#i was trying to sleep earlier and could Not

[bunji-enthusiast]

𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬

Sypnosis [When you found yourself settling down in the confines of the supposed Safe Haven, your worry coursed over to the thought of Kissy Missy. Then, the pain became clearly evident after that small conversation.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, Doey The Doughman.]

Note || some little bits of reconciliation and actually getting some time to take care of yourself. Lmao, lettuce make-up with our allies mob games. Damn.

The air in the Safe Haven was thick with tension, but it was the kind of tension that felt oddly… comfortable. Here, in the safety of this last sanctuary, the chaos of the factory’s horrors seemed miles away. Yet, you couldn’t escape the constant burn of exhaustion that clung to you, an aching reminder of the days that had stretched into weeks, the endless running, the ever-present sense of danger.

You winced as you sank into a worn chair, feeling the sharp pain in your hands—the reminder of the struggle, of how the factory had tried to break you down. The stabbing sensation still lingered, especially in your hands, where the cuts and bruises from your last fight had yet to fully heal. It wasn’t just the physical wounds that hurt; it was the mental ones too, the nightmares that had been following you since the factory’s horrors first caught up with you. But there was no time to rest—no time to truly heal—because there was still so much you hadn’t understood.

And that’s why, despite the physical toll, you found yourself making your way toward Kissy Missy.

She had been one of the many strange figures you’d encountered in the factory, her appearance eerily similar to Huggy Wuggy but… different. More fragile, perhaps. But you knew there was something deeper about her, something buried beneath that pink exterior, something that reminded you of the other experiments—each one with their own strange, tortured past.

You paused for a moment, standing at the entrance to the small corner of the Safe Haven where Kissy Missy resided. Despite the pain, despite the urge to just collapse and let sleep take you, you pushed forward. You’d never let yourself be the one to turn away from someone in need, and Kissy Missy had been in need ever since you met her. Sure, she had been a little… off after the massacre, but you knew what it was like to live in this place, to feel like a broken part of a machine you couldn’t escape.

When you finally saw her, she was sitting near the far wall, her left arm hanging loosely in a makeshift sling, the remnants of her earlier battle with the mystery attacker still visible in the gaping burns and slashes that marred the right side of her face and body. The pink fur that usually looked so vibrant was now matted and stained with dried blood, and her eyes—those long, heavy lashes framing her round, almost innocent eyes—were hollow with something… sadness. She didn’t look at you at first, too absorbed in whatever thoughts were racing through her head.

“Kissy?” you said softly, unsure of how to approach her.

Her head turned slowly, her gaze meeting yours for a fleeting moment before flicking downward, avoiding eye contact.

You gave a slight wince as you took a step closer. “I, uh… I wanted to check on you.”

The silence between you two stretched, heavy and uncomfortable. It had been like this ever since the factory turned into a playground of madness, with no answers to any of the questions that haunted both of you. Despite her usual silence, despite the distance she often kept, you knew she appreciated your presence. She always had.

You let out a breath and moved to sit down across from her, trying not to jolt in pain as you lowered yourself into the chair. “You’ve been through a lot. I get it. We all have.”

Kissy Missy didn’t respond. Her lips barely twitched, but you could tell she was listening. Maybe she was too tired to speak, or maybe she was too worried about the Prototype's plans to say anything at all. But you didn’t mind the silence. Sometimes it was easier to exist with someone who understood the weight of it all, the weight that words couldn’t even begin to explain.

"I don't know if this helps," you continued quietly, "but I want you to know that you're not alone here. We’re in this together. Whatever happens next."

Her eyes flicked up to meet yours then, but only for a moment. It was like she was trying to read you, trying to understand what you meant. Slowly, she nodded, almost imperceptibly.

And that was enough. For now, it was enough. You didn’t need her to talk, to give you answers. What you needed—what you both needed—was to share this space, this fragile moment of peace, where there were no tasks, no monsters, no running for your life. Just a quiet connection between two lost souls in the middle of a nightmare.

Despite everything, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny flicker of hope.

Maybe, just maybe, the Safe Haven could give you both a chance to heal.

It wasn’t much. But it was something.

As you sat there, you allowed yourself to close your eyes for a brief moment, just long enough to let the exhaustion settle in. You'll face whatever comes next. But for now, in this small, quiet space, you allowed yourself to rest. Kissy Missy, for once, didn’t seem so far away.

Though, after that small but hopeful interaction. An hour and half later, interception crossed your mind.

A brilliant cross by the sign of the infirmary, maybe not, with the way you’ve been seeing things. Between reality and illusion, you’ve tried not to think about that part too much.

The dim, flickering light of the Safe Haven's small infirmary provided little comfort, though it was still far better than the oppressive, clanging noises and hazardous atmosphere of the factory that lingered in the air. The exhaustion had settled into your bones, an aching weariness that seemed to make every muscle protest with the smallest movement. After hours of tense, grueling hours spent navigating through the factory, and the constant threat of being torn apart by both monsters and the harsh environment, you found yourself collapsing in the hallway of the Safe Haven, feeling the weight of your past decisions crash over you.

However you were glad you managed to talk to Kissy before your body—moreover you—went almost numb.

You winced, looking down at your hands. They were raw, battered, and covered in bruises from the constant handling of machinery, gripping metal bars, and escaping the clutches of various monsters. You tried to brush it off, but now, in the quiet confines of safety, the pain and damage were hard to ignore. The skin on your knuckles was torn, deep red streaks of blood seeping through the open wounds as the exertion of constant pressure finally caught up with you.

Doey, always perceptive despite his playful demeanor, had noticed the way you were favoring your hands and the way you winced as you flexed your fingers. He hopped over to your side, his multi-colored doughy body shifting with each movement, his orange arm extending to gently tap your wrist in concern.

"Hey, hey," he said, his voice a soft mix of concern and curiosity. "What happened to your hands? They look pretty bruised and, uh, kinda gnarly."

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. It wasn’t the kind of thing you liked to talk about. Not to someone like Doey, who was always so carefree, so light-hearted, always ready with a smile and a joke. The last thing you wanted was to burden him with the dark memories that haunted your hands.

"I... it’s nothing. Just the usual," you muttered, trying to hide the shame beneath a gruff voice, even as the truth flickered beneath it.

Doey raised an eyebrow, his blue face tilting slightly as if reading your tone, and then, with a playful tilt of his head, he leaned in closer. "Uh-uh. I don’t think 'nothing's gonna cut it this time. You’ve been through a lot, haven’t you?"

You sighed, rubbing a hand across your face, fingers brushing against the rough skin of your knuckles. "Yeah," you admitted, your voice quieter now, barely above a whisper. "It’s… it’s from working in the factory. A lot of heavy lifting, tight spaces, and, well... things went wrong. Lots of things went wrong."

Doey's eyes softened with understanding, but there was no pity in them—only concern. His orange arm gently rested on your shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. "Sounds like you’ve been pushing yourself harder than you should have. You’re safe here, y’know? You don’t have to keep that stuff to yourself."

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Safe Haven. It was a phrase you’d come to rely on, even if the dark memories of the factory still lingered like shadows at the edge of your mind. You looked over at Doey, forcing a small smile. "I guess I just… I just want to patch these up. Don't want to end up infecting them or something worse."

Doey thought for a moment, his expression furrowing slightly as if he was deep in thought. Then, in a sudden burst of energy, his orange and yellow arms shot out, his long limbs stretching and twisting as he moved around, digging through the nearby crates.

"Thread, yarn, string, fabric… Aha! Got it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a coil of old, faded string from a box in the corner. His hands moved with surprising speed as he held it up in front of you, a proud look on his face. "This should work, right? I’m not exactly a surgeon, but I can at least try to help with this!"

Your mind caught onto the first bit. Thread? It isn’t ideal but that’ll work too.

You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, despite the situation. "You’re a lifesaver, Doey."

He grinned wide, that playful energy never faltering. "Hey, it’s what I do best—saving lives, keeping things light, and making sure nobody's left behind, yeah?" His face shifted for just a moment, a flicker of something deeper passing through his eyes, but just as quickly as it appeared, the mask of his usual cheer returned.

Taking the string carefully from his hands, you positioned your hands before him. "Alright, let’s see what you’ve got," you said, trying to keep the moment light-hearted, but the weight of the past few hours hung heavily in the air.

Doey’s fingers worked with surprising delicacy, his doughy hands moving deftly as he wrapped the string around your injured knuckles, tying the wounds up as best as he could. His movements were slow, thoughtful, and you could tell he was taking extra care. There was a soft hum to his actions, a peaceful rhythm that somehow matched the calmness of the Safe Haven around you.

"Hang in there," Doey said, his voice steady, despite the playful nature of his words. "You’ve been through a lot, but you’re not alone here. Not anymore. We’ll get you patched up. You’ve got a place with us. Always."

For a moment, all the tension in your body seemed to ease, as if the weight of the world was momentarily lifted. It wasn’t much—just a bit of string and a comforting presence—but in that moment, it was enough. You didn’t have to carry everything alone. Not anymore.

As Doey finished tying the last knot, he stepped back and gave a satisfied nod. "There. Good as new! Well, maybe not new, but you get the idea."

You flexed your hands carefully, the makeshift bandages holding tight. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do for now. The pain was still there, but it felt like a distant thing, something that could be ignored for the moment.

"Thanks, Doey," you rasped, your voice quieter, but filled with gratitude.

Doey beamed, his face glowing with pride. "Anytime, buddy. Anytime. Now, let’s get some rest, yeah? we’ve got more adventures to go on."

And as you leaned back against the wall, the weight of all the hours that passed finally slipping from your shoulders, you allowed yourself another rare moment of peace. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to hold onto. Safe Haven. You could stay here for a while, maybe even find a sense of home.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe it.

[littelovelunette]

NSFW ft. Sevika

CW: Sevika G!P, nsfw content ahead, BDSM, CNC

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Big spoon all in nude; Sevika likes her cock pressing against your butt as you both sleep, especially because if you're the one who wakes earlier, you can feel her morning wood hard against your cheeks. If she wakes up first... Get ready for a morning pounding.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Precums A LOT; you get her hard and you see her oozing her precum and it's always so hot to you. It's like her drooling, but with her cock. If you ever tease her with it, she will deny it though.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Sensitive tip and underside; Sevika will squirm when you suck her off and tease her tip a little too much. Her hips will raise off the bed, she'll try to hold back her moans though as she tangles her fingers in your hair and tries to make you suck all of her instead of just teasing her. Babygirl gets miserable :((

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Gets a boner at the worst possible time; You're both baking together? Gets hard. Maybe she just wants your buns? You both outside on a date? Gets hard. Playing poker with you on her lap? She'll get hard.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Didn't stop complaining after Vi kicked her in the nuts during their brawl; Sevika is still mad about the fact that Vi had kicked her in the balls during their fight. She won't let it pass, and you sometimes tease her saying Vi was thinking about Sevika's cock.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Won't have you sleep with it inside; Sevika is stern about it and you know no matter how many times you'll ask her to elaborate, she won't give you a proper reason whatsoever. Her point stands and she ABSOLUTELY won't allow you to sleep with her cock inside.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Prefers feeling you raw but is always stern with protection even when drunk; No matter how drunk or high she'll get, she won't forget to use protection. As of now, she can't imagine little hers or little yous running around, yet.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Barely needs lube because you're so wet for her, will tease you about it; do I need to explain?

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ When she spanks you, she'll get hard and you can feel it under her; she spanks you often. When you tease her during her poker games or don't wear panties under your skirt deliberately, she will bend you over and spank you. She prefers to do it with her hand too and most of the times when she's done that, you could feel how hard she was getting. She has a thing for impact play.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Will put it in whenever you're naked and bent even at the most ungodly times just for the hell of it; whenever you both finish having sex and you go and bend to pick your clothes up, you can expect a 2nd round of pounding. She claims you willingly tease her by doing it. But we all know our Sevika is just horny ;)

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Doesn't like jerking it if you're not there with her; Sevika says she doesn't like jerking it or fapping if you're not around or with her indulging. Because it feels wrong to be doing that although she would do that if she got way too horny without you around to help but she prefers not to jerk it. Likes having you do that though.

[semisasseater]

BUT I SEE HER IN THE BACK OF MY MIND ALL THE TIME ─ se-mi

⤷ Like a fever, like I’m burning alive, like a sign

│pairing : gf!se-mi x dead fem!reader │ genre : angst, tragedy, psychological horror │tw : graphic violence, murder, blood, self-harm, suicide, hallucinations, grief, trauma do NOT read if you don’t like this│summary : after losing you in the brutal chaos of the night, Se-mi is consumed by grief, guilt, and an unrelenting thirst for revenge. She knows exactly who killed you—Nam Gyu—and she won’t let him get away with it. │wc : 1k │authors note : uh i don’t have anything to really say expect i love my gf and again don’t read if your sensitive to these topics ;-; not proofread. part 1

if you enjoyed likes or reblogs would be amazing! feedback is appreciated also requests are open!!

The floor was cold beneath her. She had been sitting here for hours, unmoving, staring at the dark stain on the ground—the only thing left of you.

They had taken your body away, sealed you in one of those black and pink coffins, stuffed you into a furnace like you were nothing. Like you never mattered.

But you did.

You were everything.

Se-mi dug her nails into her palms, jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack. She could still hear your voice. That final, broken whisper.

“Get out of here… for me… okay?”

But how could she?

How could she leave when the last place you existed was right here?

Her mind was fraying at the edges, unraveling thread by thread, a gnawing, maddening rage eating away at her insides. And beneath it all, a thought burned like fire—

“This is my fault.”

If she hadn’t left. If she had just stayed. Maybe she could’ve taken the hit instead. Maybe she could have stopped it from happening.

But she didn’t.

And now you were gone.

Se-mi exhaled a shaky breath, dragging her fingers through her tangled hair. Her eyes were hollow, ringed with exhaustion and something feral.

She knew who did it.

Nam Gyu.

That smug bastard had always had it out for both of you, spitting insults, pushing buttons, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. And he had taken his chance the second the lights went out, leaving your body crumpled and bleeding on the floor.

He left you there to die because he killed you.

Se-mi’s fingers twitched.

She wasn’t stupid. She knew nothing would bring you back.

But she could make sure he never walked away from this either.

The announcement rang through the room.

“Player 381 eliminated.”

Y/n was dead. Another body burned. Another pile of money added to the piggy bank.

Everyone moved on.

Se-mi didn’t.

She watched her die. Watched the number disappear.

And then she knew.

Tonight, it was over for Nam gyu.

The others had gone to sleep, exhaustion keeping them in their beds despite the horrors of the last few days. But Se-mi was wide awake.

She stood over his bed, her gaze sharp and empty, her fingers curling around the metal fork she had swiped earlier. Her breathing was slow, steady.

This was it.

She moved with eerie silence, lowering herself onto his bed, hovering above him.

Then—

BOOM.

The pillow pressed over his face before he could even make a sound. His body jerked beneath her, limbs flailing, trying to shove her off. But she was ready.

The first stab went into his stomach.

The second into his chest.

The third—his hand.

Every wound a reflection of what he did to you.

She didn’t stop.

Didn’t stop when his blood splattered across her face.

Didn’t stop when his body convulsed beneath her.

Didn’t stop when his muffled screams turned into choked gasps, then silence.

Even when she knew he was gone, she kept going, blade plunging into him again, again, again.

Until there was nothing left.

Nothing but a corpse.

Nothing but the suffocating, crushing weight in her chest.

Blood dripped from her hands, soaked into her clothes.

She should’ve felt something.

Relief. Satisfaction.

But all she felt was empty.

Her hands trembled as she backed away from the bed, heart hammering, breath ragged.

And then—

“Do it Se-mi.”

She froze.

That voice.

Her head snapped up, eyes darting across the room.

And there you were.

Standing in the shadows, your silhouette cast against the wall.

“Do it. Kill yourself.”

Se-mi’s breath hitched. Her vision blurred, her chest tightening.

“We can finally be together if you do it. You can’t live without me can you?”

Tears welled in her eyes.

No.

No, she couldn’t.

You were everything.

She took a step forward, reaching out taking your hand, taking her to where you died.

“Pick it up Se-mi.”

Her gaze fell to the ground.

The glass shard.

The same one Nam Gyu had driven into your body.

Her fingers curled around it, lifting it, the weight of it familiar, cold.

Her whole body shook as she brought it to her chest, right above her heart.

Her breathing steadied.

She closed her eyes.

“We can finally be together Y/N.”

And then—

…

The glass plunged into her heart.

A sharp, piercing pain spread through her chest, but she barely registered it. Her body swayed, blood dripping from her lips.

She smiled.

She could almost see you now.

Waiting for her.

The room spun.

Her knees buckled.

She collapsed onto the cold, bloodstained floor.

Her vision dimmed.

And then—

Darkness.

The morning announcement rang loud and clear.

“Player 380 and Played 124 has been eliminated.”

The guards moved efficiently, lifting her lifeless body and placing it into a pink coffin.

Another two numbers gone.

Another pile of money added.

And the games continued.

As if nothing ever happened.

As if you, Se-mi, and Nam gyu never existed at all.

@semisasseater

[deadhands69]

Hitching a Ride there's only one bed?

Tomura Shigaraki x Reader  Dabi/Touya Todoroki x Reader [separately]

Choose your own adventure with Shig//Dabi routes. Lightly suggestive, but no smut.

previous - this is part 3 - next (coming soon) [series masterlist]

As you walk through the parking lot to the door of the motel, you realize you’re about to spend the night alone with a man who you met jumping into a stolen van less than 48 hours ago. On its face, this should be a red flag but, thus far, it hasn’t felt like it. If anything, he looks more nervous about being in a room alone with you than you are. 

You slide the keycard four times before the light flashes green and beeps. Shoving open the door, you flick on the lights and -

“There’s only one bed?”

Tomura Shigaraki ᝰ⛐ 

“At least I only have to share with you,” Shigaraki shrugs, “the last hotel stop there were three of us in each bed and Twice kicks in his sleep.”

You laugh, feeling a bit less nervous about the situation. Your laughter also hides the grumbling you feel in your stomach. You wish there was room service, or even a restaurant close. The lackluster dinner you had did nothing to stave off your hunger. As if he could read your mind, Shigaraki walks to the door.

“I think I saw a vending machine earlier, I was about to head over there. Want me to get you anything?” he asks.

“I’ll go with you!” you exclaim, a little more excited than you intended to sound. “I need to move my legs a bit after sitting all day anyways.”

The two of you wander back into the dimly lit parking lot and around the building. Snack and drink vending machines glow side by side like an oasis in the desert. 

“Watch,” he says, hitting the machine with his hip at just the right angle to make a drink fall out. He repeats it again, and another drops. You try the same on the snack one to no avail. Everything seems to be tucked solidly between the metal coils. Without thinking, you pull a semi-large bill from your pocket and shove it in the machine.

“Pick whatever you want,” you say to him, stepping aside. 

“You don’t have to pay for everything,” he mumbles, hitting C6 to send a bag of chips plummeting to the bottom. 

“Yeah, but I want to. You’re the only reason I’m not-” in prison right now, you think. “I definitely owe you. For the ride.”

“It’s fine,” he mutters as the two of you alternate picking more snacks until you each have an armful.

After dropping some gummy candies while you try to get the keycard to work, you’re back in your room dumping your haul on the motel comforter. 

He gives you the first turn for the shower. Dragging your bag in there, you open it to find not much that will be helpful in this situation. You try to clean up the best you can, but at the end of it all, you’re still putting your dirty clothes back on. After looking in the mirror for the first time in months, you decide this is the best it’s going to be and walk back out.

“You’re carrying around a giant bag of money, but no clothes?” Shigaraki asks.

“Wait, how do you know-”

“We picked you up by a bank robbery and you’ve been paying for everything, I put two and two together.” He doesn’t seem phased by this, barely bothering to look away from the motel info sheet he’s reading his way through. “You can’t sleep in that. If you want, you can borrow one of my shirts.”

You nod, thank him. He throws you a shirt from his backpack before heading to take a shower. With the time he’s in there, you fiddle with the remote. Trying to find something worth watching but it’s three cable tv channels and static.

Not ten minutes later, he comes back out in a t-shirt and underwear. You try to keep your eyes glued to the tv, but fail miserably. He’s very attractive, you decide. Every bit of fabric hugging in exactly the right places. Through the corner of your eye, you catch a slew of scars over his legs. Some are scratches, others look like bullet wounds. No wonder he didn’t bat an eye at sharing the room with a bank robber.

“What,” he muses, climbing under the covers by your side. ��Still going to sleep in pants?”

Admittedly, you wanted to be comfortable but weren’t sure if you’d make him feel weird by sleeping in your underwear. But if he is… You slide your pants off under the covers, feeling relieved already.

“I’m not a perv,” he asserts, while flipping through the channels and finding nothing you didn’t already skip. “I won’t touch you or anything.”

Before you can stop yourself you find your mouth mumbling, “but what if I want you to.”

He laughs and before turning off the light you notice his face has darkened a few shades of pink.

Ten minutes later he asks, “wait, were you serious?”

After that, you end up talking for half the night while watching infomercials. While you couldn't quite place when it happened, by the time you're falling asleep both of your legs are tangled up together under the covers.

[scroll to continue the story] 

Dabi/Touya Todoroki ᝰ⛐

“It’s fine,” Dabi mumbles, “still more space than sleeping in that van.”

“Yeah,” you remember how you woke up with his arm around you this morning and hope that’s his default sleeping position.

“We’ve been crammed in that thing all day though, I’ll give you space.”

You think to yourself how unnecessary that is, but appreciate the gesture. Unpacking what you do have, you bring your toiletries into the bathroom to brush your teeth. When you come back out, Dabi's wandered off somewhere already.

Not up for much but still not tired enough to go to bed yet, you look at the hotel info sheet to see what’s around here. There is a pool and hot tub on the other side of the building, with seemingly no hours. You strip down to your underwear, everything covers as much as a swimsuit would which is close enough for you. Grabbing a towel and your keycard, you head out the door.

Arriving at the pool, you see you’re not the only one there. Dabi is already sitting in the hot tub, staring up at the stars. 

The area is dimly lit, a humming light above casting a warm tint over everything, but at least the water looks well-maintained. You unhook the metal gate fencing the area in, drop your towel on a broken plastic lounge chair, and climb in. The bubbles tickle your legs as you sink into a spot across from him. He flashes you a smile in acknowledgement but stays quiet.

Looking up at the clear night sky, it really is beautiful. You get lost in it until the jets slow to a stop.

“I’ve got it,” he says, already half out of the water by the time you look up.

He’s in his underwear as well, the wet cotton clinging to his body as he walks to the control panel. You try not to notice the way the thin fabric gives you a view of everything. Water drips down his back, over the scars which you now know cover most of his body. The bubbles resume and you promptly look up, pretending to have been staring at the sky the whole time. 

When he gets back, he mentions how nice of a night it is and how beautiful it’s been getting out of the city. Small talk turns to more, and before you know it at least an hour has passed, your skin is pruney, and you’re laughing hysterically. Shigaraki Someone yells out of one of the windows at you to be quiet. Glancing at each other, you laugh even harder while grabbing your towels and heading back inside.

You let him take the first shower, knowing it’ll take you a while to scrub the chlorine off your skin. When he comes back out, he’s wearing nothing but his underwear again. Knowing he’ll be sleeping next to you in that hits differently than sitting with him in a hot tub.

“What,” he taunts, walking past you to climb into bed, “nothing you haven’t already seen.”

You hoped he hadn’t noticed you checking him out earlier, but based on the look on his face he doesn’t seem to mind. He makes himself comfortable while you take your turn washing off.

One issue.

The small hair dryer attached to the wall does a slow job of drying your underwear, leaving small damp patches all over the fabric. At some point, you decide it’s good enough and pull them back on along with the shirt you’ve been wearing all week. 

Dabi laughs, “I take it there aren’t clothes in the bag.”

“That is correct,” you walk past him, shoving the massive sack under your side of the bed. “But something tells me you already knew that.”

“I had a suspicion,” he smiles and the world melts around you. “Grab one of my shirts to sleep in, you don’t have to dress like a bank robber 24/7.”

Your jaw drops at the bluntness, but he’s not wrong. You go back into the bathroom, changing into the shirt he let you borrow. When you come back out, the lights are off and he appears to be drifting off to sleep. You climb in next to him.

His arms wrap around you and this time you think it’s on purpose.

⛙ Continued ⛙

According to the alarm clock by the bed, 9:14. Checkout is at 10.

Begrudgingly, you extricate your entwined limbs from his to let him get a few more minutes of sleep. He looks so peaceful and you’d hate to interrupt it. You throw your pants on to see what a free continental breakfast looks like in a place that doesn’t even have wifi. 

Making your way through the parking lot, you think back on the conversations you had last night. Life wasn’t necessarily easy prior to this, there’s a reason you’re on the run with nothing but a stolen bag of money and the clothes on your back. He could have pried more when you declined to talk about it, but he didn’t and you’re grateful for that. Honestly, being on the run with the group has been an amazing break from life, feeling more like a vacation than anything else. 

That’s partially why you offered to share some of the money (that and the fact that you involuntarily made them all accomplices when they picked you up so you felt like you at least owe them some portion of it.) When you brought it up last night, you could tell he wanted to say no but knows that everyone needs it.

The breakfast is exactly what you expected, but at least it’s a meal. You throw a few pale orange slices on a plate with a pastry and whatever else looks edible. Sitting next to Compress and Magne, you begin eating as everyone else slowly trickles in. There’s an occasional knowing glance at you wearing his shirt, but no one says anything until Toga shows up.

“Ooooooooohh,” she starts before Magne kicks her leg under the table.

After everyone eats their fill (and fills their pockets,) you quickly pack up, and you’re all back on the road again.

series masterlist - bnha masterlist

taglist: @kitkat13001 @bitchyfestivalbouquet @shigarakislaughter @idkidk32

[arabella0001]

afternoon training with husband kakashi

cn: fluff, husband, kids, suggestive

You were in the garden of your home, surrounded by the flowers Kakashi had let you choose after moving out of his house—not long before the wedding, or the baby you two had together.

After putting her down for her afternoon sleep, at least, hoping she’d sleep—you tiptoed out, grabbed your bag of training supplies, and stepped outside.

A year of staying home, taking care of your baby, had changed your body. You’d gained weight, of course, and while you knew it was normal, insecurity had started creeping in. You needed to get back on track, at least for your health.

After your first set, exhaustion hit quickly—your body wasn’t used to this anymore. You didn’t notice Kakashi watching from a distance, likely having finished his Hokage duties earlier than you expected.

He worked hard for the three of you, always trying not to leave you alone for too long. That thought alone made your heart melt.

You were so focused that you didn’t hear him approach until he grabbed you from behind, arms securely wrapped around your waist, his lips brushing against your neck as he whispered—

"Oh? My wife’s sneaking out to train without me? I feel betrayed?"

You yelped, instinctively leaning into his embrace, his warmth settling over you.

"Kakashi—you scared me! You’re home already?"

"Mmmhm," he hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. "Need a partner? I could use some training."

You smiled. "Yeah, but you’d beat me in no time. I’m not as good as before."

He waved a hand dismissively and shifted into a sparring stance. "Don’t insult my wife like that."

Chuckling, you threw the first strike. Of course, he dodged it effortlessly. You managed to keep your composure—maybe because you didn’t want him to see how weak you’d become. But everything had an end. Kakashi swept your legs from under you, sending you falling—only for him to catch you. Except, in your attempt to regain balance, you pulled him down with you, and he yelped, eyes widening.

"Catching me off guard, huh?" he murmured, raising an eyebrow, now hovering over you.

"Oh, please. You already won," you pouted playfully, though deep down, frustration lingered. But with his body pressed against yours, warmth spread across your cheeks.

He closed the distance, kissing you through his mask—knowing exactly how much you loved that. It was meant to be innocent. Or so you thought. But Kakashi was a calculated man. He had already taken in the sight of your curves, the way your swollen breasts were perfectly framed in your training clothes.

‘If I knew you’d be wearing that to train, I would’ve left the office sooner.’ he murmur into your mouth.

The kiss deepened, pulling a soft moan from you. His mask was gone in an instant, lips crashing against yours with a low groan. His grin widened at the sight of your flustered expression before he suddenly lifted you off the ground. Instinctively, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands settling firmly on your ass.

"Tell me," he said, eyes lustful yet gentle.

"What?" Your thoughts were already foggy, overwhelmed by how effortlessly he unraveled you.

"Don’t play dumb. I know something’s on your mind, darling." His gaze softened, shifting between your eyes and lips.

You hesitated before finally admitting, "It’s just… my body isn’t the same. I feel different. Weaker. I know it’s normal, but still..." You trailed off, avoiding his eyes.

"Y/N, look at me."

You did, and he was already searching for you, like he always did.

"You are the strongest person I know," he said firmly. "Your body has done extraordinary things, That’s way more impressive than any fight." He pulled you closer, his hold grounding you. "You were beautiful before, and you’re just as beautiful now." He paused for a beat, voice dropping. "and if you're worried about your body, don't be. I think about it all the time. In a very respectful, totally appropriate way, of course."

His breath ghosted over your ear, making yours hitch, heat pooling between your legs.

"But—" you try to reason, but he shoots you a playful glance.

"You’re still you. And that’s all I’ll ever need." he says, making you let a small gasp, emotions bubbling in your chest.

"I love you," you whispered, sincerity shining in your gaze. "For always being here for me."

"I know," he smirked. "Sometimes more than I deserve."

You nudged him. "Stop that."

He cut you off with a soft, "I love you too." Then, in a way that drove you absolutely insane, he kissed the tip of your nose.

"So… do you still want to train?" His grin was impossible to miss, barely concealing his true intentions. "Our baby’s asleep, right?"

"Yes…" You bit your lip. "I guess I can spare some time. I mean, it’s stress relief from work, right?" You teased.

He chuckled, voice low. "More than that."

And with that, he carried you inside, both of you exchanging looks filled with nothing but love and desire—each wondering how you got so damn lucky.

[vershautece]

thank u for this! i literally have no idea what his back is like now because ofc we know he got the surgery but some people were saying it was a botched surgery so i didnt know what to think

Re surgery and spondylolithesis :

He according to himself, has had it his whole life so it may be genetic or a birth defect, he always had trouble standing and/or sitting for too long, but the extent of its impact on his everyday life seemed less serious as compared to after the surfing incident which seems to have exacerbated the issue very much.

He had his surgery which btw is a major surgery, the time he went MIA his recovery period wasn't even over. It seemed to have had made him pain free for a while ( he himself wasn't expecting it to be pain free his whole life - he mentioned he was looking forward to not dealing with injections and another surgery for a few years ) but it seems like the pain and back earlier than expected because the people who were with him at different points in his solo trip said he was complaining about his back here and there, he had to sit out of a hike because he was feeling unwell and at times he struggled getting out of a seat he was sitting in and that long drives were hard.

One of his friends who gave the SF police department a statement about the missing persons case mentioned Luigi declining coming to his wedding because he needed some time alone because "life has gotten really tough, no one understands him" and that his back issues were causing him too much agony mentally and physically.

People were saying it's botched because the doctors just stabilized the bones and didn't correct the misaligned, maybe it was botched but it could have been this way because there were complications and they had to leave it that way or risk nerve damage or destabilizing the whole spine.

But yeah even if we wishfully think he was completely pain free post surgery, the conditions at prison would cause the surgery to reverse it's positives because even after a successful spinal fusion you need to take 1938299 precautions, especially while sleeping, the conditions at MDC cause people with healthy back to develop back conditions.

:(( yeah it’s unrealistic for us to assume he became perfectly fine after the surgery but this is so sad i hope he’s ok

his reddit even when he was going through the pain pre surgery was so optimistic and he was always trying to reassure ppl that it’ll get better like when he listed all the athletes who’d recovered :’(

[anakinstwinklebunny]

Soo i was just thinking, maybe more zombie apocalypse Ani? It's just been on my mind lately

Doesn't have to be smut if you don't want, i know i'll like anything you'll write <3

-🦢

The fire crackled softly in the background, casting shadows across the crumbling walls of the abandoned cabin you’d found earlier in the day. You sat on the floor, knees hugged to your chest, eyes darting to the boarded-up, covered in moss windows every now and then. Still you could hear the distant groans and shuffles outside that slowly had eased-- although temporarily-- before they were back in, some louder, some quieter. Yet still, nonetheless, it never truly felt safe. Not out here. Not anywhere.

ANAKIN SKYWALKER crouched a few feet away, sharpening a hunting knife with slow strokes. Jaw was clenched, hand steady despite how it trembled earlier from adrenaline. The fire's light caught the hard lines of his face, highlighting the dark circles under his eyes and the streaks of dried blood on his temple he had forgotten to wipe off. He looked every bit like the battle-worn survivor.

“You should eat,” he said quietly, not looking up from his blade.

“I’m not hungry,” your voice equally low. The truth was, you were too tense to think about food, to think about anything that would force you to use any bit of your little strength. Even talking felt like an exhausting, hard action. Your heart also hadn’t stopped racing since the last run-in with a horde. The image of those rotting hands clawing through the broken car window still haunted you like the worst nightmare.

Anakin’s gaze finally lifted “You need to keep your strength up,” he insisted, tone leaving no room for much further argument. He reached into his pack, pulling out a can of soup and tossing it toward you. “Eat.”

With clumsiness, you had caught it, the can slipping a little in your shaky palms. “I said I’m not hungry,” you muttered, carefully setting it down beside you.

To that, he rose to his full height, taking steps towards you. When he crouched down in front of you, he felt overwhelming, those stormy, ocean-grey eyes locking onto yours. “And I said eat,” he repeated, voice softer now, but no less firm. “I’m not losing you over something as stupid as skipping a meal.”

The words hit you harder than you expected. You blinked, suddenly hyper-aware of how close he was--close enough that you could see the subtle tremor in his hand as he set the knife aside. Close enough for you to notice the weariness on his face. How tired he was, too. How it was all eating him alive. He was just as exhausted, just as scared, but he always managed to mask it, for your sake.

“Anakin…” you started, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

“You think I don’t notice?” he murmured, his gaze flickering to your trembling fingers. “How you flinch every time you hear something outside? How you barely sleep because you’re too busy making sure I’m still breathing?” His hand reached out, touch surprisingly gentle as he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. “You’re clearly carrying too much, and you’re going to break if you don’t let me help.”

“I’m not… I’m just trying to keep us alive.”

“So am I,” voice dropping to a whisper. “But I can’t do that if you won’t take care of yourself.”

His fingers lingered against your cheek for a moment before he pulled back, reaching back for the can of soup. Without another word, he opened it and handed it to you with an expecting gaze

“Please,” he said, the word barely audible, but you didn't miss the vulnerability in it “For me.”

For a moment longer, you hesitated, before finally taking the can, letting out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, too familiar tension in your chest easing just a little as you raised the can to your lips.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @literally-izzy @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @deceptiive @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @bimbo-baggins17-deactivated2025 @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop

[rebelliousstories]

XOXO

ValenFics

Relationship: Spencer Reid x Reader

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Request: No

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: 1,031

Main Masterlist: Here

Criminal Minds Masterlist: Here

Summary: You thought Spencer knew an absurd amount of Halloween trivia? Oh, be prepared for this.

Consider Donating: Here

Mahatma Gandhi said, “Where there is love there is life.”

Waking up the day before Valentine’s Day to an empty bed was not ideal, but that was what she signed up for. Late nights and early mornings, and times where she would be without her lover for days on end because he was in another state for a case. A residual warmth was emitting from Spencer’s side of the bed as the clock on his side read out 6:45 a.m.

Must have been a very early morning then, if he was up and away before eight. Knowing that she was not going to be able to go back to sleep, she sighed gently, and made her way out of bed, to begin getting ready for the day. And that process started with coffee. Normally the pot would already be on if Spencer got up before her, but that was not the case. There was no coffee at all. Not even remnants of some that he had made earlier. The pot was bone dry.

Right as she began to make her own coffee, grumbling about it the entire time, the front door burst open. Her tall boyfriend with wild flailing limbs was carrying several trays and boxes. After putting back the grounds that she had gotten out initially, she went over to try and help him.

“Hi honey. I’m home!” Reid announced with glee. “Whoa!”

“Spence, you good? What did you get, sweetie?” She rushed to save a box of something that was teetering dangerously over the edge of the stack in his arms.

The both of them set down the boxes and cups, which is when she noticed that her boyfriend was beaming from ear to ear. “Well, I figured since tomorrow was Valentine’s Day and I’m not sure if I’ll be here for it, I thought we could have a small celebration here today. That is until we have to go to work in seventy-five minutes.”

“Spence…” trailing off, she noticed that all the logos were from their favorite spots around where they lived. Checking that his hands were clear, she launched herself into his arms, hugging him close as she felt her heart leap with the gesture. “Thank you sweetheart.”

“Of course. It’s not Halloween, but it still gives me another excuse to spoil you.” He pressed a kiss to her head, tightening his arms around her.

Releasing each other from their hold, the couple began to dig into their breakfast. He had gotten them coffee, donuts, and a special treat of some avocado toast that she had gotten him addicted to. But only if she made it, or it came from a very specific bakery that made it with sourdough.

“Heart shaped donuts?” She asked, picking one out to begin eating the delicious pastry.

Chewing on a bite of donut, Spencer tried to clear his mouth as fast as he could. “Even though they bear no resemblance to anatomical hearts, the symbol of one can be traced back to Ancient Greece and Rome where it’s thought that a species of giant fennel, called silphium, was used as a sign of love and sex. When you cut one open, it looks similar to the heart symbol we have today.”

Letting him speak, she just continued to eat and drink her coffee. Having him ramble about something random was her favorite part of the day. She could listen to him go on and on, and never get tired.

“Speaking of Ancient Rome, Valentine’s Day was modeled after the pagan festival called Lupercalia which was originally held on February 15th. They had animal sacrifice to the Roman god of agriculture and the two founders of the empire Romulus, and Remus. And- honey? You okay?” Waving a hand in front of her face, his brows were scrunched in concern. While he was talking, she had apparently zoned out, but was still looking at him like he hung the stars and moon.

A little shake of her head later, she rejoined the present. “Sorry sweetie. I promise I’m listening.” Her words tumbled out, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s okay.” Spencer reassured her. “Hey, you need to be getting to the academy. Go get ready and I’ll pack you a lunch.”

Being ushered off to their bedroom, she smiled as her boyfriend started his usual methods of taking care of her. When he was home, Spencer loved to pack her lunch with simple things like sandwiches and fresh fruits and vegetables. He was not trusted to make most things that involved a stovetop, which is why he made her lunches so simple. But when she came back out, ready for her day of teaching, Spencer could feel the breath leave his body as he stared.

“You’ve got that look again, ‘Cer.” She teased, fixing her watch back onto her wrist.

“You just look so amazing. I’m glad I can celebrate you everyday of my life.” Reaching for her hips, Reid pulled his girlfriend in close. With her in this close, he was able to capture her lips with his own. They relished in the contact for a moment, before unfortunately departing.

“I need to get to the academy, and you need to get to Quantico.” She lamented, patting his chest.

“Okay,” he chuckled, “don’t forget your lunch. I should be home around seven tonight.” Giving her one more kiss, Spencer left for the train while she grabbed the keys to the car.

Unpacking her bags at her office in the academy, she began to settle down into another day of teaching the next generation of agents for the bureau. But because of this morning, she was just counting down the minutes until she could dig into her lunch. Which meant that as soon as her 11:00 a.m. class had ended, she was packing up and heading off to eat just before the clock hit noon.

When she opened up her lunch bag, a slip of paper fell out. Recognizing her lover’s messy scrawl, she smiled, leaned back in her seat as she read the note.

“Love doesn’t make the world go ‘round. Love is what makes the ride worthwhile.” Franklin P. Jones

[danika-redgrave124]

Day 5: Date

The flickering light from the television screen cast a soft, rhythmic glow over the room as Leona and Idia sat on the couch, controllers in hand. They had agreed on a "video game date," a concept Idia was a little skeptical about because of Leona prefers chess over it, but Idia is secretly excited for the date and Leona trying his interests in his own way. He had meticulously chosen the game—something action-packed, with strategy elements and cool mechanics, perfect for a first-time co-op gaming experience. A chance to team up with Leona and see if they could work together, or at least see who could outsmart the other.

Idia’s fingers twitched nervously as he adjusted his jacket, staring at the screen, his mind still processing the game’s intricate combat system. He had been explaining the controls to Leona earlier, but the lion beastman seemed... distracted, to say the least. At least, that was until the game’s action sequences picked up, and Leona seemed to take a genuine interest in it.

"You’re a natural," Idia muttered, pausing the game for a moment as he glanced over at Leona, who was already crushing his enemies with ease. "But I thought you were more into... taking naps than playing video games?"

Leona grunted, not taking his eyes off the screen as his character barreled through waves of enemies. "Who said I can’t do both? Just need a short nap in between," he replied, his tone indifferent, but a satisfied smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Idia chuckled softly, adjusting his position on the couch. He didn’t mind it much when Leona played as if he wasn’t trying to care. There was something strangely endearing about how the prince could be so laid-back while still being ridiculously good at everything he did. It made the game feel almost too easy... but there was something nice about being in Leona's presence, even if they weren’t talking much. It was a sort of quiet companionship that Idia wasn’t used to.

As the game progressed, the tension of the digital battlefield intensified. But something else was happening too—Idia noticed Leona’s posture shifting. The steady, rhythmic tapping of his controller became slower. His eyes half-lidded as his usual fiery energy seemed to dip.

"Leona? Hey, don’t fall asleep now! We’re almost at the boss battle!" Idia said, his voice a mix of concern and exasperation.

"Mm... I’m fine, just... a little tired…" Leona mumbled, and before Idia could react, the lion beastman slumped over, his head gently landing on Idia's shoulder.

Idia froze, controller slipping from his hands as his heart skipped a beat. Leona was... actually asleep. It wasn’t like the short, fake nap Leona often took when he was bored. No, this was the real deal. His breathing was slow and even, and his head rested heavily against Idia’s shoulder.

For a long moment, Idia just stared at the sleeping lion next to him, unsure whether to laugh or panic. He was used to being alone in his room, immersed in his games, not in this... close proximity to someone—especially not Leona, who always seemed so indomitable, so much larger than life. And now, here he was, head onto Idia’s shoulder, ears flickering twice as the video game continued playing in the background, largely ignored.

Idia’s face and a bit of his firey blue hair flushed bright pink. He couldn’t even focus on the game now; Leona’s weight was too much of a distraction. A mix of warmth and nerves spread through him. His shoulders tensed, and he fought to control the frantic energy suddenly flooding his system. He wasn’t good at this—at being with someone in this kind of quiet, intimate way. He liked to hide behind screens and walls of data. This was... new.

Leona’s soft snores only added to the absurdity of the situation. Idia could barely suppress a nervous laugh. "Oh, great... now what do I do?" he muttered under his breath.

But as the minutes ticked by, Idia realized something: despite the weirdness of the moment, he kind of didn’t mind. Leona’s weight on his shoulder was comforting in its own way. And the soft snoring? It felt... oddly endearing. Idia’s anxiety began to ease, and before he knew it, he found himself relaxing into the couch, his hand resting lightly on the controller, ready for the game again.

“Well... guess I’ll just finish the game on my own, then…” Idia sighed, though his tone lacked its usual edge. He didn’t want to wake Leona, not if it meant ruining this rare moment of peace.

But in the back of his mind, a small, surprised thought echoed. Maybe this date hadn’t been such a disaster after all.

“Maybe next time, we’ll actually get to the boss,” Idia muttered quietly to himself, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he continued to play, Leona soundly asleep beside him.

@oh-hopeless-heart

Shout out to @thelamentknight for getting me hooked on this Pairing.

[gtgbabie0]

{A very loving morning with Wife!Rhaenyra}

!!-18//MDNI-!! No dance au, I just wanted an excuse to write smut for her heheh… enjoy! <3

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The newfound pressures of the crown seemed to melt away from Rhaenyra’s shoulders whenever you graced her with your presence— it was why she insisted that you attended the council meetings and court duties with her, although she’d never force you to— gods know how awfully dull they could be at times, she’d never subject you to that.

You were The Queen's strength and weakness all in one— she’d broken centuries-old laws just to have you known as her wife, anyone who dared to question or worse go against that… well, they were swiftly met with their end whether that be by the end of a blade or her dragon. There was truly nothing she wouldn’t do for you.

And right now that statement has never been truer as she admires you in all your sleeping glory, cheek smushed against the pillows and soft lips parted ever so slightly— prettier than any jewel she owned. Rhaenyra couldn’t help but reach out, letting her knuckles graze along your jaw.

The touch wasn’t enough to stir you, not even a single twitch— you’ve become a heavy sleeper ever since your wedding night, it was the safety of her presence that left you so unguarded, so at peace. The thought of being the reason you slept better sent a flutter through her chest, one that meted her completely.

Rhaenyra shuffles closer to you, bedsheets rustling slightly as she leans in to brush her lips over your bare shoulders, kissing the exposed skin with a certain reverence— hands dipping beneath the blankets to rub over your hips soothingly. That was enough to cause you to stir, turning your head to press your face into the pillows with a small groan. “Mm, good morning, my beautiful girl.” She murmurs, words muffled against you as she kisses along the soft curve of your jaw, fingers stroking along your bare spine.

“Nyra, it’s too early.” You whine, such a soft pitiful noise— honestly, she was in half a mind to let you sleep in, but there was a much stronger part of her that wanted you, burned for you, the way you writhe slightly against the mattress, hips moving beneath her palm as she continues to coax you awake.

You could feel the slight upturn of her lips against the side of your neck, “We have things to do today.” she whispers in between tender, fluttery kisses to your pulse point.

“We have things to do every day. Let me sleep.” You reply with a huff— oh her sweet wife was certainly not a morning person, she’d just have to try harder. Those chaste kisses turn into something more greedy, open-mouthed and desperate in a way that causes your breath to hitch.

Your eyes flutter open to find her own beneath the muted light of the early morning sun that was obscured behind the curtains— her gaze soft and full of love, curls of white hair draping down her shoulders in waves that were all tussled from sleep, sleep that still clings to her voice making it slightly rough.

“You’re too pretty to waste the days sleeping, it’d be a shame and I’d miss you too much.” Her words carry a certain mirth but are true nonetheless. She loves to show you off to the people of the court— her proudest accomplishment, her dearest love.

You hum in acknowledgement to her words, still clinging onto the last remnants of sleep as she ever so slowly begins to pull the warm blankets from your body, dropping a kiss to the corner of your mouth before she finds herself back in the crook of your neck, feeling your heartbeat on her lips.

“Mhm, Nyra.” You sigh, a lot different from your earlier protests— instead you’re inviting her in, pleading for more as you tilt your head back against the pillows to bare your neck to her, fingers tangling in her silky tresses.

“I’m here my sweet girl, right here.” Gods her voice was so velvety, so dizzying it sent your mind reeling to memories of last night— that familiar throb between your thighs has you squirming slightly, eliciting a low chuckle from your wife— the sound muffled against your collarbones. Her hand finds the inside of your thighs, pushing them apart to make space for her— her hips pressing perfectly against your own. “I’m still sensitive.” You whisper shyly, looking up at her with a bashful smile.

Her lips tick up into a smug smirk, a feeling of pride blooming through her chest. “I’ll be so gentle my love.” She promises, sealing it with a kiss to your lips, her breasts pressing against yours, the warmth of her bare skin against yours shoots a tingle through your body. Oh, she lived for how responsive you were for her.

Her hands smooth across your waist, gliding over your ribcage to the supple mounds on your chest— her thumb brushing over your nipple, taking the other in her mouth, her wet tongue licking the hardened peak slowly, savouring the sounds you give her, how you taste. “Always so perfect, so beautiful for me.” She praises, switching to the other breast as your fingers tighten slightly in her hair.

She moans around your sensitive nipple as you tug on her locks, urging her to continue— nipping at the skin teasingly to draw out a gasp from your parted lips. Your back arching off of the bed ever so eagerly. “Mm, all for you— all yours.” You agree and she would usually make fun of how needy you’ve already become, but she promised she’d be gentle.

A small noise of disappointment sounds out from the back of your throat as she pulls away, the warmth of her mouth on your tits gone, replaced by the cold air of the room— before you could whine she’s grabbing a hair tie from the bedside table and handing it to you with a smirk, her eyes gleaming. “If you would, my love.” She whispers, lowering her head down your sternum, to leave wet, opened-mouthed kisses down your body so slowly.

Your fingers rake through her hair, collecting up the white tresses the best you can— your mind in limbo as you go between trying to concentrate on putting up her hair to being distracted by the feeling of her mouth on you. You manage to secure her hair up, not caring for perfection when she was sucking harsh marks into the tender fat of your inner thighs, pushing them further apart to spread you open for her.

A whiny, broken moan flies past your lips as she runs her tongue along your slick folds, slowly licking at your clit— her hands lying flat over your hips in an attempt to keep them still. “So eager, hmm?— greedy girl.” Her words muffled against your throbbing cunt, the vibrations only making you squirm beneath her even more.

Your fingers clutch at the pillows tightly, knuckles going white, chest heaving with each ragged breath you take as she leaves wet kisses over your sensitive bud. “Mmfm, you taste so good my love, gods.” She groans, her tongue lapping up your pleasure as if you were a bottle of sweet arbour red, slick dribbling out of your cunt— it coats her lips and chin, she's such a messy eater.

“Ohh, Nyra!— feels s’good.” Your words only fuel her. She absolutely relishes in the way you moan out her name, singing out for her without a single care in the world as she slips her middle and ring fingers into your wet heat, your walls clamping down around her digits as you begin to rock your hips in tandem with her hand and mouth, eyes rolled back, blabbering a string of “Please, please… please.” begging oh-so-prettily for her.

“Mm, that’s it, my sweet girl, let go.” Her gentle words spoken against your clit tips you over the edge, fingers curling deep inside your cunt, fingertips nudging against that one spongey spot that makes you see stars and suddenly you’re gushing around her, soaking her hand and the bedsheets, practically panting out her name.

Your half-lidded eyes meet her as she licks her fingers clean, slowly kissing back up your flushed body from your hips to your jaw— lips grazing the shell of your ear, “You did so good for me,” she whispers, nosing at your warm cheek with a warm chuckle.

With a content hum, you turn your head to face her, her eyes slowly roaming your pretty sunlit features. “Good morning,” you smile, blissed out completely and a lot happier than you were a few minutes ago.

Rhaenyra’s smile widens, leaning in to press a tender kiss to your lips— the taste of yourself against her lips urges you to deepen the feeling, tongue brushing against hers. “Very good morning indeed, I’ll have the maids draw us a bath— then we’ll eat, hmm?” Her soft words are met with a nod from you, however, your arms curl around her, snuggling up against her warm body.

“Mm, yes… but just a few more minutes,” she settles back down against the pillows, pulling you impossibly closer to her, because how could she ever deny you?

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[goldfades]

after some…recent events (damn u mavs) i NEEEDDD some luka 🙏🏾 maybe like a comfort or smut fic?

p.s you have kept me FEDDDD w ur wnba/nba fics ILY ILYYYY queen!! ❤️

i wasn't in a smutty mood so here's a hurt-to-comfort fic with luka <3 ily too nonnie!!! hope you enjoy.

The hotel room is too quiet. Too still.

Luka sits on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it’s personally wronged him. His hands are clasped together, fingers flexing every few seconds like he’s working through a hundred different thoughts and not landing on a single one. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts long shadows over his face, catching the sharp lines of his jaw, the faint crease in his brow—the kind of details you wouldn’t normally notice when he’s laughing, talking, playing.

But he’s not doing any of that now.

You can still hear the echo of his phone vibrating on the nightstand from earlier. The world is spinning around him at full speed—headlines, analysts, fans dissecting every angle of the trade—but in here, in this dimly lit space that smells faintly of his cologne and something unshakably sad, it’s like time has stopped.

You step closer, carefully. Luka doesn’t look up, but you feel it when he notices you.

"You should be sleeping," he murmurs, voice rough around the edges.

"So should you," you counter, lowering yourself onto the mattress beside him. The bed dips under your weight, and for a second, neither of you speak. It’s not an uncomfortable silence. It’s just... heavy.

He exhales sharply through his nose, shaking his head. "Crazy, huh?"

You watch him for a moment. The way his fingers tighten around each other. The way his shoulders rise and fall, the weight of the entire day pressing down on him. You could say a lot right now—some perfectly crafted reassurance, something wise and comforting—but instead, you just lean in, resting your shoulder lightly against his.

A small gesture. A quiet offering.

Luka doesn’t move for a few seconds. Then, almost hesitantly, he shifts, just enough that his arm brushes against yours, just enough that he’s no longer holding quite so much of himself alone.

At first, Luka doesn’t say anything. He just breathes—slow, measured, like he’s trying to find a rhythm that makes sense, but it keeps slipping through his fingers. His hands unclasp, pressing against his thighs, then clench again like he doesn’t know what to do with them. The tension in his shoulders is impossible to ignore, so rigid and locked up that you wonder if he even realizes how much he’s holding in.

You don’t push him. Not yet.

Instead, you just sit there, close enough that he can feel your warmth, close enough that if he wanted to lean into you, he could.

After a long moment, he exhales, and it’s the kind of sigh that doesn’t fix anything, just deflates him further. His voice is quiet when he finally speaks, barely more than a breath.

“I didn’t think it would happen like this.”

You don’t need to ask what he means. The trade. The blindsiding weight of it. The way everything he thought he knew shifted beneath his feet in an instant.

“I get it’s a business,” he continues, jaw tensing. “I knew that. I always knew that.”

His voice drops lower, rougher.

“But I didn’t think I was leaving.”

And there it is.

The rawest part of it all. Not the move itself, not the logistics, not even the media whirlwind that’s been dissecting every angle of his future before he’s even had time to catch his breath. It’s the fact that he wasn’t ready. That for all the control he has on the court—for all the ways he makes the impossible look effortless—he had no say in this.

You swallow, watching the way his fingers twitch against his knee, like they want to grip something, hold onto something solid. You hesitate for only a second before reaching out, letting your hand rest over his. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t react at first. But you feel it—the way his muscles are wound tight beneath your touch, like a wire stretched to its limit.

“I don’t know how to say goodbye,” he murmurs, and this time, there’s something in his voice that makes your chest ache.

Goodbye.

It’s such a simple word, but it carries everything Luka isn’t saying. The years he’s spent in Dallas, the friendships, the routine, the city that had started to feel like home. He wasn’t just traded—he was uprooted. And now he’s supposed to pretend like it’s just part of the game. Smile for the cameras. Say all the right things.

But right now, in this room, there’s no script to follow.

“You don’t have to,” you tell him softly.

His brows draw together slightly, finally glancing at you, like he’s trying to figure out what you mean.

“You don’t have to say goodbye, not yet. Not tonight.” You squeeze his hand, just lightly. “Just—be here. Just for now.”

Luka stares at you, like he’s waiting for the catch. Waiting for you to tell him to suck it up, to move on, to think about the future. But you don’t. You just meet his gaze, steady, unwavering, until he finally exhales, something in him loosening just a fraction.

His hand turns beneath yours, fingers wrapping around yours like he’s holding onto an anchor. His grip is warm, firm—not desperate, but grounding. Like he’s only just realizing he doesn’t have to hold all of this alone.

For the first time all night, his shoulders drop slightly.

And you stay like that, in the quiet, just breathing.

Not fixing. Not rushing. Just existing. Together.

Luka doesn’t let go of your hand. If anything, his grip tightens, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away first, like he’s testing the weight of the comfort you’re offering and deciding, for once, to accept it.

His fingers are warm against yours, slightly rough from years of handling a basketball, but there’s something uncertain about the way he’s holding on—like he’s not used to being the one who needs this. Luka is always the one keeping others steady, the one playing through injuries, the one flashing a grin even when his body is screaming for rest. But this? Sitting here, holding your hand, letting himself lean into something softer—this is different.

Slowly, hesitantly, he shifts. His body turns toward you, his knee brushing against yours. His breathing is steady but measured, like he’s still figuring out if he’s allowed to ask for more.

You don’t make him. You just open the door.

Without saying anything, you lift your arm slightly, just enough that it’s clear you’re not just sitting beside him—you’re offering. And for a second, you don’t know if he’ll take it.

But then Luka exhales, long and slow, and leans in.

His weight presses into your side, warm and solid, his forehead dropping to your shoulder like it belongs there. He’s not shaking, not crying, but there’s something heavy in the way he melts against you, like he’s been holding himself together with sheer force of will and finally, finally, he’s allowing himself to let go.

Your free hand comes up instinctively, resting against his back. You can feel the tension still coiled in his muscles, like he doesn’t quite know how to relax, even now. So you let your fingers move in slow, steady circles against the fabric of his hoodie, not rushing, not forcing. Just there. Just present.

Luka exhales again, this time through his nose, and you feel it—the way his body slowly starts to ease. The way his head shifts slightly, resting more fully against you.

“This is stupid,” he mutters, but there’s no bite to his words. Just exhaustion.

“It’s not,” you say simply, your voice soft.

He huffs, but he doesn’t argue. If anything, he leans in a little more.

The room settles into something quieter. Something almost peaceful. Outside, the world is still moving, still spinning with headlines and speculation and expectations Luka isn’t ready to deal with. But in here, it’s just the two of you. Just warmth. Just the quiet weight of the moment.

And then, in a voice so low you almost don’t catch it, he murmurs, “Stay.”

The word is barely there, more breath than sound, but it lands like a tether, anchoring the space between you. You don’t answer right away—not because you’re unsure, but because you want him to feel it, to know that you’re not leaving.

Instead, you shift just slightly, adjusting so he’s more comfortable, your hand still moving in slow, steady motions against his back.

“I’m here,” you say, and that’s all he needs.

Luka exhales one more time, a little softer now, a little less heavy. And for the first time since the news broke, he lets his eyes close.

--

Los Angeles feels different.

It’s not just the time zone or the weather or the way the city hums with an energy that never quite fades. It’s the way everything is unfamiliar—the drive to the training facility, the locker room that still smells like someone else’s cologne, the weight of a jersey that doesn’t feel like his yet.

Two days ago, he was in Dallas. Now, he’s here.

And now, he’s supposed to be fine.

The press conference had gone as well as it could have. The reporters asked the same questions over and over—how does it feel to be a Laker? What does he think about playing with LeBron? What does he want to say to the fans in Dallas?

Luka answered all of them the way he was supposed to. He smiled in the right places, gave the right amount of gratitude, even threw in a joke or two to lighten the mood. But the second it was over, the second the cameras were off and he was back in the hallway leading to the parking garage, he felt it creeping in again.

That feeling.

That hollow, misplaced feeling, like he’s wearing someone else’s life.

You’re already waiting by the car when he steps outside, leaning casually against the passenger door like you have all the time in the world. And maybe you do. Maybe that’s why he exhales just a little when he sees you, some of the tightness in his chest loosening.

You don’t ask how it went. You don’t need to. He appreciates that.

Instead, you just nod toward the car. “You wanna get out of here?”

Luka huffs, running a hand through his hair. “Thought you’d never ask.”

The drive is quiet at first. The city moves around you in golden streaks of headlights and neon signs, the sky just beginning to settle into that deep LA dusk. Luka shifts in his seat, one elbow against the door, fingers resting against his lips like he’s lost in thought.

Then, finally—

“It still doesn’t feel real.”

His voice is softer than usual, like he’s saying it more to himself than to you.

You glance over but don’t say anything right away. Instead, you let the silence sit for a moment, let it breathe.

Then: “Because it isn’t. Not yet.”

Luka looks over at you, his gaze heavy but searching. “And if it never does?”

You tap your fingers against the steering wheel, considering. “Then you figure it out. Day by day. Until one day, it does.”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Just watches the city blur past, the weight of everything pressing down on him in a way you can feel, even from where you’re sitting.

And then, after a long moment, he nods. Just barely.

When you pull up to his new place—a sleek but unfamiliar house in the Hollywood Hills—Luka doesn’t move to get out right away. Instead, he sighs, rubbing a hand down his face before turning to you.

“You coming in?”

It’s not really a question. Not really an ask.

It’s more of a need. A quiet, unspoken need for something familiar.

You don’t hesitate.

The house is big but empty, boxes still stacked in the hallway, a duffel bag half-unpacked near the couch. Luka walks in and immediately shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over the back of a chair before dropping onto the couch with a heavy exhale.

For a moment, you just watch him. The way he leans his head back, staring up at the ceiling like it might hold some kind of answer he hasn’t figured out yet.

Then, without thinking too hard about it, you sit beside him, close enough that your knee brushes against his. Luka doesn’t react right away, but then—slowly, naturally—he shifts.

Not dramatically. Not obviously. But enough.

Enough that his shoulder presses into yours, enough that his body angles slightly toward you, enough that he lets out a breath he probably didn’t even realize he was holding.

And just like that, it’s familiar again.

Not Dallas. Not the way things used to be.

But something.

Something solid. Something real.

And for now, that’s enough.

[storiesbyjes2g]

3.211 Snake in the grass

I tossed and turned all night, plagued by vivid, terrifying nightmares that left me feeling exhausted and on edge. I'm surprised I didn't wake Sophia. A heaviness sat on me like a thick sweater, so I sat on the edge of the bed, reminding myself of Sophia's words: I'm okay, we're all okay. If I ever needed a yoga session before, it's now. But when my little lady finds out I did it without her, she'll be upset. I want her to sleep. Between our travels and our traumatic night, we all need rest today. I went downstairs so I didn't disturb Sophia and hopped on Social Bunny to see everyone's Winterfest pictures. No sooner than I sat, Maira sent me a text with two pictures in it. No context. Just two extremely random pictures that raised all kinds of questions.

All my alarms blared. This snake duped my friend, and I wanted to knock some sense into him. I didn't need this kind of energy today. My finger was just about to hit the call button when her face popped up; I never answered a phone call so quickly.

"Maira what the hell??!!!"

"Calm down, Luca. Let me explain."

"Why would you send me those?? Why not just call and THEN send the pictures??"

"I wanted to surprise you!"

"Well, I'm not surprised! I'm concerned! Who is this man?? And why are you both in white?! Please tell me you didn't marry him!"

"I can't do that."

"MAIRA!"

"Well, if you'd just listen!!"

"FINE!"

They met about a week ago and eloped yesterday, and it took everything I had not to scream. Yes, I see the irony of being upset about this when I moved into Sophia's house after one date. But Maira is someone I care about, and she has a history of men trying to take advantage of her. It also reminded me of Alessia's situation all over again. I kept saying to myself, I don't need this right now and muted myself so I could take deep breaths. But as her story came together, I calmed down. Oliver O'Keefe is his name, but he didn't sound like a snake at all. Honestly, he sounded like a proper gentleman. Maira is super clumsy and tripped while walking up some stairs at a restaurant. Oliver was coming down on the other side and helped her up. The next day, she went back to the restaurant, and I'm sure you guessed it; he was there. They arrived around the same time, and she invited him to dine with her. Turns out he's a big foodie and was obsessed with the restaurant. They had hilarious conversations and learned a lot about each other. She wanted more, so she gave him her number. To her surprise, he called a few hours later, saying he wanted to make sure she got home okay, and that she wasn't sprawled out at the bottom of anymore stairs. Funny. I gave him points for that one. They talked for the rest of the night—the rest of the week, actually. She invited him out every day, and he always left her wanting more. They had chemistry, but she cared for him in ways she's never cared for anyone. I could tell even in her voice that she had stumbled upon something special. She kept her feelings to herself for a while because it seemed crazy to have fallen in love that fast, but she couldn't deny it for long. Earlier this week, she invited him to her place to confess. She told him she'd understand if he didn't feel the same and needed to step away, but he confessed to feeling the same. He respected her and didn't want to put her off by making a move too soon. Needless, they had an amazing night, if you know what I mean. The next few days were quite epic, too. Finally, on Winterfest Eve, he invited her to an address in Chestnut Ridge. She felt special because he'd never asked her out before. She got dressed up, thinking it was a date spot, but when she arrived, it was just an old ranch. He acquired it long ago and restored it gradually until it was move-in ready, but he didn't want to live there alone. And he wasn't looking for a roommate, either. He wanted a companion to fill the space with love; Someone to enjoy the journey with him; A partner worthy of being a mother to his children. He wanted a wife. He wanted Maira.

I was all smiles by the time her story was over. My dreams for her had finally come true! I always wanted her to open herself up to love, and I wanted a worthy man to see her. He sounds worthy, but I'll reserve judgment until we meet because he could still be a snake. Predators don't strike right away. She invited us to hang out with them for New Year's Eve tomorrow if Sophia and I didn't have anniversary plans. I told her we had just gotten back in town and weren't gonna do anything for a while, and we'd be happy to swing by.

[verdantmeadows]

Watched a video where they basically said "marketing towards nostalgia doesn't work in anime/nostalgia pandering isn't a thing for anime" I want you to tell me some of the most popular anime in the past few years and take a shot every single time one of them is a reboot or related to a classic old series.

Trigun Stampede. Fruits Basket. Tokyo Mew Mew. Yashahime. Rurouni Kenshin. Urusei Yatsura. Shaman King. Devilman Crybaby. Dororo. Sailor Moon Crystal. Kino's Journey. THEY'RE EVEN REBOOTING BLACK BUTLER!!!!

That's just off the top of my head. Listing MORE RECENT THINGS. Anime reboots have often always been super popular and done super well. You know. Hunter x Hunter. Jojo's Bizarre Adventure. Hellsing Ultimate. Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood.

Like, anime absolutely does nostalgia marketing and rebooting anime has been more popular than ever. I do think that a large part of this is because reusing old IPs is easier and less risky when it comes to making profits, but also because there are a lot of really good older anime or older manga that had an anime adaptation that wasn't as good as it could have been, or didn't get finished!

Oftentimes, anime is used as an advertisement for the manga, so if manga sales are good enough after a season, they won't always renew it for another. But I think that's been changing in the anime scene for the past few years. Anime is often continued because the audience enjoys the anime, and it isn't just based off of being an advertisement for the manga. Reboots for series like Fruits Basket allows the entirety of the manga be told as a beautiful animation (the original anime didn't cover the whole series) and introduce classic animanga stories to newer audiences.

I absolutely do want more new stories, but I feel like that's still happening in anime, whereas other mainstream media formats in other countries (such as movies in the USA) are primarily reboots or sequels and squashing out the chances for newer original works or series. I think that, as of right now, there has been a really good balance of reboots or related to reboots to original series. And that makes me really happy! I hope that doesn't change, because I don't think reboots are inherently wrong, and are often beautiful and give classics a chance to be revived and reimagined.

Regardless, my point is that nostalgia absolutely is a huge factor in anime, and it's kind of ignorant of the state of anime to say that "nostalgia marketing isn't a thing" for anime/animanga. Because it is. It's an incredibly huge thing for it, actually.

[a-s-levynn]

[moeblob]

You know, when I kept getting asked "so you didn't ever have severe pains before now?" in the hospital and I kept replying "I have a high pain tolerance" I meant it. However, there is only so much pain my tiny 4'9" body can hold... (aka I am sweating and in agony bc I'm getting told to use LESS severe pain meds so I don't rely on them too much and it is AWFUL)

[cent-scratchnsniff]

progressing through the myth of sisyphus again