#i need clean sheets will change to my yellow ones now I think

[propertyofkylar]

i need to do laundry today but the mental image of hanging my grim dakimakura out to dry makes me wanna cry with laughter and also embarrassment so like. i havent yet

[theshippirate22]

remember this? I’m having thoughts about it again.

Steve is standing at the counter chopping onions when it happens.

It’s been raining on and off all day, but at that moment it’s firmly decided to be on and it’s a loud, howling wind that pelts the water against the kitchen window.

It’s a strange sound, really, compared to the warmth of the oven and the soft, yellow glow of the light above the table and the candles on the counter. It doesn’t match what’s happening inside the house.

Steve throws a dishtowel over his shoulder and scrapes the diced onions off the cutting board with the edge of the knife into the pot on the stove. They sizzle exaggeratedly as they hit the bottom,

Andrea is sitting at the counter, perched on a barstool with her legs crossed. As soon as she’d gotten home from school, she had changed into a huge sweater that had probably belonged to Steve at some point, that hung down to her knees and now she was leaned forward over the counter with a double-handed grip on her book.

“Juh… Jump… up… bah… bahb… bahby… baby! Jump up, baby.” She murmurs, brow furrowed in concentration the way Nancy does when she’s thinking hard. “Juh… jump up. Up, up, up. Juh-Jump up.”

Steve turns for a minute to finish browning the ground beef in the pot, which is why he doesn’t see her set the book down and look up.

There’s a lapse of quiet. Steve can hear the radio in the family room, which he couldn’t over the sound of her reading and the crackling pot.

“Are you stuck on a word? Wanna spell it for me?” He turns back to the island to open the litany of cans waiting for him- diced tomatoes, white corn, kidney beans.

“Y…” She starts, staring intently at the book.

The cans are emptied into the pot with everything else. He’s still waiting for the next letter to form a coherent word, so he’s not prepared for her response.

“Why don’t I have a dad?”

Steve drops his spatula.

It splatters on the floor and he stoops down to wipe it up with a paper towel, depositing the offending utensil in the sink and pulling a clean one from the drawer.

Andrea is watching him carefully, he can feel it burning into him, but he’s still thinking of something to say. He never expected he’d be the one to have this conversation; that was up to her mother. Nancy would be so much better with words than he ever could be.

Finally, he settles on, “Lots of kids don’t have dads.”

“Not any of the kids I know.”

“Dustin doesn’t have a dad,” Steve says instantly, before realizing that Dustin is not a kid to her, but a full grown man. He tries to think of someone else, closer to her age but comes up empty-handed. “Uh… Jonathan and Will didn’t have a dad for a while. Neither did Max or Eddie.” Not helping. Still adults.

She nods nonetheless. Her eyebrows tighten again as she thinks.

His movements are measured, tentative. He has a lot of questions, so many.

“Can I get one?”

“A dad?”

“Yeah.”

He lets out a nervous breath. “Why do you ask, kiddo?”

She chews on her fingernail and doesn’t say anything. Eventually, she closes the book, places it face down, re-opens the back cover, and takes out a little pink quarter-sheet flyer tucked inside. She slides it across the counter.

Steve picks it up. She still won’t meet his eye.

Stewart Elementary First Grade Daddy/Daughter Tea Party! reads the top in thick black letters.

“Oh,” Steve says.

He looks over the other little details listed on the flyer next to a line-art teapot in the bottom corner.

“Hmm.”

He puts the lid over the soup and moves to the other side of the island. Pulls out the stool next to her and climbs onto it.

“Was somebody at school giving you a hard time?”

She shrugs. “No, not really. But I need to get a dad so I can go. I don’t think Miss Gracie knows I don’t have one, or she wouldn’t have invited me.”

“No!” Steve cries. His chest throbs painfully. “No, no, I’m sure you can go, even without a dad. Like I said, lots of kids don’t have ‘em.”

”None of my friends don’t.” She looks away, twisting a loose thread from the sleeve of her sweater around her finger.

“Andy, listen,” He murmurs gently. “Families… are kind of complicated. Sometimes, we start to think they only look one certain way and then we feel like ours isn’t good enough. That’s how I felt when I was your age, and that’s how I felt when I was much, much older than you.”

“How old?”

“Seventeen or eighteen.”

She grimaces.

He laughs. “Yeah, I know. But here’s the best part, kiddo. No one told me for a long time, but actually, families look all sorts of ways. And it’s okay. Even when they’re different. Especially when they’re different. And our family is different. But that’s not a bad thing.”

”But I still can’t go to the tea party.”

“Hold your horses! I’m getting there! Sheesh.” He reaches out to tickle her and she squirms away, but he does manage to make her giggle.

“Sometimes, dads aren’t really dads at all. They just feel like dads to us. Like how Hopper became Will, and El, and Jonathan’s dad. Or Uncle Wayne became Eddie’s dad. A dad is just someone who…” He sighs. “Someone who picks you up from school or takes care of you when you’re sick or cuddles you after a bad dream. Stuff like that. They love you unconditionally-“

“What’s that?”

“Like, no matter what. And as long as they do that, and take care of you when you need it, anybody can be your dad. Whether it’s Eddie, or Dustin, or-“

“Or you?”

Steve’s breath catches in his throat. He feels like he’s on fire, combusting with sheer admiration, and he forgets what he’s saying instantly.

“You do all of those things,” Andrea continues. “And the fun stuff too, like when I couldn’t see at the fair and you put me on your shoulders, or when you let me eat ice cream really late when mom’s not home. That counts, right?”

He chokes, “Do you want it to?”

She thinks about it for barely a second. “I think so.”

“Then yeah, that counts. For sure.”

“Hmm.” She looks at him, tipping her head to the side and furrowing her brow like she’s never seen him before. “Do you want to be my dad?”

Oh God, he’s going to cry isn’t he. He can’t cry. That would be horrible. How will he explain that to her, or to Nancy, who should be home in the next few minutes…

“I can’t think of anything I want more, lovebug,” he whispers solemnly instead.

She grins, lighting up like the sun and jumping up to throw herself into his chest, arms around his neck. He coughs with the impact but pulls her close and kisses her cheek, where she’s got a single freckle, just like he does.

“I love you, Andy.”

“I love you too.”

Oh God, yep, he’s crying. Whatever. He can’t help it.

In the next ten minutes, she’ll run upstairs to pick an outfit for the tea party, and he’ll finish the soup and set the table, and Nancy will come in from the storm and find him washing dishes and bawling his eyes out, and shortly after Eddie and Robin will get home too and they’ll all laugh at him and he’ll laugh too, because, it really is funny, and their awkward little family of five will eat dinner together and it will be loud and warm and perfect.

But for now, Steve thinks he’ll just hold onto Andrea.

******************************************************

Okay I know part one was like. fivever ago but i’m having brainrot about it again so here is a very very low stakes tag list based on who asked from that post but i know it’s been a million years and this is kinda different so don’t even stress: @estrellami-1 @alohastitch0626 @analyticalfrog3

[thepeculiarbird]

Find the word

Thanks @kaylinalexanderbooks, I like your excerpts !

Tag : @raiden-makoto @sarandipitywrites @jaelink @aalinaaaaaa @lyutenw @buffythevampirelover @nettleandthorne @finxi-writes @arwenschepers @corruptedbread @whimsical-blood-fairy @unrepentantcheeseaddict @kidukami @ryns-ramblings @rowenas-my-fave-child @mysticstarlightduck

Mine : new, clean, decide, system

Yours : shiny, anger, write, people

-New-

"Hey kid! You okay ?

I'm fine, I guess.

This shitty weather, I swear. Do you need to go somewhere?" There's no way I'm getting into a stranger's car! But it's too late, my girlfriend agrees and we're stuck between 4 doors listening to loud country music.

"My name's Christophe by the way! Are you new here?

Just passing by," replied Noe, as embarrassed by the situation as I was.

"You know, it's not every day that our little town has visitors. Is it going well?" Yes, of course! We risk being killed by a cult, but it's going perfectly! Noe reads my thoughts in my expression and shrugs.

"Let's just say it could be going better," the girl finally replies.

"Oh?" The man's curiosity really irritates me, but there's nothing I can do about it.

(A random guy who almost hit Madhi with his car)

-Clean-

(Sorry, I do not have the word clean apparently and looked for every possible synonyms, I used none of them. Guess my characters are not showering and doing the laundry)

-Decide-

(Not even that word ??? I wonder what words I use in my wip, I'm gonna pick "chose" instead ig)

I think back to the sheet of paper I borrowed from the two survivors of the cult. As we sit down by a fountain, I gesture to Madhi's bag and take out a sheet of paper that has yellowed with age. I quickly go through the lines of names of the victims. When I find the one that interests me, I show it to my friends.

You mean…" begins Madhi, covering his mouth with his hand. Danae looks in turn and her eyes widen in understanding. Noe, how long have you known?

Now, but I had my doubts.

That's why they* chose us! They must have seen your surname and noticed the similarity. François Khorchid…. right? I nod with a grim look on my face, Danae frowning so much that her eyes are almost invisible. But why? Why your father? Why would you want to get close to the son of a victim? Your father is dead and your presence won't change anything.

*the two women who used to be in the cult

-System-

(I apologise again, can't find the word and I'm getting tired, it's almost 11pm for me, I hope y'all don't mind)

[whump-card]

Sunless Lives Part 7: I Should Tell You

~1740 words

CW: nightmare, dream-like discussion of noncon, panic, mild self harm, negative self talk

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

~~~

Simon was hiding in the bathroom again. The too-large room towered above him, all slate and marble and glass. He sheltered in the bathtub, knees pulled up to his chest and hands raking through his too-long hair.

“Simonnnn.”

Tap-tap-tap. She knocked gently on the door. She wasn’t angry yet. It wouldn’t take long. 

“Mr Finch will be here any minute,” her voice was sweet, cajoling, “You need to come out and get ready, hun.”

Get ready. Those words were loaded. Certain preparations had to be made, when the men came, or the women who liked to use toys. So that they wouldn’t rip him open. So that they wouldn’t break him. Lara got so angry when he broke. 

“Simon.” Already, her tone had shifted.

He couldn’t do it, not today. Please, not today. All he could do was rock back and forth and shrink as small as possible in the bathtub. He tried to breathe, but the smell of bleach caught in his mouth.

“I’m starting to lose my fucking patience with you.”

A bottle of it sat in front of him in the tub. Another by the sink. A jug next to the toilet. They tipped, they spilled, they overflowed. Simon choked on the air as the stench became overpowering. Bleach pooled around his bare feet, stinging his skin. He knew the smell would linger for days. There’d be so much cleaning to do, the sheets, the floor, his clothes, the sink…

Thump-thump-thump-thump-thump!

“GET OUT HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW.”

The fumes of bleach invaded him, burning his eyes, his nose, his throat, his lungs, forcing their way in just like Edward, just like Lara, just like all of them, constantly breaching Simon’s body, their hands, their tongues, their teeth, their toys, their dicks -

Simon jerked awake fully sobbing, slamming a hand to his mouth and biting down hard on the soft flesh at the base of his thumb to stifle it. He managed to limit further noise to a low whine, and he curled up tightly. Easing his jaw loose, he lifted his hand to look at the dark indents left by his teeth. No blood. He took a long, slow, calming breath.

And choked on bleach. 

Simon lurched upright, panic swelling in his gut, and the room tipped and his ribs complained. He was still feverish, but not nearly enough to be hallucinating smells. As he started to get off the bed, the door opened.

“Simon?” Matthew stood there, wearing big yellow rubber gloves, “What’s wrong?”

He’d been too loud. Idiot. Crybaby.

Half-standing with one foot on the floor, Simon scanned him up and down, wild-eyed.

“Bleach, are you using bleach?” he demanded.

“Uh, yeah, you didn’t have any so Dev brought some, for the stain on the carpet.”

“Just pull the squares up and throw them out!” Simon yelled. 

Matthew blinked, taken aback by Simon’s outburst. 

“Yeah, that’s - You’re right, we didn’t think of that,” he swallowed, trying to find the right words, “Did you - are you okay?”

“Get out!” Simon shouted, and he immediately felt childish for doing so. 

Matthew moved as if he was going to leave, then changed his mind. 

“Are you scared of me right now?” He asked.

“What?” Simon wasn’t scared of him, Simon wasn’t scared of anything, he was angry. Angry about having stupid dreams, about people trampling uninvited through his home, angry about being in pain - his ribs, his shoulder, and his head throbbed. He wanted to jump on the treadmill and run away from it all.

“I just think,” Matthew took a careful step forward, “That if you’re able to, we should talk about what’s happening, so that maybe it doesn’t have to happen again.”

Simon sank back to sit on the bed. Part of him didn’t want to let the anger go, wanted to kick Matthew and Gina out to fester alone; and part of him had read a lot of self-help books, and knew Matthew was right. Another part of him wanted Matthew to stay, in particular. He forced himself to breathe through the smell of bleach, to slow his heart rate, to tamp down the adrenaline.

“Bleach is a trigger for me,” he eventually muttered, unable to look Matthew in the face.

“It gave you a nightmare?” Matthew asked.

Simon felt his face heat, but he knew this was the right thing to do, to just get it out, little by little. He’d done it before, with Chris - he could do it again. For Matthew.

“The nightmare was already happening,” he massaged the bite on his hand, “The smell made it worse.”

“Okay,” Matthew was clearly thrilled by this progress, but trying to stay calm. “Thank you for telling me, I know that must have been difficult.”

Simon looked up at him, his eyes narrowed.

“You watched a training course about this, didn’t you?” he accused.

“Uhh,” Matthew shrugged sheepishly, “Maybe?”

Simon glared at him a moment longer, then let out a single, short laugh that surprised both of them. Simon quickly ducked his head back down to fiddle with his hand.

“Thanks for… Trying so hard,” he said, immediately regretting how lame that sounded.

“We’re doing our best,” said Matthew softly.

Simon looked to his bedside table. His alarm clock read 8:32 PM. There was a full glass of water and a bottle of acetaminophen next to it.

“There’s an HVAC control panel next to the front door,” he picked up the pill bottle, “Can you turn on the fan to air things out?”

“Yes, absolutely,” Matthew affirmed, “And if you’re hungry, and feel like you can do more than crackers and cereal, I made fettuccine alfredo.”

“You made food?” Simon couldn’t hide his surprise, the medicine temporarily forgotten as he stared at Matthew. 

“Hey, I live alone, and I look like this,” Matthew flexed his stocky arms with a confident wink, “I know how to cook.”

Simon laughed again, more easily this time, but it brought on a sharp pain in his head. The victorious grin on Matthew’s face dropped when he saw Simon wince.

“What’s wrong?”

“Just my head, it’s fine.” Simon quickly downed two pills and gulped some water. 

“I did a bunch of Googling about concussions too,” Matthew said, with a level of earnestness that did something funny to Simon’s stomach, “You should avoid physical activity, loud music, TV, and bright lights,” he listed off on his fingers, “And Gina already put you on the right painkillers, no NSAIDS.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Simon, trying not to sound dismissive. He’d had concussions before.

“I should have remembered all that stuff, but it’s been a while since I had a concussion,” Matthew said, “I got one as a teen, playing football.”

“Football, huh?” Simon smiled a little, entirely unsurprised. He looked up at the bright can-lights in his bedroom ceiling. They were very all-or-nothing, and Simon wasn’t excited to explain the issue with the ‘nothing’ option. He didn’t usually sleep with them on, but right now…

“The lights haven’t bothered me so far.”

“Okay! Do you want food?” Matthew pointed a thumb over his shoulder, skipping the lights question entirely. It set Simon off guard.

“Uhh, sure?”

“Be right back!” and Matthew was gone.

When he returned with a bowl of creamy noodles, Simon ate while Matthew changed his bandages. The HVAC hummed and the smell of bleach slowly faded, leaving along with a lingering anxiety Simon hadn’t even realized he was holding. He focused on chewing the al dente noodles and feeling Matthew’s firm but gentle touch, first at his temple and then pulling aside his pajama shirt collar to see to his shoulder. He was more comfortable with Matthew handling him, now. Maybe even enjoying it. It still felt new, to have someone else take care of these things. Chris had never needed to. Lara never bothered unless he was dying.

“Hey,” Matthew finally spoke as he set Simon’s shirt back in place over the fresh bandages, “I need to tell you something.” His tone was unexpectedly serious, and Simon suddenly found it hard to swallow his food.

“It’s about how everything happened,” Matthew continued, but waited for Simon’s go-ahead to proceed.

“Just tell me,” said Simon.

“Finch escaped because Amber fell asleep while on watch. I mean, he might have escaped anyway, but we would have known a lot sooner if she hadn’t. She’s… really beating herself up about it.”

Simon listened, staring into his near-empty bowl. His stomach twisted, and he regretted eating so quickly.

“How did he escape?” he asked quietly.

“He took smokeform, and went through the vents. We heard from processing that at some point when he was off our radar he advanced to a grade A.”

The grade scale indicated the level of a vampire’s super strength and healing factor. Grade A meant they had an additional ability, like shapeshifting or telekinesis. In a handful of cases, a lower-grade vampire could advance by drinking the blood of a compatible higher-grade vampire, but compatibility, and a willing grade A, were extremely rare. Finch must have found a benefactor.

Simon’s first instinct had been to be angry at Amber, enraged, actually, but this changed things.

“He would have killed her,” he said knowingly, “If she got in his way, he would have killed her. It’s good that she was asleep.”

Matthew nodded slowly.

“Would you mind if she stopped by to see you tomorrow?”

“Sure. That’s fine.”

Is it?

He liked Amber enough. She was sweet, if sometimes condescending. She was good at her job too; not as physically capable as Matthew and Gina, but quick and smart.

She could have died for you. She could have bought you a precious few minutes. She could have - 

Simon shoved the bowl into Matthew’s hands.

“I’m going to try and get some sleep,” he said flatly.

Matthew blinked for a couple seconds, taken aback by Simon’s change in demeanor.

“Okay, well… Holler if you need anything.”

He gathered up the used bandages and left, casting multiple glances over his shoulder as he went. Simon hunched back down under the covers. He didn’t like seeing Matthew go, but he needed him gone before he said something he’d regret. He forced his eyes closed against the bright lights, and an old mantra sprang to mind.

It’ll all be better in the morning.

He used to say that to himself all the time.

It only came true once.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

First, Previous, Next, Masterlist

Taglist: @flowersarefreetherapy @pigeonwhumps @sunshiline-writes @seasaltandcopper

[laalaaisqueen]

Get some rest before I call your son

The purple Wess awkwardly stood in the doorway; he had already knocked, and Tidd had given him permission to enter.

 He wasn’t sure how to address him. 

Should he call him by his name? It felt a bit strange knowing he had an uncle—well, a half-uncle, but still. 

The half Teletubby hadn’t turned away from the desk in his room yet. 

“Umm, Uncle?” 

Startled, Tidd turned around to see it was him.

 “Uh, what’s up, Tinky?” 

Tinky Winky’s red eyes darted behind him. “Well, I think Announcer is a bit sick, but we can’t get him to rest, so I was hoping you could help?” 

“I guess I could try. What is he doing right now?” 

“Trying to do housework while drinking lemon tea, thinking it’ll make things easier.” Tinky sighed. “I offered to help, but he said he didn’t want me to get sick.” 

Tidd raised an orange eyebrow. “He’s going to get everyone sick, touching everything around the house.” 

The younger Tubby huffed and walked away from the door. 

Tidd closed the door behind him as he headed to the kitchen.

 Announcer was standing at the kitchen counter, sipping tea.

 “Do you have a cold?” he asked, as if Tinky hadn’t just told him that the half-bot was sick. 

“A bit, but I’m fine.” 

“...You know there are a lot of us in the house; we can help.”

 “I know, but the kids have been through so much, and I’m sure I can work through this cold.” 

Well, they’re not really kids anymore—technically legal adults.

 “Anno, Tinky wants you to rest. Honestly, tea isn’t going to fix a lot.” 

“I’ll be fine.”

 “It’s affecting your voice.” 

Announcer rolled his yellow eyes. “It’s just a little housework.” His nose twitched, and he quickly grabbed a tissue from the box to sneeze into. He looked back up to see Tiddly’s unimpressed expression.

 “What?” 

“You literally had to grab a tissue. We can do the work; you need to rest.”

 “You don’t need to—”

 “Anno, take your cup to your room, or else I will get Dipsy involved.” 

The tan-colored Chi groaned; if Dipsy knew he was sick... The Rep would go to any lengths to keep him in bed. 

“Fine.” Announcer sighed, taking his cup with him to his room.

 The sheets were still in a pile; he had thrown them off in a panic when he realized he was sick. 

He changed into more comfortable clothes since he wasn’t going to be in bed wearing jeans . 

He’d take medicine later; right now, he didn’t want to get up again. 

Announcer had some luck dozing in and out until the tea’s effect wore off, and his body began to feel terrible again. 

Obviously, the worst part was his nose. 

His ears perked up when he heard the door handle. 

Luckily, it wasn’t one of the kids; he really didn’t want to worry them. It was Tiddly, holding some things.

 It was hard to tell in the dark. 

“I brought you some medicine and a bottle of water to wash it down.” 

He forced himself to sit up as the other half-bot approached his bedside. 

“Did you try orange juice?” 

The sudden question almost made him choke on the water. “...No?” 

“I cannot believe you expected to clean the whole house with how your brain is right now.” 

Announcer could imagine a similar sentence coming out of Noo-Noo’s mouth; the difference was in the tones. Tiddly’s playful exasperation contrasted with Noo-Noo’s sarcasm. 

Announcer shook his head; he didn’t want to think about that right now. 

“I should probably empty the trash can and get you another box.” Tidd grabbed the edge of the can with a gloved hand and took the empty tissue box with the other. 

“You don’t have to.” The taller one closed his eyes with a sigh.

 “I know. Rest well, or I’ll send Dipsy in here.” 

“Stop using my own kid against me,” Announcer mumbled.

[annieintheaair]

I love you but it hurts. It's over and it's not. I guess it's overtime then.

I had every intention of watching TV tonight, maybe catching up on some sermons or a new TV series, but this TV is terrible and not loading so I guess I'm writing instead.

I was supposed to fly last night but long story short, after some issues with the brakes on our first plane, then stuff stuck in the engines of the second plane, and our pilots going illegal, I ended up back home by 1:30am. I was actually pretty happy about it because I had just put new, clean sheets on my bed and couldn't wait to crawl into my own bed to enjoy them. My younger sister sent me a picture of my niece ready for bed the other night and I (half) jokingly asked if they made those sheets in king-size. As it turned out, they did make them in king-size so I bought them, washed them, and put them on my bed before going to work last night. I told myself that it was ok to get new sheets because it was like starting fresh -- new sheets that had never been slept on by anyone, especially my ex-boyfriend, Todd.

I allowed myself to sleep in this morning without an alarm. I think I woke up around 9am and realized I needed to check for order changes/cancellations for my second job, so I got ready and did that. Google said it was going to be in the 80s today so I threw on some shorts in preparation. Chick-fil-A emailed me that I could have a free chicken biscuit for breakfast but I needed to get it by 10:30am today. I let the dogs come for a ride with me in the car and drove down the street to get my free chicken biscuit and my vanilla iced coffee.

I don't know why but when I looked at my yellow nails this morning, I just felt like it was time to switch the color. It's weird because, after all of this time, I guess I forgot that there was a location of my favorite nail salon by my sister's house. I made an appointment and decided to head over there around 11:30am for my noon appointment. In some ways, this location was nicer than my normal location but also totally worth the extra 10-minute drive instead of going to the nail salon I hate nearby. They did a great job and I enjoyed a mimosa.

I picked up coffee from Black Rifle and then headed over to my sister's house. I am so glad that I got that coffee because I definitely needed it this afternoon.

I took my work call from my sister's house and then spent the afternoon entertaining my nieces with games and crafts, while also holding my two-month-old nephew. I have no idea how parents do it every day because one afternoon had me rushing home to a large glass of wine and some Cheez-Its, as well as peace and quiet.

On my drive home, the songs on my Spotify made me think about a lot of things. I thought about how just over a month ago I posted on my social media that I felt like my job right now was to focus on being the best aunt that I could be. I feel like I'm doing a really good job at that. Even with all of the bracelet-making today, when it got me super frustrated, I realized that sometimes I need to give myself grace. I know parents get frustrated too sometimes and even as an aunt, it's ok to get frustrated.

I also thought about previous relationships. I can't remember what song came on that made me think about it but I thought about Andrew and how even years after we broke up, he came back wanting to fix things. I knew then that it would never be equal-- he would want to make it work but I wouldn't. I realized that you need someone who is willing to match your effort. Andrew is now engaged and I'm happy for him that he found someone who wanted to be with him as much as he wanted to be with them.

Nearly nine years ago, I dated Scott. Scott was one of the only people who I ever felt like I really regretted letting that go. Scott is happy now, married, with an adorable little girl. I guess we never actually wanted the same things so it probably wouldn't have ever worked but we're still friends and he sends me memes on Instagram often. I'm glad that we got to the point where we could be friends. Just like Andrew, I could never hate Scott. I want the best for both of them.

Even James, who hurt me a ton, and Dan, who was my first real hurt (though he regretted it for the rest of his life), I wanted them to be happy, too. I think that most guys I've dated, I've wanted them to be happy, even my high school boyfriend, Mike. My 8th grade short-lived boyfriend, Sean? Yeah, him, too, and I still talk to him today. I think they all had some great qualities, and for whatever reason, it didn't work between us, but I never hated them. It never feels good to hate anyone.

I don't know if it will ever change in the future, but as of now, I think Todd is the only guy I've ever dated that I don't wish the best for, and it's kind of sad. How can you wish the best for someone who you feel doesn't deserve the best? Someone, who you genuinely believe is pure evil? Maybe it's time I reread Forgiving What You Can't Forget.

xoxo

Annie

[acroynon]

Yellow Marigolds

Wesley

“Ding!” The bell above the door chimed. Wesley recoiled from the noise and sheepishly ducked into the store. He could see a bull of a man, looking at him from under his eyebrows, sitting behind the register. Wesley quickly darted to the back of the store, away from the man's stare.

He needed to find something quick. Today was the big day, the first interview he had been given for ages. He couldn’t blow it by turning up late or having a shirt stained with blood. Stupid Wesley. He berated himself, Dad always told me never to rush shaving, now look what you’ve done. You’re going to be late and lose the job. No one is ever going to hire you. He scanned the shelves of the little convenience store hoping to find something that could fix his shirt and prevent him from embarrassing himself any further. Baking Soda, no. Salt, No. Ah, vinegar!. He remembered reading somewhere that vinegar could be used to get red wine out of clothes, so it might work. He grabbed the smallest bottle and headed towards the counter.

The boulder of a cashier looked at him and didn’t speak. He could probably tell how useless Wesley was and didn’t think he was worth a conversation.

“Uh... just this, please”, Wesley squeaked as he held up the vinegar. “I uh.. Got some blood on uh... my shirt when I was uh... Shaving. Uh… I read that uh… Vinegar can uh… Help.” He’d always struggled talking to people but he’d read online that practising with strangers was the best way to help his confidence issues. The cashier eyed him, then the vinegar, then him again, looking down at this shirt, then back to Wesley's eyes. He must think I’m such a loser, can’t even shave right.

“Ah, first timer is it?” His voice croaked from the depths of his throat. “Vinegar’s no good. Those sort of stains will still show up under certain lights. You’ll want to just throw those clothes out. Black bags are just over there.” He said pointing to his left at one of the shelves behind Wesley. You look like such an idiot, everyone knows that blood stains don’t come out with vinegar. He thought to himself as he shuffled his way around the store. Exchanging the vinegar for a roll of black bags. “Grab some Marigolds too. They’re next to the bags.” The man growled towards him. “No, other side. The yellow ones.” He corrected as Wesley reached towards a pair of pink gloves.

“That’ll be £2.49.” The cashier said. Wesley had already got his wallet ready when the man was scanning the items. He pulled out his card. “Sure you want to pay on that? Do you have any cash?” He asked.“Uh… Cards uh… Fine.” He managed.

“Apologies. The machine is broken. It’ll have to be cash.” The man said. You idiot Wesley, he just told you to pay with cash. Wesley nodded, shoving his card back into his wallet and thumbed around for some coins. Dropping a few on the floor in the process. As he scrambled on the floor the man said “Remember not to throw these bags into your own rubbish. Don’t want someone finding these soiled clothes, do we. The dump down the way can be quite discreet, just go when it’s nice and dark and quiet.”“Yes… Uh… Thank you.” Wesley replied as he stood up. Of course you can’t throw bloodied clothes into the normal rubbish. That’s unsanitary for the collectors. Don’t you know anything. The constant critic in his head pointed out.

Wesley was pushing coins around on the counter, counting out the exact change. The man was watching him intently. “Before you shave again I’d get a nice leather apron. Larry’s a good’un, I’ve been going to him for years. Also get yourself some sheets to put across the workspace. Makes the mess easier to clean up.” Wesley handed the coins over, the man dumped them into his pocket and added “If you come back when I’m done here, say ‘round 10pm” he motioned upwards with his head. “We can chat a bit more privately about all these things.” Wesley looked behind him, to the top shelves where he was motioned. Is he offering to get a drink with you? He wondered to himself.“Yes… Uh.. Yes please.” He said before the man could take back his offer. Wesley wasn’t much of a drinker but he couldn’t turn down this offer of friendship. He felt the unfamiliar sensation of a smile on his face as he walked out of the store. Ready for his interview.

Don

“Ding.” The small bell above the door chimed. A skinny young boy entered the store. Don gave him a quick glance before returning to his paper. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the gangly child dart to the back of the store behind some of the shelving. The guy was probably in his early 30’s but had no meat on his bones whatsoever. Most likely a tweaker. He thought to himself as he thumbed over a page.‘Hitch-Hiker Goes Missing Leaving Police Mystified.’ The article read. The paper was from a number of years ago, but Don loved re-reading some of the classics. He’d retired from the ‘business’ about ten years ago now. He was getting too old now to pick anyone up. No one would accept a lift from an over 60 year old in a battered old truck.

He barely noticed that the twig was now standing in front of him. Proudly holding up a tiny bottle of vinegar.“Uh... just this, please”, the boy squeaked. “I uh.. Got some blood on uh... my shirt when I was uh... Shaving. Uh… I read that uh… Vinegar can uh… Help.”.Done noticed the sweat building on the young man's forehead. There was blood on the collar of his shirt. Some dirt under the fingernails of the hand that was clenching the bottle of vinegar. The man’s other hand was hidden behind his back. Ah, not a tweaker then.

“Ah, first timer is it?” He’d know the patterns anywhere. The first kill was always the most terrifying, but also the most exhilarating. This poor chap was probably still in shock. Must have been a spur of the moment one, not thought through at all. Not to worry, Don had plenty of experience and wisdom to offer. “Vinegar’s no good. Those sort of stains will show up under certain lights” he gave the man a small wink “You’ll want to just throw those clothes out. Black bags are just over there.” No point trying to wash civilian clothes, easier just to dispose of the evidence. “Grab some marigolds too. They’re just next to the bags.” Don offered. He preferred surgical gloves, but he didn’t have any in the store. “No, other side. The yellow ones.” The pink were some off-brand washing up glove. Useless things, they always split.

“That’ll be £2.49” He’d made the number up. That way this transaction would be harder to trace. The newbie stood there and held out his card. He really hadn’t thought this through. “Are you sure you want to pay on that? Do you have any cash?” Don offered.“Uh… Cards uh… Fine.” He replied. He really was new to this.

“Apologies. The machine is broken. It’ll have to be cash.” Done replied, with another little wink. The man's trembling hands rummaged through his wallet, dropping all the coins over the floor. Poor guy. Don remembered back to his first time. He was a wreck, nervous as could be. He’d been planning it for months. Targeting someone who wouldn’t be missed, what clothes to wear, where to dump the body. “Remember not to throw these bags into your own rubbish. Don’t want anyone finding these soiled clothes, do we. The dump down the way can be quite discreet, just go when it’s nice and dark and quiet.” That’s where Don had dumped his first too. He hadn’t dumped them all there though. Some he took to neighbouring towns, others he had buried. He avoided any obvious patterns unlike some of the amateurs he saw on TV.

“Yes… Uh… Thank you.” the young man managed, wiping the sweat from his brow. He had started meticulously counting out coins on the counter. Don could imagine how good this young guy could grow to be, a real eye for detail on this one. “Before you.. ‘Shave’ again. I’d get a nice leather apron. Larry’s a good’un. I’ve been going to him for years.” Larry was a leatherworker known around the town. He could do it all; fix knackered furniture, make custom jackets, but his aprons were masterpieces. Don had bought a number throughout the years. “Also, get yourself some sheets to put across the workspace. Makes the mess easier to clean up.” There was an old derelict cabin in the woods that he had used as a workshop for a number of years. Maybe it was time to pass the old place on.

“If you come back when I’m done here, say around 10pm” he motioned his head up towards the CCTV above his head. “We can chat a bit more privately about all these things.” He couldn’t risk going into any detail with the guy, or mentioning the cabin when he was being filmed.

“Yes… Uh.. Yes please.” A small smile grew on the young man’s face. Don thought back to when he was starting out, wishing he had had a mentor to help him through it. He looked forward to reading about the man’s exploits in the paper.

[stargazerdali]

extremely gross medical issue vent under the cut no really don’t read this unless you feel like feeling Very sorry for me and also grossed out

so  i had this little red bump recurring on my inner thigh. i get acne a lot, so i don’t think anything of it, until one day, (read: about a week ago) i get the bright idea to slap one of them hydrocolloid stickers on it, yknow, to make it go away?

it was NOT acne. It was a boil. A bit of advice, if you’re actually reading this for some reason? DONT put hydrocolloid stickers on a boil. It makes it MUCH worse. It’s worth mentioning, at this point, that I HAD NEVER SEEN A BOIL. No one had ever explained them to me, or told me where they come from, or even that they’re different from acne!  

The pain was so bad i was walking like i had a permanent mechanical bull between my legs. Only at this point do i decide to figure out what this might be, so i give it the ol’ googs. Okay, a boil, gross! Why do they happen? Chafing and sweat? Wait, but everyone with fat on them chafes and sweats, does that mean this is just... normal??? 

ANYWAY, detouring around the sad story that is WHY i didn’t know about this stuff: Google tells me to keep it clean, moist, and covered and it should resolve itself! 

“Okay google,” I say, with blind trust, “I will do those things.” Note that i do not ask HOW it will resolve itself.

Well, (and here’s where it gets really genuinely gross, folks, final warning) as it turns out! The way it resolves itself! Is by exploding!! 

So, there I am, just woken up, changing the bandages, when i notice it looks much worse. It is yellow and it almost looks like it’s... growing? like enough to see with the naked eye? I wipe at it with a tissue and the floodgates OPEN. I quickly begin to panic as blood and pus flow from some secret reserve under my skin, mopping it up as fast as i can before it gets on my sheets. It hurts like someone trying to suture me with no anesthetic every time it’s touched, but eventually, finally, it slows, and i can spray it with antiseptic and wrap it back up. 

I go back to google, in a panic still, convinced I need to rush straight to the ER, only to find that, APPARENTLY, that’s exactly what it’s supposed to do. Now I don’t know why none of the previous googlings haven’t mentioned this, but at least now i know. It doesn’t seem infected anymore, but it does still hurt. 

I am extremely grossed out and embarrassed, but I just needed to vent because genuinely what the fuck.

[slasherlouvre]

hiii i was wondering if you could pretty please write something nsfw for Thomas Hewitt. I was thinking something where the reader focuses on taking care of him because he deserves all of the love and attention in the world (and i’m more of a giver myself tbh) Thank youuu❤️

My first request and it’s for some loving, nsfw/t Thomas content?? 🥺

Know that I am giving you an appreciative smooch on the forehead, anon 🤧. Sorry this took so long to put out! I've been super busy, but I really enjoyed spoiling our selfless Tommy in this 💝!! Wasn’t sure if you wanted an x fem reader, so I kept it gender neutral! I hope this gets to you!

Worthy

Thomas Hewitt x gn! Reader

Warnings: size kink, cockwarming, shower sex, overstimulation, creampie, light angst, some language, living in T*xas

Summary: Sometimes even hefty, 6’5, chainsaw-wielding slashers need to be reminded of their value <3

The sun is setting in Fuller Texas, and ironically, your heart begins to feel brighter now than it had the entire blistering day. There’s a slightly noticeable spring in your step that you idly try to quell as you step outside the Hewitt home to bring in the clean sheets you’d hung on the washing line earlier.

You take a moment to admire the yellow-golds that dance across the dry plain, teasing your vision until they inevitably both darken and start to fade. Days at the Hewitt household could be rough- ever a demanding list of tasks needing to be done as soon as the first rays of sunrise touched down on the earth.

Hoyt is difficult on everyone about 'pulling their weight' around the house, but he's especially exacting when it comes to Thomas. For the most part, you tend to stay out of Hoyt’s way to avoid worrying Thomas about your well-being any further; often keeping your head down when completing chores and keeping your mouth shut when he remarks something callous so as not to ‘provoke him’. On the days you manage to finish your chores early- and Hoyt doesn't have a particularly large stick up his ass, you slip away unnoticed to be with your Tommy.

He doesn’t really like having you come down to him when he’s in the basement- there are plenty of ways you could hurt yourself, and he’s afraid your good-natured impression of him will change if you see him in such a brutal setting, but there are few things he can deny you (especially when you come on to him so sweetly). It's mostly within the privacy of your shared bedroom, long after the sun has set, that you're finally able to put the entire day behind you and spend some quality time with the man you love.

Your nights with Thomas are usually quiet, save for a chorus of crickets outside and the noises that normally come with an old house; all other sounds are normally entirely accounted to the words of affirmation you devote to Thomas and the kisses shared between one another. On some nights, your quality time doesn’t evolve much farther than cuddling each other until you both fall asleep in a matter of minutes- too tired from the day's responsibilities for much else, but more than happy to be in each other’s arms.

Solid calloused hands rouse you from your thoughts as they comfortingly settle at your hips, causing you to smile.

"All finished, handsome?", you knowingly remark.

You can feel Thomas' grip tighten just a fraction as he leans in to nod against your neck, essentially hugging you from behind. You're both aware of your warm dampened skin clinging to each other, a tell-tale sign of a hard day's work, but neither of you feel particularly bothered by it enough to keep away from one another despite the heat.

"We still have some time before dinner...", you whisper while leaning into his chest a bit more now, "we can wash up together.."

--------

You undress allowing your used clothing to haphazardly meet the floor while Tommy gets the water running. There’s a comfortable silence between the both of you as he begins to pull off his apron and set it aside, but you walk over and prevent his hands from working any further.

“Let me?”, you ask kindly.

Thomas stares at you for a moment; a thoughtful, soft-hearted expression behind blue. He nods silently, and your hands gingerly run up his chest to grip his tie and begin undressing him. Thomas is more than capable of undressing himself of course, but you always relish in doting on him- especially when the act requires a special kind of trust on his part to allow himself to be vulnerable for you.

He’s tired even if he won’t admit it. You enjoy feeling his tense muscles begin to relax under your touch as you peel away the layers separating the both of you, kissing his scars as you go.

It's impossible for you not to admire his body; you're especially fond of the way the fat of his stomach and thighs are irresistibly complimented by his obvious strength. Thomas is always careful when topping you, but you make it quite clear that you more than take pleasure in feeling his size and weight overwhelm you.

You leave his mask for last as you tenderly lead him to the tub and straddle his lap once he’s settled. Thomas readjusts slightly to help you get comfortable, resting his large hands on your hips again as though second nature, while you reach up to gently undo the straps of his mask. You set it aside and sigh at his lovely features you don’t get to see very often; you can’t help but take a moment to allow your eyes to roam his face, not wanting to forget even a single detail about him.

“I love you, Thomas Brown Hewitt”, you whisper while pressing featherlight kisses to his visage, paying special attention to the places you know he hates most.

There’s a deep resonating sound that begins in his chest, and travels past his lips at that. Even when the guttural noises he makes to communicate with you never fully develop into words, they always reach your heart.

For the most part, Thomas is a quiet man; often suppressing what’s left of his voice in favor of labored breathing even in your most intimate moments. However, he’d realized rather quickly into your relationship that hearing him vocalize flustered you tremendously; always sending a thrilling sensation through your brain and spine somehow akin to excitement, elation, and pleasure all at once. So as he always does, Thomas indulges you when it has to do with your happiness and sexual gratification.

Unsurprisingly, Thomas’ primary love language is ‘acts of service’. It’s a devotional love; one that people often take for granted because of its consistency and altruistic nature. You could never take it for granted- you’re constantly aware and moved by Thomas' love for you even when his methods can be unconventional; grateful for any capacity of affection he has to offer despite his deep-rooted psychological scars.

And while his intentions are pure, Thomas unfortunately has a warped perception when it comes to justifying his selflessness- he sees himself as unworthy of all things good and caring. It's the reason why he normally resists being on the receiving end of such sentiments and actions; a trait you always find yourself fighting against with even more words of affirmation and displays of affection in hopes he'll one day finally understand how much he means to you.

The lukewarm water agitates in a comfortable way around your bodies as Thomas moves to press himself closer against you, returning your adoration with devout kisses of his own. You moan when he sucks at a particularly sensitive spot on your neck, causing you to shamelessly keen into him. His breathing hitches when your hips unintentionally roll against his groin, and he gives you an apologetic look when he begins to harden.

“You don’t have to feel bad, sweetheart, I’m yours”, you reassure him kindly, “I don’t think we have much time before the family starts calling us down for dinner, but…”

You lift yourself off of Tommy’s lap slightly in order to reach down and wrap a hand around his now twitching cock and align him with your entrance.

“-I need you just as badly", you whisper, playfully nipping the shell of his ear, “relax, and let me wash you first?"

Thomas is fully hard now, and you can see he’s struggling to keep his heart rate calm as he intensely keeps contact with your eyes; shakily nodding despite already wanting to give in to his increasingly consuming need for you.

You take it slow, returning to kiss his features softly as you begin to lower, teasing just his tip at first. And while you often enjoy flustering your sweet Tommy, you mostly take it slow for your own sake in this case.

Thomas is a very big man; both in height and heft, so it comes as no surprise that he’s also very well-endowed. It had taken quite a lot of reassurance on your part to convince him this wasn’t a bad thing when you’d first reached the point in your relationship; that you very much enjoyed feeling so full with him even when there had initially been a bit of pain adjusting to him.

Thomas grunts deeply, unconsciously squeezing his hands down and around your smaller form in order to steady himself; an action that has you gasping as you're pushed further on his cock.

He lets his head drop against your shoulder and neck when he finally feels you languidly bottom out around him. He's balls deep in you, and you fell so tight and hot that for a moment he almost loses his composure and begins desperately humping up into you.

You can tell Tommy is trying his very best to remain patient for you, but you can’t resist teasingly rolling your hips to get another shaky moan out of him; feigning innocence as you teasingly reach behind him to grab a bar of soap and a wash cloth.

His face is heated, and you’re sure yours is too, but you very much like seeing him that way. It’s when you start to lather soap over his skin and gently begin scrubbing that he begins to stir; wanting to care for you instead before he’d deal with himself on his own, but you insist, kissing his strong jaw.

“You’re always so selfless, Tommy”, you murmur against his neck.

You meet his eyes now with a fond expression, “I want to take care of you too, it’s important to me- you’re important to me”

You can see it in his eyes, the burden he bears from having to be a constant source of strength for everyone around him. It hurts you to see him be so hard on himself all the time, to see him genuinely think he doesn't deserve the same care he constantly provides. You don't want him to feel that way with you, you always want to be the one he can come to for love and comfort.

“Even if it’s just with me, in private moments like this, it’s okay. You deserve to be loved and cared for, Thomas- I'd never see you as less of a man because of your emotional needs and wants"

At first, he’s not sure if it’s the water making your bodies so slick and soft against one another, your heart beating so securely against his, or the words you’re giving him now that he's always wanted to hear, that finally push him over the edge. He decides it must be everything all at once as tears he no longer thought himself capable of producing appear in his weary blue eyes and his posture inevitably weakens.

You're hugging his head against your shoulder in an instant, running your fingers through his unkempt hair as he lets you comfort him. You know this won't entirely fix things- you'll have to help him again when the emotional pressure inevitably builds inside him once more, and becomes too great. Thomas will continue to be strong and selfless to a fault, but you will continue to love him to a fault as well.

Eventually, he settles as you continue to wash his skin, relishing in the way your hands and chest press against him in the process. It's impossible for him to ignore your walls shifting and squeezing around him as you move to reach across his much bigger body, but he tries to focus more on the tenderness of the act in order to last for you.

After you're satisfied with scrubbing away all traces of the day’s blood, sweat, and grime from his skin, you move to his hair; gently massaging soap into his scalp and working your fingers through any knots that formed during the day. Thomas gives you a relaxed groan at this, he adores the feeling of your gentle hands in any setting, but especially running through his scalp.

Looking after his hair is an affectionate act that just comes naturally to you; often idly moving your fingers through it at night with his head on your chest before you sleep, and in between good morning kisses when he wakes up with a bit of bedhead.

Before you came along, Thomas had never payed any special attention to himself for a good reason. In his eyes he was just some defective, disgusting, freak and everyone in town had certainly made sure he was aware of it. So when you first entered his life, he had withdrawn from you; too afraid of you turning out to be just like the rest, and unwilling to blame you for it if you did. It took a very long time for Thomas to get used to your touch, to trust you really meant what you said you felt for him despite what he had heartlessly been made to think of his appearace.

"Okay, handsome, all ready to rinse", you say giving him a peck on his lips.

It's your turn to scrub your skin and scalp, but you do so with less consideration than you had with Thomas, certain you were both pressed for time now. He has half a mind to insist on washing you too, but his cock is aching at this point and there's a powerful urgency in him to cum in you at least once before you have to separate.

You move to lift yourself off of him and get the shower head running, but Thomas’ hands unintentionally fly down on your hips to instinctively keep you seated on him causing you both to groan. He's letting go a second later, red-faced to have reacted so frenzied with you; gently pulling out now while pressing grateful kisses to your neck.

Your head feels light in a very good way as you now stand under the water with Thomas, wanting nothing more than to get the soap off as quickly as possible to give into your burning need for each other. As soon as this is achieved, you're being ardently kissed on the lips again; an action that has you automatically opening your mouth for him and wrapping your legs over his thickset thighs. He has no trouble lifting you up against the shower wall, and there's certainly no risk of slipping in the heat of the moment with how strong he is.

Thomas normally prefers slow, sensual love making, but you've riled him up quite a bit tonight, and there isn’t much time at the moment either. Regardless, he needs to release the rest of his pent up energy, and you're more than willing to help him with that. But even with how desperate he is to be inside you once more, Thomas searches your eyes for consent before going any further, just as he always does.

"I'm yours", you affirm in between heated pants, "I'm yours, and I want you too-”

It's all the confirmation he needs before he has your back arching, marking your neck with the only claim to be had over you while aligning himself with your entrance once more. You almost laugh when you think about how Tommy always reacts to seeing your neck after a rougher night; worry and guilt being his only emotions as he examines your bruised skin with featherlight fingers thinking he hurt you. You constantly reassure him that isn’t the case, but you definitely don’t complain when it has him kissing and coddling you even more for the next few days.

You’re broken out of your thoughts with a gasp when you suddenly feel Thomas sink into you with one vehement stroke; attentively letting you adjust to the sudden stretch while he worships your body under intense hands and lips- eternally thankful for your presence in his life, your choice in him, and your consent to let him cherish you so physically and so intimately despite his blood-stained hands and the repulsive image he has of himself.

You're shamelessly mewling for him to move now, a sound that arouses Thomas even more if possible. You’re unable to stop yourself from fluttering in his hold with the way he overwhelms you with his size alone. Thomas has always had an ability to drive you crazy with just how full he makes you feel. You're not ashamed of showing him how much his heaviness, both inside and around you, stimulates you either. He has a habit of treating you like you'll break; Luda May raised a gentleman after all, and the last thing he ever wants to do is hurt you- but you always tell him how much you adore feeling his imposing figure completely engulf you and that certainly makes him feel better about it.

“Tommy, please”, you beg beautifully.

Oh, he could never deny you.

He’s snapping his hips up as far as they’ll go in your current position; steady meaningful thrusts that have you squeezing around him and tears forming at the corners of your eyes with how good he’s making you feel now that he’s giving you both the relief you needed, and igniting an even stronger desire all at once. You can’t help pulling yourself into him even further by wrapping your arms around his neck, your head lolling against his every time he penetrates you.

Thomas moves a large hand to delicately have you face him once more in order to kiss you, his other still firmly against your waist to keep you steady on the wet shower wall as he continues to pound into you. You take the opportunity to run your hands down from around his neck to grope at his lovely chest and stomach, keeping up with the desperate liplock in order to distract him when you delicately run your fingers over his happy trail and cup his balls to give them a gentle squeeze.

Thomas gives you a strangled moan at that, biting down on your shoulder just enough to quiet himself, and not actually hurt you as you feel his hips stutter before beginning to fuck you even more fervently. The pleasure Thomas gives you nearly renders you dumb as you feel it electrify your nerves with every time the tip of his cock kisses as far as your walls will allow.

“Tommy! I-”

He responds with an almost animalistic growl; nodding in understanding as he lets his head fall to your chest with his eyes tightly shut, feeling his own high approach. In an instant your breath is hitching; fingernails and legs gripping Thomas impossibly close as you orgasm with a long, broken whine, and quiver around him with an intensity you never want to end. Thomas is heatedly panting against your skin at the feeling, but his cock continues to hammer into your tight, wet hole. It isn’t until he feels you spasming in his firm hold that he looks up to see your blissed out expression; half-lidded eyes with overstimulated tears at their edges, face hot, and pretty swollen lips openly panting. It’s all it takes for him to fervidly rut into you one final time; cock pressed as deeply as it will go, and your hips being pulled down onto him at the same time before he’s spurting and painting your walls white.

The water continues to run while you take a much needed moment to regulate your labored breathing. In your shared stupor, you had both weakly allowed the wet shower wall to ease you down into a half seated position; Thomas still between your legs, only this time on his knees and with his hands steadying himself above you. You give him a lethargic smile as you affectionately wrap your arms around his neck once again and motion for him to lay on you. It’s impossible for you to move him physically, but he gladly obliges you, only he remains careful about actually resting his full weight on you.

For a moment, it’s just comfortable silence; both of you taking pleasure in one another’s existence. Your hands are running through Thomas’ wet hair again and you can feel the shower’s water rhythmically thrum against his broad back, reverberating under your fingertips. His heart is still beating powerfully against you, and you take a moment to lazily press your lips against his cheek as you feel his warm seed seep out of you despite him still being fully sheathed within you.

“I love you, Tommy”

Thomas leans up to give you a heartfelt expression and a short throaty groan you know to be his way of saying, ‘I love you too’.

You were sure Hoyt would be hollering for the two of you to come down to the dinner table any second now, but with Tommy’s forehead lovingly pressed against yours, and having him so comfortingly in your arms, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

--------

“Dance with me, love?”

There’s a soft melody playing from the living room’s record player when he comes to tell you the rest of the family has gone to sleep for the night. You’re gazing at him so endearingly with your hand outstretched that he would have instantly agreed even if you had asked him to walk on fire. And his heart never fails to swell when he hears you address him with such sweet names he considers so uncharacteristic for his appearance.

Thomas’ steps are clear and comforting against the hardwood floor before he’s securely wrapping his thickset arms around you and tenderly pressing his forehead down against your own once more. The night is cool; allowing for an appreciated breeze to flow through a nearby open window while the two of you peacefully sway at a slow-moving pace with your eyes closed and your hearts full.

“I hope you never doubt how much you mean to me”, you whisper genuinely, “You don’t have have to hurt yourself trying to ‘deserve’ my love for you, Thomas. You’re more than worthy of it just as you are”

His blue eyes look tearful again, but he’s embracing you warmly before you can really be sure.

God, he loves you.

You can’t imagine anything on earth feeling safer, or more soothing than being in Tommy’s arms. And it’s in those same arms that Thomas carries you up the stairs to your shared bedroom once the lovely melody ends.

[julietas-basil]

Hi,

I want a request for Juli, angst. The story goes like this:

Julieta and Y/N are dating. One day Juli had to take a week long trip to the borders because some people were showing up there and she had to go 'cause most of them were hurt. A few days go by and Juli comes back, but she comes back with a new friend, Agustín, the two have an incredible energy together and as incredible as it seems Y/N's relationship with her has only improved after this new friendship. But, one day Y/N found two bite marks on Julieta's body and these marks were not hers. Pretending she didn't see anything, Y/N goes on with life and decides to think they were hers so as not to pick a fight, since the relationship was at its best. Some days go by and Y/N finds hidden love letters to Julieta signed with the name of Agustín.

Now how does this story end? It's in your hands

(Y/n) could be furious,bring a storm and destroy everything in the process, scream and shout fighting for her defense,afraid to loose Julieta but didn't,put that thought aside along with other things in that mind of (Y/n)'s...

All (Y/n) was trying to do is breathe in and out,deeply. The burning in her chest was suffocating and the knot in her stomach almost unbearable. The fear was there threatening her every step,as better as the relationship went nothing could stop (y/n) from letting a few tears fall down her cheeks,only to wipe them off when Julieta would step in the room and fill her face in kisses and affectionate deeds...

Julieta had decided to leave the room again with the incent that people were in need of immediate assistance in town...(Y/n) formed a smile on her face,resting a loving kiss on her lovers forehead "alright Amor! I'll be waiting for you!" julieta responded with a genuine frown and a small but genuine smile leaving a last kiss on (y/n)'s cheek.

Upon hearing the door shut,(y/n)was quick to start the day cleaning around or maybe shorting a few things in their bedroom,after all (y/n) wanted Julieta to have a restful sleep after such a tiring schedule...(y/n) grabbed the essentials and put the radio on,tuned in her favorite station,started dancing to the slowly rhythms. That was a relief after all that stress overtaking her body the last few months,the cheerful music was an antidote to her messed up mind...(y/n) hummed silently the lyrics of the song,allowing her body to vibe through the song.

After a few minutes of sorting the closets,placing new aromas and changing the sheets-along with the blankets-(y/n) was determined to finish doing the nightstands. Started by taking out the excess things,a few envelopes sliding down at (y/n) feet. The person standing on their legs,reached out for the envelops in front of them. (Y/n) carelessly begun searching for some information,the heart stopped.

The paper had on top of it the sign 'Agustín,to my beloved',the dread on (y/n)'s face more apparent by the seconds. Trembling digits tried to find the way to open the letter only to find out it was already open. The light yellow inside slid easily through the opening making it easier for the person standing to unfold it.

(Y/e) eyes scanned the paper quickly,reading across the love report with a few glances.The temperature was rising gradually,fury filling (y/n)'s once again upon reading the rest of the love letters. It was enough to make (y/n) to go insane throwing all of the secret reports on their bed,specifically on her side,the side she love so much to spend time with you at nights,both wrapped up under the warmth of each other's bodies...the caresses,the passionate kiss.

A Tear glided down (y/n)'s cheekbones. The thought of betrayal becoming reality would mean that her beautiful smile,her brown playful eyes wouldn't be the first thing to enjoy in the morning,the smell of Vanilla eminating from her neck wouldn't fill the room at nights...

(Y/n) felt a Crack forming in her heart getting immediately out of the shared room,avoiding it for the rest of the evening. For as long as one could,(Y/n) tried to take care of the household,occupying her running mind. To wash the dishes clean a few more things and finally resting in the balcony staring at the night colors fading to pitch black...

It was nearly 11 o clock,when the sound of a click filled the room,Julieta entering the household for the last time at that day "¡Mi vida,I'm home!" The nurse claimed loud enough,placing two packs of sweets on the kitchen's table

"where were you?" (y/n) appeared at the balcony doors staring at the brunette. Julieta's eyes widened upon seeing her favorite person walking over them to shower them with kisses,reacting coldly to her affectionate gestures "I went to buy something sweet for tonight" her smile making (y/n) weak in the knees " why didn't you tell me?" Her eyes searching for a sign "tell you what cariño?" Angry (Y/e) filled with tears now glanced over hers. She giggled "What cariño? What's going on mi Amor?" Julieta couldn't let that pass immediately reaching for you to grasp you gently in her hold. Your hands cupped hers lowering them down "Where you with him ?" Julieta gulped "N-No! It's not what you think-" you scuffed "it's not what I think? Julieta I SAW YOU! for God's shake!" The nurse slowly drawing her arms forward "Don't touch me! You knew it,you knew I fucking loved you" the the darker skinned woman frowned sadly "(Y/n) I could never hurt you Corazon,por favor I wouldn't bear it !" You laughed at her response " don't lie to me, I noticed you two that day,having fun with each other and the way he looked at you,the way you were listening to him and holding his hand-" julieta smiled cupping your cheeks but you pressed them down again "JULIETA STOP PRETENDING I SAW THE LETTERS..." The nurse now stared aggressively towards (y/n) "Mi amor this is non-sense,stop!" Without much thinking the answer left your mouth "YOU SLEPT WITH HIM!" Julieta snapped her hand harshly making contact with your cheek "(Y/n)no Corazon! I'm so sorry bebé " before a second passes her tears were falling down her apples like waterfall running to your embrace. Shocked at her reaction,(y/n) leaned in her embrace " it's okay mi Julita" the shirt was now stained in Julietas salty tears,her small exhales brushing on the wet skin. (Y/n) hands caressed the black and white strands,locating a few kisses on top of them " I could never hurt you,could never leave you without a single reason. I love you , te adoro mucho" she parted herself enough to look into (y/n) kind eyes " I adore you more than anyone else in this world,your touch could never be exchanged,your warmth feels more like home to me,you are my soul (y/n)!" She brushed a few messy strands off your face,her lips inches closer from (y/n)'s ones.

Soon the brunette connected her soft,cherry lips on dry ones. Tracing slowly words of love,on top of bitten lips. (Y/n)'s arms around the older woman's waist driving her closer "but regardless of that you still owe me an explanation"the younger person demanded and julieta parted smiling " mi Vida Agustín was just an old friend,who recently lost his loved ones and had to find some comfort in someone..." she held (y/n) hands carefully "the letters were from our childhood and he just decided to give me a few to remincence our times as kids..."the older brunette confessed "the bite marks were the result of one of your hangovers...you were mumbling about a certain brunette who couldn't stop being affectionate with a tall man named Agustín" the tone in her voice showing mockery,her finger booking your nose " I remember you wouldn't stop attacking my neck until you fell asleep on my chest.."(y/n) sighed "I apologize corazon I never meant meant heart you with my words,I was too afraid to loose you,I wouldn't love anyone else apart from you,you were my life Julieta. I'm sorry Amor I let my anger get the best of me,your love was so visible to me and I could only see my own self. I was blind" julieta looked at (y/n) with a smile so bright "What matters for me is that we went through this together,that is our love and I couldn't never waste it in the hands of other" both let the silence fill the room,hugging under the dim light enjoying each other's loving company.

Hope you liked it,it's the first time I'm finishing something on my own thank you !!!

[addisonlover]

how about the addisons with a crush/S/O whos a musician?

A/N: sorry if I use any like instrument terms wrong the only knowledge I have is secondhand stuff I learned from my band friends

Addisons with a musician s/o

Pink Addison

They’re SO gonna make you play their fav songs

Will pull out the very lethal puppy eyes so you can play the same pop song for the 10th time over

Sings the lyrics while you play, it’s now their fav date idea with you

Sometimes just likes to watch you play, loves seeing how your face changes and your hands move

If you do anything in public they’re gonna be the best hypeman ever

Will be sitting in the crowd or standing by you just SHOUTING how much they love you and believe in you

Has to be told to stop because no one can hear your actual playing

Might try to pick up a few lessons so they can play with you

Fully supports you and everything you do

Blue Addison

Immediately looks up proper treatment and care for your instrument

They are the mom friend and By God are they gonna keep it up

Will sometimes surprise you by doing a deep clean of your instrument (with your permission ofc)

LOVES playing with you

Like I said before, I absolutely think they play the drums so they’re gonna play all your favorite songs together

Lowkey annoys their siblings while you two are playing but they’re happy to see Blue happy

If you ever make a comment about wanting to learn a song, they’re instantly gonna start learning it just in case you learn too

Might offer to help you if you’re struggling (yes they did research on how to play)

Sappy time; sometimes messes up their parts while you two are playing because they get too caught up watching you play

Orange Addison

Very supportive even if they can’t play to save their life

Loves music; cannot do anything musical

Willing to sit and listen to you explain everything about your instrument or complain about it too

Loves just hearing you talk

Doesn’t understand a thing you’re talking about but nods their head along with everything

Brings you snacks and drinks while you’re playing, especially if you’re too focused to remember

Quietly supportive

Sometimes asks you to play a song they like

Just loves watching you play with hearts in their eyes, it becomes their favorite types of dates

Yellow Addison

YALL ARE MAKING A FUCKING BAND!!!!!! YOU CANNOT STOP IT

The moment they learn you can play ANY instrument they go goddamn bonkers

It’s finally the excuse they needed to finally pick up the guitar

They rock out to any song you’re playing, doesn’t matter

You could be playing classical music and they’ll be right there rocking tf out and headbanging

If they’re watching you preform then they’ll absolutely wink at you and blow you kisses to mess with you

Is always all over you, praising you after any show or song

Just a constant flow of how much they love your playing and how they love you

Buys you whatever you need to maintain your instrument or the sheets to a new piece of music you wanted to learn

They just love that they have someone that they can play with now

Spamton

He isn’t a huge music guy but he becomes one for you

Learns everything about your instrument so he knows what you’re talking about at all times

Saves up money so that he can buy you that newer and better model for your instrument that you’ve been talking about

He will save up for MONTHS just to get you whatever you want

New music, a new piece, have someone deep clean and polish it, this man is a simp

Yknow that thing where people lay on their stomachs and put their head in their hands and kick their feet? He’s doing that while watching you play

Takes you on a date after every single performance

You say you’re too tired to go anywhere? At home date time! He’ll order something in

You did really really well? He’s breaking into his funds a little bit and taking you to a nice restaurant!

Whatever you want, he’s down 100%, no arguments

He is the type to worship you like goddamn royalty he loves you and everything you do so much it’s unreal

[luvnami]

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 - wahh it’s here! can’t believe my brainrot of osamu teaching a cooking class turned into this long fic lol... i hope you enjoy it!! it was fun crafting the story with my beta readers and i put a lot of effort into it!!! itadakimasu <3

𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬 - @forgetou​ @amjustagirl​ (muacks 2x) + tq to everyone who helped me with the banner!!

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 - you’re suna’s younger sibling, food, heartbreak, angst but happy ending, mentions of stabbing (joke), kita dances to ‘ice cream’ by selena gomez and blackpink, mentions of alcohol, mentions of blood (brief), suna beats (redacted) up

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 - miya osamu x gn!reader

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 - you fall in love with miya osamu once more, but you’re afraid of getting hurt again.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 - 5535

𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐤𝐨-𝐟𝐢

1. Cook the rice according to your rice cooker, then transfer the cooked rice to a separate bowl to cool it down.

“What ya want t’do is scorch the soy sauce.”

The class presses themselves against Osamu’s workbench as they scribble down notes on their recipe printouts. Their lips purse to ooh and aah at his cooking skills, though you’re pretty sure that they’re more interested in how his biceps flex when he flips the wok with a trained flick of the wrist. 

You stand at the very edge of the group. It’s better than getting close with a group of hungry housewives, really. If grocery store and department mall sales have ever told you anything, it’s to never get in the way of what a seasoned housewife wants. Unfortunately for you, you haven’t learnt the way of being a homemaker just yet. 

You’re unemployed, right in the middle of a month and a half-ish long transfer between jobs. You currently stay at your brother Suna’s place — which is really just an apartment filled with dirty laundry overflowing from its seams.

Turns out Suna himself is a bit of a gossip.  He told Kita who told Atsumu who told Osamu that you’re stuck at his place 24/7 with no friends or entertainment in the lovely city of Nagano. It’s just mountains and trees as far as the eye can see all around — and there’s only so many hikes you can take each week. 

“Why don’t you take a cookin’ class?” 

“Cookin’?” Your face screwed up in confusion. “ What for?”

“So that you can actually pull your weight around the house and make me something to eat.”

You chucked a pillow at his head and began to list all the things you did while staying at his apartment. Laundry, cleaning the floor, doing grocery shopping (even if it was only instant noodles and snacks), finding his disgustingly sweaty socks under the sofa and many other important chores, thank you very much.

Besides, you weren’t as eager when you saw who was the one that would be holding the classes. With his picture plastered across the front of a pamphlet, your heart dropped into the pit of your stomach. Years of chasing his dreams and training in a kitchen had done Osamu wonders. 

You had half a mind to smack Suna in the head with the yellow, glossy paper, but instead you quietly tucked it into a corner of the guest room to look at later. You were sure Suna hadn’t forgotten your history with Osamu just yet — but perhaps he assumed that enough time had passed to heal your wounds.

Either way, there’s no going back now. That’s how you ended up at Osamu’s ‘Cooking class for homemakers — you can do it too!’, except you aren’t a homemaker. You shift your weight from one foot to the other as the sound of sizzling soy sauce fills the air. Osamu pauses for a while before beginning to mix the rice with the sauce, wielding his spatula and wok expertly like weapons.

“Miya-san, you’re amazing!” someone gushes.

He lets out a bashful laugh. “This is nothing. I’m sure everyone will be able to do this by the end of class today!”

You wonder if he’s ever considered being a teacher. The demonstration on how to make shrimp fried rice is soon over and everyone returns to their benches, eager to try out the recipe. You are no different. Scurrying to your bench at the very back of the classroom, you exchange glances between the printed recipe handout and your tray of ingredients.

“Need any help?” 

Osamu’s voice and looming presence makes you jump.

“Woah! Careful there,” he chuckles, his fingers gently prying a knife out of your hands.

Unconsciously, you had raised it in shock when Osamu snuck up on you. The knife now lays safely on the tabletop and you feel the eyes of the entire class boring into you.

“Sorry, Miya-san. I didn’t see you,” you apologise meekly.

“Don’t worry about it, I shouldn't have scared ya like that. And no need for the formalities! You’re my friend’s sister, afta’ all.”

Oh goodness. You half expect the class to pick up their pots and pans and run at you right this moment. You swallow back the half hearted ‘Osamu-san’ that rises in your throat. Your heart trembles in your chest and for a second, the silence that weighs heavily between the both of you turns awkward. 

“Miya-san! Could you help me with this please?” 

You’ve never been so glad to hear Tachibana’s sickly shrill voice before. Osamu is quick to wave goodbye to you before hurrying over to her bench, a smile still on his face. You breathe a sigh of relief. 

You make a mental note to tell Suna that Osamu should just stick to placating those housewives and leave you the hell alone. The last thing you want is to have blackmail spread around the neighbourhood by these gossipy housewives, or worse, have their daughters hunt you down and chop you up into pieces.

Whatever. You’re just here to learn how to make shrimp fried rice and then go home to your annoying older brother. Besides, it’s not like you’ll be here for long. Miya Osamu just happens to be the local heartthrob, the handsome and eligible bachelor chased by anyone single and ready to mingle. You have absolutely nothing to do with someone so popular and good-looking. And for goodness sake, he’s your brother’s high school friend and your… Well, you know. 

Your face burns and you pick up the knife again, grip tightening on its handle. You begin chopping at the onions with renewed determination.

(Later on, when you bring back a tupperware of fried rice for Suna, he looks you in the eye and asks “Shrimp fried this rice?”.

You shoot him a glare.

“I fried this rice.”)

2. Prepare all the fillings that you are going to use and set aside, such as pickled plums or tuna mayo. Prepare your seaweed sheets.

What you don’t expect is for Miya Osamu to show up at your doorstep the next day with boxes of food, cartons of drinks and a very noisy brother of his in tow. 

“Rin, where can I leave the drinks?” Osamu yells.

“Rin, can I play your PS5?” Atsumu shouts.

You think that they are very different, the Miya twins. Suna takes a minute to finish putting on some clothes (you had answered the door, thankfully. No one wants to see Suna Rintarou in Pikachu boxers) before bursting out of his room.

He’s quick to smack Atsumu’s ‘dirty little setter hands’ away from his precious Playstation, directing Osamu to what constitutes the apartment’s kitchen — a second-hand fridge and the building-installed gas stove that works only if you hit it hard enough. You’re surprised that neither you or Suna haven't died of a house fire or gas poisoning by now.

It doesn’t take long for the other Inarizaki alumni to arrive at Suna’s apartment in a series of doorbell rings. Kita even brings along a large bottle of sake, to which everyone cheers loudly. You don’t understand why they had chosen Suna’s place to have a reunion party. Seriously, wouldn't Onigiri Miya or some other izakaya have been a better choice?

However, there’s free flow of drinks and lots of yummy snacks, so you decide to let the noise wash over you and stand by the food table to pick at the trays of pizza, fried chicken and other finger food. Aran even offers you a drink, smiling sweetly before going off to wrangle Atsumu from trying to initiate a beer chugging competition. Some things just never change, you suppose.

“Having fun?”

You jump and nearly drop the plate of food that you hold.

“You have a horrible habit of scaring people, Miya- Osamu.”

His first name comes out awkward, tumbling off of your tongue as you use a pair of chopsticks to carefully pile back some mentaiko mayonnaise onto a slice of tamagoyaki. Osamu settles into the crook of the kitchen counter next to you with a playful grin on his face.

“Do I really?”

“Don’t forget that the first time you did that, someone nearly got stabbed.”

You pop the tamagoyaki into your mouth. It’s delicious — the egg’s sweetness balances out the salty sauce. You wonder if there’s enough left on the tray for seconds. 

“How’s the reunion going?” you ask nonchalantly, and shuffle a few centimetres away from him.

You hope Osamu doesn’t notice that. He does, however, but chooses not to comment on it. He brings up a hand to scratch at his neck, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly. He’s close enough for you to get a whiff of whatever cologne he’s wearing. Your head spins for a second. 

“Oh, none of us have gotten drunk just yet. I’m pretty sure we’ll be playing beer pong or something later on.”

You steel yourself against the urge to look at what Osamu is wearing. Don’t look, don’t look, definitely don’t look. Miya Osamu is, has been, a dangerous man to fall in love with. You can’t afford to- 

Perhaps gouging your eyes out would have been a better choice in theory. Even a glance from where you stand beside him is enough to see that not only is he wearing a tight, black T-shirt, Osamu also has a pair of sweatpants on. Is it a sin to wear sweatpants? Probably so, especially with the way it makes your throat run dry. 

“Beer pong, huh?” You try your best to mumble somewhat nonchalantly. “Who won the last time?”

“Kita.”

“Kita?!” you gasp. 

Even that’s enough to make you forget about Osamu and his stupid (and very sexy) sweatpants. 

“Yeah, right? That was the first time he participated. All of us got left drunk in the street, so we decided to do it at someone’s place this year.”

You let out a soft laugh at the thought of a bunch of grown men piled over each other on the road. You don’t particularly like the thought of cleaning up after them tonight, though. 

The lack of words between you and Osamu descends into snorts of laughter that trickle in from the tiny living room. Aran throws his head back, drink nearly spilling out of his cup. Ginjima laughs so loud you see Omiomi cover his ears and Suna holds his phone up, filming every second of Atsumu’s defeat. 

Osamu opens his mouth as if to ask you something.

“C’mon! Yer killin’ me, Kita-san!” Atsumu yells, socked feet and waving arms trying to match the onscreen character’s movements.

Kita, on the other hand, is scoring perfect marks without as much effort wasted. You giggle to yourself as he moves his hips, shaking them here and there. A small smile quirks his lips upwards as he finishes with a flawless ending move on ‘Ice Cream’, the Just Dance characters fading into oblivion on the screen. Atsumu crumbles to the floor in defeat. 

Osamu’s lips form a straight line as he watches you laugh along, raising a hand to cover your mouth. He curses Atsumu’s birth and swallows back his embarrassment.

“Did ya see that, Osamu? Oh- Kita-san is so good at everything!” you gush.

“Atsumu just sucks.”

When you laugh, Osamu thinks something in his chest lurches. Regret makes his head go foggy and leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

3. Place cling wrap over a rice bowl. Place some of the cooked rice over the centre of the cling wrap and make a well.

“No way ya got a love letter!” Atsumu yelled.

“Ya get yer fair share. We share t’same face, why shouldn’t I get some?” Osamu retorted, rolling his eyes. 

Suna watched as the twins began to gripe and argue about who was the better looking sibling again. Nothing unusual, really, given how this occurred every odd day of the week.

“S’gotta be a prank. No way someone likes a loser like you,” Suna mused.

In retaliation, Osamu threw him a stink eye. “You two are just jealous,” he sniffed.

The letter had been written on pretty pink paper, all hearts and cute handwriting as his secret admirer asked him to meet them on the roof after school. Not that Osamu wasn’t affected by it, of course. It always rubbed his ego the right way to know that someone preferred him over Atsumu. Though, it wasn’t like he was interested in anyone then. It only took a second before Osamu ripped the letter in half.

“Woah woah woah! Yer crazy! Whatcha gonna do if some pretty girl gave that to ya?” 

Atsumu’s eyes widened in shock, almost reaching forward to grab the shreds of letter that Osamu had torn up. 

“Does it matter? S’not like I’m interested in datin’ right now,” he replied.

“Seriously? What if she’s like, super duper hot!”

Osamu’s face screwed up. “Are ya a horndog?”

Just as Atsumu was about to shout at his dear brother again, you opened the door to their classroom and hurried in. You had a bento box in hand and a cute pout on your face as you placed it on Suna’s table.

“Rin! You forgot your bento at home again!” 

“Oh.” Suna blinked. “Thanks.”

“Seriously, you gotta stop forgetting your things! I can’t be bringing them to you all the time-”

“Hey, Suna.” Atsumu perked up, referring to you. “Would ya go on a date with Samu or me? Me, right? Definitely me!”

Your face flushed with heat. “Huh? What are you talking about?”

“‘Samu got a love letter in his shoe locker this morning. Cliche, huh?” your brother said between bites of his lunch. 

“Mm, yeah. Cliche,” you mumbled. 

You looked around anxiously for any sign of the love letter. Was it in Osamu’s bag? 

“Can ya believe he tore it up?” Atsumu laughed.

“What?”

Your heart felt like a stone in your chest as you froze, your blood running cold. 

“Yeah! This dumbass doesn’t know how t’appreciate anythin’,” he replied, smacking Osamu on the back of his head.

His twin responded with a muffled growl as he continued to scarf down his absurdly large bento. You fiddled with the cuffs of your sleeves, staring down at your feet. You were quick to bid the third years goodbye as you fled their classroom as an inexplicable ache spread through your chest. 

You didn’t focus on your classes for the rest of the day. The fact that Osamu had torn your love letter, written with all your heart and soul as you crumpled draft after draft last night, tipped you over the edge of your fantasies and had you plummeting straight into reality. 

“Oi.”

You looked up from your feet, glancing up at Suna. The both of you were swapping your indoor shoes for outdoor ones, but you had absentmindedly stopped in the middle of slipping your right foot into a shoe. It was nearing the time where they closed the school gates, so there weren’t many students around save for the odd volleyball club member.

“What’re you doing? Put your shoes on properly,” he huffed.

“Sorry,” you said quietly, and slammed the locker door shut once you were done.

You walked a few feet ahead of Suna as you approached the school gate. Your head drooped with each step, tears beginning to mist your eyes. You willed yourself to hold it in till you got home, till you were in the safety of your bedroom to start sobbing your little heart out. Suna tugged on your wrist.

“Are you crying?” he questioned.  

You shook your head quickly, rubbing your eyes with the back of your sleeve.

“Oi. Answer me.”

This time, his voice was a little softer, yet held a mixture of irritation and anger behind a crumbling wall of apathy. Who had been the one to make you cry? 

“It’s nothin’,” you choked out. “Let’s just go home.”

You turned your face to the side as tears continued to roll down your cheeks, muffled cries turning into heartbroken sobs. Something inside of Suna’s head clicked. 

“It’s Miya Osamu, isn’t it?” 

You had to bite on your lower lip to stop it from trembling.

“That bastard tore up your letter, didn’t he?”

You gave Suna the tiniest of nods. He let go of your wrist and whipped around, eyebrows furrowed together. Not wanting to date was one thing, but treating your confession like dog shit was something else. Fortunately for him, the Miya twins were changing their shoes in the getabako.

“‘Samu!” Suna yelled.

The gray haired male looked up with a face of confusion.

“Suna? Whaddya want-” Osamu wasn’t able to say anything more as Suna’s fist collided with his face.

Atsumu jumped back with a yelp as the both of them crashed to the ground. Your hands flew to cover your mouth.

“Rin! Stop it!” you cried out.

You dashed over, tripping over your own feet as you tried to pull Suna away from Osamu as they traded blows. It took the work of you, Atsumu and Ginjima (who had been unlucky enough to pass by) to tear the two apart, and even then Osamu was still struggling in his brother’s arms to be let go.

“What t’hell, man!” he snarled. 

Suna wiped his nose, glancing briefly at the crimson that stained his school uniform. The adrenaline was beginning to run low and pain began to settle into his fists and ribs. His shoulders heaved with each breath, and your hands clutched his shirt.

“Rin. No more, please,” you begged, pressing your forehead against his back. “No more.”

Suna hated the way your voice trembled as you spoke. He didn’t think it was fair for you to bear the burden of pain while Osamu got to walk away unscathed, leaving you broken in pieces. His fist curled up again.

“It’s not worth it, Rin.”

Suna took in a shaky, deep breath.

You were right.

Miya Osamu wasn’t worth it. 

4. Put about 1tbsp of the filling of your choice on the centre of the rice and cover it with rice.

A week comes and goes after the annual Inarizaki reunion. You’re still finding sticky stains on the floor, as well as food wrappers tossed behind the sofa. Suna sends the group chat a video of you yelling at all of them while wielding a mop with so much fervour Aran asks if you broke it. Atsumu actually apologises and Osamu offers to come over and help clean up. The entire group chat flames him immediately.

As per last week, you walk into Osamu’s cooking class at 2p.m. on a Wednesday afternoon. It’s hot outside, droplets of perspiration rolling down your nape. The cool air-conditioning of the classroom is much appreciated and you don your apron behind the gaggle of housewives. You catch snippets of their conversation as they put their items in the cubbies provided. 

“Tanaka-san, did you see the mushrooms that were on sale this Monday?”

“My son is attending this cram school this summer. Here’s the address!”

“My father-in-law keeps complaining about the heat…”

“Good afternoon, everyone.”

“Miya-san!”

Everyone perks up when Osamu walks through the door. They’re quick to surround him, asking how his day had been. You look tired, take this ginseng drink! It really revitalises your spirits! Did you get a girlfriend yet, Miya-san? My daughter is single, you know! 

You watch as Osamu walks behind his bench, all smiles and “Is that so, Shigeru-san?”. Polite enough to please them, but not enough to make them think that he actually wants to go on a date with their 34 year-old daughter who’s a tired office worker looking out for potential husbands like a hawk. He lets out a heavy exhale, using his cap with the Onigiri Miya logo on it to fan himself.

“Hot today, isn’t it?” he chuckles.

You think that maybe he’s the one that’s making this summer so warm, especially with the way that his shirt clings to his figure and his flushed cheeks that make him look adorable. 

Wait.

You do a double take. Ah, adorable. You must have meant that heart-print apron that Tanaka is wearing today. It is pretty cute, and you wonder if you should ask her where she got it from later on. Definitely not Osamu with his perfect smile that would make anyone’s heart skip a beat, and definitely not when it’s directed at you.

“Gather around everyone! We’re going to be making gyoza today!”

The demonstration goes as usual — Osamu impresses the housewives, they gasp and someone even touches his forearm and asks “How did you get so strong, Miya-san?”. Not that you care, of course. You certainly don’t. What you’re more concerned about is how Osamu manages to make wrapping the fragile gyoza seem so easy. 

Your fingers pinch at the thick dough, eyebrows furrowed together. No matter what you do, your filling keeps spilling out of the wrapper and so you’ve opted to try out for a thicker piece this time. Not that it really matters — Suna will be the one suffering from food poisoning if it turns out bad, anyways.

“Ah, yer made it too thick,” Osamu says as he strolls over. 

You tense up as he leans over your shoulder, peeking at the chubby gyoza in your hands. You pretend not be affected by how close he is and continue pinching the wings of the dumpling shut.

“They keep bursting,” you sniff. 

“Maybe ya put t’much filling?” Osamu suggests. “Here, lemme show ya. Put tha’ one down and grab a new wrapper. Yeah, just like that.”

You stiffen as Osamu flours his hands and cradles your hands in his. 

“Here ya go. That’s t’much, scoop out some more. That’s it. Now gently…”

Blood rushes to your face as you feel the warmth of his skin seep into yours, his hands rough from years of training and cooking. Scars adorn the tips of his thick fingers and knuckles. You suddenly feel the urge to gently trace them with your thumb, to ask him how he got each one of them. 

Would he let you? Let you so close, that perhaps you would be the one to know every single thing about him?

“You did it!” Osamu says cheerfully. 

He suddenly pulls away, making you plummet back to reality. A perfectly made gyoza sits in your hands.

“I’m looking forward to tasting your gyoza later on. Now keep trying!” 

You’re left dumbfounded as Osamu walks away to help out the other housewives. They stammer and blush when they get too close, but he never holds their hands in his own, never smiles as gently as he does with you.

You place the gyoza on a pan and put the lid on with a little bit more force than what is necessary.

5. Wrap the cling wrap over the rice and squeeze and mould it into a triangle shape with your hands.

You try not to make contact with Osamu after that. Attending his cooking classes becomes a game of cat-and-mouse, where you try to tell him ‘I don’t need any help, Miya-san’ and watch him crawl away in defeat. In fact, you decide to skip the lesson on making hamburgs and instead spend the afternoon watching television.

After all, from what you’ve learnt in the past, Osamu is nothing more than trouble. You think it’s worth the sacrifice now to put some space between the both of you so that you don’t end up heartbroken a second time. 

Though, you do feel a little bad. Just a little bit. One day when Suna’s out at training, you hear the doorbell ring and Osamu’s voice ring through the genkan. You hear his feet shuffle by the door and a heavy thump outside before he leaves. You only open the door when you hear his car pull out of the apartment building’s carpark, and find a packed bento lunch for you in front.

You try to pretend that the bunny cut apples and sakura shaped carrot slices don’t mean anything.

“Ah, Suna-san! Where were you last week?” Tachibana titters as you step into class for the final lesson.

“I wasn’t feeling very well,” you lie. “I think I caught a summer cold.”

“Oh dear, that sounds terrible!” the ladies chorus together. 

You think they’re probably just glad that you didn’t get in the way of their beloved Miya-san. You tug your apron over your head, and ignore Osamu when he greets everyone. His eyes linger on you for a little too long during the demonstration — to the point that he actually burns the skin side of his salmon fillet.

Osamu skirts around your bench like a nervous puppy when the demonstration is over. You don’t seem particularly keen about talking to him, though the tips of your finger tremble when he finally plucks up the courage to stand next to you. It’s not close enough for your elbows to touch, but close enough that he can whisper to you without anyone else hearing him.

“Hey,” he begins, uncertain. His voice wavers slightly.

“Hey,” you reply, wary of what he might say. 

“Are you okay?”

You take a moment to think, tipping the sake bottle carefully to measure out an exact tablespoon of it. He wonders when your hands have seemed so delicate, so small. He aches to hold them in his own again. 

“I’m okay.”

“That’s good.”

It’s quiet, again. Just like that night in Suna’s apartment, with all the noise of the reunion going on around you, except this time it's the clanging of pans and utensils, paired with the chatter of many ladies. 

“I was thinking…” Osamu stares down at your hands, turning the measuring spoon over so that sake splashes onto the hot pan with a sizzle. “Maybe we could get a drink together after this?”

You cover the pan and watch its surface cloud up with condensation. You hide your shaking hands by digging them into the pockets of your apron. 

Osamu swallows. Perhaps he had been too direct with you; scared you off with how quickly he was advancing. Or did Suna tell you to be careful of him? That he didn’t want you falling in love with him a second time? There’s no lie about it, that Osamu had been a grade A asshole back in high school.

But he loves you now; has loved you since then. Would you be willing to give him a second chance?

“Osamu,” you breathe.

His shoulders relax slightly when you don’t call him by his last name. 

“I don’t know what to do.” 

Your voice comes out timid, scared. Osamu’s heart crumbles at the edges. He wonders if you would hate him if he reached out and took your hands in his once more. You’re both adults, perfectly capable of rational thinking if only your hearts hadn’t gotten in the way. Love hurts, they said. You want to agree. 

“We can start it out slow,” Osamu suggests.

“I’m supposed to start my new job next month. I won't be in Nagano for much longer.”

“I’m opening a branch in Tokyo.”

“I’ll be busy settling down. We might not get to see each other often enough.”

“A little is better than nothin’.”

“You’re my brother’s friend.”

“Now, yer just picking at nothing, babe. Didn’t you have a crush on me back in high school, too? That didn’t stop ya, did it?”

Your heart wrestles with your brain, insisting on comfort and that love will always come in the form of someone that isn’t Miya Osamu. You’ll find someone, but will they be better? Will they send food to your doorstep, or send you stupid photos of dogs he saw on the street? Will they chase after you relentlessly for years, will they be Osamu?

A lump forms in your throat and you wonder if this, has been, is love. You tear your heart out from within you and let it cling to your sleeve, as pathetic and scared it is. You don’t mind if it hurts. To never hurt is to never have lived, to never have loved. 

By this point, your eyes have misted up with tears and it hits you- You’re about to cry about your crush in the middle of a cooking class attended by middle-aged ladies. You’ve never been more embarrassed. 

“Really?” you whisper, looking up at Osamu with glittering eyes. 

He ignores the “Miya-san! I need your help!” that rings out in the background. He smiles gently.

“Yeah, really.”

A tear slips down your face. Osamu lets out a breathy chuckle as he swipes it away with his thumb, giving your shoulder a squeeze.

“We’ll talk properly after this, alright?” 

You nod numbly. You watch as he hurries off to Shigeru, gasping when he sees how she had completely butchered her fillet. He turns back to you, trying to hold in a snigger. 

You giggle.

Osamu thinks he wants to hear that laugh forever.

6. Remove the cling wrap and cover the bottom of the rice triangle with a nori sheet and set aside.

“One extra large bonito onigiri with spring onions!” you cry out from the counter.

Back in the kitchen, Osamu and another part-time worker scoop steaming rice out of large vats and use their hands to mould them into perfectly shaped triangles. A scoop of filling goes in and a strip of seaweed is wrapped hastily around the onigiri before it's sent to you to package. You place the onigiri carefully into a box and slip it into a paper bag with the shop’s logo on the front for a take-away order. 

The shop is filled with customers even on a Wednesday afternoon. The clock shows 2p.m., past lunch time, yet you can see a queue that snakes out of the shop and down the alleyway. 

Another long day ahead, you think to yourself. 

“It’s our turn!” a little girl squeals as she takes the bag from you, opening it up to peer at the huge onigiri inside. “Mama! ‘giri!” 

Her mother laughs and pats her head. “Don’t forget to say thank you, Haru.”

The girl turns to you, eyes sparkling. “‘Fank you, Miya-shan!” 

A cheery grin almost splits your face in half. Miya-san. Four years on and it still makes your stomach flip whenever you hear that Osamu’s last name has become yours. It was an easy decision for the both of you to get married, really. You had loved each other for years and all you wanted to do in the end was to spend the rest of your lives together.

You quit your office job just before you got married to help Osamu out with the new Onigiri Miya branches. It took some getting used to, but the familiar customers and bright smiles that you see just by serving onigiri each day makes it worth it. It’s tough work, no doubt. But doing what you enjoy with the man you love is more rewarding than it ever could be.

Though, it’s not like your relationship has always been smooth sailing. There are days when you bicker over something stupid (like how you always forget to close the lid of the rice cooker), or when Osamu insists that he isn’t overworking himself (although his eyebags tell otherwise). But love’s a recipe with a few secret ingredients, and you’ve come to master it over the years. 

“Come back soon!”

The shop is filled with the fragrant scent of freshly cooked rice and bonito flakes being stir-fried into furikake. Customers perch on tiny stools as they scarf down onigiri of different shapes and sizes, licking their fingers clean. A plush toy of Onigiri Miya’s mascot sits on the counter next to a potted plant that Atsumu bought (which is surprisingly still alive).

A photograph of the third Tokyo branch’s grand opening hangs on the wall. You and Osamu hold up a bouquet of flowers, smiling toothily at the camera, your wedding rings glinting in the sunlight. 

“One medium onigiri with tuna mayo, coming right up!”

You jump as Osamu shouts out the order suddenly and you nearly drop the onigiri that he hands to you.

“Woah, careful there,” he chuckles, a hand ghosting the small of your back.

“You have ‘ta stop scaring me, ‘Samu,” you huff and roll your eyes playfully.

Osamu grins at you and the edges of his eyes crinkle up. You place the onigiri safely into its packaging and place it on the counter for a customer to collect, before turning back to plant a kiss on his cheek. Osamu’s face flushes pink and he hurries away, mumbling something about bonito flakes.

Your heart soars in your chest.

Yeah, it has been, will be, worth it. 

7. Repeat the same steps as above to use the rest of the rice with other fillings that you prepared.

[drabblecat]

Yandere!Heisenberg x F!Reader Part 2

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: yandere behavior, slight nudity, drugging

Part 1

Slightly longer than i was aiming for but that's ok! My initial thought was more pwp but then I realized I kinda wanted some sort of plot... Anyways, big plans for next chapters! As always I'd love to hear what you think and the ask box is open!

You took a moment to try and calm your nerves. Heisenberg still had your face in his rough hands, and you couldn’t try to run with that chain holding you down. As his thumb ran across your lips anger built inside you. Mother Miranda was supposed to protect everyone in the village, but as soon as shit hit the fan there was no one that came to the rescue. You parted your lips as if starting to speak, his thumb now pressing down on your lower lip. Tilting your head forward ever so slightly, you bit down on the man’s thumb. He pulled back and sat up in shock that someone in your current position would do such a thing.

“Take care of me huh? Like Mother Miranda was supposed to? Yeah, well look how that worked out!” The hand still next to your head quickly gasped onto your neck, lifting you up to meet his eyes.

“That bitch was just using the village. It was a lie she used to make sure we had the right number of bodies to work with and everyone fell for it!” Tightening around your throat you started to gasp for air, hands pulling at Heisenberg’s grip. He let you go, house bouncing against the mattress. “It seems you need some more time to adjust. I’ll be back later and hopefully you’ll realize your place here.” The bed shifted as he stood up. Walking to the door and closing it behind him you heard a loud telltale click of a lock.

You stared up at the ceiling for a moment, not only to catch your breath, but also in attempt to process what exactly was happening. Tears formed in the corner of your eyes, one spilling over your cheek and rolled down to your chin. You let it fall for just a moment, and then gathered yourself. What was done was done. True you saw people that you knew dying in the streets, but you didn’t truly know them. You were just the new girl in town, if they were in your place, they would just be happy to be alive. Besides, Heisenberg was one of the town’s lords, right? It’s possible that this isn’t all that bad, you don’t know anything about him besides owning the old factory. At least he’s not Beneviento or Moreau. The dolls were creepy as hell, and you were never one for going near the waters that looked like they’d eat you if given the chance.

Using the sheet you wiped your eyes, and decided it was best to examine your surroundings further. Getting off the bed, the chain falling to the floor with it, you saw the cuff had a decent amount of length to it. Besides the bed and the heavy door, there were a few other things. There was the chair still at the end of the bed, a small nightstand, a vanity, and two other doors. Walking over to the vanity you were taken back. It had a framed photo of you that you do not remember taking. Especially since it was of you just out of the shower! Hesitantly you tipped it over, not wanting to even think of what that photo implied. Below the vanity were some drawers, opening them you found a hairbrush, and what only could be described as some of the raunchiest lingerie you’ve ever seen. Then came the two doors, one was significantly smaller than the other. Trying the small one first in the back left of the room, no luck. After turning the round door knob a few times you gave it a rest. Next was the larger door, this one opened right away. Nothing too interesting, just an ordinary bathroom. It was a little dirty, but nothing worse than what you’ve seen at certain gas stations.

Starting by opening all the possible cabinets you found they were all empty. Nothing to even try to use to get out. No cleaning chemicals or even medicine in the medicine cabinet. Heisenberg must have thought this through this for some time. The chain finally ran out of length at the toilet, just short of the bath. Seeing as nothing came from this, you returned to the bed to stare at the ceiling and think. Not like there was anything else to do. Who knows how long it took you to explore the room and think your thoughts. Without windows or any sort of clock there was no way to tell. Curling up to one side you snuggled into the blankets. Once again you heard the door click, causing you to bolt upright to face the noise. Heisenberg came through the door, carrying a metal tray holding a plate of food, a fork, a glass with what looked like water, and a small white vase with two wilted yellow flowers.

“Dinner time! Now I know I’m not the best cook, but you should find this to at least be appetizing. After all you must be starving darling.” He sat the tray on the bed and sat back in his chair. The plate was just as he said, didn’t look five stars, but your stomach growled at the mess of food. It looked like some baked beans, accompanied by some thick slices of grilled ham, and a chunk of corn bread. You still didn’t move, despite your hunger.

“Ok ok, you probably think I drugged the food, right? Well, I didn’t. Drugging you would be easier with a dart gun.” He lowered his glasses slightly to look you in the eye. With a sigh he grabbed the fork, picking up an entire slice of the ham, ripping a bite out of it. “See?” he placed the ham with the fork in it back down on the plate, speaking as he chewed. You couldn’t hold out much longer. If now was dinner time, that means you missed an entire day with nothing to eat. Planning any sort of escape or resistance to him couldn’t be done on an empty stomach. Reaching forward you used the fork the cut off a bite sized piece. It was surprisingly well seasoned, and super tender.

“There you go sweetheart! I knew it would just take some time to get used to, I’m not all that bad.” He chuckled and watched you as you ate. Only because he was watching you did you eat just a little faster than you had wanted to. Sure, he was a little off putting, but he seemed happy when you played along with whatever sick fantasy he had conjured up in his head. Once the meal was done, he set the flower on your nightstand and the tray right beside it. He stood up, taking his hat and coat off and throwing it on the chair.

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I had a full day today and I am beat. Time to get some shut eye.” He glanced over to the vanity; a small piece of cloth poked out from where you had rummaged around. “I see you had some fun today as well. Your still in that ragged gown, I think you might want to change into something a little more… fresh.” Shit, you thought you’d put everything back to where it was. You mentally curse yourself as he opened the drawers. He was right though; you were still in the stained nightgown from the attack. As much as a fresh outfit was a good idea, you dreaded what his choice might be.

After a few moments of rummaging, he pulled out a gown that looked like it went down to mid-thigh, in a deep crimson color. It would have been a nice gown, if it wasn’t for the fact that the entire section around the breasts were almost see through lace with slits on both sides that went from the bottom and halfway up.

“Absolutely not.” You blurted out, causing him to chuckle.

“Sweetheart I don’t think you have a choice in the matter. Besides you and I both know that if you stay in that grimy thing, it’ll make you more uncomfortable than wearing this. It’s soft to, pure silk.” He tossed it on the bed and gave you a wink. Giving a defeated huff, you picked it up. He was right, it was incredibly soft. Getting off the bed with the garment in hand you headed towards the bathroom.

“Aww, and I thought I was going to see you strip. Maybe some other time…” He looked at you with his shit-eating grin. Your face became flustered, and you slammed the door as fast as you could, not shutting all the way due to the chain. Once inside the bathroom you began to change, making sure he couldn’t see you through the crack in the door. It was only then that you found the slip came with a matching pair of panties. Sighing in defeat and honestly just tired of all the bullshit thrown at you these past days you just put them on. It did give you some comfort, surprisingly feeling clean in this lewd outfit over your much more covering, yet crawling with filth, night gown. Taking a look in the mirror you looked yourself over. At least your tits looked hot in this, a confidence boost is good, right?

Slowly opening the door further, you became almost timid at what you saw. Heisenberg had also begun to strip down to his boxers for the night. He was in the middle of removing his shirt. His muscular back was littered with all sorts of scars. His muscles flexed as he took of the white stained undershirt, the smallest beads of sweat wicked away by the fabric. His tight ass was also a sight to see. Looking over his shoulder, he locked eyes with you, no longer having glasses obscure the direct line of sight.

“Well well, seems we’ve both found ourselves some eye candy huh.” Tossing the last piece of clothing to the chair he approached the door. Opening it and taking your hand he looked down at you, you quickly looked away to avoid feeling more embarrassment. Suddenly he picked up bridal style, your hands immediately reaching for his chest in attempt to hold on. In doing so your hands felt the warm firm handful of his pecks. He chuckled as you quickly folded your hands back into your own chest. Ever so gently he set you back on the bed, a sharp contrast to what had happened earlier.

Settling down next to you, you turned away from him. As you felt the bed dip with his weight, he wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you close. You could feel a slight bulge resting against your ass. You tried to create some sort of distance, but you couldn’t move at all. Resigning to the situation, you tried to settle down, eyes unable to close despite some tiredness. All you could see in the limited range of movement you had was the nightstand, remnants of the meal, and the two flowers wilted but vibrant as they sat in the small vase.

[fatui-gf]

Yessss another sub Genshin impact blog🤩 , oof I just found your blog , and I just wanna say it’s AMAZING , could you do a cat boy xiao one , that would be adorable 🥰.

First of all, thank you so much for the request!! I love this prompt so much, we have to spread more catboy xiao propaganda ngl 😳 I didn’t know whether you wanted this one to be fluff or nsfw, so please specify next time. ❤️ I added the short nsfw under the cut, it’s nothing risque, very soft because I wasn’t sure what you wanted and didn’t want to go overboard 😳

Sub!Catboy!Xiao x Softdom!gn!reader

Word count: 1115 words

Nsfw includes: begging, oral (m receiving), fingering (m receiving)

The sound of the rain hitting the windows filled the room. It was quite late already, Xiao was watching the water droplets race on the window’s surface, quietly cheering for one of them until the sound of knocking snapped him from said trance.

It surprised him, to say that he didn’t feel lonely would be a lie.

He slowly opened the door only to see you standing there, water dripping from your clothes, a small shy smile on your face. He was stunned. You looked great even after escaping from the pouring rain.

You greeted him with a simple “Hi”, his ears twitched as he heard your voice. He loved it so much and oh, how much did he wish for it to greet him and put him to sleep everyday. He let you into his house and showed you where the bathroom was so you could clean yourself up.

“I don’t really have any other clothes…” he said sheepishly as he handed you some of his own clothes. The thought of you wearing them was pretty exciting for him, though he wouldn’t say it.

You thanked him and went to change. He loved you. So much. The adepti could feel his cheeks gleaming with red, he clearly wasn’t ready to also see you wearing his things. Xiao kept playing with his fingers in anticipation. Fuck, he was nervous.

You could see him jump a little as soon as you entered the room he was in. You sat comfortably next to him, closer than you normally would, trying to pretend that you can’t tell how flustered this boy really is. Xiao tried to hide his expression to no avail.

His eyes shot open wide as you placed a hand on his head, gently scratching his ears. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t help but purr, moving his head closer to you.

“D-don’t think anything of it..,” he stuttered with embarrassment. His ears were! So! Sensitive! He knew he couldn’t let you notice that because then the teasing would never stop but he just couldn’t stop himself from leaning even closer to you, his eyes half open, cheeks practically on fire. This view was so endearing, the grumpy adepti was melting at your touch. It was amazing what you could do to him.

Not to mention the sudden pleasure he felt as you grabbed his tail. The purring got louder, you could say that you’ve tamed the beast. He grabbed your wrist and moved your hand, adding even more friction. He was so needy and failed at every attempt of trying to hide it. His pride was out of the window.

You grabbed his chin while stroking his ear, tears collecting in the corners of his eyes from the stimulation. He was so adorable and so squishy.

“Play with me… some more” a shameful request has left his mouth. He tried to be subtle, saying such explicit things weren’t something he’d think he’d do. He hoped to gods you’d understand.

At this moment, you pulled him even closer to your face, staring into his yellow hues. They were glistening, so beautiful, yet so filled with lust and need. You placed a peck on his lips just to then deepen the kiss. Xiao felt so many things at once, it was hard to collect his thoughts, he just laid underneath you on the bed, his body hitting the softness of the sheets. He placed his arms on your back, tracing your spine with his delicate fingers.

When you pulled away, he was just there, overcome by the nauthy temptations, breathing heavily with his tongue peeking from his open mouth. The texture of his tongue was not what you'd initially expected but it made sense for a catboy to have a slightly scratchy tongue. Honestly, it made everything this much more interesting.

Your eyes gleamed as you placed them on the visible bulge in his pants and you placed your hand right on top of it, tracing its form with your finger. His ears twitched again as he let out a meowy moan. Truth be told, that was one of the cutest things you’ve heard in your whole life.

“Damn…” he swore under his breath “P-please touch me already… I can’t wait any longer” Xiao breathed heavily, reaching for your hand and politely placing it at the top of his pants, trying to get you to undress him.

“I want you to beg” you demanded with a soft but stern tone.

“P-please, I’m begging you, I could get on my knees right now… I-I’ll do everything you want me to but please… just touch me, I can be your slut, whatever you desire, just please touch me, I can’t wait any longer”

“Good boy” you said and placed a peck on his forehead and then went to getting rid of the clothes he didn’t need anymore. This boy really had no shame now. He kept looking at you with his eyes glowing with need, precum already dripping from his cute dick. When you grabbed it, he let out another moan combined with meows. You put it in your mouth, your hands covering the part of his shaft that your lips didn’t, stimulating him with both. His moans and meows got even louder, echoing in the room.

“Pull your legs up, kitten” you said, pulling away from what you were previously doing. He obeyed and placed both of his legs in the air, spreading them, his tail wagging around. You put your fingers in his wet hole, fingering him with the tips of your fingers hitting his prostate. He let out loud moans with each thrust, desperately putting his own thumb in his mouth and biting on it, trying to muffle the sounds.

At this point he couldn’t even see straight anymore, his vision got blurry with the tears of pleasure collected in his eyes. He was a mess, all thanks to you.

With a few final thrusts, he came all over his stomach, wrapping his tail around you, trying to pull you closer. He adored your presence, your closeness, he wanted to have you with him forever.

Xiao couldn’t catch his breath, he was panting and looking over to your side with such longing in his eyes. After that, you helped him clean up and tucked him to bed.

“Can you stay the night with me?” the adepti asked, hoping you’d say yes.

“Sure, if you let me in for a second round” you said with a wink, making the poor boy blush again. Please, spare him for this night. He just nodded and patted the space next to him on the bed as an invitation.

[losingherface]

I have the moon

Warnings: Quick ish Smut, 18+

Info : It’s Ellie and readers first night at their new house, that used to be Joel’s.

A/n: srry if it’s terrible, i’ve been busy and just not in the mood to write if i’m being honest but yeahhh also I would love to have requests that obviously fit within the story line because I’m getting a bit dry :))

•

The boxes were full and ready to go. It took about a month to pack up and completely move into Joel’s farmhouse.

It was strange seeing your apartment empty. You had lived here on your own for so many years before Ellie came along. The furniture had changed over the years, and pretty much everything did due to Ellie moving in, having dogs, they suddenly die, having cats, and they suddenly died as well. But this time, it was finally empty, it looked like it did when you had first bought it. It looked like you kept it the same all these years.

You handed the key to your landlord, Britt, she was always fun and kept you company before Ellie, when you were depressed about your job, or anything really. It was hard seeing you go and you felt the same of course. She held you in the tightest hug and it felt like a stab in your heart. But you wanted this, so you weren’t really worried about how you’d feel in a few days.

Ellie waited for you in the car. When you got inside, you immediately noticed the constant smile on her face, she would try hiding it but you could tell, and god that made you feel so good.

It was a long month. From the wedding, to Joel dying, and now this, moving five hours from the city into a rural town where you two would be basically separated from everything, it was a lot. Now you were ready to get to your new home and nap it all off.

•

Jesse, Dina, Tommy, and Maria had all helped move us in throughout the week, and make things comfortable for us. Dina couldn’t get over the countryside and Jesse was irritated by her constantly whining to move closer to us as their baby, JJ, spilled his juice everywhere and made a mess. You were ready for them to leave. Reaching over to pull JJ away, from potentially making another huge mess, Dina calls you to the kitchen.

You were close to losing your temper but instead just ignored it, maybe Ellie will do something.

“Yea?”

“I love these counters, I have a friend if you guys ever need a renovator.” Dina told you as she took out something from the oven, your attention immediately going there.

“Yea I know, What’s that in the oven?”

“My special banana bread, so you can think of me when we leave.”

It was literally all you wanted right now.

“Thanks Dina. I’m going to miss you. And that baby of yours.”

•

As for Ellie, she had been fine, for the most part. She hadn’t completely opened up about how she was feeling but you knew it was passing by. Passing by as in, she was accepting that she’ll never talk to Joel again, not that she’s getting over it and forgetting about him- she’ll never forget him, it was her dad. There was a glow that sat beautifully on her face and it was the same glow she had when you two got married, when you two would be in each other’s presence. It seemed that was her way of telling you but not telling you either that she was content and you loved it.

Your head peaked out of the kitchen once again to look at Ellie, JJ and Jesse in the living room. Ellie had been playing with JJ and you couldn’t help but lose your train of thought. It was so cute when she did that.

•

Dina, Jesse, and JJ were finally leaving. You were going to miss your best friend as she wasn’t just down the street anymore, she was five hours away. Her baby was getting older, and soon it was time she would have to start paying full attention to him so the chances of regular communication were getting lower.

You couldn’t help but feel a little heartbroken.

•

After everyone left, you devoured the banana bread with a large cup of milk, leaning over the counter, nitpicking everything in your head about this house.

You remembered Ellie had been setting up her art room, it was a nice size and way better than the balcony at the apartment. You cleaned yourself up and walked to the room.

The door was slightly open and the room had been quiet, only Ellie’s humming being heard.

You knocked on the door.

“Come in.” Ellie said softly and you walked in. Shutting the door behind you, trying to not disturb the peacefulness.

“It’s late, do you want to come to bed?” You asked as you watched her draw yet another portrait of Joel.

She yawned and put down her pencil. She didn’t answer your question and instead walked over to you and hugged your waist while kissing down your soft neck. She pulled away, “Let’s go.” She stretched her long arm out for you as she opened the door, leading you to your new bedroom.

The bedroom was large, with a walk in closet, a bathroom and a beautiful large window that wasn’t covered with curtains for the purpose of the countryside view.

The room was obviously empty only with a bed that had pastel yellow sheets Maria had bought. You sat down on the bed as Ellie followed. She sat and watched you take off your pants leaving you only in your underwear and a slightly large shirt, Ellie had done the same only her top half was completely bare.

•

It was the middle of the night in the new house, the first night you two had slept there. It had a creepy feel to it. It was quiet and dark, the only light coming from the large window you had been facing. From the window where you had been lying down, you got a nice view of the farm and the night sky, and also an occasional few cars that would pass by.

It was so hot that you had been fighting with the blankets all night, whether they should be on or off. Looking over at Ellie, she had seemed to be sleeping like a baby. You continue to look at the window while laying down, eyes wandering all over the place. The time was 2:00 a.m. It was going to be a long night.

Sweat begins forming on your back, causing you to pull your shirt off, now only in your undergarments.

“I’m going to go look for a fan. I think he had one in the attic.” Ellie just randomly blurs out causing you to look at her, startled.

“Please, baby it’s so hot.” You say as you lean over to the small chair beside the bed and grab the water bottle, desperately chugging it again. As you did that, Ellie leaves to look for a fan.

•

What had felt like forever, Ellie finally arrives with a fan. It was a decent size and was perfect. As Ellie plugs it in, you unclip your bra and let all of the cool air hit you before lying back in the bed, covering yourself with the blanket.

You hear Ellie rumbling into bed, a lot closer than before, wrapping her arm around your body, pulling you closer. It felt so nice to have her this close, as she really hadn’t been willing to for a few months. Also with the heat, you’d just hate being that close.

Ellie takes her warm and soft lips, and presses it on your neck. Kissing you up and down, you closed your eyes hoping she wasn’t just giving you a goodnights kiss but wanted more.

You pull your blanket down from your face to show her your exposed breasts, ready to be caressed and sucked on (lmfao idk how else to say it).

She looks at you with a slight smile before kissing your temple. “Please..” You whisper, grabbing her head with both of your hands, she knew exactly what you wanted. You adjusted your position, lying on your back, waiting for Ellie to slip under the sheet.

Ellie and you hadn’t been together like this in a while, considering everything she’s been through and the missed honeymoon. You can see it on Ellie’s face, she felt so good at this moment. Her face was lit up and the light coming from the night sky reflected on her face.

Ellie kissing down your neck, you move your hand over to caress her soft, slightly greasy hair. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, you whisper, “I love you.” She breaks the kiss, whispering the same back to you before continuing to kiss, getting lower with each one.

At this point, you both knew exactly where this was going, it was one of Ellie’s favorite ways to make you smile. You spread your legs a bit further, allowing Ellie to have some space. You desperately throw the blanket off of the both of you to be able to see her. Her strong hands hold down both of your legs, her eyes lock with yours as she begins licking you right where you wanted her to. Your eyes begin to look drowsy as Ellie begins to pick up the pace. As you moan loudly, you notice Ellie smiling at you making your sounds every once and a while. Seeing her do that made you want more, you loved seeing her that way. You throw your head back into the fluffy, white pillow, grabbing onto anything that was in your region as Ellie relentlessly pleased you with her wet, warm tongue.

you were a mess and by the time you were able to let it all out over Ellie’s sweaty face, you were covered in your own sweat, sitting up on elbows, looking at Ellie get up and move towards you.

Ellie grabbed the blanket nearby and covered you and herself up. You immediately wrap your body around hers, pressing light kisses to her face.

“I forgot how much I love doing that.” Ellie says as you slowly begin to open your eyes.

You propped your head up on your elbow, leaning into Ellie more, caressing your hard, short nails up and down her back. “It looked like you really needed that.”

“Yeah, I think us moving into this house, and getting to do that, makes me feel better.” Ellie struggled to say but it was genuine and you knew she’d be back on her feet again in about another week.

You didn’t know what to say, Ellie’s smile forming on her face effortlessly put you in awe and it left you there once again, staring at her because sometimes that’s all you could do. She appreciated it either way.

.

A/N: I suck at comforting ppl irl and it rlly shows in these stories, and this took me long cuz I can’t bring myself to write smut correctly so i was a little insecure but whatevererrr

[stusbunker]

Desperate Measures 4

Featuring: Alpha!Sam, Dean and John Winchester

Written for: @spnabobingo​

Square filled: Presenting

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~1600

Summary:   Sam grows up. John comes back.

Warnings: Talk of ruts and hints of masturbation and masturbatory aids, John Winchester’s A+ parenting, rushed writing to get it in for the bingo deadline, I change tense mid-confrontation.

SPN ABO BINGO Card

    For Sam, it started with an itch. And it escalated to a mild annoyance with everyone in his direct vicinity. When Madison sat next to him at lunch, he had to stop himself from leaning in and scenting her.

    Luckily the table hid his erection. Until he had to go to sixth hour, at least.

    He walked home, sweating and angry. 

    By the time Dean came home, Sam had taken a shower and started dinner, only to have forgotten it in the oven when the cramps started. Dean saved what he could of the chicken patties and french fries, opening every window in the apartment he could reach to clear the smoke. When he reached the bathroom, he smelled something more worrisome than burnt dinner.

    Rut.

    Sam was presenting alpha. And Dean would have to leave him to get through it alone.

    Two alphas do not make for a peaceful rut. 

    He knocked on the door. “Sammy!”

    His only reply was a pathetic groan.

    “Look, man, I think you’re going through your first rut. Your nuts making your stomach hurt?” Dean continued through the door.

    “Uh, yeah, I think so?” Sam called back. “Fuck, this hurts. How long is this supposed to last?”

    “Few days, might be a week. Look, I am gonna pack a bag, stay with somebody for a few days. But I’ll make sure you’re set up before I go. Alright?”

    “I don’t want to be alone,” Sam whined.

    Dean chuckled. “I know, man, but trust me, you do not want me here for what you’ll have to do. You need anything right now?”

    “Uh, no. I’m gonna take some Tylenol and try to pass out, once I can move.”

    “Okay, I’m going to run to the pharmacy. Don’t leave, okay? I don’t want you scaring anybody in the hallway or something.”

    “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

    “Okay, dinner’s overdone, if you’re hungry. See you in a few.”

    “Dean?”

    “Yeah?”

    “Thanks.”

    Dean’s head dropped and he smiled at the floor. “Anytime, man.”

    Dean grabbed his keys and rushed back to the car. The pharmacy was packed with afterwork traffic, but Dean grabbed some sports drinks and granola bars. Then he headed to the sexual health aisle, grabbing synthetic slick and a bottle of omega spritz. Sam would need as much comfort as he could get, doing this alone. 

    For a few minutes Dean thought about calling Anna for some help, but remember that Sam’s still technically a kid and that’d be pretty fucking creepy of him anyway. So he grabbed a pocket pussy, wipes and cleaning solution. 

    Man, this kid was going to get an alpha crash course from his brother who hadn’t used one of these things in years. But whatever works. He stopped in the card aisle and found a quick novelty card to top it all off.

    Dean’s heart sank when the clerk told him his total. So much for stopping for burgers on the way to Benny’s. He handed over the cash and pocketed his change.

    He got home and found Sam sitting on the couch, plate untouched and hands tight on his knees. Dean palmed his forehead, finding it hot and clammy.

    “You take anything?”

    “Just the Tylenol,” Sam muttered, head resting on the back of the couch.

    “Good. Drink this and I’m going to put the rest of this in the bedroom. I’ll change my sheets so you don’t smell me as bad. But, it’s gonna be a rough couple of days and you’re gonna need to lay down somewhere better than this shitty couch. Okay?”

    Sam winched and sat up, grabbing the bottle of yellow liquid.

    Dean got to work, packing and swapping bedding as he yelled to Sam through the open door. It was easier explaining things when he didn’t need to look Sam in the eye, for both of them.

    Once Dean’s duffle was full and Sam had polished off a handful of fries and half a sandwich, Dean left, telling Sam to call him at Benny’s if he needed anything. Sam nodded, discomfort and annoyance warring over his features.

    “Okay, buddy, sleep when you can. And don’t forget to drink water. Okay?”

    “I’m not a kid, Dean.”

    “No, you’re not. Not anymore. Welcome to the club, bitch.”

    Sam rolled his eyes and pushed Dean out the door. “Bye, jerk.”

    They got used to a new normal. Sam adjusted to being the latest Winchester alpha and Dean continued to work as much as he could to get by. Sam’s weekend hours at the roadhouse barely covered lunch money and laundry, but it helped. Sundays morphed into football parties at Gordon’s or Pamela’s in the fall and the brothers grew close with their new haphazard pack.

    One morning, just before Christmas, Dean found John, thin as a rail, passed out on the couch. He must have waited to show up until Sam left for school. He smelled like a barfloor. It took everything in Dean not to punch him in his sleep.

    Instead, Dean made a pot of coffee and flipped on the television. John continued to snore. Dean kept his father in his periphery as he pretended to watch some daytime game show. The anger and resentment eating at him worse than the cheap coffee could ever.

    John woke up after the soap operas started airing for the afternoon. What a way to spend a day off, Dean thought. Waiting to see if his dad would survive his latest bender.

    “Hey,” John’s deep voice, as always, demanded attention.

    Dean turned and looked at him, eyebrow raised.

    John returned his son’s unimpressed glare. “Things seem good. Place is clean.”

    It’s more small talk than a compliment. But part of Dean still wants his dad’s approval. 

    “Yeah, no thanks to you,” flew out before Dean could really pack in the punch to the words.

    John freezes. “What crawled up your ass? I’m just getting my hello’s out and you’re already pissy.”

    Dean’s off the recliner and leaning over John in the time it takes him to blink. “Oh, I don’t know, Dad. Maybe it could be that you showed up after leaving us alone, for six fucking months, without warning. Stinkin’ drunk, too.”

    John stands, pushing Dean onto his heels and shows his son who is still taller.

    “You want to say that to my face?”

    “I just did.” Dean sets his jaw, prepares for impact.

    They glare at each other. Dean knows they’ll both get hurt if anyone raises a hand. But what John doesn’t know is how huge Sam has gotten. 

    Unless, he’s been watching them.

    “Where’ve you been, Dad? Was it worth it?” Dean’s still angry, but he’s losing steam.

    John swallows and drops his gaze. “It doesn’t matter.”

    Dean deflates. “Sure, Dad, whatever you say.” He walks across the room and punches the wall.

    John rubs his eyes. “Knock it off! You want Jody coming up here?”

    Dean huffs and rolls his eyes. He’s pretty sure Jody’d help him bury his Dad’s body at this point. But better not make a scene anyway. He flexes his hand, the burning on his knuckles is a welcome pain. Satisfying.

    He wishes it was from John’s face.

    “Look, I am just passing through. Heading up to Wyoming for a lead on a job, should be a few months work,” John explains, exasperated.

    Dean is dumbfounded. “Why’d you even come?”

    “Because I wanted to let you know I wasn’t dead!” John

    Dean locks in on the fear in John’s eyes and he’s got him. “Hate to break it to you, Dad. But we don’t need you anymore, okay? So maybe, just call next time. Don’t show up and ruin my fucking day off because you wanted us to remember you’re alive.”

    “Dean!” It’s a warning.

    “No, I mean it. You are not part of our lives anymore. So, either you accept that and act like it. Or I kick you out. Because I’m the one paying rent here, Dad. Not you.”

    Dean’s back within arm’s length and both of them know it. Just as John opens his mouth to retaliate, the apartment door swings open.

    Time stops. Sam sees John and then he looks at Dean and his eyes flash with rage. He inhales, chest heaving.

    “What is he doing here?”

    “Sam?” John asks, dumbfounded.

    “He’s just leaving. Aren’t you?” Dean crosses his arms over his chest.

    “Just wait a minute! You presented? When?” John goes to Sam hand raised for a hug Sam does not reciprocate. Instead the hand falls awkwardly on Sam’s meaty shoulder. “Just look at you!”

    “Yeah, Dad. I’m an alpha, too.” Sam mutters, dropping his backpack on the counter and turning out of his father’s touch.

    Sam and Dean share a knowing look and they turn to face John, standing between him and the rest of the apartment.

    “I think it’s time you go, Dad,” Dean says, not letting John’s sudden sentimentality break his resolve. He’s had months to think about what he’d say if John ever showed up. None of those scripts matter. What matters is protecting what Sam and him have worked for. And keeping John out.

      Keeping him from hurting them anymore.

    “Just give me a minute. A lot has happened, huh? Guess you guys have had to look out for each other.”

    Sam tsks. “Always have.”

    “Right. What I’m saying is. I guess I’ll take that job in Wyoming. Maybe stop through after.”

    “Call first.” Dean says, not guaranteeing anything.

    “Okay.”

    Sam looks at Dean before stepping forward. “See ya, Dad.”

    He still doesn’t touch John, instead he reaches around him and holds the door open, waiting. Dean remains where he is, stoic and unwavering.

    John leaves with his tail between his legs.

Final Chapter