” 

“I knew you weren’t actually sleeping…”

“Even so,” he pressed, straightening to his full, imposing height. “You didn’t even try. Why?”

You blinked, not really having an answer, not one that would satisfy him at least. What's more, you had a set of questions of your own, ones that would likely also have no answer. 

The words slipped before you could even think about them. “Why did you kiss me?” 

Silence hung between you like a heavy drape. You were cornered in more than one sense. Windows for precaution and escape had long since closed, maybe even since the moment you ran into him in that little gas station. And through hardships, you learned that if there’s no way back, the only way is forward. 

The wound in his thigh didn’t seem to bother him as much anymore, so there was no way you could outrun him. You looked down to avoid his scrutiny and he used the back of his knife to force your chin back up. 

He didn’t speak, but his eyes bore into yours, almost as if seeing through them into parts of you that were foreign even to yourself. The flat part of the blade trailed up to your cheek in what could be interpreted as a caress. 

Your hand unconsciously intended to return the favor, running up his knee to his thigh, extra cautious around his wound. You noticed a change of pattern in his breathing, and so you looked down only to find one of the answers you sought — the print of his hardened cock cruelly imprisoned within his pants. 

“Oh,” you breathed, surprised. Then again, when the reality of what you were looking at fully sank in. “Oh.”

Your hand moved on its own accord again, slowly slipping further up his thigh. Again, he tightly grabbed your wrist before your fingers reached their target, and you hissed in pain. He immediately let go, withdrawing the knife as well.

“Are you hurt?” He asked. 

“A sprained wrist isn’t gonna kill me,” you said, keeping your hand on his leg to drive your point across. “Now that, on the other hand, has to be taken care of.”

“Taken care of, huh?” He rasped, his voice hoarse with want and self-directed anger because of it. 

He raked a hand through your hair, gathering it in his first and pulling your head towards his crotch. He pressed your cheek against his bulge, his hips bucking ever so slightly. 

“And how do you suppose that’s gonna happen?” He added.

“I have a few ideas if you’re open to them,” you panted, ignited in a way that almost fully consumed you. 

His eyes searched your face for a moment, drinking you in as he searched for any indications of doubt, and then he whispered, “Are you sure?” 

This time you didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He saw the feverish gleam of hunger in your eyes as he pulled away and unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants. The outline of his cock was even more prominent through his briefs and you couldn’t help a sharp intake of breath at the sheer size of him. He was still holding onto your hair, stepping closer and effectively cornering you against the couch. 

You boldly started to reach for the hem of his briefs, but he said, “No. I want you to use your teeth.”

“Getting a little bold there, old man,” you said with a smirk, keeping your eyes on him as you dipped your head to plant a soft kiss on his thigh, right by his stitches. 

He winced slightly at the contact, but you could see his cock throb against the fabric covering it.  Your smirk only widened, “But I gotta admit I’m pretty impressed so far. Didn’t even have to slip a blue pill in your oatmeal.”

He gripped your jaw, clicking his tongue in disappointment. “I think you need more proof, actually. Allow me.”

With his free hand, he roughly tugged down his briefs and his cock finally sprang free — so thick and long and just fucking perfect — hitting his lower abdomen. The head of it glistened with precum, which he spread with his thumb. You shifted in your seat, biting your lip as saliva flooded your mouth.

“Open,” he ordered.

You immediately complied, wondering when the fuck you’d gotten so obedient. He gripped the base of it and fed it into your mouth slowly. You wrapped your lips around it, feeling it slide smoothly against your tongue. 

A small groan escaped him, his head tipped back at the first rush of pleasure. You hummed a little in response and he felt the vibration of the sound against his shaft. His hips began to move again, shuttling his length deeper into your mouth, until you could feel the head of it reach your throat.

He let you steady yourself by placing your hands on his legs, his hand returning to the back of your head as it bobbed up and down. Then suddenly, when you’d reached the very base, he kept your head down. Your nose was against his pelvis, your deep, even breaths fanning against the fine hair that curled there. 

Your nails dug into the flesh of his legs as you staved off your gag reflex as best as you could. Still, you couldn’t help but squirm a little, already pretty slick between your thighs.

 He cursed under his breath as he let you come up for air, an obscene string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock.

"If I knew you were such a cock drunk slut, I would have dropped my pants much earlier just to shut you up,” he said with a smug grin, looking down at you.

“More bold words from someone who’s only gonna last this round. I’m gonna have to take care of myself after you’re done,” you taunted lightly, making him pull at your hair.

You kept eye contact with him as you stuck your tongue out and traced it over a large vein on the underside of his shaft. You left a trail of wet, sloppy kisses as you made your way back to the tip, and he lightly slapped it against your tongue a couple of times before pushing your head back down on it. His balls tightened momentarily as he sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth, and you knew he was enjoying himself much more than he let on.

"Well, if it's gonna be only one, might as well make good use of it, don't you think?" He said, pulling you off of him and making you stand up.

His lips were on yours in the next moment, just as desperate and hungry as the first kiss. He kicked his pants off the rest of the way and yanked your sweater off along with your thermal undershirt. He reached for your pants, but you slapped his hand away, extricating yourself from his lips to undo them yourself.

As soon as they were off, he turned you around and bent you over the back of the couch. There was a wet spot in your underwear that made him smirk, but he also couldn’t deny the way his cock throbbed at the sight.

“This is in the way…” he grunted, tugging at your bra strap.

Before you even registered what was happening, he brought the knife back out and sawed the bra off of you. You let out a gasp that was both surprised and indignant as he proceeded to rip your panties off with his bare hands, tossing the scraps of fabric aside.

“Hey! Those are the only ones I have here!” You huffed, glaring at him over your shoulder. “Unless you have a secret stash of women’s underwear, you seriously owe me.”

He nudged your knees apart with his leg. “I don’t think you’re going to need them while you’re here. You were already ruining them yourself, anyway.”

Before you could retort, you felt him push inside of you slowly, grabbing your hips as he let out a low moan. 

“Fuck…” you sighed without thinking, leaning your elbows against the back of the couch. 

“Yeah? Does that feel good?” He cooed condescendingly.

“In your drea–”

His hips snapped into yours harshly, interrupting you. You felt the heat of him against your back as he leaned over you, his breath fanning across the side of your face. 

“If I were you, I’d be careful about lying again. I might just stop and leave you all drenched like this, with your hands tied behind your back so you couldn’t touch yourself.”

He felt you clench around him at that and his smirk turned victorious. He kissed and sucked at your shoulder and neck, making sure to leave plenty of marks. His thrusts were hard and deep at first, hips barely pulling back as his weight pinned you down.

You let out a sound that was a strange mix between a whimper and a gasp as he bit into the tender flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to leave teeth marks behind. The jolt of pain mixed with pleasure – not to mention the slight shame that came with the feeling of your arousal dripping down your inner thighs – only fueled the fire that was steadily growing within you. 

Then, a little mindlessly, you pleaded, “Harder. Fuck me harder.”

He straightened immediately, readjusting himself to start pounding into you at a nearly punishing pace. You bit your bottom lip to try and keep quiet, but wanton sounds of pleasure escaped your throat despite your efforts. He was hitting a spot that made your head spin, tugging you backward onto his cock to meet his thrusts.

The lewd sound of flesh slapping together, along with your collective pants and groans, filled the room. He reached forward to grab your throat again, keeping you semi-upright as he continued to take you. In truth, he was focusing hard to stave off his release. He had plenty of stamina for his age, but the way your cunt took him so perfectly, as if molded just for him, was enough to have his balls tightening again. 

But he would never hear the end of it. 

Your legs began to shake a little as the coil in your belly tightened, threatening to snap. “I-I think I’m gonna cum, fuck…”

“Not yet,” he said firmly, immediately stopping his motions. 

You cursed him under your breath, beyond frustrated. You pushed your hips back, intent on fucking yourself on him, but his firm grip stopped you. He landed a firm smack on your ass, making you involuntarily clench around him. He hissed, feeling the strong urge to give in and continue fucking you until you came all over his cock, but he kept his composure. He wanted to keep indulging you for as long as he could, still not fully believing he wasn’t just having a dirty dream.

“Do that again and I’ll rip your fucking head off,” you snarled as he pulled out, grabbing your arm and leading you toward the bed.

“I told you I was going to make it count.”

He tossed you onto your back on the bed, crawling on top of you and pushing your knees up to your shoulders. He positioned himself between your thighs and sank back into your cunt with no further preambles, his strong body covering yours once more.

His hands cradled your head as he began to move again, reaching impossibly deeper than before. You clawed at his biceps as he ground his pelvis against you, making your brain practically short-circuit.

“There we go… See? I knew you could take more,” he said, kissing the corner of your lips. “Are you scared I'll pull out again? You keep sucking me back in.”

Too dazed to form words, your lips chased his so he would kiss you properly. Your tongue trailed over his upper lip enticingly, and he opened his mouth so his tongue could meet yours. This kiss was deeper, less frantic, finally giving yourselves a chance to taste each other properly. 

Soon you were clenching around him again, too distracted by your mounting pleasure to continue kissing him properly. 

“Fuck, don’t stop, Duncan. Please, please, please, just like that,” you begged desperately, moaning as he moved to kiss your jaw. 

“Yeah? You want me to fill you up, too?” He rasped against your skin. “Claim this needy cunt all for myself?”

You nodded eagerly, face contorting with ecstasy as you held onto him for dear life. Your muscles seized up as your climax washed over you, overpowering your senses. His hips stuttered as you cried out, your hot flesh molding into his like the deepest embrace. 

He kissed you again as he felt his own release rippling over him, groaning into your mouth as he shuddered, unable to hold himself back any longer. He thrusted hard a few more times before remaining fully inside of you, and you felt heat flooding your cunt. 

A whimper of slight overstimulation escaped you, but he soothed you with a whispered praise in your ear. You couldn’t help but smile beatifically, almost purring in content as he kept his cum inside of you.

As you both rode out your highs, your kisses turned lazy, almost tender, and even the way he held you felt different. Somehow, in some deep recess of your mind, it seemed right… and that scared you a little.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you then. Not as he leaned his sweaty forehead against yours, still panting, and said, “I think I tore my stitches.”

You chuckled. “You should probably take care of that, then.”

“In a minute…”

He disentangled himself from you, pulling out and sliding his body down between your legs. You tried to draw your thighs together, but he stopped you, planting a kiss on your mound.

He spread your lips with two fingers so he could see his cum trickling out of you, but then he pushed it back in with those same fingers, making your hips jerk slightly.

“T-this was a one time thing, you know,” you breathed, trying to sound firm. 

He barely glanced up at you, seemingly unbothered. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

But only an hour or so later, you found yourself riding him on the couch. Then, he took you against the wall, over the kitchen counter, off the edge of the bed, and subsequently on the floor. He seemed intent on making sure you never questioned his endurance ever again.

Even throughout the night, you slept sporadically, pawing at each other whenever you stirred. Not many words were exchanged during this time, but that didn’t mean your mouths weren’t put to good use. As usual, you both wound up with bruises, bite marks, and scratches all over each other, but the intention behind them couldn’t be any more different.

The storm died sometime during the night, but instead of fleeing right away, you let him hold you until dawn broke. There were too many new questions floating about in your head, but you weren’t really sure you wanted the answer to any of them for the time being. Perhaps it was simply best to let what happened remain in the past and simply move on.

As quietly as you could, you got up from the bed, cleaned yourself up, and dressed. You sheathed your weapons, avoiding looking at him as you prepared to leave. When your hand was on the doorknob, his voice stopped you.

“You didn’t kill me again,” he said. “Should I take that as an indication that you like me?”

You looked over at him, frowning. “Absolutely not. I’m serious, this was the last time it’ll ever happen.”

“I’m not sure I can trust your word.”

You huffed, irritated. “Well, you’ll have to. I intend to keep it.”

You yanked the door open, about to stomp outside, but you heard the creak of the bed as he sat up. 

“You know, I’m going to be in Portofino in a few months. I heard it’s beautiful there in the summer, and I figured I could use a vacation.”

“Are you trying to make yourself an easy target?”

“...Maybe.”

“And if I decide not to hunt you down?”

He raised an eyebrow. “If?”

You grimaced. “All I’m saying is don’t get your hopes up. I’m a very busy gal, I don’t have time to play cat and mouse with you.”

“And who’s who in that analogy, hm?”

You shook your head, rolling your eyes. “Goodbye, Duncan. Truce is over, do you hear me?”

“I’ll see you in Portofino. Make sure you bring sunscreen.”

The door slammed shut behind you. 

---——-

Part 2 out now!

[vampcubus]

hii ashi ive got a fun little thought for u

imgagine kyojuro, despite how strong he is, can never ride you for more than a few minutes. kyo always tries his best, but his legs always get so shakey and sore everytime by how overwhelming it is, that you have to help him fuck himself on your strap :((

bell u are a godsend i haven't been able to get this idea out of my mind since u sent it and now that i have coherent thoughts...

:ఌ¨ ♱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 : nsfw, sub!kyojuro, dom!reader, pegging, master kink, overstimulation, long orgasm, not proofread.

Kyojuro's trained to have incredible stamina, but it's like it all goes away and his legs turn to jelly when he's bottoming. He tries so hard to keep going, to keep bouncing on your cock but his legs are shaking and he lets out a frustrated whine. He slows down, looking about ready to cry when his orgasm slips out of his grasp.

"Aw, do you need help, baby?" you purr, watching him struggle with half-lidded eyes, amusement glinting in them. He was so cute it wasn't fair really, his steadily bouncing cock especially, which flops neglected against his belly with each pitiful thrust.

"Please help me. I'm sorry I can't do it myself any longer," he sobs, and you only croon, sitting up so you can adjust him, slipping your hands underneath his ass so you can spread him open and start to bounce him up and down on you. You thrust up into him and the head catches on a spot that makes him squeal, clinging onto you and slurring grateful open-mouthed kisses across your neck and shoulder. "Thank you! ohh thank you, master!"

"S'ok, master's got you. You don't gotta lift a finger. Let me do all the work. It's okay," you pant, a satisfying ache settling in your abdominals as you fuck up into him and press his hips down at the same time. He's all but howling with pleasure, lips sucking marks into the tender flesh of your throat. "There's a good boy."

He moans aloud at your praise, golden eyes rolling back as he loses himself to the pleasant scrape of the toy against his sensitive inner walls. You're practically abusing his prostate, fucking the sense right out of his muscled yet soft body. God he's so handsome, and burly, yet he falls apart and arches for you so prettily.

"Feels so good, m-master. Fffuck! Fuck, I feel so good!" Kyojuro wails, hand shooting to his cock to stroke it. You let him, eager to watch him unravel for you. "I-I'm gonna c-cum soon! Please, please may I cum?"

"Mhm, let it all out baby. Look at me while you cum all over my cock, yeah?" He tears himself away from your neck, teary honey and rose-colored eyes swimming with overwhelmed tears.

You fuck up into him harder at the sight, growling in delight and his hand speeds up on his cock. His dewy lashes flutter, fighting the urge to close. He wants to obey you, to be good for you. The knot in his belly finally snaps and he shouts in alarm as cum spills out of him, painting your stomach with seed as he thrashes and wails.

You bounce his body up and down on you through his orgasm, and he sobs, overstimulated. He stares at you with a desperate look, trembling as he continues to convulse and spurt for longer than he usually would.

"Oh gods! Oh gods! Unhh I-I can't stop cumming. O-oh fuck!" Kyojuro cries helplessly, though his hand keeps milking his own cock, the slippery, frantic movement making an obscene squelching sound.

"Shhh, just let it all out, sweetheart," you comforted, nudging his hand away from his sticky cock to replace it with your own. He flinches when you stroke him with a tight fist, wringing more cum out of him.

"A-ah okay, master. mhhh ahh!" he finally stops erupting, slumping against you with his head on your shoulder, exhausted and twitching like mad. You affectionately thumb at his tip a while longer as he softens in your grasp, before heeding his whimpers of 'no more.' and 'too sensitive.'

[adairtrashart]

cotltober day 21 lanolin

the goat is pretty upset that they dont produce lanolin in general (a huge part of why their wool is so itchy and dry)

how are they supposed to benefit off of it easily if theyre not the one making it??????????????????

full text:

Stupid cat!!! Why can't he seem to recognize my greatness?! MY power?! MY SUPREMACY!!! Hell, even that la- waitwaitWAIT!!! It's the lanolin, isn't it?!

How dare they... I'm the one who gets to cheat!!! Not them! I'm the edgy one! I don't care if we're both cult leaders. This is so dumb! Stupid fucking- dumb...

Nah, don't need to bother. The cat is such an asshole anyways. If he really can't see why I'm so amazing, he doesn't deserve me. I don't need some smelly grease to prove myself! I have better stink! So great, in fact, that I can safely say that I-

NO NO NO! That's even dumber than that whole "Greatest Vase of All Time" idea! Ugh... How do I-what do I want?! Why are emotions so weird?! I've felt them plenty of times before, and this never happened. Demanding respect, kissing, even sparring with those beneath you! Those are just normal things!

Gotta ask if the Lamb's feelings are infecting me somehow. There's no way all of these are MY emotions! I'd never let myself be this weak.

Maybe I should steal some lanolin... It would be pretty idiotic to not use their advantages to my advantage, at least until I go back to normal. The Greatest of All Time must not let their ego lessen said greatness!

_____________________ Cat Bone Stew ~ Serves 5

Ingredients: 5 large cat bones *preferably from the arms and/or legs 1 cat liver, diced Half of a pumpkin, mashed 1-2 leeks, chopped 5 tbs lard (any source) 3 large clumps of Anchordeep kelp *can be substituted with other kelp combined with 2 tsps sea salt A pinch of Emeril's Essence *see pg. 15 for recipe 6 cups of water 2-3 potatoes of your choice, sliced Leftover rice (optional)

Instructions:

Set a large pot of water above your campfire. Keep the lid on so that it starts boiling faster.

Heat up a separate pan for the liver, using some of the lard to grease it

Soak the kelp in any spare water you have to remove excess salt

Once the kelp is ready, the pan should be hot enough to cook the liver properly. Stir fry it until slightly under cooked

Cut the kelp into bite sized chunks

Throw all the ingredients, including the remaining lard,into the boiling water for 3 hours covered.

When the stew is done, make sure to remove the bones before serving.

(Tip: Depending on how healthy the individual was before death, you can reuse the bones 1-3 times for similar flavor)

_____________________ Fuckity fuck fuck fuck I am so gay. WHY am I so gay The booba... so amazingly (cut off) Barkbarkbarkbarkbarkb barkBARKbarkbarksnarl Why must you be so very (cut off) wHYYYYYYYYYYYYY AAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[techwrecker]

𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗔𝗽𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝗗𝗲𝗮𝗻'𝘀 𝗣𝗶𝗲

Fandom: Supernatural

Summary: Castiel has never had pie. Dean is flabbergasted.

Genre: fluff? slice of life? It's a short little glimpse into life at the bunker

Tags: SFW, could be canon tbh, no timeline, Dean loves pie, Sam is over his BS, Cas being an angel, Destiel if you squint, kid!Dean, super sweet ending, *not beta read*

Word Count: <3k

Warnings: N/A (please let me know if I missed any!)

Other: dividers by me & @thecutestgrotto (tysm!)

Blueberry, apple, cherry, peach, chocolate, coconut. So many flavors to choose from! Dean scanned the length of the display case, eyes growing wider each second. The Winchester brothers were on their way home after a vamp case in Illinois and Dean had finally managed to convince Sam to stop at “Betsy’s Pie Palace”, known for their extensive pie menu, baked daily.

“Sammy, you’re telling me not one of these pies is something you’d want to at least try?”

“I’ve told you a million times, dude,” Sam rolled his eyes as his pastry-drunk brother. “Pie is horrible for your health.” He checked his watch. It was 7:45pm. They still had another 5 hours to go before they arrived at the bunker. “Dean, can you hurry up? We can’t stay here forever, Cas is waiting on us.”

“You can’t rush a choice like this, Sammy. This is Sophie’s Choice but with pie.” Dean shot back, earning another eye roll from his younger brother.

“Hey sugar, what’ll it be?” the waitress called out with an out-of-state southern drawl. She wiped her hands down the skirt of her white 50’s style apron and adjusted her bright red rockabilly Victory Roll hairstyle.

Dean looked up in a slight panic. There were so many options. One of everything? Yeah right, not even Baby could carry that much pie. “How’s the apple?” he asked, leaning against the counter flirtatiously and giving the waitress the classic Dean Winchester Charm. The waitress met his eyes and Dean flashed her a smile.

“It’s not too bad, much like yourself,” she said, receptively as she blushed.

“Well if it’s as sweet as you are,” he glanced down at her name tag. “Beth, I think we’re in business.” Dean winked at her. She nodded and began to pull out the apple pan.

“Disgusting,” Sam muttered under his breath. He was practically tapping his foot with impatience at. His arms were folded across his chest with his watch turned to where he could watch the seconds tick by. 7:49.

“What can I say, Sammy? A guy’s gotta have his dessert after a hunt like that.”

After packing up a slice of apple, cherry, and chocolate crème, Beth rang up their total.

“It’ll be $9.85, darlin’,” she said, tying the handles of the plastic sack together.

Dean handed her a crumpled $10 out of his wallet.

“Keep the change,” he nodded as he took the bag from her.

“Just so you know,” She exclaimed after Dean as the Winchesters turned to walk out. “There’s a special ingredient in the cherry. I think you’ll really like it.” She winked and Dean smiled. Sam rolled his eyes, yet again. The towering brothers walked out and made their way back to the Impala.

Dean made his way to the passenger’s side and Sam gave him a quizzical look.

“Dude, PIE.” Dean tossed the keys across the roof to Sam. “For a college boy, you aren’t too bright.”

“Whatever, Dean.”

They sat down in the cab and Dean ripped open the plastic sack as Sam turned the key in the ignition. The impala roared to life. Dean popped open the styrofoam lid of the cherry slice and pulled out a scrap of paper. A bright red stain from the filling had crept onto the edge of the paper, causing Dean to lick his fingers.

“Oh-ho, sweet!” He shouted, a huge grin across his face. He held up the paper to Sam. Scrawled across it were 10 digits in perfect handwriting with a heart and a B at the end.

“Yeah Dean, because we’re definitely going to be back in this part of Missouri any time soon.” Sam said dryly.

“Whatever, man. You’re just a hater. And you don’t know that! I might make the trip by myself just for this pie,” Dean argued.

Sam pursed his lips instead of replying. Dean had been irritating in his usual big brother way the entire ride home. Sam pulled out onto the highway and reached over to turn up the music as Dean chowed down on his dessert. Much to Sam’s surprise, his brother didn’t even let a single cherry slip onto the seat.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful. No calls about a hunt in the middle of nowhere, nothing from Cas, not even a call from Jody or Bobby checking in on them. They stopped occasionally to fuel up or to hit the head in a grimy gas station bathroom that hadn’t been aired out in decades. Eventually, Dean fell asleep, head against the window as they closed in on Kansas. They didn’t get back to the bunker until around 5am.

“Dean,” Sam shut off the ignition and reached across the seat to slap his brothers shoulder with the back of his hand. He snorted awake. “We’re home.”

“5 more minutes?” Dean managed to get out, rubbing his eyes awake. He raised his head and squinted out the window into the sunshine that was creeping above the trees.

“Just help me, will you?” Sam stepped out of the car and opened the door behind his to gather his duffel and various weapons they had needed for the hunt. He loved hunting, but he was also glad to be home, to sleep in his own bed.

Thanks to their wide wingspan, the brothers were able to carry everything in one trip into the bunker. Heading down the winding staircase, they saw the ever-trenchcoated Castiel sitting at the backlit map table, reading a book. He looked up and raised his hand in greeting.

“Hello, Sam. Hello, Dean.” He smiled at them. “How did everything go?”

“Same old, same old. Few vamps goin’ to town. Nothin’ big.” Dean explained. “The real news is this!” He raised the plastic sack.

“What is that?” Castiel asked.

“Only the best invention, ever!” Dean smiled and set his stuff down on the table. He reached in and pulled out the remaining boxes. “I’m gonna grab a plate. If anybody touches this pie while I’m gone, you’re officially dead to me.” He made the “I’m watching you” motion with his fingers and pointed them once at Sam, and once at Castiel.

“I am confused.” The angel said as Dean left.

“It’s just pie, Castiel.” Sam explained.

“Oh, I see.”

“Whatcha reading?”

Cas lifted the tattered, green book off the table to show Sam the cover. It had the usual hallmark symbols of witchcraft and magic. The pentagrams, upside down crosses, symbols only Rowena could decipher.

“I was looking for ways to protect hunters from witch magic.” He said simply. “It’s been a highly unsuccessful venture.”

“Can’t win ‘em all I guess,” Sam offered lamely, exhausted from the drive.

“Back!” Dean raised the plate above his head and practically jogged back to the table.

“Okay, this has become an addiction. Three pieces in one day?” Sam wanted to say more but knew Dean was already a hopeless case.

“Listen, Sammy, you wouldn’t understand. Honestly, I don’t even know why I love pie so much. I just do,” Dean said as he began to transfer the piece from the box onto the plate.

The brothers sat down at the table, finally relaxing after the tiresome drive home. Cas followed suit, closing the witchcraft book to prioritize communion with his friends.

“I know why you love pie,” The angel said simply.

Sam and Dean whipped their heads toward him.

“What?” Dean said, picking up his fork in order to take his first bite of the flakey dessert.

“Your affinity for pie is built from childhood memories of your mother,” Cas said, still looking at Dean.

“Wow! It all makes sense!” Sam exclaimed, throwing his hands up into the air. “You like pie over everything else because it was the only dessert mom ever made! Dad told me she tried making a cake once and it was a disaster.”

“Shuddup. I like pie because pie is good. Ain’t got nothin’ to do with childhood memories or whatever.” Dean stared holes into the slice he had in front of him.

“Dean, I raised you from hell. Your soul is burned into the back of my vessel’s eyelids.” Cas looked across the table at Sam. Cas had a flair for the dramatic. “Pie is one of the very few pure childhood memories you have.”

Dean stuck his fork into the point of the pie and shoveled it into his mouth. “Gyoo guys fon’t dnow whad your ftalking aboud,” he barely managed to say around the mouthful. He swallowed the elephant-sized bite. “Pie is pie. Everybody loves it.”

Sam and Cas shared a knowing look. Whenever either one of them tried talking to Dean about his or Sam’s childhood, Dean always changed the conversation or turned to humor, telling Sam he’s making their life into a chick-flick. He hates chick-flicks. They looked back at Dean, still inhaling the one of the two pieces in front of him, neither one saying a word. It had almost disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Anybody who hasn’t tried pie is a monster— I’d stake my life on it.” Dean said into the silence.

“Does that make me a monster?” Castiel tilted his head to the left and squinted at Dean from across the table as if he was trying to get a read on him. Angels weren’t made to fully understand humans, but Cas would be damned if he didn’t try.

“What?!” Dean’s jaw hung open. Sam silently thanked the heavens that his mouth wasn’t full of masticated dessert.

“You’ve never had pie?” He asked incredulously. “I mean, Dean always keeps it stocked in the fridge, and you’ve never had it?”

“Yes, Sam. I, an Angel of The Lord, have felt an intense desire to consume Dean Winchester’s practically holy pie despite the absence to physically nourish this vessel with food.” Cas said dryly.

Cas was practically glaring at Sam. He had really upped his sarcasm game in recent years, the brother would give him that.

He raised his eyebrows at Cas and held up his hands in innocence. “Okay, point taken.”

“No, no, no.” Sam and Castiel looked back at Dean. “This is just unacceptable. It’s… It’s downright unnatural. Cas, I don’t care if you’re an angel or the lowest demon there is. Everybody needs to have at least one slice of pie in their life.” He slid the plate in the angel’s direction in one fluid motion. It stopped directly in front of Cas.

Dean gave a proud look to his brother, boasting his skill. Sam just rolled his eyes.

The angel pushed back his chair to become eye level with the dessert. Noting that the crust did indeed appear to be quite flakey and the filling an overabundance of sugar, he carefully picked up the fork. Skeptically, he looked at Dean (who was almost as excited to see Castiel take his first bite of pie as he was to enter Betsy’s Pie Palace), and then to Sam (who honestly couldn’t care less. Logically, Cas doesn’t need to eat. Why Dean cares so much is beyond him.) and finally submerged the prongs in the slice. After digging out really only a baby-bite-sized piece, he began to lift the fork to his mouth.

“What, so Mr. Angel of The Lord can’t handle a bigger bite than that? I’ve seen bees bigger than that, Cas.” Dean teased. He knew he could push Castiel’s buttons more than anybody and actually manage to get away with it.

Cas closed his eyes in annoyance and while staying silent, stabbed the pie once again to fit more onto the fork. He made sure it was enough to satisfy the human whom he, now with considerable regret, raised from perdition. Had he known saving Dean Winchester was going to cause him this much grief in the long run, he might have let Dean stay down there another year or two and maybe without quite so much enthusiasm. Dean was still anxiously awaiting Castiel’s first bite, not unlike a young angel in the storehouses of Heaven (it makes more sense in Enochian) and Castiel could not help but let his friend’s excitement wash over him in golden warmth. He knew the pie would only taste of molecules and the spaces between, but did not want to let Dean down, regardless.

He stopped the fork just short of his lips. “Dean, I feel the need to remind you that angels can’t-“

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘Can’t taste food like humans do.’ Just eat it already, Cas.” Dean interrupted.

Castiel bit down on the fork. Just as he suspected, there was no “food” flavor, like when he was human. It just felt like a lump of structured mush on his vessel’s tongue.

“That was,” Cas began after swallowing. “A neutral experience.”

Dean deflated in his chair.

“It was worth a shot, anyways,” Sam tried to remedy the situation. “Isn’t there some sort of power-up you can use to taste food again?”

Cas thought in silence for a moment. He supposed there was memory-reaching, but angels really have no use for that outside of getting information.

“Yes, I believe there is. I’ve never used it to explore a pleasant experience before, but it’s worth a shot.” The angel said, looking at Dean.

“Well, what are you waiting f-“

Castiel pressed his first two fingers lightly to Dean’s forehead, immediately searching his friend’s mind for his first memories of pie. Both the angel and Dean were being zipped back through the timeline of Dean’s life. He felt the victory of last week after a hunt when Dean was able to grab the last piece of coconut cream at a gas station. Then disappointment of years ago filled his chest when Sam had brought cake instead of pie, claiming “it was close enough.” Feeling himself putting up a front of confidence, Castiel realized he was in nervous, 17-year-old Dean’s shoes, staring across at a girl of similar age. The two were in a diner, about to share a slice of cherry as an innocent first date. He was so young.

At last, Castiel reached Dean’s first memory of his beloved pie. He found himself staring up at Mary Winchester, in Dean’s stead. He was up to her waist, sitting down. Castiel was bad at approximating ages— side effect of the whole being-an-angel thing— but he knew it was an early memory. She turned around and set a large piece of pie on the table, in front of him. Dean’s eyes, and Castiel’s by proxy, widened as Mary began to speak. He felt his mouth salivating with anticipation.

“Happy Birthday, Dean. I can’t believe my little guy is 4 years old, now!” She smiled at her son and reached down to ruffle his hair. “I love you, Dean.”

“I love you too, Mom!” Little Dean squeaked back.

Castiel felt Dean reach over to Mary in an attempt to wrap his tiny arms around her legs in a hug.

“Go on,” she laughed. “I made my favorite flavor- Apple. I hope you like it!”

Their gaze fell back onto the pie. Gingerly, so as not to drop a single piece, he brought the fork to his mouth. Flavor exploded across Castiel’s taste buds. Sweetness of the sugar, a gentle cinnamon spice, tartness from the apples, savoriness of the buttery crust. It was the perfect dessert.

Castiel retracted his hand from Dean’s forehead and looked at him with a certain softness.

“I understand it’s value now,” he said simply.

Dean looked up at him, slightly bewildered, trying to laugh it off. “Whoa, dude. A little warning next time would be nice,” Dean said, quickly wiping the tear about to fall down his face. He either didn’t remember telling Cas to get a move on or he was just trying to change the subject. He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to hide the fact that he got emotional upon Cas digging up such a deep memory. Sam hadn’t seen Dean tear up in a long time, leaving him wondering what Cas had seen.

“I wanted to understand pie, and now I do. Thank you, Dean. I now know why pie has such a big role in your life. I would like to try it again, with your memories in mind. I believe it will be… flavorful to me, now, although I’m not quite sure that’s the right word,” Cas explained.

“What do you mean?” Sam asked.

“With Dean’s memories at the forefront of my palette, I should be able to taste pie in a similar way that he does— At least for a while.” Cas explained. “Let me try again,” he pleaded as he put his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

Still somewhat in his head, Dean was brought back to the bunker when he felt the angel’s warm hand.

“Yeah, okay. Sure, Cas.” Dean agreed.

Sam yanked the plate toward where Castiel was standing.

Unlike before, Cas loaded the fork with pie. It was so big, it almost fell off before it made it to his mouth.

Nostalgia intermingled with the chunks of apple and the taste of tenderness only a mother can give swirled around his mouth as he chewed. Castiel sat back down next to Dean and relaxed into the back of the chair.

“Yes,” he began, satisfaction dripping in his voice. “Pie is delicious.”

Dean shot Sam an “I-told-you-so” look, reached across to the plate, and polished off the rest of the slice.

Dean never explained what he saw, or rather what Castiel made him remember, to his brother and Sam never asked. All his brother knew was that it had to have been a good memory for it to affect Dean’s entire view on a singular dessert. Pie, just like his mother, will always share a home on the shelf of Dean's heart.

And Castiel will always hold Dean's heart in his soul.

A/N: this is just a lil thing i wrote last year and wanted to get out of my drafts already! do NOT do the math of traveling. I have no idea what it would actually be. Title is a pun if you couldn't tell lol

|| Join the Taglist! || Masterlist ||

[hayleylatour]

Finding Peace 🕊️

Content warning-none yet, some smut soon. Future talks of pregnancy and options. (Time frame is 2021 into 2022) this is also my first fan fiction since Wattpad 2014!

Summary- Mia is a 24 year old new bookstore owner who’s best friend is dating the drummer of up and coming metal band Bad Omens Nick Foilo. Jess is known for trying to set Mia up on blind dates. What happens when Mia meets Noah Sebastian

Pairings- babydaddy!Noah Sebastian x OC (Mia)

Chapter One- Mia's pov

"Mia babes you gotta come to this party, its Halloween, plus is kinda a party for Nick's friends birthday" Jess begged me. looking at my phone screen to see her pleading pout and batting eyes. rolling my eyes I simply nod in agreement, knowing if I don't at least make an appearance I will never hear the end of it.

"I'll come but I really don't want you trying to set me up with one of Nick's friends. I'm happy being single okay Jess" I say putting the last of the coffee mugs in the cabinet. "I'm just wanting to focus on getting the hell out of the shit hole apartment and getting this damn shop done and ready for opening”

"Okay okay I promise! No trying to set you up, but can I just say these guys are HOT, babes its been forever since you've gotten laid, have a few drinks and see where the night takes you, I'm not saying you have to date or marry one of them but who knows you might really hit it off with someone" Jess continues to ramble but I lose focus on her words when I start thinking about the last time I got laid. damn its be awhile the last time was probably 6 months ago... shit she's right I need to get laid, like yesterday.

"fine. is this a costume party or can I wear normal clothes" I sigh while picking up my phone and walking to the couch to sit down.

After awhile of chatting with Jess, we hung up our daily hour long face time. deciding to get up and start getting ready for jess party. Pulling the shower curtain open I start the water, warming it while I do some quick skin care. I cant help but think about what jess said, its been so long since I've gotten laid.

"That's it, if one of these guys is as attractive as she says, you're going to fuck him, you hear don’t chicken out. have a drink, relax and blow off some steam" I blurt out looking at my reflection, pep talks never work but dammit if I was determined to make myself believe it.

after my shower I blow dry my hair and decide on a low bun before starting my makeup, keeping everything simple and clean, with a light brown dusting over my lids and a shimmery highlight in my inner corner, finishing it off with a quick winged liner. I make my way into the bedroom to throw on a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite bring me the horizon hoodie topping the look off with black vans and making my way downstairs to my car and off to Jess and Nick's house.

there's 4 cars in the driveway when I pull in, Jess and folios included. throwing my car in park I do a once over in my review mirror. as headlights shine illuminating my car, looking over I see a tall man step out and make his way up the drive. stopping he looks at me through the windshield. I've seen him in pictures before. Noah- Folios friend and band mate. dressed in tight black jeans and a while shirt topped off with a leather jacket, Noah makes his way inside the house. now or never Mia. make your move.

"Hey Noah, wait up!" I yell exiting my car and jogging up the drive. He quickly turns on his heel and smiles down at me as I reach him, Standing at least a foot taller than me. Fuck he’s taller in person. “Lead the way” He says extending his arm towards the door.

“MIA! You made it” Jess squeals detaching herself from folios side, everyone seems to stop talking and turn their attention to the screaming. “Ah I see you met Noah, happy birthday by the way.” Jess winks at me

“Hey Jess, can I talk to you for a minute” i mutter pulling her into a hug. She nods and leads us to her bedroom. Once away from the crowd i start to explain my plan to her. I’ll have a drink and hang out and be open to the idea of hooking up with someone, failing to mention Noah’s name and how when he looks at me my heart beats a little faster. Jess tells me that if it happens it happens but she thinks i need to blow off some steam and ‘what better way to do it than an orgasm?’

When we emerged from the second floor the guys are standing in the kitchen around a box of pizza. Noah has his back to me but I can see his shoulder length hair is tucked between his ears. Their laughter fills to house which makes relaxing into the evening a little easier.

“So Mia, what do you do for work exactly? Jess was telling us you worked at a bookstore.” Jolly asks leaning forward to set his bottle on the table.

“Yeah kinda, I own the shop down on 17th, ‘Ellie’s’ my grandma left it to me in her will, I’ve been renovating it since lockdown started. But now since everything is opening back up. I’m hoping to have a reopening around mid November. Fingers crossed, I’m still working on getting the last of the furniture out of storage.” I explain sitting up a little straighter.

“That’s so cool we’ll have to come see it sometime” Ruffilo says everyone chiming in with an agreement. The party goes on just as this. Sitting on the sectional till I notice it’s getting closer to midnight, I should probably head home and get some much needed sleep. Jolly and Ruffilo have already said their goodbyes, and Jess has gone to bed, leaving Noah, Folio and myself.

“Hey thank you so much for tonight, i think im gonna head out though.” I say standing from my seat. Nick and Noah stand as well.

“Yeah I need to head out to, I’ll walk with you. Tell Jess I said thank you and I’ll message you tomorrow” Noah says pulling him into a hug. “Mia you ready?”

“Uh yeah. I’m ready” I rush. Making our way down the driveway Noah suddenly stops, turning to look at him he smiles and reaches for my wrist.

“Ya know, Jess told me that you were wanting to hook up with someone tonight, and it is technically still my birthday if you want to im more than interested” he breathes pushing my back against the driver’s side door of my car.

“Your place or mine?” I whisper.

[cheollollipop]

Fragments of Us - Chapter 3. | c.sc

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader

genre: angst, fluff, smut (MDNI)

warning(s): kissing😏 yn is dramatic af over a packet of chocolate powder. that’s pretty much it.

summary: two years after a messy breakup, seungcheol and yn reconnect unexpectedly.

word count: 5.4k

start date: nov. 20, 2024

end date: -

a/n: THIS IS SO LONG OVERDUE AND ITS NOT EVEN THE GOOD STUFF IM SO SORRY!!! this chapter is… a filler, yes. i’m sorry i know i just gotta develop subin and yn’s relationship but. i promise good stuff happens next chapter please don’t hurt me omfg.

Friday rolls around like clockwork, but this time it drags with it the unmistakable agony that I've come to dread. I wake up to a stabbing ache in my abdomen that feels like my insides are at war. My groan echoes through the quiet morning as I force myself out of bed, clutching my stomach for some semblance of relief. Every step to the bathroom feels heavier than it should, as if my body is actively working against me. Even the faint light slipping through the blinds feels cruel, adding to the overall sense of injustice.

When I finally reach the bathroom and flip on the light, I brace myself. Sure enough, the dreaded sight confirms my suspicion: my period has started. Of course, it couldn't wait for a more convenient day—it had to strike now, when I had a to-do list and absolutely no patience to deal with this.

"Are you kidding me right now?" I mutter. It's not like I was expecting sympathy from anyone—there's no one here but me—but voicing my frustration feels like a necessary release. The frustration bubbles up as I slump onto the toilet lid, head in my hands, cursing my uterus and whoever thought this monthly torture was necessary. I sit there for a few moments, letting the wave of annoyance and discomfort wash over me, trying to summon the will to move. The stabbing ache in my abdomen sharpens as if to remind me there's no escape, and I sigh.

Resigning myself to the inevitable, I force myself into the shower, hoping the warm water will work its magic. The second the hot stream hits my skin, I feel some of the tension in my body start to ease. It's not a cure—far from it—but at least the cramps relent just enough for me to stand upright without wincing. I close my eyes, letting the water wash over me as I mentally prepare for the day ahead. It's going to be a battle: heating pads, painkillers, stretchy clothes, and sheer willpower to push through the fatigue and discomfort. My mind drifts to the only comforting thought I can muster: a steaming cup of hot cocoa, piled high with big, fluffy marshmallows. The thought alone is enough to coax a small glimmer of hope through the haze of frustration.

After what feels like an eternity, I step out of the shower and dry off, the warmth already fading from my skin. The trek back to my room feels impossibly long. I throw on the comfiest pair of sweatpants I own and an oversized tee, both practically begging me to crawl back into bed. But the promise of hot cocoa propels me to the kitchen. My stomach churns, both from hunger and from the cramps twisting through me, as I open the cabinet where I keep my stash of cocoa mix.

And then I see it. Or rather, I don't. The shelf is empty. My mind refuses to process it at first, and I blink, hoping that somehow, in the haze of pain and exhaustion, I've simply overlooked it. But no—there's nothing there. My heart sinks.

"No. No, no, no!" I slam the cabinet shut and yank it open again, as though the act of closing and reopening it will somehow summon the cocoa mix into existence. My hands grip the edge of the counter as I stare into the empty shelf, frozen in disbelief.

A choked sob escapes me, and before I know it, I'm sliding to the floor in a dramatic heap. The tears come harder now, and I don't even try to stop them. It's ridiculous, I know that. I'm crying over cocoa mix. But in this moment, with the pain, the exhaustion, and the sheer unfairness of it all, it feels like the final straw. My body shakes with sobs as I sit there on the cold kitchen floor, and for a fleeting second, I want to laugh at how absurd this all is. A sick joke—surely, it has to be.

But there's no punchline, just me, a throbbing stomach, and the realization that today, like my uterus, is completely unforgiving.

From the corner of my room, I hear my phone buzz on the nightstand, and then the sharp ring pierces the air. I try to shush it as if the noise would magically stop if I willed it hard enough. But it doesn't. The ringing continues, relentless, until I drag myself up from the kitchen floor, feeling every ounce of effort it takes. My feet shuffle against the floor as I make my way to my room, throwing myself onto my bed with the weight of defeat.

The ringing stops, but a notification pops up on my screen. A text. I groan as I reach for my phone, not ready to deal with the world yet. The name on the screen catches my eye. Subin.

"Hey," I say, my voice dry and strained as I call back.

"Oh, uh... Did I wake you?" he asks, his tone hesitant but light.

"No. I'm out of hot cocoa," I reply flatly. My words hang in the air, and I can only imagine the expression on his face, a mix of confusion and amusement.

"I'm...sorry...?" he says, clearly unsure of how to respond.

"I would say it's fine, but it's not. I started my period, I am in excruciating pain, and the only thing that could make this day better is hot cocoa. But I'm out, and now I'm about to start crying again." The words spill out of me in a rush, each sentence rising in pitch as the tears threaten to make a second appearance.

"The only thing?" he teases, his voice tinged with a playful tone.

I sigh heavily, the weight of the day pressing on me. I know he's trying to make me laugh, to lighten the mood, but my world feels like it's ending in that moment. "I can't be mean to you. Please help me," I plead, my voice breaking slightly.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he chuckles softly, his tone shifting to something warmer, more comforting.

"How about this: we cancel tonight's date. I'll stop by after work and bring you some hot cocoa. You can rest and recover. How does that sound?"

"I suck. I'm sorry," I mumble, guilt creeping in for ruining our plans.

"You do not suck. Periods happen, it's no biggie. I'll stop by after I'm off, okay? Hang in there for me, champ," he says with a reassuring tone.

"Okay," I whisper, and we end the call.

For a moment, I stare at my phone, the screen dimming as I replay the conversation in my head. The promise of hot cocoa and his presence gives me something to look forward to, a small glimmer of light at the end of this particularly dreary day.

I lay back on the bed, pulling the covers over me as the cramps continue their assault. The heating pad I'd forgotten about sits abandoned on the chair, and I lazily stretch out to grab it, plugging it in and placing it on my abdomen. The warmth spreads slowly, soothing the sharp ache into a dull throb.

My mind drifts, and I let the quietness of the room envelop me. The ticking clock on the wall fills the silence, a rhythmic reminder that time is passing. I'll survive this day. I've done it before, and I'll do it again. But for now, I let myself sink into the comfort of knowing that help and hot cocoa—is on its way.

I spend the majority of my day drifting in and out of sleep, curled up in my blanket cocoon, trying to will away the cramps. The heating pad has become my closest ally, alternating between its usual position on my abdomen and being squished against my lower back. By mid-afternoon, hunger forces me out of my room, though every movement feels like a Herculean effort. My body protests with each step, reminding me that it's firmly in charge today.

As I shuffle toward the kitchen, my phone buzzes on the nightstand. I grab it on my way out of the room, glancing at the screen. It's Sonya. I answer with a weary voice as I open the pantry to check if there's anything I can stomach.

"Sonya," I say flatly, pressing the phone to my ear.

"Oh. Someone's on their period," she quips, her tone dripping with mock sympathy.

"You are correct," I sigh, setting the phone on speaker and placing it on the counter. I reach into the cabinet, eyeing the ramen packets stacked in the corner, mentally debating between spicy or mild.

"Poor babe. Have you had your 'cup of joe' yet?" she asks, her voice tinged with teasing. My heart sinks as her words remind me of my earlier heartbreak. Hope surges for a brief second, and I open the cabinet where I keep my hot cocoa mix, praying against all odds that it was just a bad dream.

But the shelf is still empty.

"Don't remind me. I'm out," I reply flatly, closing the cabinet door with a little more force than necessary.

"Out?! How are you alive right now?" she exclaims, her dramatic tone matching mine from earlier.

"I honestly don't even know if I am right now," I reply, grabbing a pot and filling it with water. "Subin is stopping by in a bit to bring some, though."

"Subin, huh?" she drawls, dragging out the name in a way that makes me roll my eyes. "Interesting development."

"Not the time, Sonya," I say firmly, dropping the ramen block into the boiling water. The sizzle and steam fill the kitchen as I rummage around for the seasoning packet.

"Fine, fine," she says with a chuckle. "Anywho, I called to see if you wanted to come out with us later, but I guess I got my answer, grumpy pants."

"Who's 'us'?" I ask, curiosity piqued despite myself.

"Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Joshua, Dino, and me," she says casually, as if this lineup isn't a bit random.

"Evil twins, the youngest, and the fiancé... What an interesting set of people," I say, smirking as I sprinkle the seasoning into the pot. The spicy aroma wafts up, making my stomach growl in response.

She laughs. "I know, right? It's like the start of a bad sitcom. But you should totally come! It'll be fun, I promise."

I shake my head even though she can't see me. "Besides," I start, lowering the heat on the stove, "Hannie hates me now, so there's that. You guys have fun, though. Tell everyone I say hello."

Sonya sighs, her voice softening. "He doesn't hate you, Y/N. You know that."

"Whatever you want to call it," I reply, brushing her comment off. I don't have the energy to argue about this right now. "Bye. I love you. Be safe!" I say quickly, not giving her a chance to linger on the topic.

"Love you too, grumpy pants. Tell Subin to hurry so you don't burn down your building," she says with a chuckle, and the call ends.

I stir the noodles idly, letting the quiet kitchen fill the void left by our conversation. The spicy scent of the ramen is comforting, a small reprieve from the otherwise miserable day. I ladle the steaming noodles into a bowl, settling myself at the table. As I take the first bite, my mind wanders back to Sonya's words.

Jeonghan doesn't hate me. At least, not technically. I push the thought aside, focusing on the warmth of the broth and the way it soothes my empty stomach.

For now, I let the world outside my apartment keep spinning without me. Subin will be here soon with hot cocoa, and maybe—just maybe—the day will start to feel a little less like a disaster.

A loud knock jolts me awake, and I blink groggily, disoriented by the sudden noise. My eyes dart to the clock on my nightstand, and I realize I must have dozed off without even meaning to. The knock sounds again, insistent but not harsh, and I force myself to sit up. My body protests, stiff from lying in one position too long, but curiosity leads me toward the door.

I peek through the peephole and feel a rush of warmth when I see Subin on the other side, a familiar, easy grin plastered across his face. His hands are full—two bags dangling from his arms, brimming with who-knows-what. I swing the door open, and his grin widens as soon as he sees me.

"There you are," he says, lifting the bags triumphantly. "Delivery for one very grumpy period warrior."

I step aside to let him in, my heart doing an involuntary flip at the sight of him. His smile is disarmingly bright, the kind that makes it hard to look away. "Sorry I took longer than expected," he continues, nudging the door shut with his foot. "Had to make a few stops."

"No worries," I reply, trying to ignore the way my heart flutters in his presence. "I slept most of the day anyway." I gesture to the bags he's carrying, chuckling softly. "So, what's all this? Did you bring the entire convenience store?"

"Ah, yes," he says dramatically, holding up the bags like some victorious knight. "I come bearing gifts." He hands them to me with a flourish, and I carry them to the living room, plopping them onto the couch.

Curiosity gets the better of me, and I dump the contents of the bags onto the cushions. My eyes widen as I take in the haul: my favorite snacks, a few random comfort foods, and as promised, not one, but two boxes of instant hot cocoa. "How did you—" I start, staring at the array of goodies.

Subin scratches the back of his neck sheepishly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks. "I may have overheard a conversation between you and Nayeon about your favorite snacks during this time of the month," he admits. "I promise I'm not a creep. Just blessed with the memory of an elephant." He offers a self-deprecating smile, his dark eyes watching me carefully, almost nervously.

I stand there, momentarily stunned, my brain struggling to process the thoughtfulness behind his gesture. He notices my silence, and his smile falters. "Is it too much?" he asks quickly. "I'm sorry. I just wanted you to feel—"

Before he can finish, I take two quick steps forward and press my lips against his, cutting him off mid-sentence. For a moment, he freezes, but then he melts into the kiss, his hands finding their way to my waist.

When we finally pull apart, his forehead leans against mine, and he grins. "I take it you're not creeped out?" he mumbles, his breath warm against my skin.

"Stop talking," I whisper, smiling despite myself. I tug his hand, pulling him toward the couch.

We collapse onto the cushions, surrounded by the chaotic mess of snacks, and I lean my head against Subin's shoulder. The day's pain and exhaustion feel like a distant memory, replaced by the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breathing beside me. As if on cue, he reaches for the box of hot cocoa sitting amid the pile of treats, holding it up like a trophy.

"Think you're up for some?" he asks, his voice soft and teasing.

"Always," I reply, a small smile tugging at the corners of my lips. In that moment, everything feels a little lighter, a little brighter, and I allow myself to sink into the comfort of it all.

"I've been told I make a mean cup of cocoa," he says with mock arrogance as he stands, offering me his hand to join him.

"Really now? Well, as an instant hot cocoa connoisseur, I guess I'll have to be the judge of that," I tease, letting him pull me off the couch and lead me to the kitchen.

"Be prepared to have your mind blown," he declares confidently, and I can't help but laugh.

He immediately gets to work, rummaging through my cabinets with a sense of purpose that's both endearing and hilarious. I settle onto a stool at the counter, chin propped in my hands, watching him in action. Subin narrates his every move, recounting his day in between steps—how his boss nearly ruined his lunch break, the traffic on the way over, and how he almost forgot the marshmallows until the last second.

I find myself smiling at the way he talks, so animated and unfiltered, like he's entirely at ease here. But then, he does something that nearly stops my heart.

"Subin..." I say slowly, eyeing the small jar in his hand. "Why are you putting cayenne pepper in my hot chocolate?"

He pauses mid-sprinkle, holding the jar up as if to admire it. "Just trust the process," he replies, completely unfazed.

"I'm not sure I want to," I say, narrowing my eyes.

He finally turns to look at me, his expression equal parts amused and serious. "Do you trust me?"

I hesitate, crossing my arms over my chest. "After seeing that? I'm not so sure," I say with a chuckle, and he laughs too, the sound warm and infectious.

"You'll love it," he insists, turning back to his concoction. "And if you don't...you're lying. It's the best, I promise."

I sigh dramatically, resting my head in my hands as I watch him skeptically. "Fine, Chef Subin. But if I don't like it, I'm making you drink the entire pot by yourself."

He grins over his shoulder. "Deal. But don't worry, that's not going to happen."

Minutes later, he sets a steaming mug in front of me with a flourish. The rich aroma of chocolate fills the air, mingling with a faint hint of something spicy that makes my nose twitch. He slides onto the stool beside me, his own mug in hand, and watches me expectantly.

"Go on," he urges. "First sip's yours."

I lift the mug cautiously, the warmth seeping into my hands. Taking a deep breath, I bring it to my lips and take a tentative sip. The flavors hit me all at once: the creamy sweetness of the chocolate, the marshmallows melting into soft clouds on top, and then, the unexpected kick of the cayenne pepper. It's bold, surprising, and oddly... perfect.

"Okay," I admit reluctantly, lowering the mug. "This is actually amazing."

"Told you!" he says triumphantly, nudging my shoulder with his own.

"Don't get cocky," I warn, though I'm already taking another sip, savoring the way the spicy warmth lingers on my tongue. "But seriously, how did you come up with this?"

He shrugs, leaning back casually. "Saw it in a movie once. Thought I'd try it out, and now it's my secret weapon. Figured you deserved the best tonight."

His words are casual, but they hit me in a way I wasn't prepared for. I glance at him, his face lit up with genuine satisfaction, and feel a flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with the cocoa.

"Thank you," I say softly, my voice almost drowned out by the hum of the fridge in the background.

He looks at me, his expression suddenly serious. "For what?"

"For this," I gesture to the mug, the snacks, and everything else he's done today. "For making me feel... better. I know I was being dramatic earlier but this really does mean a lot to me."

His smile softens, and he reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair from my face. "Anytime," he says simply, and I believe him.

We sit there for a while, sipping our cocoa in comfortable silence, the warmth of the moment wrapping around us like a cozy blanket. The rich scent of chocolate fills the air, mingling with the faint spice of cayenne lingering in my cup. For the first time all day, I feel like I can breathe. Subin shifts beside me, breaking the quiet with a question.

"So tell me," he starts as we make our way back to the living room, cups in hand.

"Hm?" I hum, settling back into the cushions.

"Why hot chocolate?" he asks, tilting his head curiously. "I mean, I'm no period expert, obviously, but that's a new one for me. Most people go for ice cream or, I don't know, heating pads or something." His lips quirk into a small grin, and I chuckle softly at his attempt to make light of the question.

I take a slow sip of my cocoa, gathering my thoughts before answering. "When I first got my period, I was terrified. I had no idea what was happening to me. My mom...she did everything she could to help me through it. One night, I remember being in the worst pain but also having these insane cravings for chocolate—like, I couldn't think about anything else. It was late, though, way too late to go to any stores. So, she did what she could and whipped up the finest cup of hot chocolate I'd ever had in my life. She even added whipped cream and marshmallows, the whole works." I pause, smiling faintly at the memory.

Subin's eyes stay locked on mine, his attention so unwavering that it almost makes me self-conscious. "That sounds...amazing," he says quietly, prompting me to continue.

"It was," I nod. "But what made it even more special was what came after. We sat there that night for hours, just the two of us. She explained to me what it meant to be a woman, how to navigate all of this—the pain, the mood swings, the unpredictability of it all. She shared stories about her first period, how she felt just as scared and confused as I did, and how she got through it."

I take another sip, letting the warmth of the cocoa soothe me before continuing. "After that, it kind of became our ritual. Whenever I was in pain or feeling down, she'd make hot chocolate, and we'd have these long talks. Sometimes it was about life, sometimes it was just silly stuff to make me laugh. It became this comfort thing for me, a little tradition that made everything feel less overwhelming." My voice softens as I add, "Even now, when she's not here, it still feels like a way to connect with her. Like she's still taking care of me, in a way."

Subin's expression shifts, a mix of admiration and something softer—empathy, maybe. "She sounds like a wonderful woman," he says, his voice low but sincere.

"She was," I whisper, the words catching slightly in my throat. I look down at my mug, tracing the rim with my finger. "Always there for me, no matter what. She just...knew how to make everything better."

The room falls silent for a moment, the weight of the memory settling between us. Subin leans back, his gaze never leaving mine. "You know," he says after a pause, "that explains a lot about you."

I frown slightly. "What do you mean?"

He shrugs, a small smile tugging at his lips. "The way you care about people. The way you notice the little things, like how someone's feeling or what they need, even when they don't say it. It's like...it's second nature for you. Now I see where you get it from."

The compliment catches me off guard, and I feel a faint warmth rise to my cheeks. "You're giving me too much credit," I mumble, looking away.

"I don't think I am," he counters, his tone firm but kind. "You probably don't even realize it, but you're the kind of person who makes people feel safe. Like, even when you're the one having a rough day, you still have this way of making everyone else feel better. That's rare, you know?"

I meet his gaze again, and the sincerity in his eyes makes my heart ache in the best way. "Thank you," I say softly, the words barely audible.

He smiles, "Anytime."

We sit there a while longer, the quiet between us feeling more like a warm embrace than a gap to fill. The chaos of snacks scattered across the coffee table remains untouched, a colorful testament to the spontaneity of the night. But neither of us seems to care. This moment—unpolished, imperfect, and entirely unplanned—feels just right.

After what feels like forever, Subin finally breaks the silence. His tone is teasing, his words laced with an exaggerated dramatic flair. "I'm going to say something," he begins, stretching out his legs and leaning back against the couch, "I just want to say that this is probably the best three-date streak I've ever had."

I tilt my head, raising an eyebrow. "You're definitely just saying that."

"No, I'm serious!" he protests, his grin widening. "Each time, I learn something new about you. Something interesting, something that makes me..." He pauses, as if searching for the right words. "I don't know. It's like you're making it very hard not to like you."

I scoff softly, shaking my head as I glance down at the mug in my hands. The rich scent of cocoa swirls around me, but the weight of his words lingers heavier. "My life is a mess, Subin," I admit quietly. "You don't even know the half of it."

"Hey." His voice softens, and when I look up, he's already leaning toward me. With a feather-light touch, he tilts my chin, guiding my gaze to meet his. His eyes are warm and steady, and for a moment, the chaos in my mind stills. "We all have our demons," he says gently. "It's how we handle them that matters. And whether or not you choose to share yours with me, what I've seen so far is someone who still finds a way to get through the day. Someone who treats people with kindness, respect, and compassion, no matter what."

His words hit me harder than I expect, and I blink, unsure how to respond. The sincerity in his gaze, the warmth in his tone—it's almost too much. So, instead of addressing it directly, I do what I do best. I deflect.

"Are you just trying to butter me up?" I ask, narrowing my eyes at him in mock suspicion.

"Yes," he admits without missing a beat, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. But then his expression softens again. "But I'm also telling the truth. I don't know what you've been through to make you see yourself this way, but that kindness you give to everyone else? Make sure you save a little for yourself too, okay?"

Before I can respond, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. It's such a simple gesture, yet it makes my chest ache in the best way. As if sensing the emotions bubbling beneath the surface, he shifts, pulling me closer and tucking my head against his chest. His heartbeat is steady beneath my ear, grounding me in the moment.

"Now," he says after a moment, his tone brightening, "I don't know about you, but I could definitely use a good movie to lighten the mood. What do you say?"

I exhale, relieved at the shift in conversation. "You read my mind," I murmur, leaning into his warmth.

"How about Twilight?" I suggest, tilting my head up to gauge his reaction.

His eyes light up with amusement. "I can get down with that," he says with an exaggerated nod. But then he raises an eyebrow, his expression turning mock-serious. "But the real question is: Team Edward or Team Jacob?"

"Edward, duh," I answer immediately, giving him a look that says there's no other possible choice.

"Consensual king," he agrees with a dramatic nod of approval. Then, with a sly grin, he adds, "Although... he is very gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss, no?"

I whip my head toward him, staring in disbelief. "What?! Why do you even know what that means?"

"What?" he says innocently, holding up his hands in defense. "I know things. I, too, have access to the internet."

I burst out laughing, the sound filling the room. It's ridiculous—he's ridiculous—but it's exactly what I need. The heaviness that lingered earlier evaporates, replaced by the effortless lightness he always seems to bring with him.

"You're ridiculous," I say, shaking my head, though the smile tugging at my lips betrays me.

"And yet, you're still here," he points out, flashing me a smug grin.

"Well yes, this is my apartment," I retort, rolling my eyes as I reach for the remote.

"Admit it—you enjoy my company," he challenges, his grin widening.

"Let's just watch the movie," I say, pressing play before he can push me further. But as I lean back against the couch, his arm casually draping over my shoulders, I know he's right. I do.

"For a date that completely derailed, I'd still call this a win."

I raise an eyebrow, crossing my arms. "Oh? And what part of tonight screams 'win' to you?"

"Well," he said, counting on his fingers, "I was crowned 'Best Hot Cocoa Maker', I managed to save the day by making said hot cocoa, and I'm ending the night watching Twilight with you, so really, I'm thriving."

I roll my eyes but couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out. "The bar is on the floor, Subin. Truly."

"Maybe," he teased, "but I think you like it there."

"Okay, fine," I shot back, leaning a little closer. "What if I told you my best friend Sonya is having an engagement party soon, and I'd like you to come with me? Think you'd still be thriving then?"

His grin falters for just a second before his eyes softened. "You want me to go with you?"

"As my date," I clarify, trying to sound casual, but my heart was practically sprinting. "You know, for moral support. Sonya and Wonwoo are...a lot. I mean you've met her, sort of. And I figured it'd be nice to have you there."

Subin leans back, a mock-serious expression on his face. "Hmm, let me think about it. Free food, free drinks, the chance to charm your best friend and annoy her fiancé... Yeah, I'm in."

I laugh, lightly shoving his shoulder. "You're impossible."

"I'm a catch," he corrects, his voice dripping with faux arrogance. "And let's be real, you just want me there because I'll make you look good."

"Right," I say dryly. "It has nothing to do with me liking your company or enjoying your terrible jokes."

"See?" he says, pointing a finger at me. "Admitting you like me is the first step."

I could feel my cheeks heating up, but I refuse to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, I grab the remote and gesture toward the screen. "Let's just start the next movie before I regret inviting you anywhere."

"You could never regret me," he says smugly, but he settled down beside me without another word.

New Moon begins, and Subin immediately launches into commentary.

"Why does Jacob never wear a shirt? Like, I get it, he's ripped, but does he have an aversion to fabric?"

"Shh," I say, trying to stifle a giggle. "He's a werewolf; they run hot."

"Hot and allergic to decent pants, apparently."

"Subin!" I laugh, swatting his arm, but the smile didn't leave my face.

As the movie went on, our laughter gave way to comfortable silence. I lean into him without thinking, my head finding its way to his shoulder. He didn't pull away, instead adjusting slightly so I fit there better.

"I was serious by the way. Even if tonight didn't go how we wanted, I'm glad we had it."

"Me too," I say softly, my eyes feeling heavy.

Somewhere between the werewolf drama and the overly intense stares, my eyes drifted shut. I feel Subin's hand brush lightly against mine, and though neither of us moved to hold the other's, the touch lingered—like a quiet promise.

By the time the credits rolled, we were both asleep, the space between us closing as naturally as if it had always been meant to.

[askthehcc]

Hey hi hello tango how's the whole finding out you're probably adhd going for ya

Tango: [scratches the back of his head]

Tango: Yeah... that.

Tango: Well... Skizz made me speak to my doctor and they're gonna see how long the waitlist is to get tested and get back to me.

Tango: Uh...

Tango: Oh, I called my dad last week and let him know it was something I was thinking about...

Tango: It's not a thing that's talked much about in Blaze culture? So, yeah, I didn't really know what to expect from him.

Tango: And like, I would've talked to my mum first, but she has this habit of like...

Tango: She's basically really protective of me. Probably because of how she found me? Or because I'm the frail little white boy between my freaking monster brothers, but, y'know.

Tango: The point is, I think if I told her I was getting a medical assessment she would totally flipped her lid, y'know?

Tango: Like, she'd be on the next flight out as if I told her I had, like... terminal cancer or something.

Tango: So, yeah, dad first. It was good. He was pretty chill about it. Some of his students had it when he was doing his teaching residency here, so he was pretty familiar with it.

Tango: Said he'd talk to mum about it for me, let her know it's nothing to, like, panic about.

Tango: But yeah, asides from that I'm just waiting to hear back from the doc and in the meantime...

Tango: Well, in the meantime, Skizz is kinda being the most amazing housemate ever.

Tango: I don't know how long he's been doing his research on this, but he's got schedules, charts, meal plans, and all that kinda stuff.

Tango: Like, yeah, I think if I overthought it too much, maybe I would feel kinda shitty that Skizz is basically running my life at the moment...

Tango: But mostly? I think I just feel... like this huge weight has been taken off me. Like I'm not having to carry around all this guilt and stuff around so much anymore.

Tango: I literally don't even know how I'd do it with him. He's taking on so much responsibility for me that... I mean I'm kinda starting to feel bad that way... heh.

Tango: But I gotta just keep reminding myself that this is how Skizz does friendship, how he shows his love.

Tango: Like, there's a reason my mum totally freaking adores that guy, and it's because he's got that tribal heart, you know?

Tango: You're never just good friends with Skizz. Once he decides you're solid, you're part of his family, no questions asked.

Tango: That's why Java Circuit is the way it is, you know? It's all Skizz.

Tango: So yeah, anyway, kind of got off topic there, but generally... that's how things are going with it.

Tango: It's... it's not too bad, actually.

Tango: Thanks for asking.

[cod-thoughts]

I'm sorry to hear you're having a rough day Q !!! I hope things get better for you soon, you should treat yourself to something nice in the meantime <3

I don't know if this is really a prompt, more like me spilling some random idea at you, but If this can help as a distraction:

Nik and Price who have decided to go on one of their hush hush black ops together. No backups, no one to pick them up, it's just them. It's dangerous, they know it, they know the risk, but who they're after is too important.

They knew the risk, even when they get separated, coms dead, and Price finds Nik laying on the floor, beaten down, bleeding, three bullets in his bulletproof vest. Nik is almost passed out but tells him he's fine and to go after the man they're here for, but John refuses, letting the guy go, despite what they risked to get him, and takes Nik home.

What follows is a long night of taking care of a bruised Nik, whose ego is hurt just as much as his body is, and who cannot understand why John of all people would let an important target escape to help him, when he wasn't even on the verge of death or anything. Two stubborn men who are very much in love just going at it.

yeah since six am this morning every thing that couldve gone wrong has gone wrong and its still going wrong lmao i made tea like 20mins ago to try to make myself feel better and the lid on my honey came off so i had to clean honey off of my desk :)

this brought me immense joy hehehe i wrote a little snippet for this idea it just came out of my brain i didnt intend to write anything but here we are pfft:

John finishes wrapping the bandage around Nik's arm, his hands steady despite the storm raging in his chest. Nik winces as he shifts, propped up against the couch, his face a patchwork of dried blood and bruises.

"You should have gone after him," Nik says, his voice hoarse but cutting. "We had him, John. You let him go because of me."

Price’s jaw tightens. He doesn’t look up, instead busying himself with the med kit. “I made the call, Nik. Let it go.”

“I was not dying,” Nik insists, a flicker of anger in his pale eyes. “You did not have to—"

“I wasn’t losing you.” John’s voice is low, rough, but the weight behind it silences Nik.

Nik studies him, the line of his shoulders, the way his hand lingers on a bandage like he’s bracing for another argument. “I am not fragile, you know,” Nik says quietly.

“Didn’t say you were,” John counters. He finally looks at him, his blue eyes hard but honest. “But I’ve buried too many people to risk you being another. Call me selfish, but I wasn’t bloody leaving you there.”

Nik scoffs, leaning his head back against the couch with a grimace. “Selfish? You? No. Stupid, maybe.”

“Say what you like,” John mutters, grabbing a wet cloth to clean the blood off Nik’s cheek. He works with a gentleness that doesn’t match his gruff tone. “You’re here. That’s what matters.”

Nik huffs, but there’s no heat behind it. “You will regret it tomorrow,” he murmurs, eyes closing as John’s hand steadies his face. “Letting him go.”

John’s lips twitch into a faint, humourless smile. “Maybe,” he admits. “But not as much as I’d regret losing you.”

Nik opens his eyes at that, his expression softening despite himself. “You are impossible, you know that?”

John sets the cloth aside, his hand lingering for a moment on Nik’s jaw, a rare, unspoken moment between them. “So are you,” he replies. “Guess we’re even.”

The tension between them settles into something quieter, warmer, as John leans back, handing a blanket to Nik with a muttered, “Get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

Nik doesn’t argue this time, though his lips twitch into a faint smirk. “You are not going to hover all night, are you?”

John snorts, settling into the chair beside him. “Like hell I’m leaving you alone. Someone’s gotta keep you from doing something daft.”

Nik huffs out a soft laugh, wincing slightly. “And I cannot stop you?”

“Not a chance,” John replies, leaning back but keeping a watchful eye on him. “You’re stuck with me.”