#never picked up anything faster

[tea-time-terrier]

Happy other fish day! This kid has been in my house and home for 🌟 Three 🌟 years now and got a baby skateboard <3

[chaotic-tired-bastard]

Yall.... I have an idea....

So you know how Zuko eventually gets Roku's (Sozin's) crown? And how it was buried on Roku's island after it erupted?

Well

I think Sozin went back for it.

[nexus-nebulae]

got myself a little pocket radio bc you never know when severe weather might knock out the power or cell towers but apparently there aren't any weather radio stations i can pick up :/

[quietwingsinthesky]

Even & Bill & The Master Mr. Razor & Other Things Forgotten, So They Probably Weren’t That Important.

“They still scare you?” says Noble. They spook Bill worse than the patients, if only momentarily before she recognizes them. She lets the mop handle fall loose from one hand to another. Noble’s eyes follow it rather than look at Bill’s face.

“I don’t know.” She looks at the patients, stone-faced and suffering. Noble doesn’t. Their eyes travel up Bill’s arm and jump across her face to a point over her shoulder. “Sometimes, yes, but mostly, no. They’re in pain. I’m… used to them.”

“It’s been a few months. You should be.” Bill grimaces. Noble blinks at them, expression unchanging. “Something’s wrong,” they state.

It’s been seven years, Bill doesn’t say. She wants to, badly, and part of her thinks that if she has to do this much longer, she will. The only thing holding her back is how Razor had explained it, only when Noble wasn’t there to hear.

Amnesia. It comes and goes. Do not tell them. Would be cruel. The day before, the little place he, and Noble, and now, Bill, for such a long time that she couldn’t call it temporary anymore, had to share had smelled like iron and electricity. The air had buzzed until Bill felt dizzy just sitting down in the midst of it. She’d thought it was more serious, a gas leak or something, but then the smell had faded again. Like clockwork each year, it filled the air again, and Noble forgot again, and Bill wasn’t blind enough not to notice those things always came as a pair. She’s had to introduce herself too many times.

“I wish there was something we could do for them,” Bill says to pull both of their attentions away from that, though it keeps tugging guiltily on her mind like it always does when Noble is in the same room with her, when Razor isn’t there to hush a mention of something forgotten. “They can’t even ask for help.”

Noble’s fingers lace together, and then they rise to their chest and grasp at nothing. Bill catches the way their eyes widen for a moment before they force them shut. “They’ll fix the pain.”

“You say that like a fact,” Bill points out, “when they haven’t done anything for them for- Since I got here.” There’s a feeble movement out of the corner of Bill’s eye. A patient rocks into a slouch and shakes and stills. “You don’t believe it, do you? That this treatment is…” Bill doesn’t even know what to say about it. The only word that should ever be used to describe this is horror. Noble shrugs.

“They can’t go back to what they used to be. It’ll be easier one day.”

“So, you’ll be on the table just like all the other volunteers?” Noble frowns at that, like the notion is completely ridiculous.

“No. They would have to force me, and he wouldn’t let them.” It isn’t hard to figure out who ‘he’ is, considering Bill has the same mysterious savior to thank. “I won’t let anyone force you,” they add, like a promise, or a debt.

There are times… Bill will look at Noble, staring at the tiny television trapping the Doctor’s image, and there will be something scared and hopeful in their eyes when they look at him that Bill recognizes too well. Sometimes, Bill will say something about him, her adventures, all the danger, and the way Noble will smile is like they were there. All of time and space, and Bill has to wonder how rare it is to find someone else who knows the Doctor. (Razor never hints at recognition of the Doctor in the same way, so they must have gotten tangled together later, Bill assumes.)

Looking at them is like squinting through fog. There’s something Bill should be able to see, but she can never quite make it out.

Noble reaches out a hand, the one that ends a little below their knuckles and becomes cold metal up their middle, ring, and pinky fingers. It shouldn’t be out of place in a hospital of mechanical replacements.

The fingers curl with smooth precision, with a pride of craftsmanship everything else here lacks.

“Come with me.” Bill takes a step forward.

Wait for me, ties round her ankles and weighs them down.

Before she can decide to, Bill is saying, “I can’t.”

Noble’s hand drops slowly to their side.

“Do you trust me, Bill?” Their fingers curl against their thigh, a near inaudible and yet utterly distracting tap-tap. Bill blinks.

“Yeah?” Noble inhales. They meet Bill’s eyes. Bill- There’s a knocking at the back of her skull, and she’s trying to follow it and look at Noble at the same time. She knows this. She does. And it makes her feel… calm. Like trust is a tide coming in at the shore and she’s buried in the sand.

“You trust me,” Noble repeats. It’s no longer a question.

“Yeah,” Bill agrees. It’s no longer in question. Noble crosses the room to be closer to her, never taking their eyes from Bill’s. Their mouth trembles around their next words as though they’re having trouble forming them.

“Tell me why you… won’t come,” with obvious effort, Noble finishes the sentence and holds eye contact. Deja vu floods Bill’s brain. They’ve done this before, and she’d let it slip out of her mind, and she can’t panic about it because her breathing is in time to that rhythm that wormed into her head a long time ago- Months, no, years, no, a decade, and she can’t put a finger on the source. If it doesn’t belong to Even, they make it work for them all the same. Bill knows she can trust them, and it seems easy to give them information they must already know. They were there.

Bill can’t look away, and she begins to say, “Because the Doctor-”

She stops.

“Your eyes are the wrong color,” she tells Even.

The rhythm ends abruptly, and Noble’s gaze jumps away as though burned. “What?” they demand, confused. “I don’t- What?”

Bill’s mouth feels dry. She swallows and licks her lips. Her head buzzes, near pain for a brief moment, and it dissipates again with an exhale.

The door behind Noble swings open. Bill straightens up, tense until she sees it isn’t Nurse, only Razor looking between them. Noble doesn’t relax when they recognize him, and what spills out of their mouth next is something Bill can’t understand.

She can’t really understand why they’re upset, either.

(They hate this, Razor said. There was only one ‘they’ that he talked about, so Bill always knew, even if he never used their name. Death, dying, fine. Suffering, fine. But conversion? Uncomfortable. So they scurry the city like rats. Anywhere but here.)

The memory slots neatly into their conversation from before, and Bill understands. The patients put Noble on edge.

Razor doesn’t answer them as he enters the room.

Another demand in the same language. Bill would think she’s been too far from the TARDIS for too long if Razor and Noble hadn’t been bickering in gibberish since the day she’d met them. Maybe it never counted as a language properly, couldn’t translate, because it was something only the two of them knew how to speak.

He finally responds shortly, and Noble scowls. They move towards him, and his hand whips out at their face. Bill jolts, but he stops short of contact, instead snapping right above the bridge of their nose. Noble doesn’t flinch, biting at his fingers before he wisely yanks them back, but they shake their head and don’t speak up again. Razor ignores them, and Bill, like always, is left with a weird pit in her stomach.

He smiles, and it barely eases the discomfort.

“Hungry now?” he asks.

That, Bill has to admit, might help a little. If she can keep it down. She’s gotten fairly good at doing that these past few years.

[wipeawaythosetearsofbloodagain]

Another day of going to work so that me and my love can move out together <3

[yaminerua]

Screaming crying throwing up stumbling out of the notes app covered in blood after trying to force myself to write a goddamn sentence of a WIP: I love writing!!!!

[uitzinnigmp3]

,

[sttoru]

“oi,” sukuna grumbles as he walks down the dirt path, carrying your slumped body in his arms. he can’t believe you fell asleep on him. you were the one who was so excited to take a walk with him, yet here you are, snoozing peacefully in his embrace.

“what a fuckin’ brat,” the king of curses cusses under his breath. he isn’t much of a gentle partner, so he definitely isn’t going to let you sleep like any other lover would in this situation.

sukuna shakes your body with all four hands. “wake up. y’re droolin’,” he complains once a drop of saliva makes contact with the bare skin of his shoulder. he flicks your forehead which finally wakes you up.

you blink a few times before looking up at the pink-haired man. “mgh, lemme sleep,” you whine and close your eyes once more. you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck. it’s too comfortable to let go of him.

sukuna isn’t having any of it. you said you wanted to spend time with him, so you’ll have to do exactly that. “no, get y’r ass up,” he grunts and smacks your butt once as a warning. “you beg me to spend time with you, only to sleep through it? idiot.”

you whimper at the slap against your ass, body jolting for a second, before relaxing again. you don’t move an inch even after hearing sukuna’s rough voice in your ear, clearly warning you. it’d be a waste to let go of the precious warmth his body radiated.

“sorry,” you murmur and kiss his throat subtly while still half-asleep. “you’re just too comfy,” you add and smile lazily against his warm skin. if it was up to you, you’d stay in sukuna’s embrace forever.

the king of curses tries waking you up again, but he knows it’s futile. he feels your sloppy kiss against his throat and he freezes for a simple second. he refuses to admit the fact that it made him feel content— experiencing your affection.

“yeah, whatever. i’m dropping ya,” sukuna rolls his eyes. you didn’t expect him to actually drop his arms from around your body with the intention of letting you fall. however, you are faster than him this time.

your legs wrap around his waist and your arms are around his shoulders the moment you feel the lack of support. you grin in victory, having outsmarted your partner, who groans in annoyance.

sukuna even tries to tug at your kimono, but you still don’t budge. it’s like you’re glued to him. you keep your eyes closed, the victorious smirk on your lips never disappearing.

“. . tch. y’re impossible,” the grumpy man sighs out of frustration and defeat. he doesn’t try anything else after that. if you choose to give into slumber, then so be it. even when he would like to spend more one on one time with you.

sukuna continues to walk aimlessly into the forest with you clinging onto him. one arm comes up to balance your body on it, holding you up by your backside. the others hang limply by his sides.

his lower pair of eyes stays focused on you throughout the entirety of the stroll— secretly checking you out. it’s endearing to see your face from up close as you hold onto him like there’s no tomorrow. he takes pride in the fact that you feel safe around a dangerous creature like him.

“never takin’ ya out again. what a pain,” sukuna mutters to himself. that’s a lie.

sukuna would never admit it, but he enjoys hearing your voice and having you walk beside him as he holds your hand in his. which is the secret reason why he wants you awake right now.

your rambling about all kinds of topics that he doesn’t seem to care about at first glance, the way you fail to catch up to him as his long legs quickly stride forward, how you’d stop to look at flowers and pick one for him—

that’s what he misses. though, it seems like that would have to wait for a while.

[augustinewrites]

yesterday afternoon - after an unsuccessful coffee shop date - you’d decided that dating sucked. it was much too awkward and formal and not at all like it was in the movies, putting too much pressure on the people involved.

last night - after watching shoko flirt her way into free drinks - you’d been tipsy enough to take her advice. 

casual sex! it doesn't have to be with a stranger, just pick someone you know. someone you’re sure you won't fall in love with.

this morning you’d woken up to find gojo laying in bed next to you.

you lay shoulder to shoulder with the one person you should not have picked, staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the other person to speak. 

“did we really–” 

“three times,” satoru confirms happily, rolling onto his side to grin down at you. “i'm surprised we didn't do this sooner, really. our sexual tension has always been off the charts.”

when he leans in to kiss you, his lips meet your palm as your expression wrinkles. “don’t get familiar.”

“we’re naked together in bed– we slept together in more than the literal sense. can’t get more familiar than that.” 

“and this never happen again,” you promise, refusing to look at him. 

“why? because you’re afraid you’ll fall in love with me? it’s okay to admit it. i'm extremely lovable.” 

you’ve seen the way girls fawn over him. how they swoon over his pretty eyes and confident smile. he’s satoru gojo. a legend amongst jujutsu society. you’re no one in comparison, not a user of an otherworldly cursed technique, not from a major clan. 

people like him don’t fall for people like you. you’re afraid of rejection, afraid of being hurt. 

“we’re friends,” you tell him honestly. “i don’t want to risk ruining our friendship over something like this.” 

he tilts his head as your look at him. “shoko told you to try casual sex, didn't she? why not with me?”

“she told you?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face and making a mental note to never ask your roommate for advice for anything ever again. 

“hey, look at me,” he urges, grasping your hand. you do as he says, meeting his earnest gaze. “i can be casual and chill, it’s not like i have a huge crush on you or anything.” 

it’s so hard to say no to him. you really wish you could.  

“i’ll think about it,” you tell him, rolling your eyes when he fist pumps. “but you need to go home before shoko sees you.” 

but you’re dealing with satoru gojo, who almost never does what he’s told. “you’re not getting rid of me that easily. come here.”

he winds an arm around you, pulli my you in so you’re snug against his chest. explicit memories of last night flash through your mind, sending heat through your veins.

 “i can’t.” you tell him (though you’re mostly reminding yourself.) this is insane— satoru, what are you—”

you’re cut off when he shushes you, whispering let’s sleep in for a little while longer. 

he starts to drift off again as you struggle to escape his grasp, but your efforts are futile. even on the throes of sleep, satoru is stronger than you. 

so you give up, resigning yourself to a few more minutes of…cuddling. shoko isn’t a morning person anyways.

after a minute, you find it's not entirely awful. it’s a purely physical reaction. gojo is good looking, even with his hair mussed with sleep and his mouth hanging open. because you know that under the softness of his skin lays defined muscle, and spending the morning in his nicely toned arms isn’t the worst thing in the world. 

(it’s purely physical, is what your head tries to convince your heart, which is beating a little faster than usual.)

a very soft, content sigh slips past your lips. 

then, shoko knocks on your door. 

“hey! don’t tell me you’re too hungover for grocery shopping.” 

“shit!” you whisper harshly, shoving him away from you. “she cannot see you in here.” 

“afraid you’ll have to share?” he teases, narrowly avoiding being hit with a pillow. “okay, okay! where do you want me?”

“closet!” you instruct, scrambling my around the room to make sure none of his clothes are lying around. you thrust them into his hands, pushing him into your closet. 

he catches the door before you can close it, smiling down at you. “aren’t you glad we’re doing this?”

you shove him inside, slamming the door shut just ask shoko bursts into the room.

“hey,” you greet, trying your best to appear casual as you lean against the door. your heart beats in your throat, as she squints at you, then lets her gaze sweep across the room.

“did you bring someone home last night?”

“no.”

she looks at you. really looks at you, you think. 

“okay,” she finally says, though you can’t tell if she believes you. “i just– i thought i saw you leave with gojo. suguru said you two were flirting all night.”

“gojo and i?” you try to laugh, but it comes out a little strained. “never in a million years.”

shoko only shrugs, and you let yourself relax when she turns to leave…

…only for her to turn around once more, leaning the the doorframe. “well if you really don't like him, just let him down easy, alright? suguru told me he has a huge crush on you.” 

wait–

“gojo?”

you hear a sharp inhale through the door. 

“yeah,” she nods. “you really couldn't tell?”

gojo…has a crush on you. it takes a few seconds to truly sink in. “i had no idea.” 

“of course you didn't. he’s definitely got a really weird way of showing it.”

she turns to leave for real this time, but you wait a couple extra seconds before opening your closet, finding a wide eyed, blushing satoru staring at you. 

you can't help but laugh. at his expression, at shoko’s revelation, at this entire situation.

dating sucks, but maybe it won’t be that bad if it’s with him.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Recount Your Kids, Batman

[A loose continuation to this post]

Talia doesn't visit the Wayne manor. At least not regularly nor officially. All the batkids and Batman know she comes sometimes, just to check up on Damian and maybe bother Bruce from time to time, but this is the first time she has ever shown up to a dinner.

And, as they all take their seats, she gives Damian a long curios glance. Then, she looks to Bruce.

"Is that everyone?" She asks, easy and lighthearted. One might think she is simply not acquainted with the number of Wayne children or that she is teasing Bruce on the sheer amount of them. But Damian is looking down to his plate, and Tim knows for sure Talia keeps up with Wayne's head count, and Dick is fairly certain Talia would never tease Bruce, at least not so subtly.

It could have been some sort of a hint at Jason. If he was not here, that is. But he is, for once, so this is really all the family at one table.

"Yes?" Dick tries, looking around the table just to make sure. Steph and Babs are not here today, but that's definitely not what Talia could have meant. Bruce also looks just a little confused, which is a nice change of pace since he looked guarded and on edge from the very moment Talia showed up.

The woman hums, her eyes studying Damian. The youngest bat keeps his gaze down on his empty plate. No one really understands what's going on, but they all feel like there's something important and heavy hanging in the air.

Then, Talia stands up and turns to Alfred, "We will be dining later. It has come to my attention that kids are a lot more secretive than I thought," she explains cryptically and smiles at Bruce, "Beloved, will you come with me to the training grounds? I have something to show you."

Bruce doesn't move for a long moment, and Talia's smile becomes almost gentle, "It's about your son."

At least that makes the man move.

When they get down to the Cave - since Talia insisted this was not a matter that could be resolved in the manor's training room - it's not only her, Bruce, and the little bat there, of course. The whole family was way too intrigued, and some were even alarmed.

The most alarming part, though, was the fact that Damian had been uncharacteristically quiet on their way down. Yet, when Dick looked to Cass, she just shook her head slightly. The boy was not worried. To Cass, he looked almost resigned, if a bit displeased.

"Your sword, Damian," Talia commands, and the boy presses his lips into a thin line.

"This is not necessary, Mother."

"It is," the woman looks amused, but there's an underlying layer of concern to her tone.

"...Yes, Mother," Damian nods his head on what feels like surrender and takes his katana. Not the training one, the real blade. Bruce makes a soft, alarmed grunt, but Talia waves him off.

"Not to worry, Beloved. I will not harm our brethren."

She doesn't take a stance, nor does she pick out a weapon, simply lunges for Damian as soon as they are both on the mats. Two daggers seem to appear in her hands out of nothing, and, contrary to her words, her aim is towards Damian's neck. The boy blocks, jumps away, and blocks another attack.

Tim steps closer, "You can't just-"

"Step away, Drake," It's the first time Damian has spoken to them since they've sat down for dinner. His voice is tense, but not derisive. If anything, it sounds a bit tired.

Talia lunges for him again, faster, meaner. Metal clings against metal.

"You understand this can not keep going, my child," she tells the boy, startlingly gentle on the contrary to her definitely dangerous strikes.

Damian doesn't answer.

The rest of Batfam are forced to simply watch the encounter: Damian is mostly on defense as Talia goes for him, harder and harder with every hit. Until, without any warning, the woman strikes for Damian's arm, making him drop his katana, and-

A few things happen at once.

Talia lunges for Damian's throat. Bruce jumps onto the mats so fast that he almost trips. Tim yelps.

But Talia's blade doesn't strike.

A figure of another child, eerily similar to Damian and wearing the League of Assassins uniform, is standing in front of the littlest bat, two crystal clear blades in his hands, blocking the dagger.

Bruce halts midstep. The rest of the family holds their breath.

But Talia simply smiles and drops her daggers, backing away and looking at the boy between her and Damian with a fond gaze.

"Danyal," she greets, and the boy huffs, lowering his weapons. He doesn't drop them - they simply dissipate in the air, turning into tiny snowflakes.

"Mother," he greets back begrudgingly, and his voice is the exact replica of Damian's. A clone? No, because Damian reacts to him nothing like he had to the clones, simply clicking his tongue and rolling his eyes.

"You could have simply asked, Mother," he comments, taking a step forward and stading near the other boy. Danyal. When standing side by side, they look nearly identical - same facial features, same posture, same hair, even if Damian's is a little more tame.

But Danyal's eyes are just a few hues off. Still green but lighter than Damian's.

"I assumed if you have spent years living here and never bothered to mention your brother, I would need a little more than asking, my love," Talia doesn't laugh, but it sounds like she wants to. Both boys roll their eyes, perfectly in sync.

Hold the fuck up, brother?

"Huh. I thought you died," Jason mentions offhandedly, and the whole family whips their heads to him. Yet, before any of them speak, it's Danyal who answers.

"I mean, I did? Kinda?" He waves his hand in the air and shrugs, and he acts so unlike Damian while also simultaneously having his face, that it makes Tim shiver a little.

"You-" Bruce starts, seeming to finally find his voice, but the boy cuts him off.

"I'm not actually yours," he snorts at Bruce's facial expression, "Yeah, I know I look like I am. Blame the ghost sewers, Chronos, and my stupid ass for making decisions while not being fully awake."

There is so much to unpack in that sentence that no one has the barest of ideas on where to start.

Damian curves his lips down in a sneer.

"The longer you stay there staring, the colder the dinner will be when we return," he reminds them, and Danyal suddenly perks up.

"Dinner? Can I join? It's been ages since I've had anything home cooked," he smiles, like there's some kind of an inside joke in that sentence. Damian rolls his eyes.

"The food doesn't come alive in this household, Danyal."

"Bummer," the boy looks a bit disappointed, but not too much. "And it's Danny, for the thousandth time."

Talia picks up her daggers, hiding them somewhere in her clothes in an unnoticeable motion. Then, she gives Bruce a small, if a bit sly, smile.

"You can not call it 'family dinner' if not all your family is there."

[ervotica]

rafe with a pogue!reader that just says the most out of pocket, ridiculous shit all the time. he’s perpetually exasperated. you’re jj in female form— really, rafe doesn’t know how he ended up liking you in the first place.

this is him when he looks at u btw

you’re so unserious it actually pains him. he bends over to pick his vape up off of the sidewalk and you air-hump him from behind, with sound effects and everything; you've never seen him move faster, and you squeal when he takes your face in his hands, his brow set deep on his forehead, lips pursed. it pushes your cap halfway off of your head, mussing your already frazzled hair.

"hey, idiot. look at me," he barks, expression hardening as you giggle. you smirk, tongue in cheek.

"what?"

"what the fuck is wrong with you? like actually. you're so fucking weird," he seethes through gritted teeth, unaware of the group of pogues that watch, barely concealing their laughter; you shrug innocently, putting on your best doe eyes for your grumpy boyfriend.

"what are you talking about? i didn't do anything!"

"oh, you didn't do anything?" he parrots; it's something out of a cartoon, truly– his reddened face, pinched features. if you look closely enough, you're sure you'd see steam curling out of his ears.

"nope." you pop the p and he pushes closer to you, crowding your personal space.

"you're a little fucking freak, you know that? you need psychological help."

"yeah, that's fucking rich," you snort, patting his cheek in condescension. you bite his finger when he reaches for your face again. "quit it!" you garble around the digit.

"i can't." he throws his hands up, exasperated as he strides away. "i can't with you."

you grin, scampering after him as he paces. you're bursting at the seams with childlike amusement, skipping happily until you lace your fingers through rafe's. he grumbles something rather unsavoury but still tucks you beneath his arm, scowling as you needle your way into his side.

"gonna be the death of me, kid."

[erwinsvow]

shy reader just like this 🥺 and kissing rafe’s forehead when she’s pounding tf out of her

omg stopp!!!

when rafe's in a mood like this—you don't say anything, you don't have to. you know your boyfriend well enough by now, letting him do what he needs to when he comes home with stress from one place or another.

you have been, since the day he met you, rafe's favorite form of stress relief.

it's not long before you're naked in his bed, your skirt pulled off and shirt in tatters, thrown onto the floor. rafe's still in his clothes—somehow he always is and you're always naked—but you can't bring yourself to mind right now, with the way your boyfriend is slamming into your sore pussy, battering in and out while you lay back and take it.

rafe's rough, some part of him always has been and always will be. considering how long it took you to convince him to even try to be rough with you, you should take this as an accomplishment.

you look down at where the two of you are joint—the way he slides in and out, your wetness shining on his dick and the obscene noise it creates each time he pushes back in. you're wetter than you'd even realized, so caught up in your head that you forgot your body has always reacted primally to rafe's without any action needed from you.

you look until you can't look anymore, looking up at rafe's face, blinking eyes focusing in on his face—eyebrows twisted in concentration, beads of sweat on his forehead. it's all hot, everything is tight and tense and wet, and you're sure to finish in moments, because it never takes rafe long to tip you over the edge.

but you try to hold off, shaky breaths and moans filling the space between you. rafe grunts, picking up the pace and slamming in and out, his hands tight on your hips. you're helpless but to watch, the noises leaving you in rhythm with his motions.

he's concentrated—always is when he's using your pussy like a toy. you'd be a filthy liar if you said you didn't like it.

"r-rafe," you get out, the word a moan and squeal combined.

"shh, s'okay, just take it, kid-"

that's all you need to hear, leaning in and pressing a fast, light kiss to his forehead. you don't know you do it—just that it feels right. if possible, rafe goes faster.

you fall apart first, rafe right after. when you lay back, whole body shivering at the feeling of his hot cum inside of you, rafe returns the kiss, pressing a longer, sweeter kiss to your forehead.

"what was that for, huh?" he asks you, and you seem to have lost all your words.

"i don't know," you mumble, staring up at your boyfriend from your position in his arms, sticky bodies pressed together. "just felt right. i love you."

just when you're about to fall asleep, spent and limbs exhausted, you hear it, the words from rafe preceded by a soft laugh that makes your head spin.

"i love you too, kid."

[monstersholygrail]

I am such a nuzzler (I’m severely touched starved). But I just love me a good nuzzle with some sweet cuddling and maybe a bit more than that.

Imagine Werewolf bf who welcomes and encourages your clingy behavior and all the nuzzling that comes with it. Not only because he loves the attention but because he is just as obsessed with you as you are him.

You get this sort of shy look in your eye when the urge arrives and Werewolf bf notices it instantly. His arms move on their own as they spread out wide. Allowing you to immediately dive into his embrace. Nuzzling your way up his furry body till you burrow into his chest.

Loud purrs emanate from Werewolf bfs chest as his arms move to wrap around you, practically squishing you to his chest. You both adore the hard secure touch of each other’s hold. His purrs only growing louder as you move up and nuzzle into his neck, nosing brushing along his marking spot.

His cock can help but harden whenever you do this. It’s his instant weakness. The idea of you two marking each other. Of being bound and getting these cuddles for the rest of your life. It sounds like heaven to him.

And of course when you’re cuddling with a Werewolf bf, cuddling doesn’t stay cuddling for long. With your delicious shapely body pressed so tightly against him, he can’t be blamed for his actions that follow.

As you two continue to squirm against each other, practically wanting to crawl into each other’s skin, it’s simply not Werewolf bfs fault that his erection just so happens to grind into your lovely pussy. He can feel the growing dampness through your panties and he growls out his approval. Always so wet for him you are.

The whine that leaves you vibrates through his skin, only serving to make Werewolf bf even harder. His hands never leave their place around your body, not even as they slide down and so gently push your panties off to the side. He wouldn’t dare take his hands off of you when in need of such closeness.

Making sure to maintain your cuddles while he rolls his cock easily inside your addictive wet heat. Werewolf bf tightens his hold on you to the point where you can barely move as he starts moving your bodies in a steady rhythm.

Your bodies rocking together as noises of pleasure fall from your lips and spill right into each other’s skin. Not an inch of space between you and neither of you would have it any other way. Werewolf bf’s claws scratch along your back and you cry out, toes curling at the added sensation.

Burying your hands in his fur you move as best you can, eagerly sucking his cock back inside you with every thrust. Wanting all of him as close to you as possible. Rough grunts leave your bf as his pace picks up, fulfilling your need as he does all the others.

Werewolf bf keeps his grip firm but gives you the room to move faster and meet the snap of his hips. You immediately jump at the chance, drool dripping onto his fur as you bounce sloppily on his huge girth. Wanting to feel just how roughly he can split you open and stretch your weeping cunt.

As you both move together it doesn’t take long for you both to explode, clenching down on his length and milking his cock for all it’s worth as he shoots spurt after spurt of hot cum deep inside your walls. Werewolf bf shivers in return, his body buzzing as your essence coats his member and your walls stay firmly implanted around him.

Your limp form sags happily back into his chest. Nipping playfully at his neck and resulting in Werewolf bf’s cock twitching inside you as he snaps his jaw at your neck in retaliation. You laugh lightly, nuzzling back into him, glad to be even closer to him as his softening cock stays inside you.

Werewolf bf moves his hands up and down your back and over your body, caressing every inch of you. Loving how your body trembles and leans into it in response.

Yeah, Werewolf bf wouldn’t give up your nuzzles and clingy behavior for anything. He’s got everything he needs right here.

[bunnis-monsters]

Devoted

Yandere!Knight Elf x Princess!Reader

Bunni’s Monstertober

Oct 15th

Oct 14

Oct 16

summary: your knight is having scandalous thoughts about you…

warnings: dirty thoughts, nudity

Devoted.

It’s what every knight was, devoted to those they protected, devoting their bodies, hearts, and souls to the royal family and their safety.

But for your knight… it was more than that.

He had spent years wandering the earth, despising human kind for the slaughter of his brethren. To him, humans were selfish and cruel creatures that cared not for nature or other beings, only for their own personal gain.

That was… until he met you.

He had been starving to death, an intentional choice on his behalf. The world had rejected him, taken away all of his loved ones and left him to be all alone, with no one to share his long life with.

When a carriage passed by the tree he leaned against, the place he had picked for his final rest, he hadn’t been expecting a woman to jump out and run in his direction, lifting his chin and pouring cool water down his parched, dry throat.

“Gods, you’re skin and bones. Are you alright..? No, of course you aren’t…”

Within moments, you were flanked by several men in armor, men he would later come to know as royal knights.

“Princess, please return to the carriage. It is not wise to interact with… beings such as himself.”

You shot the knight a look and he quickly backed down. “If I were to ignore a dying man when I am able to help, who am I to call myself a princess of the people?”

The elf attempted to pull his head away, but was both too weak… and too mesmerized by your beauty to do anything but let you feed and nurture him as he was taken back to the palace.

Over the next few days, he was taken care of thoroughly by the palace staff, his every need tended to.

He found out by listening in to the maids outside his room that you had ordered all of the palace to take care of him as if he were royalty himself.

You quickly scolded anyone that dared to even play with idea of discriminating against him due to him being an elf. It was… refreshing, and he felt strange hearing a human speak of him as if he were a person.

As he recovered, you visited him as much as your duties allowed, chatting with him and making sure he was being treated well.

He felt strange when he started looking forward to your visits, even wanting to recover faster so he could stay by your side at all times.

And he was able to achieve his dream by moving up the ranks as a knight, eventually becoming your personal guard. It wasn’t easy, the training was grueling and he was mistreated for being an elf…

But a year later he kneeled before you as your personal knight. He put the work on and climbed the ranks… all for you.

It didn’t take long for him to gain your trust. After all, you were a kind and fair princess. You didn’t judge him for being an elf, something he had never experienced before. He was your knight, and you believed in his strength.

And when he took over protecting you, he started to get a bit… greedy.

He didn’t like that other people got to see and touch you. They were filthy humans who only wanted to use and abuse you.

Even the maids helping you dress and bathe would coo soft compliments, saying how they adored their princess and wanted nothing more than to see you happy.

But he heard what they’d say in the hallways. He would hear their hateful words and gossip. They hated you for being royal, for having a better life than them,

They didn’t know you like he did.

Slowly, he began gathering evidence against each maid and butler, every single body guard and knight that attended you was either fired or executed.

No one should be able to be so close to you… no one but him.

It was late one night when he first saw your bare body. You were bathing, him standing by the door, facing it to guard you.

Having been pampered your entire life, you didn’t exactly know how to properly bathe yourself. Now that all your maids had been fired, you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

“C-could you… help me?”

The tips of his elf ears turned pink when he turned to see you leaning against the edge of the tub, your soft breast squished by the cool surface.

The mere sight of your plump form bare in front of him was enough to have his cock straining against his pants.

“Of course, my princess…”

He sat down on the edge of the bath, slowly easing the shampoo into your hair. After that was your body, and he steeled himself before moving forward.

Moving the washcloth against your soft flesh felt almost sinful. You were his princess, and yet he was touching forbidden territory. Although he tried his best to avert his eyes, he ended up catching sight of your pretty, fat pussy.

It looked so soft, and he could almost picture how cute you’d look all stretched out on his cock. How you’d moan for him to be gentle, burying your face into his neck.

He’d comply, giving you the tender lovemaking you deserved…

After your bath, he had to tuck you into bed before leaving the room to deal with his throbbing erection.

His princess… how he wanted to keep you pure and innocent… but his desires were overwhelming.

Perhaps he could use his elven beauty to woo you and take you away… after all, he could never have you while under that kingdom’s law.

Soon, you would be his…

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[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.” 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!��

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[vanillamatt]

vanillamatt .. talkingstage!chris & reader

matt trying to convince chris to get out of the talking stage - based on their recent ‘suspect’ tiktok

you’ve been in the “talking stage” with chris for what feels like forever. casual texts, hanging out here and there, but nothing more serious. sometimes you catch him looking at you a little too long, or he gets all soft when you laugh, but when it comes to making things official, he never quite takes that step. it’s like he’s stuck in neutral, and you’re starting to wonder if you’re the only one actually waiting for more.

matt notices, of course. he always does. one night, after chris had been texting you for what felt like hours, matt had had enough. he plops down next to chris on the couch, arms crossed, eyeing his brother with a look that says he knows exactly what’s going on.

“you still doing this, huh?” matt says, his voice light but there’s an edge to it.

“doing what?” chris replies, not even looking up from his phone as his thumb swipes over the screen.

“playing it safe. with y/n.” matt leans forward, poking chris in the side. “dude this whole ‘talking stage’ is getting old.”

chris shifts uncomfortably, setting his phone down like he wasn’t just glued to it. “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“come on,” matt says, rolling his eyes. “you like her. i see how you act when her name pops up on your phone. you’re basically glued to your texts with her, and whenever shes around, you act all weird, like you’re trying to hide it, but it’s obvious, man.”

chris looks at him, slightly defensive but also a little lost. “it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t wanna rush things, you know?”

matt shakes his head, leaning back. “you’ve been not rushing for months now. she’s probably waiting for you to do something, but you’re just sitting there like a bitch, acting like everything’s fine. if you don’t make a move, you’re gonna lose your shot.”

chris looks conflicted, glancing at his phone again. he’s silent for a moment, clearly thinking about what matt said, but there’s still that hesitation in his eyes. matt sighs.

“you’ve got to stop being scared, man. if you keep playing it safe, you’re never gonna get anywhere. either you take the risk and find out, or you keep pretending like you’re not into her.”

there’s a long pause, the tension between them thick, before chris finally groans, running a hand through his hair. “you really think i should just… text her? tell her how i feel?”

matt smirks, leaning back against the couch. “hell yeah. if you don’t, i’m gonna do it for you.”

“alright, alright,” chris mutters, picking up his phone. “but you better not say anything to her.”

“promise,” matt says, grinning. “just make sure you don’t screw it up.”

chris lets out a small laugh and starts typing, his fingers moving slow at first, then faster, as if he’s convincing himself more than anyone else. matt watches, arms folded, a look of satisfaction on his face.

it’s about time.

a/n - i feel this is something that would happen