#like in his mind it’s nothing he’s just helping iris out these days

[figueroths]

something something inserting iris as the obstacle instead of examining carlos’s culpability in his own omissions or providing tk time and space to process his feelings

[tender-rosiey]

hi hii (　；∀；) since its geto suguru's birthday today (03 february), could i pretty please with a cherry ontop kindly request something about it? can be suggestive or fluffy!!! bonus points if satoru's teasing him all the way through because we love an annoying bestfriend

in bloom — geto suguru x gn!reader

a/n: what’s with me writing hurt/comfort for characters’ bdays—forgive me anon, but I have decided to make him suffer a little first 🙏 and hey I am late again but what’s new 🧍‍♀️

suguru wouldn’t exactly call himself someone who views the world in a poetic way.

he doesn’t concern himself with the meaning of the sun’s particular position behind the clouds today or the darkness of the sky that seems to mesh with the rays of the sunset.

it all seems a little too complicated for his liking.

nature is to be loved, of course, he thinks, but he just isn’t the type to go into details about it.

he just lets out a small hum of appreciation and a thankful sigh about yet another day accompanied with a good weather and a sun that doesn’t burn his skin but warms it just right.

that’s enough he thinks.

but right now? he sure hoped that nature was the topic that occupied his mind instead of the incessant sound of clapping.

it plays on a loop, and when he thinks that it stopped—even for a second—he starts hearing it in the rhythm of anything around him.

he wants to rid himself of all this misery and being sentenced to relive this event in every time of the day. he desperately wants to forget it all, but he halts.

wouldn’t forgetting it disrespect those who have passed? disrespect the tears and blood spilled? disrespect the pain that his best friend had to go through alongside him?

wouldn’t mean that he is treating the friends who died along the way as a burden that he needs to dispose of? but if forgetting is disrespectful then the remembrance is devastative.

what does he do? does he act on it? does he forget it or not? or does he tried to find a solution, a way to rid everyone of this burden—but then he halts yet again. it feels too much. it is too much.

so he does what he thinks is best and he pushes it aside, neither forgetting or remembering it endlessly—as much as he can.

a bit of time passes, summer bursts through the door, and he has never hated it so much.

the sun is scathing to his skin, and the sweat makes him feel disgusting like those in the star plasma group. but the shower is a place that he fear? hates? despises? loathes?

the shower head never failed to let out drops in a rhythm that wickedly mirrored that of the claps of the people in that cult.

he notices the worried glances of his friends—those he sees anyway—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—satoru. still, he feels suffocated, and he keeps wondering just what will set him free from all of this.

in what form will salvation come in?

it came discreetly, that’s what he knows, but he doesn’t know when.

he doesn’t know when he started to seek the sun’s heat more, the darkness’ quietness, or the fields behind his school, especially the fields behind the school. flowers are nice, but what role do they play?

they simply just exist. they do nothing effective to help him with solving his inner turmoil, so why does he sit in the field, gently playing with the petals of an iris?

it’s a lot of questions. he knows. he is also searching for answers.

and salvation? he doesn’t expect it to come in the form of you.

he doesn’t know when you made your way into his heart, and he knows that he started looking forward to your “good morning, geto!” to transform into a “good morning, suguru?”

maybe because he cared about you, but why does he do that? then he remembers some stuff. they’re minor, but they are what he remembers at the moment, and he thinks they’re enough.

he remembers the worried glances of his friends—you—and he appreciates those who ask about him when they get the chance to—you then satoru.

he starts to remember how you followed him and never left him to his thoughts, always considerate of his feelings and asking him to convey what he truly wanted.

like that one time you going to buy meals for everyone. after you asked everyone their preferences, you went to him—leaving him for last and at the time, he remembers feeling a little offended because why?

you asked the same question that you asked to everyone, “what would you like to eat?”

and he replied with his constant at that time, “i am not that hungry, but satoru probably wants something sweet so you can get him kikufuku.”

“I already asked gojo what he wants. what do you want to eat?”

he stills for a moment, and he opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. you roll your eyes with a smile, ignoring his malfunctioning, and ask him something else, “what’s your favorite food?”

he blinks before murmuring softly, “zaru soba.”

“see? that wasn’t so hard, was it?” you smile and ruffle his before running away yelling, “the best zaru soba is on the way!”

in that moment, he couldn’t help softening his expression and the small smile that appeared.

another thing that he had assumed is that this journey through these thoughts would be a solo one.

last thing he expected was you dragging him out to the roof  of the school before asking him right away, “what’s on your mind?”

he resists. it’s not your burden to shoulder, and, frankly, it’s none of your business, so why should he tell you?

so he doesn’t and replies lightly, “nothing.”

for some reason, when your expression becomes ridden with sympathy and sadness and your hands gently hold his own, he feels something.

your thumb rubs his hand soothingly as you murmur, “it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything just—“ you take a deep breath “—just know that I am here for you, and I am trying to understand—“

“why?”

your eyes travel to his face, and he is barely keeping it together.

“why did she have to go through that? why were they delighted in her deaths?”

you listened to all his questions and thought of answers together. words never stopped flowing from him, and you never stopped indulging him. he remembers that first ray of sun that hit his eyes.

he had been spilling his emotions till sunrise, and you stayed. you weren’t talking to him like he is crazy either. you discussed it through and through.

you stayed, and you were trying to understand.

then he figures out that you frequent the fields behind the school. you tell him that you go there because sometimes you just need a break from everything that surrounds jujutsu and the school itself.

he finds himself agreeing that, yes, sometimes we need a break.

at some point,  he finds himself going there with you. the two of you talked about anything, not just the thoughts that plagued his mind (plagued?). 

satoru bugs him about where he goes after school, but he tells him nothing. he feels that letting the secret of the fields being known by anyone other than you two makes it lose something to him.

gradually, he starts going there before you. while he waits, he finds himself thinking about how the sky is brighter nowadays. maybe it’s the seasons or some kind science stuff that satoru is into.

he laughs off the thought then he begins to see your figure approaching the field, slowly but surely.

he takes in your shocked face then the smile that creeps up your face. suddenly, the sun shone brighter, but a small breeze kept him cool.

that’s when he realized that spring has entered, and the daffodils are finally in bloom.

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[rodolfoparras]

Detective’s Work

Pairing: Spider Noir x Top Male Reader

Synopsis: in which Noir tries to keep you off the streets and you try to keep him inside the sheets

Content tags: rough blow jobs, exhibition kink, brat! Noir, Hard dom! Reader (kind of), detective! Noir, petty criminal! Reader

A/n: sorry for any mistakes it’s an 11pm Drabble kind of day

As far as anyone knows you and Noir dislike each other. He’s a detective and you’re a criminal. There’s no reason for you two to get along.

But what people don’t know is that every night he shows up to your hotel room, under the excuse that he has to make sure that you’re acting in line but he’s wearing nothing under his trench coat and he's got a pretty plug inside his hole.

There’s a knock on your hotel door and a smile makes its way on your face. There’s only one person foolish enough to wander around shady neighborhoods at this hour.

One second he’s outside your door, the next second he’s bent over a desk, stripped out of everything but his plug, legs spread and cock hard and leaking.

He won’t say a word to you, not until you fuck it out of him at least; a broken string of pleas or needy noises escaping his lips.

He’s not here to talk, he’s here to get fucked by the only person who knows how to do it right.

And once it’s all over and done, he’ll have you put the plug back in, puts on his coat and leaves your hotel room quickly, continuing on with his business like you didn’t just fuck and he isn’t full of your cum.

Sometimes he’ll act out of line and ruin your plans. You don’t mind it much though. He’s a detective after all. It’s his job to stop criminals.

“You sure you don’t want any help with this?” One detective says to Noir as he gets ready to head out to where you had last been spotted.

“Stay here. I’ll deal with it” Noirs responds before he heads towards the door.

Only if the detective knew dealing with it meant being forced down on his knees, hands tied behind his back and mouth pried open as you shove your cock down his throat.

“What were you supposed to be doing now again?” You pretend to think, fingers comically tapping against your chin while continuously rolling your hips.

“Weren’t you supposed to deal with me or something like that? Feels like you’re doing quiet the opposite here” you say with a dark chuckle, rolling your hips harder and hearing the gurgling sound as he chokes on your cock, fat tears rolling down his cheeks and drool dripping from his chin.

“There, there “ You say as you stroke his hair, tone condescending as ever “you’re this place’s ultimate hero or whatever it is. You can take it, can you?” And despite the humiliating position he’s in there’s still a certain spit fire reflecting in his iris as he nods his head and God if it doesn’t make your cock twitch in his mouth.

And as much as he doesn’t like to admit it, he can’t help but be turned by the fact that one day someone might just catch him fucking a criminal.

Interrogations that should go by quickly will last up to a good hour or so if you’re involved. Footage will go missing from both the camera and the microphone.

Noir would say that they malfunctioned. “You know that tech still has a far way to go” but what they don’t know is that a good chunk of that footage shows Noir pushed against the glass wall with you thrusting your cock inside his hole. And a good chunk of that recording is him just begging for more, more, more.

And he’d go out his way to get those recording developed, play it on whatever device he has access to and jerk off to them.

[miguel-owhora]

I'll bite for a kinktober request, maybe like... Micah cum inflation. He gets bred so fiercely and mind numbingly well that all he can do is lay there and take it. He barely realizes his womb/insides are swelling with seed. The top goes for round four, and he opens his legs as best he can

unfortunately this time i wasn't taking these types of reqs as compared to last year's, but this was too good of a prompt to ignore.

CW — sub!micah , trans!micah , cum inflation/bloating , excessive cum , dubious undertones , implied mind breaking , not beta read

fems n minors dnf, you will be blocked

There is nothing more pretty than the sight of Micah sprawled over your bed, as bare as the day he was born, and with a set of puffy lips between his legs. This wasn't the first time you've seen him naked, seen his legs spread, but it's the first time you've seen him like this.

Cum dribbles from his puffy lips, his hole loose. The coarse hair curling around his cunt is slick in some areas, more so downwards towards his entrance. His belly is swollen and taut, and not just from the beer store away in his gut, but from the excessive amount of cum you've been dumping into him.

It's fascinating, really, just how much you could cum in one session, enough to force Micah's belly to bloat. Your hands trace over his belly, fingers brushing over the hair that trailed over it, a shade darker from his blonde hair. You could feel the subtle markings of his stretchmarks, both from the rapid swelling and from gaining weight in other situations unrelated to your current activity.

Perhaps you're biased, but you think he's the prettiest thing you've ever seen, more so now when he looks like he's pregnant.

The thought of Micah Bell - one of the most infamous outlaw - pregnant, all fat and heavy with your brood, makes your cock hard. A bead of cum slips from the tip, but you don't notice, staring down at Micah like he's a slab of meat ready for you to devour.

And in a way, he is.

"Micah," You call out his name, shifting to get closer to him. He makes a low sound in response, and an uncharacteristic whine slips from his lips when your cockhead pokes his entrance. He sluggishly squirms in a weak attempt to get away, but all he does it make your cock poke at his cunt. It's cute, really, that he thinks he has a say in it.

Your hands grip his thighs, keep them nice and open, as you sink your cock back inside. Micah lets out a high-pitched sound, something that dances between being a whimper and a cry, as slurred and weak as ever.

You shush him as you bottom out, cock nicely fitting in his gummy cunt, feeling your cum spread along your length. Maybe it's just your imagination, or maybe the results of your hard work, but his walls feel puffier, slimier, weakly squeezing you.

You lean over him, hands gently cradling his belly, and peer down at him with curious eyes; dark in the low lighting of the room, making them glint like the eyes of a predator observing their prey.

There's a red flush spread across the scruffy outlaw's space, spreading over the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, spreading to the very tips of his ears. His greasy hair spans around him like some golden crown, and the glossy looks in his dull eyes only helps to accentuate the almost ethereal look he has going on.

Of course, the look is only ruined - or perhaps made more beautiful - at the drool that dribbles down his swollen lip. His lips are parted, and for once not chapped, panting into the suffocating air. The air is heavy with the scent of both men, sweat, and sex.

When your hand gently grips his chin, Micah squirms in response, involuntarily squeezing around your cock. The action has you jerking your hips, and Micah whimpers.

"Little tease," You muttered, tilting his head so he's facing you. His pupil swallows up his iris, a pale circle of blue eclipsing the black color. You slowly rock your hips, grinding deeper into his cunt, and Micah practically whimpers, lightly trembling.

"You're so pretty, Micah, such a pretty thing, all for me, aren't you?" You can't help but coo, voice dancing between being mocking and genuine, one of your favorite past times. You slowly rock your hips, each shallow thrust of your cock punching the cum cooped up in him, and Micah groans.

Your hand drops back to his swollen belly, taut with your cum, and you gently press down. Micah whimpers, and you lean down to kiss him as you give a particularly harsh snap of your hips. It has him gasping, and your slimy tongue slips inside, claiming his mouth, just as you're about to claim him for the fourth time that night.

[sukibenders]

comfort and care

FEATURING: percy jackson x reader

summary: for the past few days, you've been noticing a change in percy's demeanor as of late. from the bags gathering under his eyes from lack of sleep to his more irritable nature, everything had screamed "wrong" to you. in your attempts to find some resolve, you set out to find ways to tend to his needs.

contents: sad!percy, poor boy is struggling (specifics aren't mentioned) and needs comfort, fluff, angst, mentions of lack of personal care (such as poor sleep and struggling emotional health), percy not being kind to himself (dismissing his feelings), concerned!reader, cute couple moments, reader takes care of percy, mentions of cooking but can easily be ignored or altered if you can't cook, percy calling you babe, i hope percy doesn't seem ooc in this.

note" thank you so much to everyone who showed support to my first percy x reader, as that really warmed my heart. this one came to mind when i thought about how little x reader imagines there are that involve percy receiving comfort and felt like our boy needed someone to be able to vent to. ergo, this came to be. hope you enjoy!

You first noticed it during one of your weekly Iris Messaging calls with Percy, a familiar routine the two of you had come up with when you both had to leave camp to return to your respective household during the school season. It had helped ease the long-distance separation, considering demigods weren't allowed electronic devices such as phones with the risk of drawing the attention of monsters, and allowed for you both to speak for hours and hours without worrying about racking up on a phone bill. It was a bonus that it allowed you to see one another, especially now.

While it was evident that Percy was attempting to hide any signs of fatigue, you had known him well enough to see past the feeble attempts and hesitantly brought the issue forward. "You look tired," you had said, eyes scanning over his frame through the hazy messaging system. "When was the last time that you slept?"

At the question, Percy let out a soft laugh, waving his hand in dismissal. "C'mon, babe, let's not weigh down our talk with boring stuff like my sleep schedule. Wouldn't you like to focus on something more interesting?"

To which you retorted. "I would like focus on making sure that my boyfriend is doing okay, taking care of himself. That would interest me just fine."

The inky haired boy let out a small sound that rumbled in the back of his throat, taking in your words and the unwavering concern in your gaze. A part of him practically leaned towards you (or more so you image), wanting to seek you out for as much comfort as he could gain. But another, more darker part of him, had drew him to a halt and left his previous wants to plunder into nothing more than wants rather than needs.

"It's nothing, really." Lie. "I've just been stressed with school is all." Another lie, well, partially. "You know I'm not the sharpest tool in the box." He was attempting to be humorous, in hopes of drawing away your concern on to something else. It didn't work.

Your burrows narrowed in a way he'd only seen when you get protective over things that you care about, and being on the receiving end of that look made him wince. "Don't be so hard on yourself," you said with a stern tone. "Besides, I don't like it when people insult my boyfriend. He's a genius in his own ways."

"Even when it's me?"

"Especially when it's you." A part of you warmed slightly when you notice a glint of gratitude sparkle in the inky haired boy's eyes at your defense, even if it was from his own self. But, even with that, it did little to provide any solution to the dilemma at hand as Percy had used quick thinking to find a way of branching to a new subject that, before you knew it, left little room for you to return to your concerns before you both had to call it a night.

That didn't mean that this problem was over, nor would your attempts to fix it be hindered.

It would seem so that you weren't the only one to notice Percy's shift as most of your friends had noticed it too. From Annabeth, who was ready to report any of her findings discovered during the pairs talks with one another to you or other members of the Seven dropping casual hints of concern (Jason had mentioned that he noticed Percy's hands tremble whenever they would drag across his face, Leo had noted that his jokes---which were usually funny---had either fallen flat or gave a vibe of uneasiness, Hazel had commented on the way his smile no longer reached his eyes and so on). You had used your family phone to call Sally who at the time was nowhere near Percy, thankfully, and had nearly broken down to you over the phone about her worries. She had done the best she could, but she was only one person.

It didn't take you long to formulate a plan, all that was needed was a way of travel to the Jackson's residence. It was lucky for you that a certain son of Hades had been open to the idea of helping as he dropped you off via shadow travel in front of the apartment complex. After a thanks of gratitude, the di Angelo boy left with saying "Tell Percy that I hope he gets better" before disappearing into the shadows.

You had already informed Sally and Paul of your plan, and the two had readily abided by it by taking Estelle on a trip around the city, leaving you and Percy to have some alone time. By the time you had gotten to your destination, a sudden bundle of nerves had crept their way inside you as you waited for Percy to open the door. What if he didn't want you here? What if it only made him more upset? What if you being here simply did nothing at all?

All your thoughts were put on hold when the boy himself threw open the door, a look of surprise marking his features as he took you in, as if trying to determine whether you were really there or not.

"Surprise!" You had said with hopefully enthusiasm, a conscious smile painting your face as you waited for a response.

Instead of words, a pair of strong arms circled you and pulled you into a muscular chest, body molding around yours as two became one in a matter of seconds. "You're here." Percy mumbled, though more as a statement than surprise even though your sudden appearance was one for sure.

"Of course I am, babe." You smiled into his chest, rubbing your hands up and down his back in a way that you hoped would bleed all the love and comfort from your heart that you wished give.

It didn't take long for him to pull you in to the shelter of his apartment, and even less before the two of you reached his bedroom. You both had fallen on to his bed, laying side by side facing one another with a little distance to allow you to look into each other's eyes. It was moments like these were almost anything in the world could be happening, right outside the window even, and neither of you would care. All that would matter would be the warmth of your bodies pressed together, fingers interlocking in a complex hold that neither of you wanted to be freed from, and the mingling of your even breaths dancing with one another in the faintly lit room.

"I wished you told me that you were coming. I would've cleaned up a bit." Percy joked, waving a hand in the direction towards his mess of a room before rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.

You let out snort, raising your hand to card your fingers through his messy locs. A smile pulled on your lips at the soft mewl that emitted from your boyfriend before he ducked his face into your neck. "I don't mind, I think my happiness at seeing you might overpower some of my observation skills."

Percy hummed. "Maybe I'm in luck then." You could tell that he was attempting to divert the conversation again, already knowing the reason for your abrupt visit. And a part of you was almost inclined to do so, wrapped in the comfort of your lover's embrace, physically after weeks of Iris Messages that left you only wanting more. But this social visit wasn't for you. As much as you wanted to lounge around all day, hearing Percy rattle off details of his days away or a spiel of jokes that would be sure to make you laugh.

But now was not the time.

"Percy," You whisper softly after a moment, thumb rubbing against the junction where his neck met his shoulders. He shivered, whether at the movement or your voice as the question he had been awaiting. "I've known you for a long time, like you've known me, and I can tell when something is wrong. Just as you would for me. And you and I both know that something is wrong. You haven't been yourself lately."

Percy didn't speak. His face remained hidden in your neck.

"You don't have to tell me right now as I won't force you. But I just want you to know that I'm here, and so are the others...if you ever want or need..." you pause, your hand stopping in its movements down his spine when you felt his body tremble beside you. "Percy?"

Labored breathing turned into harsh, muffled sobs that shook your heart with each one. Percy's usually tall frame clung to you as he pressed his face further into your neck, if that was even possible, littering the skin with a river of tears. The more he tried to speak, as if believing he had to explain himself, the more his words were choked by the sobs. You simply held him closer, pulling his body further into yours and caressing him from his back to his neck to scalp and back again, whispering comforting phrase from one's of love to one's of reassurance.

"It's all right," you whispered as he shook, running your nose along his temple. "You've been holding this in for a long time and now it's time to let it out. I've got you."

You both stayed like that until Percy's tears had run dry, until his heavy sobs turned into weak hiccups until his body stopped shaking and his breathing evened into one accompanied by an eased sleep. His body fell lacks at your side, his breaths tickling your skin every now and again. The collar of your shirt was dampened from Percy's tears, but you paid it no mind as you carded your fingers through his hair, soothing him even in his sleep because it was what he needed. What he deserved.

A thought had popped into your head when you felt your stomach growl in attention, your hunger taking focus as you realized, after looking at the clock on the bedside, how much time had past since between your arrival and now. Raising to your feet, taking precautions not to wake the sleeping boy, you slipped out of the room and towards the kitchen. Sally had been kind enough to offer to cook something before leaving, but you had simply offered to make something instead and leave one less thing for her to worry about.

You were an hour or so into cooking, the scents floating into the air and clouding throughout the apartment, when you heard hurried footsteps making their way down the hall. Glancing over your shoulder you watched as Percy slid into the room, his appearance ruffled from sleep but his eyes wide and alert as they scanned the room, searching for something. Or someone, more like it, as they stopped when they landed on you.

It seems as if a weight had left his shoulders as they dropped, no longer tense, and he easily made his way towards you. You were in his arms in less than a second, his face pressed into your hair as he breathe in deeply. "I almost thought it was all a dream. You being here."

You hummed, smiling into his arm. "Glad that I'm not?"

"You have no idea." You stood like that for a few moments, occasionally rocking back and forth to keep blood flowing through your legs when Percy spoke again. "Thank you. Thank you for...for..."

But you shushed him, shaking your head as you met his eyes. No words needed to be said, and he understood. His gaze drifted over to the assemble littering the kitchen counter with a raised brow. "Anything that I can help with?"

"Think you can handle it?"

This caused him to snort. "Please, I was raised by the Sally Jackson, learning how to cook was a given." He cracked his knuckles and rolled his shoulders confidently, moving closer the counter. "Now, chef, tell me what we're working with."

"Yes, chef!"

[ad-writes]

Picture You - Sam Winchester x Reader 1250 words

Summary: Song fic based off of Picture you by Chappell Roan.

Warnings: Mentions of injury, and broken/sprained bones, and smut if you squint.

A/N: This song has been stuck in my head for the past 4+ days so I wrote this at like 1am, it's not proofread well so hopefully it doesn't suck. Enjoy! <3

Draw the blinds

Light every candle

Slip off my pretty dress down my chest

While I think of you

  You stared intently at Sam from the backseat. Tracing what you could see of his silhouette with your eyes over and over. You watched as Sam’s eyes flicked to meet yours in the rear view mirror before quickly shifting your gaze to look out the window. In that moment you wanted nothing more than to be in Sam's arms. Let’s be honest, in every moment you wanted nothing more than to be in Sam’s arms. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. He was always on your mind during hunts, while doing research, or even when you were alone in your room trying desperately to fall asleep. But you couldn’t sleep, because you needed Sam. You needed his warmth, his comfort.

Every night

Both lips on the mirror

It's ritualistic, counting lipstick

Stains where you should be

  You laid on your bed imagining what it would be like to be with Sam. To have him hold you close. Feel his warm hands on your body. His soft lips touching yours. They ways he would comfort you and hold you in times of pain or despair. And the ways you would reciprocate. To run your hands through his hair, and feel it in between your fingers. To lay your head on his chest and feel his heartbeat and the way his chest rises and falls with his breath. To feel his chest rumble as he whispers sweet nothings in your ears while you fall asleep.

Oh

I need you around

I'm getting close now

Do you picture me like I picture you? (Oh)

Am I in the frame from your point of view? (Oh)

Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say (oh)

Half of the things I do

When I picture you

  You gave up trying to sleep and went to the kitchen for water. You turned from the sink to face what you thought was an empty room only to find Sam staring at you from the couch. “Why are you still awake?” He questioned. You gasped, startled by him. “I couldn’t sleep.” You responded. Sam patted the seat next to him on the couch. Sitting down next to him you couldn’t help leaning towards his warmth. “Are you cold?” He asked, not looking away from his movie. “Uh, yeah a little” You answered. Sam wrapped his arm around you pulling you close to him. Your heart beat faster as you remembered every time you imagined this happening. You wondered if this is what you hoped it was, that Sam shared your feelings, or if it was just him making a kind platonic gesture. You leaned into Sam’s touch resting your head on his shoulder. Sam’s thumb ran soft circles into your arm as your eyes drifted shut.

So, tell me now (tell me now)

All your perversions (oh, oh)

Am I doing research (am I?) in a mini skirt

At the library in your hometown?

  You woke up in your bed with the blankets pulled over you. You got out of bed and headed towards the kitchen. After pouring a cup of coffee you wandered to the library looking for Sam. As expected he was sitting at one of the tables with several books and his laptop around him. “Hey Sammy” You greeted. Sitting down across from him, grabbing a book. “Whatcha reading?” You asked. “Just looking at a possible case in Oklahoma.” He responded, quickly resuming his research. You opened your book and started to read but your eyes kept finding their way back to Sam’s face. Admiring the creases on his brow and the way he tensed his jaw as he focused. You got lost in Sam’s hazel eyes. Noticing all the different hues in his iris’. Your gaze drifted to his lips wanting to feel them on yours. Wishing he would throw everything off the table and just have you right there.

Oh

I need you around

I'm getting close now

Do you picture me like I picture you? (Oh)

Am I in the frame from your point of view? (Oh)

Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say (oh)

Half of the things I do

When I picture you

  Dean broke a few ribs on the last hunt so you and Sam went without him this time. The hunt was rough and ended with both of you drained and you having a possibly broken wrist. You sat in the passenger seat as Sam drove. You held your wrist to your chest leaning your head against the window gazing at Sam in your peripheral, watching as he drove. Listening to the music and the hum of baby the pain melted away and closed your eyes. As you leaned against the window you could feel Sam’s worried gaze on you. You subconsciously winced shifting in the seat. You felt Sam press a little harder on the gas, eager to get home and make sure you were okay. 

When I picture you

Ah, ah

Ah, ah-ah-ah

Ah, ah

Ah, ah-ah-ah

  Feeling the familiar movement of pulling into the bunkers garage you opened your eyes to see Sam parking the car. “Can you get my bag for me?” You asked Sam “I don’t know if I can carry it.” You chuckled nervously. Sam replied with a nod and a soft smile. Walking inside the bunker you headed to your room with Sam trailing behind. You headed towards the bathroom with towels when Sam stopped you grabbing your un-injured wrist. “Let me know when you’re out I wanna look at your wrist.” Sam stated, gazing into your eyes with a look of nothing but care and concern. You nodded heading into the bathroom. After changing into clean sleep clothes you heard a soft knock on your door. “Come in.” You replied knowing it was Sam. “Hey Y/N, I just wanted to wrap that hand.” Sam said coming to sit on your bed in front of you. You nodded and gave him your injured hand to look at. A shiver went up your spine as Sam’s fingers gently grazed your skin searching for broken bones. You winced when he hit a particularly tender spot. “Sorry.” He apologized. He wrapped your wrist with an ace bandage. You snuggled in under your covers as Sam packed up the first aid kit. “Goodnight” He said, turning to leave.

Do you picture me like I picture you?

Am I in the frame from your point of view?

Do you feel the same? I'm too scared to say

Half of the things I do

When I picture you

 “Wait” You said impulsively. “I- could you stay with me?” “Uh, y-yeah sure.” He answered. You watched as he lifted the covers and felt the bed dip next to you. “Goodnight Sammy.” you mumbled sleepily, rolling over so your back was facing him. Everything was still for a few moments before you felt the bed shift and arms wrap around your waist. You stiffened before relaxing into Sam’s touch, feeling your heart rate quicken. You turned in his arms to face him, one hand on his chest. He leaned down, placing a feather light kiss to your lips before pulling back to make sure you were okay with it. Reading your expression Sam kissed you again this time with more passion before relaxing and pulling you into his chest. “Goodnight Y/N” He whispered.

[sshadowritestoriess]

I apologize because I know you get a lot of ramattra requests, but can I request a sexually frustrated ramattra?

No problem, this was fun to think about honestly :]

Sexually Frustrated Ramattra

Ramattra is already a very stressed-out and aggravated omnic, so I am in full belief that he would not be able to recognize right away where this new kind of frustration is stemming from

And it would drive him to the brink of insanity. He would seek solutions, first: being somewhat of a workaholic, he’d frantically complete task after task until he has nothing left to finish for that day, maybe even for that week, before he finally allows himself to sit down and meditate for a few hours.

But no matter how deeply he breathes or how still he sits, no matter how many times he refreshes his thoughts and (quite literally) clears his mind, he cannot shake this internal burning feeling that nips at his very fingertips and makes him want to scream

He would resign the peaceful exercise for something more exerting; violence. Practicing the martial arts he was taught at the shambali, kicking and punching at practice-bots and dummies, reaching the point of tearing one apart limb-from-limb and ripping into the center of its intricate chassis— pulling out wires like a child would do to grass in a temper-tantrum

And then the object of his infatuation would pass him by in this all-too-embarrassing moment, asking if he was okay, and then it would click for him. But who was he to ask for that kind of aid after being seen like this?

He would assure you that he’s fine, then escapes your presence to try to take care of it himself, hiding away in his own quarters and stroking himself off with an intense quickness to try and make it go away. Refreshing his systems to rid of this error.

He’s rough with himself, leaning hard into a wall and pulling at a fistful of his cabled mane until he hears the wire enamels creak and snap in his fingers, damaging his own ‘hair’. His hands are just my no means soft, providing an intense friction around his synthetic sex.

So as the Iris would have it, his own stimulation and imagination would not be enough to satiate this cursed sense of hunger.

He would try to disconnect his copulative attachments after some failed attempts to provide himself relief, yet the cravings would remain, just slightly altered for lack of equipment. He still needed to have someone near, to feel hands that weren’t his own reaching into the crevices of his body to force his guard down. He needed to relax at someone else’s bidding. He had just had far too much time by himself and his codependence trait had finally unraveled.

And everything about it makes him angry about the entire world around him, including himself. So the second time he bumps into you, much later in the evening, he’s somewhat hunched over and marching down a hall from his headquarters, red and yellow glimpses of wires practically glowing with a display of rage from the new tears in his cables. There’s always been an air about Ramattra that seems dangerous— but now especially, it felt that he may kill the next thing that enters a ten-foot radius around him.

So you would stop before getting to close, and he’d freeze just the same, staring at you through the dark slits of his faceplate. You could see the way his shoulders rose and fell in a more exaggerated manner, as if he was breathing heavy in his anger (though he doesn’t breathe at all).

It’s not at all difficult to guess he has had a very rough day. And he would further hate himself when you cautiously ask again if he was doing alright— clearly, he wasn’t, but it was invitation to speak or ask for help. And with a small pause in reluctance, feeling far more embarrassed than he would have liked (especially for spending half the day trying to get off) he would.

“I need… assistance,” The word would be hissed out as if he had gritted teeth, “for something far more mundane and—“ he’d force his gaze away from you, “—private than our usual tasks.”

You’d ask what it is he needs, of course. There’s an air of nervousness between you both— Ramattra in fear of dragging himself further through this muddy situation, and destroying all chances of you feeling comfortable around him ever again for what he’d like to ask of you.

But he’s already found himself here and has run out of ideas, and he’s not the omnic to put things very lightly. So he’d just come out and say it.

“Sex.” The word is spat as though it offended him, and he’d drop his head toward the ground with a defeated sigh. He’d raise a hand and roll his wrist almost dismissively, “I cannot bring myself to function without this lingering frustration for the moment, so if you would like to help or have any suggestions that would ensure this feeling goes away, I would certainly appreciate it.”

[of-teeth-and-tenderness]

Sweet Tooth

M Vampire x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: A desperate vampire uses you to satisfy a craving.

Warnings: Mind control, manipulation, nonconsensual cunnilingus during reader’s period

The scents of baking bread, pastry, vanilla, and lemon fill the air. Soft dough rolls between your fingers as you knead and shape. A large mixer whirs to your left and flour puffs into the air in little white clouds when the bell above the front door jingles.

In your chest, your heart stutters. Hadn’t you locked it behind you when you’d arrived? The bakery is not yet open for the day. The sun hasn’t even risen yet.

Swallowing your unease, you pray it’s just an early riser as you move from the prep area to the front. You sidestep the oven and round the corner to find a man in the waiting area. His head is tilted back, black curls falling away from his face as he���sniffs the air?

He must spot you moving out of the corner of his eye because he whips around to face you directly. Your shoes squeak on tile when you slide to a halt, momentarily startled by the intensity of his stare. His eyes are so dark you cannot tell where iris ends and pupil begins.

“Morning, Sir. I’m not quite open yet. I must have forgotten to lock the door, but is there something I can help you with?” On your neck, your hair prickles. He looks clammy, sick maybe, and his skin is incredibly wan. Has he blinked since he saw you?

“You’re…” he gulps and takes a tentative step closer to the counter, “You’re menstruating?” Your mouth falls open in shock. He did not just ask you that question. You must have misheard.

But…how did he know…?

“E-Excuse me?” you splutter, unable to form a coherent retort as your mind races and shocked mortification twists your stomach in a knot. The man closes his eyes and gives a little shake of his head like he’s trying to clear his thoughts.

“I’m-I’m sorry—look at me,” he says softly. Instantly compelled, your eyes lock on his. Scrambled thoughts slow and you can do nothing but focus on his black eyes. “Is anyone else here?” he asks, his gaze never leaving yours.

As though you cannot control your body, you give a small shake of your head. A distant voice in the back of your mind screams at you not to tell this random man you are working alone. Half shuffling closer to the counter, you try to tear your eyes away from his and reach for the little red panic button under the counter, but then he speaks again and you must stop to listen.

“Wait, it’s okay,” he murmurs, holding up a placating hand. His words are low and soothing, like how one would speak to a nervous animal. You freeze in your tracks, arm outstretched. “I won’t hurt you. Just….” He moves around the counter and comes to stand before you. Chilly hands cup your cheeks and tilt your head back so he can keep your eyes on his.

“I—god—you smell so, so good, I’m sorry, I passed you on the street and I had to follow….” Your eyes burn, vision going out of focus the longer you stare. His chest heaves as though he can’t catch his breath and sweat clings to his pale brow. “I won’t hurt you, I just want…. I’m going to touch you.”

Dazed, you nod. Your brain feels disconnected from your body somehow, like you’re floating just outside it. Then, icy fingers dip into your pants to drag along your bleeding slit. The sudden contact pulls a startled squeak from your lips.

When his hand resurfaces, his digits are bathed in scarlet. A fat drop rolls down his pointer finger and you think you should probably feel something other than mild curiosity. Then, your eyes bug out of your head when he sucks the bloody fingertips into his mouth. A wanton groan sounds in the back of his throat and his eyes flutter closed in apparent euphoria. Embarrassment burns in your chest, you feel it now, but you can’t seem to force your body to respond accordingly. At your sides, your arms hang limply.

“Christ, I’m-I need…” he stammers, hands returning to your pants to fumble with your zipper. He rolls denim and cotton off your hips, kneeling as he goes, and all you can do is watch in bewildered silence. Hastily, he rips off a shoe so he can free one of your legs.

Your lower back meets the counter when the man’s palm presses against your belly. When he lets his tongue unfurl from his mouth, you glimpse white tips of pointed teeth before he dives between your legs. Concern, fear, disgust—all logical thought vanishes when a cool tongue laps between your bloody folds and lips close around your cunt to suck.

The noise that spills off your tongue is somewhere between a whine and a cry. Your fingers sink into soft waves of black and you feel his groan of relief against your palms. You feel it between your legs too, the vibrations making you twitch and buck and gasp.

The stranger wiggles his head and wedges himself deeper, buries his tongue in your crimson heat and whimpers like he’s never desired anything more in his life. Some far-away place in your mind is aware you should push him away or at least protest, but pleasure arcs through your gut and you mewl noisily instead. Wet slurping and panting breaths fill the small shop. Soon, you shamelessly hump his face like you can’t control yourself.

Can you? Can he?

Climax wracks your body in startling waves of sticky warmth. Your surprised keen is choked, half-lodged in your throat and your back bows as though a hand on the back of your head forces you forward in supplication. Thighs quiver violently and you think the man between them will pull away, but all he does is dig his fingers into the meat of your ass to pull you closer.

He laps and suckles and moans around mouthfuls of blood like a man possessed. The gluttonous obscenity of it finally jars you enough to speak. “It’s—it-“ but his eyes open again to gaze up at you and you forget everything you wanted to say. Fog settles thick in your mind and you let your vision blur, focusing instead on the way his tongue feels laving against the slippery walls of your cunt.

You aren’t sure how long the two of you stay this way. All sense of time is lost in the mist of your hazy mind. You’ve cum at least three times, maybe more when he finally resurfaces with a contented inhale. Vivid gore coats the lower half of his face and little rivulets of red trickle down his neck to soak into the collar of his shirt. His breath reeks of iron when he stands and grips your face again.

You wonder if you should consider it odd that his once frigid hands are now warm. His previously pale cheeks blush pink. Metallic breath ghosts across your lips as he murmurs, “You’re—thank you. Thank you for being so good. I…I would stay, but the sun will be up soon. Uh, let-let me—

He drags his dripping mouth along his sleeve before crouching to help you back into your pants. He rights your shirt and apron before planting a grateful kiss on your crown. “Forget I was here,” he tells you earnestly and, absently, you nod as though this is the obvious next step.

In a blink, the newfound heat of his body leaves your side. The bell over the door jingles. You blink furiously, wondering why your knees feel like they are seconds away from buckling.

[mint-yooxgi]

Kinktober Day 8 - Yandere!Vampire!Jinki + Blood & Oral Fixation

@stopaskinf Said: Yandere vampire Onew with blood and oral fixation 🧎‍♀️ A/n: There is a severe lack of Jinki content on this blog... As soon as I got this prompt, I knew exactly what I wanted to write for it, but just heed the warnings carefully hehehe I hope you like it! Warnings/Genre/Rating: 18+ MDNI - Smut, Mature, Established Relationship, Yandere, Possession, Period Sex!! Word Count: 884 Kinktober 2024 Mini Masterlist

The first time your boyfriend had suggested it, you had blinked at him in shock. The idea was so sudden, that you thought you had misheard him. Instead of giving him an answer, you had walked back into the living room in a daze, mind still processing his words.

The second time Jinki asked you, your eyes had widened.

“This again?” A chuckle had fallen from your lips, patting his shoulder as you walked passed him.

You had shaken your head in amusement. Yet still, you didn’t give him a direct answer.

The third time he inquired about it, you actually took the time to study his face. You could tell that there was nothing teasing about his expression. In fact, there was a seriousness to his features. A sort of eager gleam to his eyes as he awaited your response.

It was then that you actually thought about what he was proposing. The offer did make sense, given what you already knew about him and what he was; it wasn’t that out of the ordinary.

“I’ll consider it.” 

Your simple answer had excitement pouring through his veins, skin tingling with ever growing anticipation.

Now, he’s no longer the one suggesting it.

Every month, like clockwork, there comes a day when your cramps always bother you. Sometimes, it’s an intense pain in your gut. Other times, it’s a dull ache in your stomach that just won’t seem to go away. He knows just from the way you trudge into whatever room he’s in, that pleading look resting on your features, that his time has come. Yet, no matter how bad it gets, or how heavy your flow, Jinki is always more than eager to both help and provide for you. In fact, when you’re on your period is probably his favourite time of the month.

Every cycle, without doubt, Jinki will make sure he’s wearing a fresh white shirt. One of his many philosophies is that if you haven’t covered him in you by the time that he’s done, then he hasn’t actually finished pleasing you yet. Your pleasure and wellbeing has always been his greatest priority ever since he met you, and that will certainly never change.

The way your blood drips down his chin, mixed with the undeniable taste of your cunt has him snarling into you. His hands grip your ass eagerly, holding you above him as black veins crackle beneath the skin of his eyes. Eyes which have gone pitch black, the iris a bright red as he watches you keen above him.

A deep groan rumbles from within his chest, parting from you with a gasp.

“You’re pure heaven, Darlin’,” He pants, licking his lips as he meets your gaze. “I never want you to stop dripping on my tongue.”

As soon as those words fall from his lips, his mouth is back on you. The fingers he has pressing against your ass dig harshly into your skin, pulling you tighter into him. Another low, content moan escapes him, dragging his tongue through your folds to flick at your clit.

Your thighs tremble around his head, barely able to hold yourself up as you cling to the headboard for dear life. You’ve always known your boyfriend to be passionate. However, ever since you’d agreed to this little arrangement of yours, you’ve found out just how insatiable he can be. Especially when it comes to you.

High pitched moans escape you as your eyes flutter shut. Steadily, your hips grind over his tongue, the muscle probing at your entrance and cleaning you thoroughly before more of your fluids begin to flood out of you. Your head spins, and that all too familiar coil tightens within your stomach, close to snapping at any moment.

“You’re fucking beautiful like this,” His guttural tone reverberates directly against your core, circling your clit with his tongue. “Letting me take care of you… I’ll always provide for you, Darlin’. With me, you never have to worry about wanting for anything.”

Tenderly, he wraps his lips around your clit, suckling at your pert little bud as he holds you close. Though his eyes are dark, his gaze is nothing but pleading as he desperately moves over you. He needs to see you fall apart above him once more. He needs to feel you flooding his tongue again.

With every flick of his tongue over your clit, you can feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Your thighs tense around his head, nearly toppling forward as your orgasm crashes into you. Loud cries escape you, whines of his name falling passed your lips as your whole body shakes above him.

Nothing but pleased growls greet your ears as he works you through your orgasm. His hands squeeze your ass, appreciating every inch of bare skin presented to him, along with every sound and expression that you give him. As he feels you flood his tongue once more, his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath, small whimpers still escaping you as he begins the whole process over again. After all, he made you a mess, and now, he has to clean you up.

The red patterns staining his shirt are proof enough of that.

[possessiveandobsessive]

Hello again! This is another Rook×Lucanis story, but will be much longer than my last work! I'm not sure how many parts it will be yet as it's not complete, but I will be updating regularly!

***This story will cover the last several chapters of the game, and will be full of spoilers! So don't read if you haven't played the end and don't want to know!***

The Spirit of Determination

Nyra "Rook" Thorne is somehow responsible for the fate of all of Thedas. If she's going to pull it off, she's going to need a hell of a lot of determination. Lucky for her, she knows a guy and his demon who can help her out with that.

Part 1: The Girl with the World on her Shoulders

Fierce green eyes stared back at Rook from Varric’s old shaving mirror. She’d been told many times throughout her life that her eyes were a bit “intense” or “odd”, meaning they freaked people out. Rook’s eyes were an extremely bright green, lighter towards her pupil, and slightly darker at the edge of her iris. This could sometimes make them appear as if they were glowing, but she was no spirit or demon. Her eyes didn’t glow. Her mother, for the short time she was in Rook’s life, had always told her that they reminded her of the fade itself. Rook had no idea as to what her mother meant, until she watched the sky tear itself apart and allowed the Fade to leak slowly into their world ten years ago. To this day she wasn’t sure how her mother had known what color the Fade was, but she really wasn’t far off.

There was nothing particularly special about Rook outside of her freaky eyes and the fact that she was a Grey Warden mage. It would only be fair if that had been the case, but unfortunately, the universe didn’t seem to care about fairness. Not to mention, it turned out her gods were massive dicks. 

Rook had relatively pale skin (especially for an elf), with a light smattering of freckles across her cheekbones and nose. She bore the Vassallin of Mythal on her forehead and temples. It wove into almost a “V” shape, and its coal black ink had it standing out prominently against her skin. Thick dark eyebrows sat on her brow, perfectly matching the pitch black hair on her head. Rook didn’t make a habit of cutting or upkeeping her hair these days. That meant it hung in straight shaggy locks nearly down to her shoulders in the back, and to just shy of her chin in the front. Two short pieces framed her face on either side and she kept the rest tucked behind her pointed ears so she could see her enemies as she fought. Several long thin scars marred her pale skin around her eyes and cheeks. The dark bags under her eyes did not help with the overall unkempt look of the woman in the mirror.  

I look like shit, Rook thought flatly. Though, I honestly have a pretty good excuse. A whole list of them in fact. She shook her head slightly as if to force the thoughts from her mind. Re-living all that had happened in the last several months was not helpful when trying to relax and formulate a new game plan. Thoughts like these didn’t go away easily. 

She had first tried to stop Solas’s ritual only to have that fall apart and release not one, but two evil gods back into the world. Varric was injured in the process as well, all because of decisions she had made. 

Then, Rook had been forced to choose between Minrathous and Treviso when the gods’ dragons had attacked both cities at once. She had been worried for a few days that she had lost Neve after Rook chose to go to Treviso instead of Minrathous, but luckily Neve isn’t a quitter, and had returned. Rook didn’t regret her decision, and she’d make it again. The number of casualties in Minrathous often made her feel sick though. Going to Dock Town was difficult. 

The next big blow was Weisshaupt. Gods, she thought, so many dead wardens. Our numbers are so few now, how are we supposed to stop a blight and kill two blighted gods? Solas, jackass that he was, had made a point to emphasize the importance of getting the Grey Wardens on her side, and using them to build an army. After the events at Weisshaupt a month ago, they’d be lucky if their current force could defend a small city, let alone the world. Rook was grieving more than just for the blow to her plans for battle against the gods, those had been her fellow Wardens, her brothers and sisters in arms. Only Wardens could truly understand the trials and tribulations that came as a result of joining the order. Only they could know the soft, beckoning melody of the blight. 

She wasn’t the only member of the team that suffered in the immediate aftermath of Weisshaupt. Lucanis felt he had failed the team because he was an abomination, and Davrin was grieving the same loss as Rook. He and Lucanis were at each other’s throats for a few weeks as a result, but had finally settled recently as they both worked through their pain. 

There were positive things that had happened as well. Rook knew it was important to remember them if she was going to be able to put on a brave face and lead this team. At last, she had finished helping each of The Veilguard (Bellara’s name for the group that had stuck) members to battle their inner demons. Literal demons in Lucanis’s case. 

While it was worth it to see her friends grow from their personal battles, Rook was completely run down and exhausted. Now they had to kill the gods before they could finish their dagger during the next eclipse. It felt overwhelming in her current state, but Rook was pretty sure it would feel overwhelming regardless of how much rest she had. These were the gods of her people’s legends, the creators of her people. Somehow, Rook was in charge of killing them now? I’m one elf! Grey Warden or not, those odds suck for me! Rook groaned internally.

Lucanis had been one of the few things keeping her afloat these days. He supported her when and where he could. Lucanis made sure she was eating enough, made sure she was sleeping more than 3 hours every night, and had a way of bringing her smile and laugh to the surface when they were deeply buried under her anxiety and sadness. Rook was tough, she had always had to be, but she was immensely grateful for him. Rook blushed lightly when she remembered the “almost kiss” in Lucanis’s room (pantry), a couple weeks before. That blush got even deeper when she thought about how truly disappointed and distraught she was directly afterward. She had seriously contemplated screaming in Lucanis’s pillow, but she restrained herself.

Even so, Rook understood Lucanis’s hesitation and fears. He had been through so much recently, including coming out of a year of torture with a demon inside him. Then Lucanis’s grandmother and one of two remaining family members died. Then that grandmother was actually alive and the other one of his two living family members (his imbecilic cousin Illario) was discovered to have plotted Lucanis’s murder and his grandmother’s kidnapping/staged murder. And the cherry on top was Lucanis having to be the one to decide his traitor cousin’s fate. He had spared Illario’s life, instead opting to lock him away after Rook suggested it as an alternative. Either way, nearly all Lucanis had experienced in the last 16 months was traumatic in some way. He needs patience and support right now, not your overwhelming desire for him, she berated herself. You know Lucanis cares, he’s shown you that. Just give him time.

Sighing heavily, Rook finally set the mirror down and rubbed her temples. Focus Nyra she chided internally. She really needed to sit down and come up with an immediate plan of action. They didn’t have long until their deadline for killing Elgar’nan and Ghilan’nain, and Rook had very little in the way of an idea of how to do so. Solas wasn't being particularly helpful either. She was glad he had helped them to save the Dalish that Elgar’nan had intended to use as sacrifices, but she still didn’t trust him. There was something in the Dread Wolf's eyes, something that warned her he would betray her eventually. Varric, surprisingly, had also been unhelpful. He kept up with his usual pep talks. “You’re a wild card Rook, they’ll never see you coming” or “They don’t stand a chance against you and the team you’ve built, kid”. She appreciated the support, but this was Varric’s mission… right?

Rook was pulled from her thoughts by a knock at her door. Quirking an eyebrow, she called for whoever it was to come in. Harding tumbled in less than gracefully, looking up at Rook with a small look of embarrassment at her entry. 

“Harding? What is it?”

Normally Rook would’ve laughed at Harding’s clumsiness and bashful expression, but she could tell that something was important or urgent

“Morrigan wants you to meet with her at The Cobbled Swan as soon as possible. She says she has some things she wants to discuss with you. Since things are so unpredictable now that the gods are close to finishing their dagger, she said as quickly as possible would be best.” 

Harding said all of this in a rush, panting slightly from her run up the stairs to Rook’s bedroom. Rook looked at Harding with a somewhat startled expression, before saying “We should have a month before they can finish it, does she know something we don’t?” Her eyebrows knit together as she frowned, “Nevermind, the answer doesn’t actually matter I suppose. I’ll head out now,” Rooks paused briefly before adding, “On the off chance something is coming faster than we expected, make sure the team is ready to leave at a moment’s notice. We need to be ready for anything right now.”

Harding nodded firmly at Rook and turned to walk out of the room before she stopped, and spoke to Rook over her shoulder, “Be careful Rook. We need you, so don’t do anything dumb.”

Rook let out a surprised bark of laughter at that. She couldn’t really hold that comment against Harding after everything they had been through in the last few months. Rook wasn’t exactly known for having the safest plans, but they always came together at the end! Plus, they were all still alive so she was taking that as a win.

“I will Lace, don’t worry. I know what the stakes are. We have to do whatever it takes though, and that isn’t going to be safe in any version of the future.”

Harding started to turn to look at Rook, but just shook her head and said, “You’re right Rook, we do whatever it takes.” before walking down the hallway and turning to the right, no doubt heading to see Taash.

Rook immediately went to her wardrobe to change into her fighting gear. Nowhere in Thedas was safe these days, especially not for the biggest pain in the blighted gods’ asses. She finished the last buckles on her warden mage armor, and strapped on her blades. One blade was her main weapon that she used in tandem with her magic, and the other was a backup she started wearing after losing her main hand once in battle and nearly being flattened by an ogre because of it. Deciding she was prepared for anything on her journey to Dock Town, Rook walked out of her room and down the stairs towards the Eluvian.

Part 2 Here!

Part 3 here!

DATV Masterlist here!

[yandereunsolved]

Roses are Red; Violets are Blue - ,, yandere pre-death Tate

cw(s): yandere themes, suggestive themes, mention of cocaine, Tates actions (the lighting of a human on fire & a school shooting) a/n: Tate is aged up here and is in college instead of high school. He dies at age twenty-one instead of seventeen, because it feels weird to write an older teen as a romantic yandere. Mentions of Violet— she's eighteen and a senior in high school.

✧ You both grew up together, sort of. You were always someone Tate could never talk to. He was a bit too scared to speak with you. You just seemed so perfect, and he was not. You moved into his neighborhood when you both were much younger. His hellish 'mother' didn't like your family for a reason; he never quite paid attention. It was something about you all not being holy enough. About how you were going to corrupt her perfect golden son. There was nothing you taught Tate about himself that he wasn't bound to figure out. He learned about boners after peeping through your window one night while you were changing after a shower. He learned the true meaning of the words 'I love you' after he overheard you speaking of how excited you were for the new Nirvana album. You even taught him how to follow people and not get caught by that person or the authorities. All this, and he still hadn't had a proper conversation with you yet.

✧ You legally started your friendship relationship sometime early in your freshman year, on October 30th, 1991. It was just something else that made him fall head over heels once again for you. He was having an already shitty day when some athletic losers began bullying him. He was getting pushed around for the umpteenth time this week when he tried to fight back. He got knocked on his ass and a nose that was both broken and remarkably bloody. You rushed over and offered to help him. He brushed you off and was a bit snappy; he still regrets that to this day. He just didn't want you to see how desperate he was for your attention. He craved your touch. If it weren't for all the blood on his face, you would have easily noticed how flushed his face was from just being in your vicinity.

✧ You offered to take him to the nurses office, and he 'begrudgingly' agreed. He was bouncing on his heels in his mind, and he swears that his nose bleed got worse. You even offered to help him walk there if he was dizzy, and naturally, he leaned on you. He even took a whiff of your scent near your neck. He had to resist nuzzling into you because you just felt so warm, like home. Like a home he never had. He asked you to stay even after the nurse said you could go back to class. He'd made up some lame excuse about you being a witness and him having to report it. Such a fucking lie. None of the administrators would give a shit. Everyone in this godforsaken college is an adult. So 'bullying' doesn't exist, apparently. At least the college is near both of your houses.

✧ That's the best part. This is your first real interaction, and you are already inviting him over. You feel bad that his nose got sprained and that the nurse had to reset it. So you—

'Oh my god, you called me cute!? You said you saw me around the neighborhood all these years and were too shy to talk to me. You've always been so shy. You've always been someone who needed someone to take care of you. You'd take care of me so well. We could happily take care of each other. Wait, sorry. I'm rambling too much. Iris, get back with the headcanons before I go on about them for another three hours.'

Made sure that he didn't get left alone. You heard from around the neighborhood that his mother is kind of nuts. So you thought he would be the same, but he's actually kind of awkward and distant, and sweet. You two spent the entire night together and ended up having a sleepover. Tate likes it a lot more when the sleepovers are consensual and not him climbing through your window, crawling into your bed, cuddling into you, then leaving you right before you wake.

✧ Something you have to know about Tate is that he is undeniably a pervert. Constance ruined any chance he ever had to take a girl out on a date. Then, when his casual interest turned into an obsession, he was able to sneak out without alerting her. So just being around you makes his mind run wild and his hands perspire. He steals your undergarments the most—it doesn't matter what they are. It could be anything from a lacy bra to a pair of men's boxers. He always steals your oldest items because your scent is ingrained into their very fabrics. He hides the items he 'borrows' from you in a box behind a brick in the basement. He goes down there every night and inhales your heavenly scent. His eyes roll back in his head, and suddenly he has a problem that he has to take care of.

✧ That's not where his perverted nature ends, either. He suddenly became very interested in photography. He buys a secret camera to use whenever he 'sees' you. Whenever he watches you when you aren't aware. He takes photos of you doing the most mundane things: exercising, cooking, working on homework, walking, breathing, and blinking. He also takes photos of you while sleeping, getting out of the shower, stretching, and wearing those skimpy little clothes of yours. It makes his mouth water fervently. The photos quickly pile up. He keeps the physical photos in the same box behind the same removed brick.

✧ He buys you more pretty clothes. Most of them are revealing, but you seem to like that. At least that's what he's seen in you in your private life. Of course, you don't know they are from him. He's too insecure for that. So he wraps them up all nice and pretty and leaves them on your bed. He always writes down 'your secret admirer' on the packaging. He opens your window when you and your family are gone and leaves them then. If he is feeling more confident, then he'll open your window and put the package on the floor. You start locking your window after that. So he's constantly breaking the lock on your window. When the family gets the police involved, he gets extremely upset. He begins to ignore you, so you know exactly how he feels when you ignore his gifts and say it's from some 'creepy stalker'.

✧ You are understandably confused when one of your closest friends begins ignoring you. You think he might be scared of the fact that you have a stalker. It makes you desperate. You don't want to be left alone. You need your friend. That makes Tate all giddy inside. He gets to stay near you whenever he wants. As much as he pleases? You seem so scared of some hypothetical boogeyman. It's just sweet ole' him! Not that you know that. He understands, though. He'd be pretty upset if some random man started doing the things he's doing for you. No other man could be as devoted to you as he is.

✧ Slowly, the number of your friends and close family dwindles. Each of your friends either cuts contact with you or disappears altogether. Now, now, Tate has put so much effort into this for you. It wasn't easy. It wasn't something he could pull off on his own. He had to scrounge around for as much money as he could to hire a hitman on several occasions. He stole the money from his mother's various rich and fleeting boyfriends. She would use them up soon enough anyway. So there's no reason for him to care about their financial well-being. Besides, he is doing it for a noble cause—a war is yet to come.

✧ He takes a different approach when it comes to isolating you from your family members. He will get along well with your family. Insert himself as a shy, college kid that lives down the street and is best friends with their child—their only friend, really. His mother picks up on this and is immediately displeased. Of course she has only scratched the surface of the iceberg that is Tates twisted delight.

"As long as you don't fuck that godless slut, I suppose you can be around them."

He wanted to snap his mother's neck right then and there. Lucky for her, he had other plans. He inserts himself into every facet of your family's life. He slowly learns the skeletons in your family members closets. Did you know your cousin once had a lewd dream about your partner? Did you know your grandfather cheated on his spouse not once but twice? Did you know your Aunt once tried to poison you? Did you know? Did you know? Did you know?

Some of those may have been slightly exaggerated or entirely made up, but you completely trust him, so what is there to worry about? 

Soon enough the only one you trust is Tate.

✧ You connect the dots somewhat, but at this point, you don't quite care. You just want this stalker to stop. You just want Tate. When Tate learns his feelings are somewhat reciprocated, the stalkings become less frequent. After all, if he is always allowed to be around you, then he doesn't have to stalk you anymore. 

✧ He starts giving you love notes after the two of you begin dating. The stalker fades into the background, and suddenly only Tate is there. He is perfect for you. He is your dream boyfriend. He writes these cheesy and poetic letters about his adoration for you. Some of them are creepy—really creepy. You can look over that, though. It's just Tate being Tate. He was never confident enough to share them with you while he was just your 'creepy stalker'. Now he gives them to you freely. Sometimes they are just little doodles. Other times, they are cheesy words. Occasionally, they do have a tendency to get a bit violent. 

'Me & U 4ever.' '1+1=Let Me Fuck You Up' 'Love you more than Kurt Cobain' 'Let's go to a music festival and have fun~ ;)' 'Wanna sneak out later when your parents aren't home?' 'Is that bitch bothering you again?' 'Commit arson?' 'The thoughts are back.' 'Need you' 'I just want to keep you in my pocket and then lock you in a cage that only I have the key to for all eternity.'

✧ Everything was perfect until it wasn't. For some reason, you started distancing yourself from him. You had found a new friend group. You had found someone more healthy than Tate. Tate's hold on you was beginning to crumble. It was like he was trying to hold your disintegrating heart in his hands. You weren't spending every single moment with him. Whether this was actually happening or if this was just his paranoia is unknown. It got to him, though. It got to him worse than anything else could.

✧ He lost it one day. He snapped. It was a comment that his mother's new boyfriend made. Well, multiple comments. He found a secret collection of your things. He had done a bit of digging and began to learn just how unhinged his girlfriend's son was. Instead of immediately reporting him to the police, he confronted Tate instead. He threatened him with calling the police. He said that he was going to tell everyone about how much of a freak Tate was. He was going to tell Tates, dear mommy, that her golden child was actually a depraved, perverted loser who got off on stalking his partner.

✧ He needed to be gone. That was the one thing that ran through his mind. They had gotten into a screaming match that night. Luckily, no one was home except them and the ghosts. The energy was charged and electrified. The Murder House had set its sights on its next victim, and it was more than eager to swallow him whole. The devil in his mind didn't whisper any longer; he shouted. He spoke in a loud and commanding tone and told Tate exactly what to do and when to do it. How to win your affection back.

✧ He snorted a line of cocaine and grabbed his rifle and some gasoline. He lit that fucker up at his work. He was no longer his mother's boyfriend. He was just a charred corpse. He had one problem taken care of. Now, just one more stop—your college, our college. He needed to get rid of those little friends of yours. So, he did. Every single one of them he shot dead in front of you. He looked you straight in the eyes and pointed the barrel at your head. There was no restraint or morality in his hazel eyes. There was only darkness—a certain unhinged spark you had only seen in fleeting moments. Now it was a mighty flame, and it was coming to burn everything you knew to the ground.

✧ He made you beg for your life. He made you like it. He took you right there at that table and acted like it meant nothing. He kissed you deeply and dug his fingers into your living flesh. He knew it would be the last time he would have you in such a way—as long as he was living anyway. You were covered in bite marks and his residue by the time the cops came. 

You heard the next day that they shot him multiple times. You had mixed feelings. They had asked you if he had your consent. You said yes. They didn't believe you. You didn't like that. You didn't like that you liked it so much. You hated yourself for it. You couldn't help but admire the marks he left on you. They were like pieces of art. They'll fade, but the feeling of his fingertips ghosting your body in the most intimate manner won't.

✧ He gets extremely lonely; boredom overtakes him. He still has that box filled with your things, so he's always going through it. It's almost sadistically hilarious. He started with only his fantasies, and now they are the only thing he has again. At least he now knows what your skin feels like and how you taste. You have those things to keep him company. Not to mention, some of your clothes still smell like you. They're his comfort items. If any entity in the house tries to touch them, he will have an immediate meltdown. So, they've all learned to leave him alone when he's having his private time—his fantasies of you, him frenzily groping the cloth like it were your own soft, tender, plush flesh. 

✧ He was surprised when you came to visit the house once again. Tate revealed himself immediately and hung on to you needily. He peppered kisses all over your face and neck. He was so unbelievably relieved by the fact that you forgave him. You promised to visit again and again over the years. It made his soul soar; he almost feared that he had passed onto heaven and that you were only an illusion in his mind. You both did what you always did. You seemed cautious at first, but some part of you just stuck with Tate.

✧ Many seasons passed, and you visited him less and less. You moved on to better and greater things in your life than him. He isn't exactly sure what happened to you. You just stopped visiting him one day. The entire house became a lot more frigid and foreboding after that. There would be no heavy make-out sessions that left the both of you breathless. There would be no more late nights spent talking about everything and anything going on in the world. There would be no seeing your age, your beautiful face, and your figure known only to his mind. There would be none of that. Only him. All alone...

✧ Now, after all these years, he admires a girl who reminds him of his first love. Those tendrils of obsessive ectasy sneak into his heart once again as he hears her name, Violet. It was like the world had regained its color—well, a singular color. One fact about you rang in his mind over and over like a never-ending church bell as he watched the new family move in.

"Oh, my favorite color? It's Violet, silly."

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

⟿ taglist: @coentinim @bluerthanvelvet444 @cxndiedvi0lets @doll3tt33 @lacucarachapisser @t4telangd0ns1ut @etheral-moon @evanpetersmybf @evanpeters-posts @fear-is-truth

.ೃ࿐ -ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- .ೃ࿐

[nathanbatemanfucker]

Boy Meets Cat, Boy Meets Girl

pairing: steven grant x f!reader

prompt: kid fic or pet fic

contents: the feelings that come w/ temporarily losing a pet, meetcute, flirting

wc: 1,334

an: another promotional fic for @moonknight-events! steven is just…one of the sweetest, cutest men ever. written w/ the Marc’s girls server in mind, iykyk!

DISCLAIMER: as a event runner i will not be entered in the drawing for prizes. this is promotional only.

SP BINGO 2024 | moonknight masterlist

She’s sitting on the steps one day outside the museum after Steven’s shift. He almost walks right past her, bumbling down the steps with a soft hum. It’s been a long day of being yelled at atop getting sleep that just isn’t restful. He’s exhausted. He’s unobservant.

He’s nearly past her when he hears it— a loud, scratchy meow that catches his attention. Steven stops in his tracks, blinking rapidly.

Had he just heard a cat? On the museum steps? Sleep deprivation really was getting to him, wasn’t it?

He turns towards the sound, sure that there will be nothing there, that he is just hearing things. But there she is, perched on the museum steps as if she owns the place. She looks like a little heap of snow— her fur is fluffy and a stark white color that contrasts with her dark eyes and pink nose. He lets out a little sound of surprise, and then she meows back as if she’s answering him.

He laughs, a bright and cheery sound. “Well, hello there little one. Lost are we?”

She meows again, this time a little softer and if Steven wasn’t mistaken, a little sadder. He softens, taking a few cautious steps toward her so as not to spook her. When she does seem skittish, staying in place despite him closing the gap he simply sits beside her on the steps.

“Do you have a name, little one? Can I look at your collar? Promise I’ll be gentle,” He says, reaching his hand out to her.

She leans forward on her front paws, sniffing at the back of his hand before giving out a soft purr. She bumps his hand with the top of her head, nuzzling.

Steven takes this opportunity to reach under her chin, scratching gently before he leans in to peer at her collar.

“Iris— what a pretty name for a pretty cat.”

Another meow as Iris bulldozes her way into his lap. Steven gives her a series of pats, setting off several purrs that he feels vibrating through her spine. She's so fluffy, so soft. He could pet her for all his days. It’s nice to have this companionship, even if it’s just a cat. Hell, it beats talking to the statuer at the fountain in the park and Iris hasn’t spoken a word.

You know for a moment there, I wondered if you were the goddess Bastet,” He whispers playfully, like he’s keeping a big secret. Iris simply meows, using her paws to slip down and lay across Steven’s thighs. “Aren’t you cold? Is that a silly question given your fur coat?”

Steven lets himself sit, idly petting Iris as he watches the sun slowly disappear behind the London skyline. He’s completely charmed with this cat, with the peaceful feeling her company brings. Part of him selfishly thinks about taking her home and keeping her as his own. But, he knows if he’s this fond of her in a short period of time her owner is probably grief-stricken to be without her. He’ll take her home for the night and use his off day to pursue leads on her owner. Perhaps Marc could help with the tracking. For tonight though, he has some company and the idea has Steven rising to his feet, Iris in tow.

“How’s about we head on home and watch a movie? Are you a fan of Meerkat Manor? Or will seeing them scurry about get you revved up?” He whispers, ignoring the weird glances he’s getting from passersby.

As expected, Iris simply gives out a soft meow, snuggling further into Steven’s hold. He grins, raising a hand to pet her head as he rounds the corner, effectively running into someone.

“Iris! There you are. Oh my god, thank you. Thank you,” You gasp, reaching out to squeeze his arm.

If Steven thought he was charmed by Iris, he must come up with a word that holds more meaning at the sight of you. Your cheeks are tear-stained, eyes a mixture of happiness and guilt. Your brows are pinched together, and he has the urge to reach up and smooth out the wrinkle between them. The urge to soothe you. Even during the short walk, Steven had imagined his reluctance to give Iris back to her owner, but that’s all melted away now that you’re right in front of him. So, so beautiful.

“You’re Iris’ mum?”

“Yes. Fuck, thank you so much. I can’t– I don’t know what I would’ve done without her. I owe you.”

“Ah, don’t worry about it. I simply stumbled upon her outside the museum after work. I was gonna start looking for her owner tomorrow, imagined it was too late. But look at you, as diligent as ever.”

“The museum? What were you doing there?” You ask Iris before looking up at the man to whom you practically owe your life again. He’s very handsome, a little tired-looking but his eyes are warm, and his hair is fluffy curls. She’s everything to me,” You explain, squeezing Iris to your cheek, doing some nuzzling of your own.

Iris has clearly learned her affectionate manners from you.

Steven’s mind quickly wanders, wondering what it would feel like to be on the receiving end of your affection. He bats the thought away, flushing. ���I can imagine, she’s a little charmer. Plopped herself right in my lap.”

“I’m surprised she got this close to you, she’s incredibly picky. She must sense that you’re a lovely person.”

“Well–I– I’m glad to live up to Iris’ standards. She seems to have good taste. Animals sort of choose their owners don’t they?”

“Thanks,” You murmur shyly, feeling your own cheeks fill with warmth. “I know that folks can say being a pet parent is cringy, but I really am lucky to be her mom. She has such an energy to her.”

“Warm. Calm,” Steven supplies, reaching out to pet Iris’ head, if only for the last time. She nuzzles into his hand and he smiles.

Your eyes track his hand, still a little surprised at how easily Iris is letting him pet her. She had hated almost every person you’d brought back to your apartment except a handful of friends. But, any romantic prospects had quickly made themselves scarce given your mean, overprotective cat.

“Exactly.”

“Well Miss Iris, I guess we won’t be getting to watch Meerkat Manor after all will we? Perhaps your mum could show.”

“Meerkat Manor?”

“It follows a little family of meerkats through the desert. Their struggles, their connections, their enemies. All sorts of things.”

“I’ve always been a fan of animal docs.”

“Yeah? I could recommend you loads of them.”

“I would really like that. I don’t think I got your name?”

“Steven.”

“Steven,” You repeat softly before giving him your name. “It’s really lovely to meet you. This is bold of me but…maybe we could see each other again?

Steven’s mouth drops open, eyes wide in surprise. “Really?”

“I told you I owe you and well– Iris seems to like you a lot. Maybe I could make you dinner as repayment and we could watch some meerkats live their lives.”

“I– yeah. Yeah, alright, I would love to.”

You and Steven quickly exchange contacts. He gives Iris a few more pets before rocking back and forth on his heels.

“I’ll call you tomorrow. Sound alright?” He asks, voice hopeful.

“Sounds great,” You confirm.

You shift Iris into the crook of your elbow, and to Steven’s surprise, wrap him in a one-armed hug as you whisper him a soft thanks. His response is delayed but he hugs you back, surrounded by your warmth and soft scent. After a few beats you pull away, giving him a smile as the two of you exchange temporary goodbyes. Steven makes his way back to his flat with a wide grin, grateful that Iris had brought the two of you together. Cat in arms, butterflies in stomach you walk home feeling much the same.

moonknight taglist: @ninebluehearts, @rmoonstoner, @hotchs-bitch,  @later-gators12, @foreverinwanderlustt-blog, @aleeb , @eyelessfaces, @marc-spectorr, @missdictatorme, @toracainz, @mccn-bcys, @campingwiththecharmings, @whatthefishh

[baxteravenue]

HOW TO FAKE IT 2

part i.

summary: when jack and yours management team come together to create a perfect pr relationship you and jack must do your best to keep it as professional as possible... but when you have to spend a year together the lines between real and fake can become a little blurry.

STAGE TWO:  A Little Bit Of Water

It had been maybe three weeks since your trip to Louisville with Jack, where you got to spend some time with his family and friends. You were glad everyone in his circle loved him and that he trusted them because for the entirety of the time that you were with him there beside the random fan picture there was really nothing else that tied the two of you together. 

But now it was game time, because the two of you were back to the real world. 

“And you're wearing Tommy?” You asked wrapping your arms around Jack as the two of you walked into the hotel the both of you were staying at, noticing all the lingering people who were not subtle with their secret picture taking.

He nodded, looking down at you stealing a sip from your Starbucks. “Mm that’s too sweet Y/N.” 

You shrugged, “I like it sweet.”

“I know you do.” He winked at you, making you laugh.

“I’ll drink some Phocus next time.” 

“Okay actual question, do you actually like it?” Jack asks you as he presses up for the elevator.

You’re silent for a moment before you shake your head earning a dramatic look from him. “It’s not that it’s not good, it's just that I don't like energy drinks.”

“Oh but you’ll drink a twelve pack of coke in like a day?” 

You frowned, “Leave my caffeine addiction alone.”

The elevator opened up letting the two of you walk in and just as it was about to close for the two of you another person walked in pressing another floor. You politely smiled at the person. 

It was quiet before the lady turned to the both of you before smiling again, “Do you mind if I get a picture with you? I mean my daughter would kill me if I didn't. She loves your latest EP, what's it called, Honeymoon Avenue?”

You smile, nodding your head excitedly. “Of course baby, can you take the picture?” You ask Jack.

He nods, “I got y'all with a good picture.”

Jack gently takes the phone from the lady’s hand taking as many pictures of you two, smiling, hugging and laughing. You even record a video for her daughter who you learned is named Jasmine.

The two of you say goodbye as she gets off on her floor leaving you two alone for a minute longer before getting off on your floor. 

“You’re so kind and gentle with all of them, you put me to shame.” Jack smiles at you as you enter the two bedroom suite the two of you are sharing to get ready. 

“I try to be as kind as I can be, I know what it’s like to be awkward and stuff and just say things at the wrong time.” I laugh, “I was homeschooled so…”

“That makes sense.” Jack laughs along.

You push him gently, “Jerk.”

Jack pulls you into him on the small couch, shaking his head. “I’m just messing with you sunshine.”

You can’t help but notice all the freckles on Jack’s face as he speaks closely to you and you feel woozy at how blue his eyes are and you can see all the crinkles near his eyes. You stand up fast almost falling over, “Hair and makeup is here I have to take a shower.”

Jack gives you a confusing look before nodding. “Okay, I’ll let them in when they knock. Neelam and Iris should be here any minute anyways.”

You can’t even respond to him, all you can do is throw a thumbs up and shut the door behind you. 

“Oh fuck no, this can’t be happening.” You mumble. 

Jack actually has no idea what just happened and can’t even think too much about it because a whole glam team is entering the room as soon as you shut the door behind you. 

You and Jack ride separately to the VMA’s since he has to be there earlier since he’s performing and presenting. You’re excited to see him bring out Fergie.

You get out of the car and are immediately led to the carpet where fans are lined up behind barriers and cameras flashed every second. You waved at the loud crowd to your left, immediately backing up to take pictures.

“Y/N, I knew you were going to be here!” A girl screams and you laugh. 

“You look so good!” 

“I love you all so much!” You practically scream giving as many people as you can hugs, and taking selfies.

“Where’s the new music girl? And tour?” 

You bring your index fingers to your lips, “Patience is key!” 

You pose for several pictures before being led to a few people for short interviews. 

“Hello gorgeous, you look stunning.” A random interview compliments you as you walk up to them.

“Thank you, you look absolutely gorgeous as well.”

“Your outfit is seriously so simple but stunning, very classic.”

You nod, “I had to take some inspo from Mimi, the queen, her VMA look from 1997 has always been etched into my brain so I had to pull that inspiration from her.”

“Well you are pulling it off. What about music should we be looking out for that?”

You shrug, “Maybeeeee.”

You move on getting mostly the same questions. 

“And Jack Harlow?”

You know that they want you to slip up but you just give them a cheeky grin, “He’s performing today isn't he? I like his song First Class, so I’m excited to hear that.”

You’re getting escorted away before she can even respond to you.

“Good?” You ask Iris.

“Just enough.” She winks back leading you to your seat that’s right next to Jack who’s opening up the show.

Right before it’s about to begin though Neelma rushes through pulling you up, whispering something in Iris’ ear and before you know it you’re being dragged away backstage to fake airplane set. 

“First Class set, makes sense.” You giggle as you walk up to Jack who's getting mic’d up. 

You see everyone else, random models who are seat filling and several celebrities. 

Fuck it, let’s put on a show. 

You place a soft kiss on his lips, “Kill it baby.” 

Jack looks taken back for a second before pulling you back onto him and placing another kiss on your lips, “Two times for good luck.”

They lead you to your seat right across from Becky G and when you know he can’t see you touch your lips a bit. 

“You two are so cute.” You hear the familiar voice of Becky G, “You both compliment each other really well.”

You smile shyly, “Thank you.”

Just as you thought the performance is a hit and goes ever so smoothly except for when you can’t keep a straight face as Jack wraps his famous pineapple juice line to you.

And when he wins his award your heart soars with pride and you’re the loudest in the room.

“I have the most amazing support system, and the sunshine in my life right now is very bright… Thank you.”

You know the cameras are on you but the smile on your face is not for them.

[thepersonnamedsam]

he needed more than me - dr3

pairing: daniel ricciardo x gn!reader

summary:

tears over beers - modern baseball

not strong enough - boygenius

iris - goo goo dolls

warnings: s/h, sui$ide, bad mental health

!don’t read if you feel triggered!

word count: 1k

note: don’t ever feel like there’s no one that cares, there’s always someone that does, even if it’s a stranger on the other side of the phone call.

masterlist / taglist

pls, for the love of god, if you ever feel like this is the end, talk to someone

if you are american, you can call/text 988

if you are australien, call 1300 659 467

if you are from the uk, call 0800 689 5652

if you are from the philippines, call 0917-899-8727

if you are german, call 030-44 01 06 07

these are all suicide/crisis hotlines, free and confidential, open 24/7

reach out for help, even if it’s just a friend, you can always talk to me too

——

He was my one true love, you know? He was my everything. And even though I couldn’t see him as much as I’d liked, or hold him through the night, I still knew, he was the one that I loved and I couldn’t ever let him go.

He was the sunshine in my life, the life I never quiet lived. But he brought out the best in me. The warmth spreading through my body as he smiled at me. Nothing could ever replace that feeling inside my body.

„I love you“, he murmured against my skin. Tattooed hands softly scraping my thighs. Goosebumps arose on my body and I shivered. He quietly chuckled. His laugh warmed my soul. „I love you more.“

And it was true, I loved him more than anyone ever did. My love for him was like warm milk with honey on a cold winter day. My love was all I had for him.

But it was never enough, at least not for me. I can’t speak for Daniel, you know his head, don’t you? Always smiling and never letting his true emotions shine. I just hoped he had some piece of mind with me.

„I’m so proud of you, honey“, I whispered and he squeezed me tighter to his body. He toward over my frame, a small smile playing on his lips. „So, so proud, you don’t understand.“

„I do“, he whispered back, lips against lips. I smelled his perfume on his skin. I felt his beard scratch my cheek. I felt his smile on my lips. I felt everything, his every atom, his every emotion; everything. It all felt too much, but I’d feel hell for him.

„I’d do everything for you“, he told me, softly kissing my lips. His lips tasted of honey, my favourite chapstick, that he stole once again.

„I’d do more for you.“ He never once argued over my statement, because he knew it was true. He’d kill for me, but I’d die for him.

Even when it all became too much, with all the hate and all the emotions involved, I still stayed. Even when I didn’t feel myself, even when I only felt him if I bled. I still stayed.

He was my one true love, and even though I couldn’t see him as much as I’d liked, hold him in my arms all through the night, I still knew he was the one for me.

But I wasn’t strong enough, always an angel, never a god.

The blood always hidden inside my body, his eyes never touching it. He didn’t know, or he didn’t tell me he knew.

Either way, I’d do anything for him, even if it meant, that he needed more than me. I wasn’t strong enough for him.

My skin etched to be bleeding, my thoughts begged to be stilled. He was my one true love, you know. I’d do everything for him.

Like the Goo Goo Dolls said: „Yeah you bleed just to know you’re alive.“

I’d give up forever to touch him, I knew he’d understand and feel me somehow. I knew he’d solve the puzzle and riddle me a new one. I knew he’d understand, even if he didn’t.

You know Daniel, he wouldn’t ever cry, not once did I see him cry in front of anyone but me. He saw me cry thousands of times. Held me close in his arms and whispered sweet nothings into my ears.

„You got this, beautiful, just hold on a little longer. „We’re gonna buy a house outside any civilisation, with a big garden. Vegetables and fruits, so I only have to go into town once a month. It’s gonna be great, I’m gonna put a diamond ring on this finger and we’re gonna hold a small wedding in our backyard. You just have to hold on a little longer, please, just eight minutes until the paramedics arrive“, he begged and begged and begged.

But my body was so tired from all the fighting, from all the hate, from all the pain. Eight minutes was too long. And I knew I hurt my love that day. But I couldn’t stand to live much longer.

Always an angel, never a god.

And when I tell you, that he finally cried in front of other people, my heart skipped a beat for my one true love. He was opening up. That was an other reason why he needed more than me.

To Daniel,

I may not get to see you as often as I’d like.

I may not get to hold you in my arms all through the night.

But deep in my heart I know, you’re the one that I love and can’t let go.

Don’t ever hide your emotions. Please Daniel. Don’t ever only be the sunny boy, just once in your life, be the boy crying.

Time, you just need time. You needed more than me, trust me. Because time can be two things;

The healer

or

The killer

and I’m the latter.

And as Lorelai so beautifully said;

in between

„hello and goodbye“

we loved.

Don’t ever doubt my love for you, as I always said: I’d die for you and I did. I did, because you could’ve never kill someone. You would’ve never lived with the consequences. So I died for you, took my life, so you don’t have to take any others. I took away your decision. I took it away to make your life easier, believe me.

So, stop starring at the ceiling and breath in and out. I’ll always be your angel.

Love you always and forever.

°°°

@ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @biglittlesecret , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21 , @youkissedareaderinthedark , @mikauraur , @thybulleric , @lpab , @fdl305 , @mellowarcadefun , @teti-menchon0604 , @vildetry06 , @bibissparkles , @aurora-maria , @lunnnix , @sya-skies , @Buckywifeyy , @dakotali , @rechtrecht , @noncannonships , @1eclerc16 , @pitlanebabe , @sopheeg , @avengersheart , @thatsadsmallchild , @peachiicherries , @idkiwantchocolatee , @callsign-scully , @mehrmonga , @badbatch-simp24 , @lissyontour , @din0nugs , @elliegrey2803 , @gay-for-victoria-de-angelis , @10vely-yutazen , @daggersquadphantom , @azriel-the-shadowsinger , @i-love-scott-mccall , @darleneslane , @mikauraur , @heartmetaphor , @ellswilliams , @thxtmarvelchick , @nataliambc , @dontjudgeabookbythecover , @hockeyboysarehot , @thehistoryone , @zimm04 , @woozarts , @mellowarcadefun , @deephideoutmolkshake , @grimeslvrr

[dea011]

(dazatsu goes to the doctor but dazai is jealous of the kind receptionist - w.i.p. 536 words)

“I’m glad they’re treating you well, but it’s almost too well.” he huffed. A confused but amused laugh leaves Atsushi as his head tilts softly to the side and corners of his mouth perk up. It was too tender of an expression, Dazai couldn’t help but be captivated. “But… It's not like I’m possessive or anything. Everyone looks at you with such bright faces, I can’t help but want you to smile at me too.”

“You’re so immature, Dazai,” Atsushi teased. “I smile at you every day, even more than you know.”

“Forget about it, it’s nothing.” Dazai flusters and continues to pout while dramatically swooping one leg over the other.

He’s just thankful for the lightened mood as they wait to be called on. Some time passes, occasionally with a nurse craning their neck from the hallway past the reception desk. The realization dawns on Dazai that he didn’t think to bring anything for the waiting room. He had been so wrapped up in the doctor’s visit he forgot the classic wait time before it. Dazai didn’t mind just passing time, he often would get lost in his own thoughts when alone waiting for the train. Right now though, he was not alone. He was sitting, doing nothing, with another man next to him also doing nothing. Whenever he and Kunikida were waiting together, the other would always pull out his notebook to scribble down next year's hourly agenda. With Atsushi beside him, the two were staring off into space together. Somehow, Atsushi still looked bubbly as his gaze drifted over the speckled ceiling tiles. Being unoccupied, secluded, and waiting in silence sat next to another man… Felt gay.

It didn’t help that nearly everyone shot them a glance before shuffling off to continue the whisper chain. It’s not like the air around them was littered with sparkles and rays of pink light which framed them in a shoujo-esque way.

Looking again to his company, Atsushi’s eyes were catching light in the most brilliant manner. His two hues appeared to shift as the gleam on his eyes glistened even under the artificial ceiling lights. If one were to get lost even closer to his face, there would be rich purple speckles dancing around his iris with shining gold trailing behind. With a quick peek towards Dazai, Atsushi’s eyebrows perked as he blinked and turned to face him.

Window blinds not far past them were hoisted up and blasted the back of Atsushi’s head with natural white light. His mouth parted as if going to speak, revealing a subtle gradient of pink to red over chapped lips. The bottom one froze in hesitance, and grazed against his teeth.

“Dazai?”

He flinched at the onslaught of light as a small apology came from across the room. Forcing himself to accustom his eyes to the radiant glow unable to outshine Atsushi, he sputtered out a “huh” and a “what?”

“Is there something on my face?”

“No, why?” Despite asking, Atsushi wasn’t prepared for that answer. He rushed to turn straight ahead, unable to meet the other’s eyes. A blush crept up his cheeks as he couldn't find anywhere around the room to rest his gaze.

“You were staring.”

[galaxiadreams]

Say yes to Heaven.....(Zhongli x reader)

Warnings: None

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 923

Synopsis: In the age of Gods and Monsters, Rex Lapis and Y/n, Goddess of Spring are brought together by the strings of fate.

a/n: This is a little prequel to my other Zhongli imagine: The final Blessing. Please go read it if you would like to! I apologize in advance if there's any grammatical errors! This fic is inspired by "Say yes to Heaven" by the one and only Lana Del Rey! Enjoy!

The goddess of spring. One who brings life, peace, and abundance to all of Teyvat. Y/n was somewhat of a minor god, but no less important, and just as strong as the major archons. She’s strong willed, fierce, and determined to bring prosper to her people. Yet her voice was melodic, her heavenly laughter could melt the coldest of hearts. It was her compassion, love, bravery, and intelligence that captured the heart of the Geo Archon. 

“Morax, staring is rude you know. If you really like her that much, go and interact with her.” The cloud retainer teased, sipping her tea watching the man sitting beside her. Moarx quickly averted his gaze from your running figure in the meadow with Guizhong and stared disapprovingly at the adeptus, a faint red painted on his cheeks. 

Morax sighed, “I don’t think I’ll ever have the courage to tell her my true feelings…” 

“Oh Celestia! You’re the Lord of Geo, God of contracts, why could you possibly be afraid of? Plus, I’ve the way y/n looks at you, I’m sure that girl is smitten too,” Cloud retainer reassured him before giving his shoulders a squeeze, “Go on, talk to her.” 

Morax stood up from the stone bench and wandered towards the meadow in front of him. The two women gave him a beaming wave as they noticed his approaching figure, your starry eyes gleaming in the sunlight. 

“Morax! Me and y/n are heading towards the lake to have a nice swim! Would you like to join us?” Guizhong asked. It’s true Rex Lapis once harbored feelings for the Goddess of Dust, but ever since the day he met you, his feelings for Guizhong melted away, the Archon’s soul was completed. Despite not knowing each other that long, the string of fate already entangled the two souls together completely, an unbreakable bond. Walking towards the two, Morax’s breath hitched when he felt your soft hands grasping his. Beaming at him, you dragged him towards the lake, he couldn’t help but admire your face as she sprinted towards Guizhong in front of them. Relishing simple mortal activities like this were difficult in an archon’s life, especially with hundreds of thousands of people to care for and lead. So Morax pays special attention to moments of enjoyment, memorizing every detail to reminiscence later on, peace never lasts forever. 

“Weeeeeeeeeee!” You let out shouts of glee as you jumped into the lake beside the waterfall, laughing as you resurfaced again. Morax jumped in after you, just to be tackled by the Goddess of spring. The two of you started to get handsy as both tried to win against the other fighting underwater. Laughter of joy and surprise echoed throughout the countryside. After a while, Morax relented and you won the battle. The two swimmed up to the surface and took a deep breath of fresh air. Morax couldn’t help but admire your beauty as water cascades down her face, the wet dress clung to your skin, and your eyes, ohhhhh those eyes. He has never seen a pair of eyes so mesmerizing and ethereal as your’s. Y/n’s eyes were the color of the galaxies, the reflection of the universe. Deep blues and purples balanced each other perfectly, with bursts of lighter shades dotted across your iris exactly like the stars in the night sky. 

“'Cause I've got my mind on you

I've got my mind on you”

Time stops. Both of you were entrenched by each other at this moment, unable to break from each other’s gaze of desire. You’re the half of his soul, and he was yours. Eyes are the windows to the soul, the poets say. And you spot nothing but love and admiration in those eyes of gold belonging to Morax. 

“Would you like to join me for tea later this afternoon? It’ll be a pleasure.” You blushed at the deep, rich tone of his voice. 

“Of course! I would love to!” Oh heavens, you’re in love.  

.............................................................

The little moments over the years brought the two of you together. His acts of chivalry and respect everytime made your heart ablaze. 

“If you dance I’ll dance.”

Falling in love with each other’s charms and flaws, it was a perfect match made by fate. Standing beneath the yellow ginkgo trees, the two of you signed the contract of your love and future. Saying yes to him was saying yes to heaven. Officially sealing the bond between the Goddess of spring and the Geo Archon. Husband and Wife, the two of you will lead your people to glory and prosperity, and nothing will change that.  

“If you go, I'll stay

You come back, I'll be right here

Like a barge at sea

In the storm, I stay clear"

No matter what will come in the following centuries, your heart and soul belong to him, and his belongs to you. No war or famine can separate the two of you. No matter what trials and tribulations blocked your way, he was your pillar of stone. No matter how much pain or anger he’s in, your voice will heal his soul. Your love for each other ran deeper than contracts, deeper than lovers. No matter what happens, the two of you will find each other. Be it in the afterlife or in the next life, the unbreakable string of fate will always tug the two souls together. 

“I've got my eye on you

I've got my eye on you

Say yes to Heaven

Say yes to me”