#it'll be nice once everything's done though

[the-thieves-gambit]

" Well, hello to you too." Elizabeth chuckled as she plopped onto her bed before Dolly joined her. It was not like they bothered with greetings most times, but she couldn't help but poke. And it seemed like Dolly could either hear him, could tell by the way she spoke that it was him on the other line, whatever it was she nuzzled against her and looked up towards the phone. As she listened to him, she pet her head and gave her a look that said that she'd let her hear him in a moment once he was done talking. "Tell me where did they take you this time."

When he had left, she thought it would be a bit of freedom, no more him popping up randomly during her day. Or reaching out to bounce ideas off of during a case.

"Okay,Fox Mulder," she teased. "You're not in that department focus on your case."

On day one though, she realized how, lonely quiet, her days were without him. Charlie would check in from time to time as he usually did, but it wasn't the same. She would never admit it of course, but she liked the calls. She hated that he had seen through her lies and had Jamie deliver food when he dropped off Dolly, upset at herself, that he had seen through her stupid lie.

"Great, she's right here actually looks like she's missing you. Here," She took the phone away from her ear for a moment to take a picture of Dolly on the couch and send it his way before returning to the call. "It's been," a pause as she thought it over. "a week."

He was tired, he was babbling about time. "Yea, you know in all my travels I learned about this crazy thing called time zones. Pretty crazy." Hand absentmindedly petting Dolly began to scratch her behind the ears, as she decided to stop being so mean if only for a moment. "What haven't we done? And yeah, I found a new trail, well new to me anyway, Manoa Falls. It's really pretty. Some people thought she was mine and she had the best time on the trail. And a couple of people that came into the office thought she was some new guard dog of sorts." Smiling she looked down at her companion of these last couple of days and nuzzled down against her.

"Oh, him," her mood soured slightly. "It looks like it'll all be settled out of court with everything I provided, but he found a new target to aim his ire at." Sighing, she leaned back into a reclining position with her pillows underneath her. "But tell me about your case. Was it as bad as you thought it was going to be?"

Oh, adventure week. She had forgotten about that. Part of her had hoped he had too. "Not this again. Wildfire will hate me. And there's a first for everything, watch she'd bite my hand." Was she making excuses? Of course. Were they partly true to her fear of anything that she couldn't talk to, convince to see her way or seduce? Damn right. "Why not a pony? Ponies are nice and small, right? Or a goat? You said this was a ranch right? I could feed a goat. Or chickens!"

"Randy's still around?" That drew a laugh from her, she had seen cities change, towns become cities, and other places become living cemeteries, the fact that some things didn't change amused her. Not as much as what he said about a fax and it pertaining to her case. A raised eyebrow, she began to settle into a lying position, finding tiredness sinking through her bones. "You said that they needed you with their case, how could they possibly help me on mine from an ocean away?"

Laying on her side, she cuddled up against Dolly and placed the phone between her and the pillow. She didn't want to think about work and cases anymore. "Tell me about the haunted hallway. Are we talking full poltergeist or spectral nuisance? You never struck me as someone being scared of a little ghost. "

"You'll never guess where Mr Jeckyll took me?" Wally didn't bother with a greeting, he was just glad she had answered this call. It had been a dragged on week and it wasn't even finished yet. Though, talking to her was a welcomed distraction from the humming of the AC in his hotel room. "Oh by the way I'm pretty sure this hotel is haunted. Actually the entire hallway," his face scrunched up as he put his toothbrush back into his bag and grabbed a long sleeve off his baggage to put on. "How's Dolly? Has she been okay? How's your week been so far?" He didn't say much about the way he knew Jamie had dropped off groceries for her since he hadn't quite believed her when she spoke in a lightening manner and gave him that excuse back in her kitchen. He hadn't said anything but his brain was already working on doing something nice for her. At least he'd like to think she thought it was nice and not like he was trying to impose.

Talking about Dolly was a safer topic he thought than telling her he had missed her. Days just weren't the same without the casual eye roll or the banter she usually reserved for him. "Weirdest thing that I'm now ahead of you guys by three hours. How crazy is that? Anyway, enough about me. What have you and Dolly done so far? Anyone officially called her yours?" Liz ended his nightly check ins so her voice was the last thing he heard before he fell asleep. He covered a yawn as he climbed into bed and brought the blankets over him. Hoodie on he rolled his sleeves up and set the phone on his side and put it on speaker. He would try not to fall asleep on her but would make no promises. The week had been long but it was also a lot of desk duty and looking over files that blurred together the more he stared at them.

He smiled as he remembered the last thing she did when he walked out of her door. Having hair get tucked behind his ear was sure something he didn't expect. It felt nice and the tingle of her fingertips lingered against his skin the more he thought back to it. "You didn't really say much about it through texts but what happened to the douche cop," his head leaned on the pillow as he waited for her response. His voice was low like speaking too loudly would spook her.

As he closed his eyes he smiled against his pillow. "So, I also finalized the first day for our adventure week." Our was such an easy thing for him to say. It wasn't like he had a second thought about it. It came as naturally as breathing did. "I know you said Wildfire would be one to kick you. No, she's a baby. Super nice and just wants to be loved. She may give you a side eye if you don't feed her fast enough but other than that, harmless. But don't take my word for it. You'll see for yourself. I figured going to the ranch would be easiest and work our way down. Don't worry you don't have to get on a horse. Only if you feel like it but there's lots to see once you're there. Who knows maybe you'll surprise yourself and feel inspired to get on one. We could always share a horse. Anyway, way ahead of myself there. Mm also sent you a fax. No, ill send you a fax tomorrow. It's for that case of yours you talked about. Turns out police department here are willing to help when you bring them a box of Randy's donuts."

[jedi-bird]

Added a thread spool holder to the inside of the closet door. There's a very good chance I'll need a second one but I'll figure it out once I start organizing my thread spools. I used velcro style picture hangers, so I can theoretically pull it down whenever I need to.

[navybrat817]

Congrats, Miss Navy!

If Smartie had student loans, how would that celebration go after paying them?

I appreciate it, nonnie! It doesn't feel real yet. I don't think it'll feel real for me until next month. And I think Smartie would feel the same way if there were student loans and, like me, maybe a bit emotional.

"Smartie, is there a reason why you're giving your laptop the finger?" "Because I just made my last loan payment!"

You were smart, you didn't earn the nickname for no reason. But you still had to take out a bit in loans that your scholarships and grants didn't cover. Debt like that could be stressful and he knew it wore on you, even when you didn't vocalize it. You didn't have to carry that burden alone. That's was one of the reasons you had him.

"That's amazing," he says, wishing he had something better to say for such a huge milestone. Though he could help you celebrate tonight. Nice dinner. Massage. Whatever you want.

You're so excited that the laptop almost falls over when you jump up. Bucky anticipated that would happen and easily catches it before any damage can be done. And he can't help but chuckle when you pump your fists in the air. "Suck it! Eat it! Fuck it!" You yell.

It's adorable and silly and he wishes he could record the moment. To see you dancing around the room makes his smile widen. He wants you to feel like this all the time.

This woman will be the mother of my children, ladies and gentlemen.

"You know, I have something you can suck and I'm happy to eat or fuck whatever you have to offer," he smirks before you stop your cheer to face him. There are tears in your eyes and he's immediately on his feet. "I was-"

"No, I'm not upset. I'm happy," you smile as tears slide down your cheeks. "Think of what we can do with it now. We can use that money for savings. Or a trip. OOH. I should get you a gift! A new leather jacket!"

"You don't have to get me anything," he says, his heart swelling. You always considered him and his his feelings.

"Maybe I want to," you say, wiping at your face.

Like your laptop, he catches you as you launch yourself into his arms. He can hear you sniffling before you bury your face in his neck. "I'm proud of you, Smartie," he whispers, holding you tight. Not just for the loans and general hard work, but everything you do.

"Thank you, Stud," you whisper before you lift your head, your eyes still brimming with happy tears. You wait a beat before you press your lips to his and he can feel how much you love him. He loves you just the same, if not more. "Now, which first? Eat or fuck?"

He laughs before pulling you to the couch. Celebratory sex was always a good thing. "Depends on what your pussy is aching for more. My tongue or my cock."

You moan, a happy smile on your face once again. "Surprise me."

And that's exactly what he did.

Love and thanks! ❤️

[petermorwood]

Food on St Patrick's Day (in the USA)...

...is usually Corned Beef & Cabbage, which is the Irish-American version of the original Irish boiled bacon & cabbage, but while the celebratory Irishness is still going strong, try something a bit more authentic.

A nice warm coddle. Not cuddle, coddle, though just as comforting in its own way. (Some sources suggest it's a hangover cure, not that such a thing would ever be necessary at this time of year, oh dear me no.)

Coddle is a stew using potatoes, onions, bacon, sausages, stout-if-desired / stock-if-not, pepper, sage, thyme and Time.

You'll often see it called "Dublin Coddle", but my Mum made Lisburn Coddle lots of times, I've made West Wicklow Coddle more than once, and on one occasion in a Belgian holiday apartment I made Brugsekoddel, which is an OK spelling for something that doesn't exist in any cookbook.

*****

I do remember one amendment I made to Mum's recipe, which met with slight resistance at the time and great appreciation thereafter.

Her coddle was originally cooked on the stove-top, not in the oven, and nothing was pre-cooked. Potatoes were quartered, onions were sliced, bacon was cut into chunks and then everything went into the big iron casserole, then onto the slow back ring, and there it simmered Until Done.

However, the bacon was thick-cut back rashers, and the sausages were pork chipolatas.

Raw, they looked like this:

...and the bacon looked like this:

Cooked in the way Mum initially did, they looked pretty much the same afterwards. The sausages didn't change colour. Nor did the bacon.

While everything tasted fine, the meat parts always looked - to me, anyway - somewhat ... less than appealing. "Surgical appliance pink" is the kindest way to put it, and that's all I'm saying. This is apparently "white coddle" and Dubs can get quite defensive about This Is The Way It SHOULD Look.

I'm not a Dub, so I persuaded Mum to fry both the bacon and sausages first, just enough to get a bit of brown on, and wow! Improvement! I remember my Dad nodding in approval but - because he was Wise - not saying anything aloud until Mum gave it the green light as well.

Doing the coddle in the oven, first with lid on then with lid off, came later and met with equal approval. So did using only half of the onion raw and frying the other half lightly golden in the bacon fat.

Nobody quoted from a movie that wouldn't be made for another decade, but there was a definite feeling of...

*****

There are coddle recipes all over the Net: I've made sure that these are from Ireland to avoid the corned-beef-not-boiled-bacon "adjustment" versions which are definitely out there. I've already seen one with Bratwurst. Just wait, it'll be chorizo next.

Oh, hell's teeth, I was right. And from RTE...

Returning to relative normality, here's Donal Skehan's white coddle and his browned coddle with barley (I'm going to try that one).

Here's Dairina Allen's Frenchified with US measurements version. (I feel considerably less heretical now.)

And finally (OK, not Irish, but it references a couple of the previous ones and is a VERY comprehensive write-up, so gets a pass) Felicity Cloake's Perfect Dublin Coddle (perfect according to who, exactly...?) in The Guardian.

*****

Returning to the beginning, and how boiled bacon became corned beef (a question which prompted @dduane to start an entire website...!)

The traditional Irish meat animal for those who could afford it was the pig, but when Irish immigrants (even before the Great Famine) arrived in the USA, they often lived in the same urban districts as Jewish immigrants from Eastern Europe.

For fairly obvious reasons pork, bacon and other piggy products were unavailable in those districts, but salt beef was right there and far cheaper than any meat Irish immigrants had ever seen before.

Insist on tradition or eat what was easy to find? There'd have been contest - and do I sometimes wonder a bit if sauerkraut ever came close to replacing cabbage for the same reason.

The pre-Famine Irish palate liked sour tastes: a German (?) visitor to Ireland in the mid-1600s wrote about about what were called "the best-favoured peasantry in Europe", and mentioned that they had "seventy-several sour milks and creams*, and the sourer they be, the better they like them."

* Yogurt? Kefir? Skyr? Gosh...

Corned beef and Kraut as the immigrants' celebratory "Irish" meal for St Patrick's Day? Maybe, maybe not.

Time for "Immigrant Song" (with kittens).

*****

Corned beef got its name from the size of the salt grains with which the beef was prepared. They were usually bigger than kosher salt, like pinhead oats or even as large as grains of wheat, and their name derived originally from "corned (gun)powder", the large coarse grains used in cannon.

BTW, "corn" has been a generic English term for "grain" for centuries, and "but Europe didn't have corn" is an American mistake assuming the word refers to sweetcorn / maize, which it doesn't.

Lindsey Davis, author of the "Falco" series, had a couple of rants about it and other US-requested "corrections". As she points out, mistakes need corrected but "corn" is not a mistake, just a difference in vocabulary.

*****

In Ancient and Medieval Ireland pig would have included wild boar, the hunting of which was a suitable pastime for warriors and heroes, because Mr Boar took a very dim view of the whole proceeding and wasn't shy about showing it (see "wild boar" in my tags and learn more).

Cattle were for milk, butter, cream and little cattle; also wealth, status, and heroic displays in their theft, defence or recovery. It's no accident that THE great Irish epic is "The Cattle-Raid of Cooley" / Táin Bó Cúailnge (tawn / toyn boh cool-nyah).

Killing a cow for meat was ostentation on a level of lighting cigars with 100-, or even 500-, currency-unit notes. Once it had been cooked and eaten there'd be no more milk, butter, cream or little cattle from that source, so eating beef was showing off And Then Some.

Also, loaning a prize bull to run with someone else's heifers was a sign of great friendship or alliance, while refusing it might be an excuse for enmity or even war. IMO that's what Maeve of Connaught intended all along, picking undiplomatic envoys who would get drunk and shoot their mouths off so the loan was refused and she, insulted, would have an excuse to...

But I digress, as usual. Or again. Or still... :->

*****

For the most part, "pig" mean "domestic porker", and in later periods right up to the Famine, these animals were seldom eaten.

Instead, known as "the gentleman who pays the rent", the family pig ate kitchen scraps and rooted about for other foods, none of which the tenant had to grow or buy for them. These fattened pigs would go to market twice a year, and the money from their sale would literally pay that half-year's rent.

For wealthier (less poor?) farmers, pigs had another advantage. Calves arrived singly, lambs might be a pair, but piglets popped out by the dozen. A sow with (some of) her farrow was even commemorated on the old ha'penny coin...

What with bulls, chickens, hares, horses, hounds, pigs, salmon and stags, the pre-decimal Irish coinage is a good inspiration for some sort of fantasy currency.

But that's another post, for another day.

[theminecraftbee]

Etho's head is still strangely fuzzy, filled with something like a combination of cotton and bloodlust and hunger. He's sitting in the middle of their base. Cleo is tearing down the dripstone, complaining the whole time that Etho hadn't even built it right. Grian is fretting over his magma cube, even though his task is done. They both keep checking the door, and also checking on Etho as they wait nervously to find out if the apocalypse that had happened that past session was going to actually wear off now that the task was done.

Etho sits in the middle. The bloodlust and hunger is swirling around, sure, but the thing he feels most is the cotton. The fuzzy not-quite-there feeling. Something fuzzy and strange and slow, like his thoughts are made of syrup and death and safety, and...

And it hits him all at once what has happened, when Cleo puts a hand on his shoulder, tells him that they'll keep him safe until it wears off. The bloodlust and hunger are far away, replaced with that blank sense of safety. He leans into the touch. "Thanks, Cleo. That was all pretty wild, huh?" he says.

He doesn't really hear the responses. He feels Cleo's cold, dead hands, and even though they really shouldn't, they feel soft.

It hits him all at once. He'd say he's not sure how it happened, but he knows. He may have a reputation as cold, a loner, a survivor, but what he really is--everything he loves goes up in smoke, is the thing. Dogwarts, Bdubs, Joel, TIES--all of them, up in smoke around him, flames licking at his feet. It's nice if he can pretend he doesn't care. It's nice to pretend he's cold. That it won't hurt him this time. That he won't watch the smoke and fall apart this time.

Someone who doesn't know him, they might even believe it.

Cleo walks over to say something to Grian and Etho holds them in his vision and--breathes. The cotton isn't wearing off, but looking at them, he doesn't feel hungry at all. And he'd say he doesn't know how it happened, but he does.

It's love, all over again.

He wonders how much it'll hurt this time when it's done, but right now, he feels blessedly safe again. Grian and Cleo get into an argument. He watches the red of Cleo's hair and decides he made an okay choice, this time, for the thing that's going to kill him in the end.

Her hair already looks like fire.

He rubs his head and leans back where he sits. He should keep his mouth shut while he's still half-zombie, so that he doesn't say anything stupid like that out loud. He's pretty sure Cleo wouldn't appreciate it. Or maybe she would. You can never know, with a zombie like that one. That's part of what makes her perfect.

[mayababes19]

JJK MEN BUTLER AU!! PART 2

♡ Characters: Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Choso, Sukuna

♡ AFAB!Reader!

♡ Summary: You took your butler shopping

-------------------------------------------------------

Gojo - Gojo will personally pick out the clothes. He would dress you up in the goofiest outfits just to pick a nice casual skirt and blouse at the end of all his fun. Once you're done shopping for clothes, he's dragging you to the makeup and jewelry store.

"Gojo, I don't need all this stuff." It was too late though, he already bought 3 sets of makeup and a few pieces of jewelry from Pandora for his pretty girl.

Nanami - Being the butler he is, he wasted no time to bring the car around the front and drive you to the mall. Even if he's annoyed walking around holding multiple bags, he'll try his best to help you out and give suggestions.

"Nanami, 1 or 2?" Nanami stared at you as if you were the only one in the room. "2. The royal blue dress would look nice on you. I suggest trying silver jewelry instead of gold. It'll compliment your skin tone."

Geto - Your worst mistake was taking Geto to a lingerie store. Although he's trying to "help" in reality he's picking the most revealing sets. As you model for him he's taking pictures as if you're posing for Instagram.

"Bend over and turn a bit." Geto turned this shopping trip into a whole photoshoot and he's loving every minute of it. He even saved on picture of you as his lockscreen.

Toji - The only reason he agreed is to watch you model for him. Toji would choose outfits that would highlight your curves. When he noticed other guys staring, Toji would glare daggers at them until he looked away. Knowing Toji and how protective and possessive he gets he'll wrap his arms around your waist - pulling you close to him while you browse through the racks of clothing.

"Toji, is something wrong?" Toji let out an annoyed hum. "Nothing. Just let me hold you for a minute, okay doll?"

Choso - Choso doesn't care about the multiple bags or all the walking. Any chance he gets he's complimenting you in every outfit you try on. After a while of shopping you bought matching onesies. He got a stitch onesie and you have an angel onesie but somehow, you two ended up at build-a-bear.

"Choso, which one are you getting?" He shook his head, "I don't want one, let me make one for you as a gift."

Sukuna - No. He wouldn't even give you the chance to fully ask. Sukuna hates going to the mall with you because, in his opinion, everything is pointless.

[thedensworld]

Skinny Dipping | C. Hs

Genre: angst, fluff, exes au!

Summary: it'll be so nice if you and Hansol could have a little chat about both of your life, forgetting things that had hurted. Right?

Author note: i hurt myself mentally while writing this *cry cry*

Hansol is doing his routine check-up at the café he opened last month, the newest addition to his chain. He greets everyone at the counter with a friendly smile, his familiar energy filling the space before he heads toward the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asks the cook, his tone light and teasing. The cook hums in agreement, adding that it’s quickly becoming the café’s top seller.

Hansol grins—it’s someone’s favorite too, someone who used to occupy his thoughts more than he’d like to admit. He hasn’t thought about her in a while. Until now.

He approaches his barista, Seungkwan, who’s busy wiping down the counter. “How’s everything going?” Hansol asks casually.

Seungkwan lets out an exaggerated groan, wiping the sweat off his brow. “It’s been chaos since lunch. I swear, I’ve barely had a minute to sit down.”

Hansol chuckles, reaching for an apron. “Let me jump in and help.”

Seungkwan glances at him with a raised brow. “Finished all your other work already? You know, the important boss stuff?”

Hansol nods, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here—besides, I’ve got a meeting with a client at four, so I’ve got time.”

He moves behind the counter just as the system dings with a new order. Hansol instinctively grabs the ticket, scanning it. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...”

His voice falters, his heart stuttering when he reads the name on the receipt. He blinks, staring at it as if it’s mocking him. It’s a name he knows all too well, a name that sends a flood of memories rushing back to him all at once.

“For Y/N.”

His head snaps up, scanning the café as if to confirm it’s really happening. And there you are, sitting at a table near the window, looking up from your phone just as your name is called. Your eyes widen slightly when you see him, the same recognition flashing across your face.

It’s been years, but it feels like no time at all. The air between you shifts, suddenly charged with the weight of everything left unsaid. Hansol’s heart races as his thoughts spiral—out of all the cafés in the city, you’ve walked into his. Fate had a funny way of playing games, didn’t it?

You slowly stand, making your way to the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. “Hi...” you greet softly, your voice like a distant echo of the past.

Hansol hadn’t expected you to speak first. He clears his throat, trying to play it cool despite the way his chest tightens. “Hey... nice to see you here,” he replies, though his voice betrays the whirlwind of emotions inside him. He forces a smile, but it’s impossible to ignore the awkwardness hovering between you.

“How have you been? Do you... work here?” you ask, your gaze flicking to the café, and then back to him.

Before you can reach for your order, Hansol swiftly pulls the tray toward him. “I’ll bring it to your table,” he says, perhaps a little too eagerly. “Please, sit.”

You blink, slightly taken aback by his insistence, but you offer a small nod before returning to your seat. Hansol busies himself with preparing your latte, though his hands feel unsteady, the sudden rush of old feelings catching him off guard. He carries the tray to your table and sets your order down carefully, just like he used to when you’d meet him after class back in college.

You mumble a quiet “thank you,” already refocusing on your laptop, just like the old days. The sight of you so focused and serene tugs at something deep within him.

“Working from here?” Hansol asks, lingering by your table, unable to walk away just yet.

You nod, glancing up. “Yeah, just finishing up some papers before class… at four.”

Hansol bites his lip, trying to find his footing in this strange but familiar reunion. “I’m doing great, by the way. You asked,” he says with a small smile, gesturing around the café. “Just opened this place last month.”

Your eyes wander around, taking in the cozy space, the warm light filtering through the windows. “It’s really nice,” you reply with a genuine smile, a hint of admiration in your voice. “Congratulations.”

Hansol feels his heart flutter at your smile—one he had missed more than he’d realized. You glance at the seat across from you and, after a beat, gesture to it. “Do you want to sit?”

He doesn’t hesitate for a second. “Yeah, sure,” he says, sliding into the chair across from you, trying to ignore the way his pulse quickens.

“How have you been? And Mingyu? Last I heard he moved…” Hansol’s voice trails off, leaving space for you to fill in the details.

You sigh, leaning back in your chair. “I’ve been good. Just busy with work and school. Mingyu? He’s married now, actually. Living in Hawaii with his family.”

Hansol’s eyes widen at the mention of your brother. He chuckles, shaking his head. “Married and in Hawaii... I always figured he’d end up somewhere sunny and laid back.”

You smile fondly at the memory of your brother. “Yeah, he’s always been like that.”

The conversation flows easily, as if the years hadn’t separated you at all. You talk about the little things—work, school, mutual friends—and for a brief moment, it’s like no time has passed. But there’s still something lingering between you, unspoken yet unmistakably present.

Just as you’re settling into the rhythm of catching up, Seungkwan calls out from behind the counter. “Boss… you’re needed!”

Hansol glances back, sighing softly. “Duty calls,” he mutters, standing from the table.

You gather your things as well, closing your laptop. “Yeah, I should get going too. I’ve got class soon.”

For a moment, there’s an awkward pause, like neither of you wants to let go of this unexpected reunion. Hansol hesitates, then glances back at you, a hint of vulnerability in his expression. “It was really nice meeting you again. We should do this again. On purpose, sometimes.”

You meet his gaze, and for the first time in years, there’s a spark—small but unmistakable. “Sure,” you reply softly, a smile tugging at your lips.

Hansol feels a surge of excitement rush through him, and he can’t help but smile back. With a quick goodbye, he heads back to the counter, his heart still pounding in his chest. But even as he walks away, there’s a warmth blooming inside him, a quiet hope that maybe, just maybe, this isn’t the end of your story.

As he ties his apron back on, he can’t stop the grin spreading across his face. After all these years, fate had brought you back into his life. And Hansol couldn’t help but feel that this was only the beginning.

*

You stepped into the garage-turned-studio, the familiar hum of instruments that usually calmed you now replaced by an unnerving silence. The tension in the air was palpable. Hansol stood there, his bass hanging loosely from his hands, while Chan hovered near his drum kit, avoiding eye contact. The moment you walked in, all eyes shifted to you, and you immediately knew—you’d come at the worst possible time.

“Let’s call it a day,” Seungcheol, the band’s guitarist and leader, muttered under his breath. He put his guitar down gently, though the gesture felt heavy with finality. Without a word, the rest of the band followed suit, leaving the studio one by one. You watched as they filed out, and your stomach twisted when you realized you and Hansol were now alone.

You had come here to release some of your own stress—an exhausting day of exams had left you drained, and you had hoped Hansol might distract you. But as soon as you met his eyes, dark with frustration, you knew something was terribly wrong.

“Did you say something to Chan about me leaving the band?” Hansol asked, his voice low but sharp, every word cutting through the silence. His brow was furrowed, his eyes darting to you with a mix of disbelief and anger.

You froze, caught off guard by the accusation. “What? No, I didn’t—” you started, but then paused, a sinking feeling creeping into your chest as you remembered. “Wait, I... I did mention to Jinah that you might have to leave the music scene eventually... you know, because of the family business and all. But it wasn’t serious, Hansol. I didn’t think it would turn into... this.”

He let out a bitter laugh, his lips curling into something more pained than amused. “Well, it did. It’s not just some hobby, Y/N. Music is everything to me. It’s how I breathe, how I escape... And now they think I’m bailing. They’re replacing me.”

You blinked, trying to process his words. “Replacing you? Without even talking to you first?”

Hansol ripped the jack from his bass, the sound jarring in the tense space. He threw it to the ground, the clatter echoing through the empty studio. “Yeah, because they heard I was leaving—from a certain someone.”

His words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. “You’re blaming me?” Your voice shook, a mixture of hurt and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “All I did was make an offhand comment. You’re not actually leaving the band, Hansol. Just tell them that, and this will blow over.”

But Hansol’s eyes flashed with anger, and he stepped closer, his jaw clenched. “It’s not that simple. You don’t get it. They’ve already made up their minds. They’ve moved on. I’ve been replaced, and it’s because of you.”

Your heart sank as the weight of his words hit you. “Hansol, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I was just—”

“I don’t care what you meant,” he cut you off, his voice rising. “This is what you always do. You think you know what’s best for me, that you can speak for me, but you don’t know shit. You’ve never understood what music means to me. You only care about my studies, my future in the family business. That’s what matters to you, right?”

His words pierced through you, the sting of them so deep that you struggled to breathe. “That’s not fair,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I care about you. I’ve always supported you.”

Hansol laughed, but there was no joy in it—just bitterness. “Supported me? All you’ve ever done is try to push me into the future you want for me. You’ve never believed in my music. You’ve never believed in me.”

You felt tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. “Hansol, that’s not true. I—”

“Spare me,” he snapped, his voice hard. “You don’t get it. They’ve already replaced me. I’m out. And it’s all because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Because you had to go running off to Jinah, acting like you know everything about me.”

Tears burned your eyes now, and this time you couldn’t stop them from falling. “Hansol, I didn’t mean to cause this,” you choked out, your voice trembling. “I just... I didn’t think it would get this far.”

“Well, it did,” he shot back, his eyes cold. “And now I’ve lost everything. The band was all I had, and now I’m nothing. Thanks to you.”

Your breath hitched, your hands trembling as you wiped at your eyes, but it was no use. His words cut too deep, tearing through everything you thought you understood about your relationship. “You’re really blaming me for all of this?” you asked, your voice shaking. “You think this is my fault?”

Hansol stepped closer, his face hard and unyielding. “Yeah, I do. Because you always think you can fix everything, like you’re in control. But you’re not. And now I’m paying the price.”

For a moment, you could only stare at him, the boy you once knew now feeling like a stranger. His words had shattered something inside you, and the pain was almost unbearable. “You don’t mean that,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

But Hansol just turned away, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I don’t know what I mean anymore,” he muttered. “All I know is I’m done. Done with the band, done with everything...”

His voice trailed off, and you felt the last thread of hope between you unravel. You took a shaky breath, trying to hold yourself together, but it was no use. “Go fuck yourself, Hansol,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the hurt and anger you’d been holding back.

And then you turned and walked out of the studio, the door slamming shut behind you. But even as you left, the ache of his words stayed with you, cutting deeper than any argument you’d ever had. The boy who once felt like your world was now a stranger, and you weren’t sure if you could ever find your way back to him.

*

Hansol was doing his routine check-up at the café he had opened last month. He greeted everyone at the counter with his usual friendly smile before making his way to the kitchen.

“What’s on the menu today? Salmon sandwich?” he asked the cook. They hummed in agreement, mentioning that it was quickly becoming everyone’s favorite.

Hansol grinned—it had always been someone’s favorite too, someone he hadn’t thought about in a while.

He approached his barista, Seungkwan, and asked, “How are things going?”

“It’s been chaotic since lunch. I swear, I just want to sit down,” Seungkwan groaned dramatically, wiping his forehead.

Hansol chuckled, grabbing an extra apron. “I’ll jump in and help.”

“Finished all your work?” Seungkwan asked, referring to Hansol’s duties managing his chain of cafés. Opening one in such a busy area had been a smart move, and Hansol knew it.

“Yeah, all done. That’s why I’m here,” Hansol replied, glancing at his watch. “I’ve got a meeting with a client at four.”

Just then, an order popped up on the screen. Hansol moved behind the counter to take a look. “Oat milk latte and salmon sandwich for...” His voice trailed off, and his heart skipped a beat. He stared at the name on the receipt, feeling a rush of memories flooding back.

It was a familiar name. The perfect order.

“For Y/N.”

His gaze lifted from the screen to the café, and there you were, looking up from your phone toward the counter. Your eyes widened slightly in recognition, and Hansol’s mind raced—of all the cafés in this city, you had walked into his.

You stood from your table and slowly approached the counter, your expression a mix of surprise and hesitation. Hansol felt frozen, unsure of what to say or how to act. Years had passed, but in that moment, it felt like no time had gone by at all.

“Thanks,” you said softly, avoiding eye contact as you took your order from the counter.

Hansol’s chest tightened as he watched you walk back to your table, quickly gathering your things. You were already clearing your desk before he could muster the courage to say anything more. The moment had slipped through his fingers, just like that.

As you walked out of the café, Hansol’s heart sank. There had been so much left unsaid, so many things he wanted to ask, but now, all he could do was watch as the door closed behind you.

The weight of lost time and missed chances hung in the air, and as he stood behind the counter, Hansol couldn’t shake the feeling that this encounter had reopened old wounds—wounds he had thought had healed long ago. But seeing you again, even for just a fleeting moment, reminded him that some things could never be forgotten. Some people left marks too deep to erase.

We've been swimming on the edge of a cliff

I'm resistant, but going down with the ship

It'd be so nice, right? Right?

If we could take it all off and just exist

And skinny dip in water under the bridge

Skinny Dipping - Sabrina Carpenter

[zombiesthetic]

THOMAS HEWITT WITH A PLUS SIZE S/O . . .

pairing . . . thomas hewitt x plus size!fem reader

warnings . . . hoyt ( he needs his own warning ) , no insecurities or self doubt but mentions of having "bad days" because let's be real, we all have those days.

comments , likes , and reposts are appreciated !

★ let us be real for a moment. thomas would 100% love a woman who has some meat on her bones. someone he doesn't have to treat like fine china.

★ you have curves? he's running his hands over them.

★ you have hip dips? perfect place for him to put his hands.

★ you have nice, soft, plush thighs? it's a perfect place for him to rest his head after a long day of hunting and killing.

★ you have a soft stomach? another amazing place for him to rest his head. it's like his own personal pillow and he loves it.

★ oh. and don't ever let this man see you in a dress. your curves, your soft stomach, your wide hips, your full breasts that threaten to spill out of the top and sides, oh dear lord. it takes everything in him not to stop what he's doing, throw you over his shoulder, and take you to the basement to do ungodly things that luda mae would definitely not approve of.

★ luda mae would definitely talk to him about you having nice "birthing hips". it would confuse the hell out of him. how did she know you had nice birthing hips just by looking at them? but once that idea was planted in his head . . . it's game over.

★ he loves it when you sit in his lap. the feeling of your weight being on him makes his head go fuzzy. ad you better believe that if you don't put your full weight on him, he's tugging you down til you're fully seated.

★ he just loves you. he loves every single thing about you.

★ he loves you even when you have your bad days. you know the days where you don't feel your best? he's right by your side and in his own way, he's telling you he loves everything about you. sure, there's a huge conversation barrier, but you know what he's trying to say.

★ if hoyt even dares to make a snide comment, thomas is locked and loaded, ready to take his brother/uncle down to the basement to butcher him.

★ after a close encounter with tommy's chainsaw, hoyt never said anything again. at least not when tommy could hear him.

★ but all it takes is for you to threaten to tell tommy and hoyt is shutting his mouth. that man really doesn't want to become a victim.

★ when it comes to cuddling, tommy likes to be little spoon. nothing you say can change my mind.

★ after a long day of killing and butchering, all he wants is to lay down on top of you with his head buried in your chest while you run your hand though his dark curls.

★ he's so used to be forced to "be a man" by hoyt, he likes that he doesn't have to be a big macho man when he's with you.

★ of course, he'll put on a "i run this relationship" act in front of hoyt, but when it's just you two. man, is this boy whipped. you tell him to do something, it'll be done within the hour. and of course, it's the other way around too.

★ in the beginning you had to sit him down and tell him that relationships don't have an "owner" and a "pet" like hoyt had always told him.

★ because of hoyt's constant talk of how relationships are "supposed to be", tommy didn't really want to be in a relationship. he didn't like the idea of having to "own" someone.

★ but after you had a nice sit down conversation with him, he liked the idea of being in a 50/50 relationship. you respect and love him and he respects and loves you.

★ in reality, you had to teach tommy a lot of things. but the good thing is . . . tommy is a very fast learner. in more ways than one. *wink* *wink*

★ tommy is really good with his hands. no, not in that way. get your head out of the gutter.

★ if you liked a piece of jewelry one of the victims were wearing but it didn't fit you, tommy would craft it to fit you. you mentioned a ring you liked, but it was a few sizes too small? this man is cutting the band and making it adjustable.

★ you like a necklace but it doesn't quite fit your neck how you want it too? he's stealing a chain from another victim and adding it to the necklace so it'll fit you.

★ you liked a piece of clothing but it's too small? this man is cleaning his sewing machine and creating an entire new piece of clothing with you. ( after he has luda mae get the blood stains out because that woman is scarily good at getting blood stains out of things. )

★ his love language is acts of service and gift giving, obviously.

★ he likes doing things for you and he really loves giving you things.

★ after he's done working in the barn, during his walk back to the house, if he sees a flower that sprouted in the yard, he'll grab it and give it to you.

CREDITS . . . divider by @cafekitsune

MASTERLIST

[biscuitsandwires]

In which Danny wakes up in a weird place.... again. (pt. 4)

(pt 1 here) | (pt 2 here) | (pt 3 here)

The first thing Danny really clocked about this Damian guy, was the fact that he was very serious.

He watched as Danny came down to the ground, seemingly unsurprised that Danny was flying at all, and strode up to stand in front of him before crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm sure you have several questions." Damian said, no beating around the bush with this guy.

"I mean, I woke up in a random mansion with a nice butler dude giving me breakfast and I don't remember how or why I'm here like, at all. So yeah, "several" isn't really cutting it."

Call him a smartass, but he was having a weird day, he'd earned it.

"Well, I will answer them as best as I can, Fenton. But you need to understand first and foremost that you cannot go home for a while."

That was... maybe the wrong thing to say to a halfa that could go wherever he wanted, whenever he wanted. Damian seemed to realize that though, somehow, and gave him a smirk.

"Sure, you can leave whenever you like. But you'll die if you do."

That was more ominous than it had any right to be, really, but Danny was ready to listen. "Alright, lay it on me."

Damian nodded, staring at him for a brief moment before turning around and marching away. "Come with me, it'll be easier to explain with visuals."

Danny snorted, but followed along, trying to keep up with Damian's brisk pace but eventually just floating after a while to keep up. Once they'd gotten to the massive set of computers in the room, the screens bigger than a theater showing, Damian sat in the chair and started typing.

Danny watched him, but after a moment, glanced up at the closest screen. What he saw made his hands clench at their sides, his heart stopping in his chest. It couldn't be...

"This is where I found you. You were lucky I made it there before any more damage was done."

It was the school gymnasium at Gotham Central, where his own school often sent their school trip students. It was blown to pieces, rubble everywhere, what looked distressingly like blood in a few places but he hoped, god he hoped it was just oil or something.

There were no signs of bodies, or anyone hurt, but that didn't mean anything. Not when there was this much damage. Hell, even anyone nearby would have gotten hurt from that.

"It was a direct attack. They did not care who they hurt, as long as they got to you."

Danny blinked, taking in the pure destruction of the place, but felt pure confusion washing over him.

He didn't remember going on a trip to Gotham. Didn't remember much past... What was the last thing he remembered?

The longer he stood there, trying to think about it, the more his head started to hurt.

"Don't injure yourself, Fenton. I'll explain everything, but you have to trust me." Damian said, simple and to the point, but with authority.

Danny stared back at him, trying to think past the fog that was building, and nodded. "Alright. I'll trust you."

For now, at least. It wouldn't be the first time somebody tried to pull a fast one and he'd gotten hurt.

He wasn't going to let it happen again.

Damian turned back to the computer, typing up more things on more screens, and Danny could only stand there, bracing himself for the ride.

[honeyxbee]

The Hunt

Choso x fem!reader

Day 4 ― Vampire TW: NSFW, Attempted murder words: 434

The distinct smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke wafts through the air of the nightclub, the flashing lights causing a subtle throbbing in your temples. You mentally curse yourself for not taking a painkiller before you left your house.

It's a Friday night, so it's no surprise it's packed ― loud.

You tell yourself that it's a good thing.

You readjust the hem of your dress slightly, your eyes scanning the room until they land on a black-haired man sitting at the corner of the bar. You quickly leave the booth you were at and make your way over, sliding onto the bar stool beside him and greeting him with a flirty smile. "Hi there, pretty boy. Come here often?"

And after that, it's almost too easy.

He's already tugging at your clothes by the time you make it through his front door; you barely manage to get him into his bedroom. You push him onto his bed and crawl on top of him, undoing his pants and dragging them down his legs. His pair of boxers is soon to follow, though you playfully swat his hand away when he tries to pull your dress up. "I want you to fuck me with it on," you purr in his ear, and that seems to be enough for him. You're thankful.

After all, it would ruin everything if he noticed the stake strapped to your thigh.

Killing vampires isn't nearly as easy as it looks in movies ― no, they're careful, intelligent. So sometimes, you have to go with more.. unconventional methods. Sex is surprisingly effective, especially for younger ones who aren't as cautious.

You've done this dozens of times; it's become almost routine. You slowly sink down on his cock, making him hiss quietly. Your eyes remain fixated on his face as you begin rocking your hips, and when his eyes squeeze closed in pleasure, you just have to grab the steak and plunge it into his-

He catches it.

You blink, and then you let out a small yelp as he flips you over so that he's on top of you. He grins, easily prying the weapon out of your hand and throwing it across the room. "That wasn’t very nice," he mumbles, nuzzling his face into your neck as he begins thrusting in and out of you at a fast pace.

"A-Ah! Wait," you stammer, but he makes no move to slow his movements. Instead, you feel your heart sink when he nudges his fangs against the side of your neck.

"Don't worry. It'll feel good once I make you like me."

[take-it-sleazy375]

HOW TO SUCCESSFULLY CATCH AND RELEASE!

1. Look for your prey at night. Easier to hide, less people. Easy math.

2. Wear a mask. She won't bother going to the cops if she doesn't think she could even identify you.

3. Bring a belt. She a screamer? Loop it around her neck for a choke collar. She a fighter? Loop around the wrists for handcuffs. You a sadistic bastard? Whip her with it until she passes out.

4. Hurt them to shut them up. I suggest impact over cuts, you don't want them to have to go to the hospital. It'll be reported. Try not to hit the face too much either. A good rape slut will be too humiliated or scared to report it, but if she's got two black eyes and a missing tooth, everyone's gonna ask her what happened. The easiest option for her should be to return to normal life and pretend it didn't happen. Hit her hard in the gut or the ribs. Don't be scared to break something. Knock the wind out of her and she loses her voice and her fight.

5. Get her in your vehicle asap. More space the better, I like to use my truck.

6. Have something ready to chain her up once you get her in. Hurt her first so she doesn't fight ya. Once she's chained she'll give up hope on a quick escape. Pulling a knife on her is effective at this point. Remember though gentleman, nothing worthy of stitches or the cops will be at your door first thing tomorrow.

7. Play some music, real romantic. I go with hillbilly deluxe to set the mood, myself.

8. Here it is boys, the big show! Step 8! You got yourself a pretty free use whore until further notice! Everything you've ever wanted to do to a hot chick is on the table, and it's your job to fuck that cunt so freak nasty you get to cut to the front of the line in hell!! Fuck her tits, rape a baby into her pussy, jizz on her face!! Whip, slap and bleed that bitch until she thinks she's two steps from death! Bruise her ass black, pinch her nipples until she blows her vocals out screaming! Make it humiliating, make it HURT! Make it a night she'll try to forget for the rest of her life!

9. Don't forget to make her cum her stupid fucking brains out! Don't let her forget how much her body loves this! Make her writhe under your grip until she squirts, melt her fucking brain! She'll be so humiliated thinking about how many times you made her cum around your cock, she'll forget it was rape at all! Make her thank you every time she cums, make her shriek out loud that she loves your filthy bastard cock!

10. Take. Every. Hole. Her body ain't hers tonight, and if you fuck her right, it'll belong to you for the rest of her life. Her whole body will be violated by the time you're done. She'll be a mess of aching bruises and abused holes and she will never shake the feeling that you took everything you could have taken from her.

11. Had your fun? Time to clean up. Take a few pretty pictures for later. Hogtie her good and drive her just out of town. Once you're on a nice empty road, give the bitch her clothes and cut her loose. Keep her panties as a trophy and peel out, brother!

12. Set a course for home and plan your next night out!

[lunarw0rks]

please tell me i’m not the only one who thinks soap would be horny at the WRONG times?

like let’s say you’re hosting your very first end of the year bbq and you invite your close friends, the task force, + los vaqueros. you’re excited because you just had moved into your first house as well.

all is good until good until soap starts getting needy, purposely brushing up against your backside whenever he passes by, mumbling the most sarcastic ‘oops my bad’. he even says something along the lines of ‘sending everyone back home so we could have some alone time’ and plays it off as a joke but you know he’s being serious 💀 like that man does NOT CARE, he’ll take you in the bathroom if he has to.

a/n: naur, you're onto something anon. I always picture Soap as a horny bastard; not much restraint in his not-so-little body. got a little carried away on this, lol. warning(s): nsfw, horny stuff, fem!reader

imagine you bought a house together and the nice idea of throwing a little housewarming party, for him, for you — inviting his co-workers and some friends of your own. he insisted a thousand times that you didn't have to invite them; but only because of all the embarrassing stories they were going to tell you about your boyfriend.

but, when all was said and done, it was a great gathering. you did it all yourself — the meals, the decor, the staging of your newly purchased outdoor furniture — everything. it was alluring to Soap, how frazzled and insistent on "perfection" you were. though, you heard about a thousand times, that they would eat anything you put in front of them.

when you two sat around the fire, gaz asked how you two planned on celebrating the new house once the festivities died down. an innocent question; but it sparked in your boyfriend's mind. "aye, we'll find a way to celebrate, that's for sure. jus' gotta make sure the timing's right," he played it off with a chuckle, but there was no mistaking how flustered it made you.

it was going perfectly, or as perfect as a party with these people could be. a lengthy dinner in the backyard, endless conversations, and a little too much indulgence in the booze for some of them. "great party, great house. should have you decorate the base sometime, eh? if it's half as nice, it'll help with morale." price commented as he talked to you and him.

Soap's arm remained around your shoulder, your waist, or anywhere throughout the night. you didn't think anything of it, frankly, you were too laser-focused — until his neediness grew. brushing against your backside, a caress on your thigh lingering, a small wink when the guests weren't focused on you.

some went off to the side to smoke, and others remained on the patio to continue their conversations. by now, it was time to get the mess cleaned up. plates, cups, wrappers, empty bottles, and the other trash that had accumulated.

"i'll help you with that, love. you've done enough tonight, haven't ye?" he approached after dismissing himself, grabbing the second stack of silverware and following you inside. Soap finally had his opportunity to seize what he desired, when he knew the party was much less alive, much less prying eyes on you two.

you stepped inside from the patio, him closing the sliding door behind you. dumping the plates into the sink, you turned on the faucet with the intention of beginning a long night of clean-up duty. his hand reached around you, turning off the faucet, "not what i meant by helpin' you, lass. c'mon," he motioned his head in the direction of the hall.

you took one more look out the window, seeing the preoccupied guests, most paying little mind to your guys' close proximity in your new kitchen. why the hell not? might as well cross the guest bathroom off your list of "places we've had sex in our new home" — right?

before the door even closes, he's hiked up the hem of your evening dress, shoving his hand down the waistband of your panties. Soap ends up fucking you senseless on the bathroom counter, gagging you with his fingers in case any of his co-workers came inside the house to grab another chilled drink. you were only a few feet from the kitchen, it was the definition of risky.

mid-thrust, there was a soft knock. price, goddamn price. "everything alright in there, sweetheart?"

even with his superior on the other side of a door, about a foot away, did Soap stop? no, of course not. he slowed down but never stopped. he removed his fingers from your mouth, biting his lip to mock you that look in your eyes, whilst they shot open in a frenzy. you cleared your throat to conceal a moan, using every ounce of strength to not feel Soap bottoming out over and over again. "uh, just a— just a little wine on my dress, John. no worries!"

as soon as price's steps retreated down the hall, Soap's ragged, growly breaths resumed. in a split second, his ruts went from mockingly slow, back to a relentless pounding.

before there was any chance of another interruption, he finished with a sneer on his face. "wine on the dress, eh? smart girl. i like that." he heaved against your lips, gently wiping any mess that smudged on your lips. you were livid, despite coming down from your own high. a palm smacked his chest repeatedly until he shut your heated whispers up with a hundred pecks across your jaw and mouth.

Soap walks outside first, blaming the lost time on him fishing through the moving boxes for a Tupperware you needed. whether it was believable or not, that was up for debate. the sweat lingering on his brow, the afterglow of sex on his face? unmistakable.

now, you've either have to splash water on your dress to imitate where you would've scrubbed a wine stain off. or... just, walk on out of there like you hadn't just been fucked stupid — with trembling legs, naturally.

[kinkyrafe]

No Vision, No Sound

Kinktober, October 08

THIS WORK IS 18+ ! MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Summary:

The one where Rafe needs something really intense.

Warnings: dom/sub dynamics, domme!reader, sub!rafe, very explicit

taglist: @yagirlwrites @audzzz @valyrianflower @aariahnaa

"Look what’s arrived just now!" you exclaim with a grin, holding up the package. The excitement in your voice cuts through the stillness of the room.

He looks up from the couch, his face showing a hint of curiosity but mostly the weight of the day still pressing on him. You know he’s been in his head, overthinking, drifting. But that’s about to change. You had already planned on doing a scene tonight, and the fact that the fitted noise-canceling earplugs arrived a day early? Perfect timing.

"What’s that?" he asks, though his voice is distant, distracted.

"The earplugs finally came," you say, your grin widening as you walk over to him, the package crinkling in your hands.

"Are you going to have me wear them tonight?" His eyes flicker with uncertainty, a bit of hesitation, but also trust. It’s always there, since the first scene you spent together, he always had this tremendous amount of trust.

"I will." You tilt your head, noticing how his teeth catch his bottom lip. A sign of nerves.

You let your fingers caress his cheek, grounding him with your touch. "What’s going on in that head of yours?" Your thumb brushes across his lip, coaxing him to stop chewing on it.

"I was... hoping for some intense shit tonight. I really need to get out of my head." His voice trails off, a little embarrassed.

You can’t help but smile softly. Oh, he thinks sensory play won't be intense… that's cute.

"I promise you, it'll be intense," you say, your voice low but firm. "You won’t be in your head for long, believe me."

He glances at the package again. "But… I won’t be able to hear you, right? With those in?"

"Nope," you confirm, setting the box down on the table. "But you’ll feel me. My hands. My lips. I’ll touch you the entire time, I’ll make sure of it. And if you don’t like it, you know, you can always safe word out."

He hesitates for another moment, clearly still lingering on the idea of control. "Can’t we just do impact play or something like that tonight? Maybe save the new stuff for tomorrow?"

Your lips curve into a teasing smile. He’s such a sucker for a good spanking. It’s one of his favorite ways to ground himself. But tonight? You have something else in mind. "Nope. You’ve got a late meeting tomorrow, and I guarantee you won’t be in any shape for this after tonight. Because tonight, I’m going to fuck your brains out." You punctuate the last part with a playful wink, slapping his chest lightly. "Now, go shower and get yourself ready."

He lingers for a second, clearly nervous. He’s always a little tense before trying something new. But you know him better than anyone—he trusts you, even when the nerves kick in.

"Where do you want me after?" he asks, his voice quieter, almost moody.

You consider him for a moment before answering. "Where do you feel most comfortable? The couch, my bed, maybe the dining table?"

"Your bed," he finally says, a bit sheepishly.

"Okay." You nod, your tone encouraging. "Go kneel in my room once you’re done, and I’ll set everything up."

Once everything is in place, you glance over at him, kneeling obediently in the corner of your bedroom. His back is straight, shoulders tense. He’s facing the wall, unable to see what’s coming next, and that’s exactly how you want it.

You move toward him slowly, letting the tension build. "Listen carefully. You won’t know what’s coming. I’ll tie you up to all four corners of the bed, spread you wide. I know how squirmy you can get–" You see a small smirk play on his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, continuing. "-- and I don’t want to pressure you too much today. I know that you won’t be able to keep still. I just want you to feel. After that, I’ll blindfold you, and once you’re nice and settled, I’ll put the earplugs in."

His breathing picks up slightly, and when you lean in to whisper, your voice turns more authoritative. "I’m just going to play with you. Touch you. Tease you. Play with your nipples, and definitely play with your ass. You’ll come—multiple times. So, it won’t stop after the first one. You have permission to come anytime, today, you don’t have to ask before. Understood?"

A groan escapes his lips. He’s already hard. "Yes, Mistress," he manages, voice tight with anticipation.

"Looking forward to it?" you ask, teasing.

"Coming multiple times is exhausting," he admits, though there’s a thrill in his voice. "But yes, Mistress, I am."

You laugh softly, trailing a finger over his hard cock. He shudders. "You can handle it. What are your safe words?" You ask, same as at the beginning of every session. He answers. "Today, we will add 'ear plugs out' to the list, okay? Say that and I'll have them out immediately."

"Yes, Mistress."

"Do you have questions?"

"Yes, mistress," he answers, "I won’t be gagged, right?"

"No, you won’t. I want you to communicate with me, especially your safe words, when you can’t hear me," you explain, "Plus, I want to hear you scream."

He looks up at you shortly, a playful smirk now on his lips. "Challenge accepted."

You laugh. "Oh, trust me, if I want you to scream, you will."

"We will see," he says, wiggling his eyebrows before he turns his gaze down again.

"Are you sure you want to challenge me when I literally have all the control over you?"

He chuckles quietly, maybe at his own cockiness.

"Stop talking back now," you tell him with no bite in your voice. "Any other questions?"

"No, Mistress," he answers and gets more serious again, knowing that this always is the last bit before the playing starts. This is how you know you trained him well.

With the scene set and the anticipation thick in the air, you guide him onto the bed, securing his wrists to the headboard and his ankles spread wide to the corners of the bed. The blindfold comes first, plunging him into darkness.

He shifts slightly, testing the restraints.

"Stay still," you murmur. When he lies still and his breathing is calm, you lean close and slide the earplugs into place.

“I’m here, it’s just me,” you tell him softly, right before his world goes completely silent. You notice that you yourself have the urge to soothe him with your voice. You’re so talkative and chatty during scenes, no wonder he will miss it. Instead you let your fingers trail over his cheeks and his jawline, down his throat, over his broad chest.

Now, it’s just you—his Mistress—and his own heightened sensations. You start slow, letting your fingertips barely brush his skin, gliding across his chest and down to his thighs. He’s already twitching, body hyperaware of every little movement.

It’s mesmerizing to watch.

His hips buck up involuntarily when you ghost your knuckle over his erection. His head rolls back, and though he can’t hear you, you chuckle softly. He’s already whining, already desperate for more.

"Patience," you whisper into the silence, knowing he can’t hear, but feeling the power of the moment wash over you. You repeat the gentle touch, never giving him what he truly wants—just a teasing brush that leaves him a trembling mess.

He thrashes, pulling against the bonds, desperate for more. You press your hand flat against his chest, keeping him grounded. "Just feel," you murmur again, dragging your knuckle along his shaft without giving him the satisfaction of a full stroke.

Each time he thrusts up, seeking more friction, you pull away, denying him. You’re making him wait. The longer the wait, the better it feels.  In theory. According to his moans also in practice.

His face twists in frustration, lips forming silent pleas. It’s as if he himself has forgotten that he would technically be able to make noises and even speak. He’s desperate, but he’s not safe-wording out. He’s enduring. He’s giving in to the intensity of the unknown.

When you finally push a slicked-up dildo into him, his entire body shudders. He groans, a deep, guttural sound escaping his throat, even without the benefit of his own hearing. He’s trapped in this silence, in this world of pure sensation, and you’re driving him higher with every subtle movement.

You continue to tease, building him up, watching his body twitch uncontrollably. The first orgasm rips through him, but you don’t stop.

He does make noises now and his cries and please grow more urgent, more desperate as he comes again and again, each time more overwhelming than the last.

Finally, when you sense he’s reaching his limit, you slow down, easing him back into a calmer state, letting your touch soften and soothe. His body goes limp beneath your hands, utterly spent, but still radiating the raw intensity of everything you’ve done.

He clearly thinks you’re done with him. You decide to give him a tiny break but then you surprise him with another round. When he is entirely relaxed, his breathing beginning to even out, you slide the dildo right back into his hole. You completely catch him off guard. His entire body jolts in shock, muscles tensing as he gasps out, arching involuntarily. He can’t hear you, can’t see you, but the sensation of you pushing back inside him sends a fresh wave of overwhelming intensity through his nerves, pulling a desperate, broken moan from his throat as the realization sets in: you aren’t done with him yet.

“There you go, baby,” you tell him even though he can’t hear you, “One last time, come on.”

It doesn’t take long until he cums again, completely dry this time, the orgasm jerking through his entire body as he pulls at the restraints so heavily that for the first time ever, you’re afraid they might tear.

Later on, when you remove the earplugs, letting all the sounds flood back in, you make sure that the first thing he hears is your voice, soft and praising: “You did so good, baby.” He deserves all the praise he can get.

Once he’s all grounded and fully present again, you can’t help but tease: “I hope this was intense enough for you.”

He nearly shoves you for that. Nearly.

[millylotus]

I dyed my hair recently so y'all have to suffer through my ideas on if/how the batfam dies their hair

-

Jason:

Ironically in canon he had red hair during his first introduction & dyed it to match Dick as Robin, but that got retconed. I don't really use this but of canon but now I will just for the hell of it.

Jason's hair is like his bio mom Shelia's, a red-ish blonde, kinda strawberry but definitely not. It's a very odd color & recognizable so he starts dyeing it black to avoid suspicion. Post Death & Resurrection he dies it the same shade of black as his mom Catherine's was, refusing to look like the same woman who killed her child.

He bleached his hair once & cursed god, has never done it again.

-

Dick:

Has actually never died his hair, & probably never will, prefers just going wild with the cuts because "It'll just grow back", did once frost the tips but didn't like how it looked & just cut them off

-

Babs:

When she was younger she dyed some strips purple for the hell of it, but slowed down when she became batgirl to try & keep her identities a bit more separate. Nowadays just dies her grey streaks out [they came in early like the rest of her family's] cause she likes having a full head of ginger.

-

Bruce:

Bruce secretly actually being a brunette is a lil headcanon of mine. Like his hair was mainly black but the Kane Brown[& Red but he doesn't have the red undertones] started to shine through once he hit like 30 & now his hair is Black & Black-Brown. He didn't really care to dye it until he started getting greys & decided that just wouldn't do & now his hair is Black-Black.

-

Kate:

Has never dyed her hair in a proper state of mind, but has bleached her hair blonde just to see if she looked like Beth [she does & it freaked her out, so she buzzed it all off]. Now just has her hair cut short & doesn't mind it going gray, does have the iconic red wig that she treats like her baby.

-

Steph:

Was extremely cognizant of her hair as a kid & never dyed it. Mainly cause it was one of her biggest traits & even her dad would notice any changes in it & recognize her on the spot. Now though she like styling it in fun ways & darkened it a bit just to experiment.

-

Cass:

Does actually dye her hair, & it's mainly just darker colors & off-blacks cause she likes how it looks in the light. But she has dyed underneath her hair for a two layer look & that's where she hides the neons & such.

-

Tim:

He dyes his hair, like to a wild degree. All about side identities & gets fully into character, Alvin is a red head/brunette? he's dying his hair. Carolina has dyed blonde hair b/c she had it as a baby & her mom kept dying it blonde even though her hair went brown at 2? Then that's what Tim has to do. Everything is meticulous & his bathroom is a mess. He does under dye his hair a nice red & has the top dyed an auburny brown/red. Sometimes goes blonde for the underlayer.

He's also completely immune to the burn of bleach now.

-

Duke:

Dyes his hair, but not the roots cause he cannot do the burn. He likes to have fun little shapes in his hair, like stars & such. The type of person to use his clippers to shave in shapes on his fade that match the vibe of the color or shapes. Gets away with all this defining stuff because like Cass & Tim he's wearing a full cowl & who's gonna police his swag during the day when he's the only one around.

-

Damian:

Doesn't dye his hair, at all but does like to help his siblings with their hair, mainly Cass, Duke & sometimes Tim, also helps Dick & Steph with new hair cuts. Secretly like it because it's basically dress up, & he's still a kid, & kinda sorta wants a cosmetology degree when he's older.

[ticklystuff]

Day 10: Special Delivery!

a/n: ler!tighnari, ler!cyno, lee!alhaitham from my own personal tickletober list!

———

Alhaitham sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose irately. If he had one mora for every time Kaveh ignored his reminders that he indeed could take care of himself, then Alhaitham could finally afford to build a separate house to kick the blond to. Alas, Alhaitham's words had fallen on deaf ears yet again and he watched as Cyno and Tighnari busied themselves around his own kitchen, storing away the myriad of groceries that currently took up his counter space.

"You know I don't need you guys to do this, right?" Alhaitham stood with arms folded, foot tapping impatiently against the kitchen tile. Archons, how he despised unannounced company.

"Well, Kaveh specifically asked us to when we ran into him," Tighnari mentioned, arranging a variety of fruit in an empty basket. "He said you wouldn't do it while he's gone."

Alhaitham snorted, a claim further from the truth. "Well, that's wrong. It's not like putting away groceries is a special skill. Kaveh just likes to do everything himself and will throw me out of the kitchen if I try to help and I don't like dealing with that, so.."

"Can I have one?" Cyno held up a bag of cookies from one of the grocery bags, giving Alhaitham an expectant glance, to which the scholar just shrugged his shoulders, watching as he tore open the bag.

"Personally, I think it's very nice of him," Tighnari said, walking over to the now empty counter. "Not sure about you, but I'd love if a certain someone would make sure I'm well taken care of while they're away, but that's just me."

Cyno continued to nibble on the cookie in hand, oblivious to the comment made.

"Well, I can take care of myself without his help," Alhaitham shook his head, imagining Kaveh writing out a laundry list of things for Tighnari and Cyno to purchase, "but thanks. How much do I owe you both?"

"Oh, no need! He paid us in advance when we ran into him."

"I see," Alhaitham said, looking between the two, beginning to make small subtle steps out of the kitchen to the front door. "Well, if you're both done here, I suppose I can show you out, then."

"Ah, wait!" Cyno spoke up, having finished the snack in his hand, looking over at Tighnari. "Aren't we forgetting something?"

There was still more??

"Ah, right!" Tighnari's ears stood on end once he seemingly came to the same conclusion that only Alhaitham was left unaware about.

"Well, I'm sure it can wait another day—"

"No, no, it'll only take a minute!"

He observed as the two approached him, a shred of hope that maybe they'd change their minds and walk through the front door right now, but sadly, things didn't seem to want to go his way and his eyes widened at the feeling of four hands, two at each of his sides, digging in, not painfully, but..

"Ngh! W-What is thihis?"

He gritted his teeth, trying to step away from prodding fingers, yet the two were persistent, side stepping alongside Alhaitham. His best attempts at a glare were overthrown by the smile slowly creeping across his lips, causing his eye to twitch in the most unsightly way.

"Kaveh wanted us to make sure you at least smiled a little bit while he's away," Tighnari finally explained, poking away at Alhaitham's ribs.

"I'm not sure it's working, though," Cyno seemed disappointed, doing his best to skitter his hands along Alhaitham's side. "He said this would work."

If anything, the fact this was also Kaveh's idea made Alhaitham want to resist the duo's attempts even more, steeling himself as he fought the urge to smile and laugh. He batted at their hands, backing up and out of the way to dodge the hands that reached for him, but it was all in vain as Cyno hopped around and behind him, cornering Alhaitham between the two, allowing Cyno to reach into his underarms unexpectedly, while Alhaitham fought off Tighnari from the front.

"G-Gahahaha! Okay, okahahay! Stahahahahap!!"

"Mission success, evacuate the premises!" Cyno exclaimed dramatically once laughter started to fill the room, stepping away from Alhaitham to grab Tighnari by the wrist, dragging him to the front door, leaving a giggly Alhaitham to recover on his own. He did manage to catch a glimpse of Tighnari waving at him as they left, but the two were gone so quickly, Alhaitham didn't get the chance to wave back.. or chew them out.

With a sigh, Alhaitham let himself fall to the floor, butt hitting the ground with a 'thud', already exhausted from having to unexpectedly interact with the two. He leaned back with his arms, legs sprawled out on the floor, imagining how the conversation between Kaveh, Tighnari, and Cyno went and the silliness of making Alhaitham smile as part of his "care package". How bothersome..

Well, whenever Kaveh returned home, Alhaitham certainly wouldn't need a care package to make him smile.

[theauthorunicorn]

No Limit | Gojo Satoru

tooth rooting fluff, not proofread I just love Gojo Saturo

note: long time no write hehe. this is inspired to Business Proposal scene in which the male lead asked the female lead what his card and his love for her has in common. iykyn. I saw that scene in my fyp and man if I tell you how I screamed, silenty, then I really can't explain it. anyway enjoy.

Gojo Satoru x Reader

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

If someone asks you, "How can you describe Gojo Satoru?" You'll definitely answers them, "A fucking flirt."

There's no hour, minute nor second, he'll try to waste just to get you annoyed or fluster. You hated that he loves doing it and just leave you hanging, mouth opened as if the world had stopped. He's so unpredictable that's why you hated, love it.

Once Shoko said, "Y/N, stop that look, " you raised your eyebrows at her, "you know that thing when your mouth is gaping after Satoru said something flirtatious." You rolled your eye at her remarks, "Shoko, babe," you sigh, "I was caught off guard, okay." She nodded at your words, "As if he did not make those silly remarks at you every second, minute, hour at any day. You definitely have fallen for him -"

"Who fallen for who?" Gojo cut off leaning down to stare at you.

You were surprised and heart beating faster that he might caught your little crush over him, "Nothing! And it's ill-mannered to eavesdrop at a conversation you're not supposed to be with, Gojo."

"Hmm," he puts his hand on his chin, thinking, "if that's the case that you're hiding your silly girl talks to me. I will - no - I assume it's about me."

"What? You're so annoyingly full of yourself Satoru. Stop making everything about you." Said Shoko throwing whatever she had earlier at Gojo. He laughed and told Suguru about it when he arrived at the table.

Nice save, Shoko. And well done Gojo, he was able to deduce it without even trying.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

After classes you gather your things to rest for day. You immediately left the room while murmuring goodbyes to your friends when you saw Nanami.

"Hey Y/N, you free tonight?" He asked. You mumble a quick hum as a yes. "So, I was wondering if you wanted to try the new ramen restaurant that we passed through the other day. You said that you wanted to -"

"Oh, I was about to ask you that as well Y/N." Said Gojo as he rests his chin on the top of your head. "But since Nanami asked we could all go as a group, Suguru and Shoko should come to! Right guys?" They simply nodded.

"Eight pm sharp?" He asked everyone, nodding, "We'll meet at front of the school, okay?" Everyone agreed and Nanami sighed in disbelief.

"I was just hoping a good dinner. Just a good dinner why would I have to be with Gojo-san." Nanami pressed the bridge of his nose. Though he knew that Gojo was just trying to insert himself and would not like you to have any alone time with his male friends. Even Suguru.

"Aw, Kento," you held his arm, "we could just go alone next time or," you grinned, "we could get ice cream after."

Gojo stand behind both of you with jealousy wrapping his face. "You could just ask her, "hey Y/N you wanna be my girl." She'll definitely say yes." Suguru assured him.

A deep sigh broke both man's delusions, "That's why both of you couldn't have girlfriends because it's either your full of shit or just flirty who can't even ask properly a girl out."

Gojo still stared at how you threw yourself over Nanami giving ideas which ice cream you could all try.

"It's my treat. It'll be my treat!" He shouted all of a sudden. He grabbed you and hold your hand, "You can say thank you as early as now," he whispered, "or you can give me a kiss?"

You flicked his forehead as you walked away from him, "Aw, my love, you don't have to run away from me! I'm sure they wouldn't mind, right, Nanami?" He said chasing you.

⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠄･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆

At the restaurant booth, Suguru, Nanami and Shoko was on the opposite side of where you and Gojo is seating. You were browsing the menu while Gojo is leaning on your shoulder looking at the menu as well, your heart is beating faster when his close like this, but you disregard it and put in the best stoic face that you could give without hinting that your heart is racing faster than any car could. He might hear it but who cares you can always blame the caffeine if he asks.

"What do you want?" He mumbled, "You could get anything, hell, get the whole menu or I could just buy you the restaurant?" He calmly said staring at you.

"Really?" You played with his banter.

Gojo quickly searched for his wallet and displayed his black card, "You know what this card and my love for you have in common?"

You looked at Shoko bewildered and entertained what's about to happen then to Suguru who's definitely was about to laugh out loud and finally to Nanami whose face is screaming, 'I want to go home, I did not sign up for this.'

You just shook your head, eyes blinking.

"They both have no limit." He said proudly grinning ear to ear.

The booth was silent and then a burst of laughter echoed as Shoko and Suguru laughed and you definitely saw Nanami laugh a little bit before gesturing the waiter to take your orders.

"So, what do you want?" Gojo ask you again.

Love. Your love. I want it. Your eyes say it all before you looked away from him and gave your order away.