#so brain is like “no no no no sleep for you plug in phone first but haha you cant cuase cat

[kiwibirb1]

Yall I'm thinking about the cheese wrapper in my bathroom again and now I really want cheese

[mockerycrow]

Emergency Contact (2/2) (Ghost x GN!Reader)

-> PART ONE OF EMERGENCY CONTACT

Summary: You never expected Simon to come to your aid, and Simon assures you that he would come every single time.

A/N: I genuinely appreciate the support of this concept <3 I truly did not expect so many people to want a part two, so here it is! please rb with what you think, i love to hear y’all’s thoughts! i’m honestly not the happiest with this, but i did what i could. i may rewrite this in the future.

[WARNINGS: Hospital setting, fluff, hurt/comfort, medical inaccuracies, ooc Simon.]

IT TAKES YOU FOUR DAYS to wake up. Four entire days for you to even move an eye muscle. Four days of anxiety, of Simon lying in wait, waiting for sign of life. Despite the doctors’ assurances of your condition, the confirmed brain activity, Simon was panicking.

He just couldn’t lose you, too. Not when he has such a great thing going for him, so when he learns you’re in a mini coma—induced by your own body to allow your body to rest and heal, he can’t help but freak out. His mind screaming that you’ll never wake up, that you’ll always by lying in a hospital bed, until someone in your family decides to come and pull the plug. He tried to keep himself preoccupied—he read books and articles on his phone, memorized each time the nurses came in to check your vitals, he even texted Price an update about his situation—it wasn’t much information, but he said something along the lines of something happened at home and he thinks his leave with have to be for a month, but there’s a good chance it might be longer.

Simon barely left the room—he couldn’t. Not when at any moment you could wake up, or any moment you could’ve died. He didn’t manage much sleep, either. Every time he managed to fall asleep, the same nightmare would play; what he imagined how your accident went. He imagined you walking down on the sidewalk towards the crosswalk down a street you both frequented together. You were always careful when walking—he knew you were having car troubles for the last few weeks. You press the button on the crosswalk pole to trigger the lights to turn red. Cars slow to a stop, and your crosswalk signs turns to a walking man. You quickly hurry across the crosswalk, but a car comes speeding down—and smashes right into you, full speed, sending you across the road. Simon is just standing there, watching. Completely unable to help. He always wakes up once he walks up to your mangled body.

Simon gasps quietly and jolts awake again, blinking the bleariness away, and the slow beeps and exhales of your machines come back. His rapid heartbeat begins to slow as he realizes that he’s still beside your hospital bed. He looks at you—you’re no longer on a ventilator, but you have an oxygen mask, a way to help your collapsed lung. It makes him feel a bit better, but Simon would very much prefer your eyes to be open, your fingers moving against the blanket you’d likely hate the texture of when you woke up—if you woke up—and he would want to feel your muscles moving under your skin. He also tries to ignore the fear of you having Amnesia after waking up.

Simon isn’t sure when he laid his head back down, but it shoots back up the second he hears a quiet noise escape you—it’s the first sign of life to Simon, his wide eyes scanning your body. His eyes fly to your hand, your fingers twitching a bit. Simon grabs ahold of your twitching hand immediately and looks at your face and he isn’t so sure why his heart is pounding beneath his ribs, but he doesn’t have too much time to focus on it as your arm twitches. It’s like you’re slowly coming back to life in a weird way, but Simon finds himself totally silent, like he can’t find the right words to say just yet. He doesn’t mean to hold his breath, but he does as he watches your shoulder twitch next, and then your eyebrows furrow. Your eyes are already closed, but you squeeze your eyelids together harder. Simon realizes that you haven’t had your eyes open for about four days, so he quickly dims the rooms lights and returns right back next to you. Simon reaches for your hand and gently holds it, watching you slowly get your surroundings.

Your eye flutter open slowly and you blink, and it’s obvious you don’t immediately process that you’re in the hospital. A croaky moan of discomfort leaves you and Simon sits up, the worry eating at his stomach. You look at Simon with unfocused and exhausted eyes and your eyebrows furrow again and your lips part.

“..Simon?”

He releases the breath he was holding and he nods, his black mask slightly moving as his lips move. “I’m right here, [name]. Right here.” Simon absolutely hates how shaky his voice is, and he watches you bit your lip as your eyes begin to fill with tears. His heart skips a beat—what’s wrong? Are you in pain? Are you scared? Simon decides he needs to know because he can fix it, he can help you, right? He needs to fix it—“Y.. You came for me..” You whisper, blinking a tear rolls down your cheek to your jaw quickly. Simon’s own eyebrows furrowed—did you think he wouldn’t? “Of course I did, love.” He murmurs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “I will always come for you.” You try to hold in the quiet sob, but your shoulders begin to shake. Simon reaches up and gently wipes away a tear with his thumb while he squeezes your hand. “No tears now, hm? You’ve.. You’ve survived the impossible.” Simon says, forcing his voice to be steady. His eyes begin to burn with his own set of tears forming. “I came as soon as I heard, [name]. Don’t ever think I wouldn’t come for you.“

Your lower lip curls as you try to not cry from his sentiment; this is the man who took you in after losing everything, and it took him a long while to even let you know of his actual name, let alone see his face unmasked. This is the man who does not tell you the details of his job, but you know that he could be killed from it. This is the man who sits next to you near his windowsill when you both can’t sleep—the man who wakes up, just knowing something is up. He makes you a cup of your favorite morning drink whenever he can, he signs his sticky notes with a poorly drawn skull instead of his name, he makes piss poor dad and army type jokes, annoys you with his cockiness and bought you a damn mattress and bed-frame—even thought he never had to. He remembers the little things about you, your favorite shows and games—your favorite books, your favorite foods, hell, he remembers every little awful story about your workplace and your job. He’s always been like a wild animal—you come too close and he flees, but if you’re patient do what he needs, he’ll come to you.

Simon blinks away the tears and he clears his throat, his voice hesitant as he speaks. “You made me your emergency contact.” His tone isn’t questioning or warbling in any way—he says it like a statement, a fact, which it is. You laugh quietly which quickly turns into a grimace, causing Simon’s thumb to stop moving over your knuckles for a moment. Of course any movement or sound would hurt. “I.. I had to put one down, I just.. put the first person who came to mind.. Y’know?” You murmured nervously. Simon’s breath hitches for a moment and he only responds with a “mmh” for the time being, which definitely makes you way more nervous than you started out to feel. Your heart monitor spikes for a moment, causing Simon to speak up. “Hey—just relax, okay? M’not mad, love. Not mad at all,” He begins. He glances away from you for a moment before looking back with such a vulnerable look—like he’ll break at any moment. “It was just.. a surprise. That’s all.” But both of you know it was more than just a surprise. It was a small declaration of prioritizing each other—you setting him as the first person to be notified for an emergency, and his acceptance of this role. Simon never thought he would be sitting here, beside anyone else than his teammates in a hospital setting.

Simon isn’t sure when he fell in love with you. Whether it was the first moment he laid eyes on you or way later down the road—he doesn’t know. What he does know is that this.. feeling, isn’t as scary as it used to be. People getting close to him used to terrify him and it still does—but.. there’s something about you. Something about you that makes Simon feel safe. Makes him feel like he doesn’t have to sit in the corner to watch the entire room, you make him feel like he doesn’t have to sleep with a hunting knife stashed under his pillow. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to question your motives with anything you do, you make Simon feel like he can just sit down and relax without having to worry about, well.. anything else besides from the question of what you’ll have for dinner that night. He tries to hold in the shuddery breath and when he can’t, his eyes dart away to your arm. You open your lips to speak again, but you begin to cough. Simon grabs the paper cup of water that has a straw in it that he’s prepared for you everyday just in case you had woken up and he slots the straw between your lips, which you greedily accept and drink down the cold water. It soothes the ache in your throat from being on the ventilator and from not speaking for a couple of days. Once you’re satisfied, he places the cup back on the side table. “Hey, Si,” You croak, your fingers weakly squeezing his hand. Simon’s eyes immediately meet yours again, searching for any hint of pain. You lick your lips, a light smile coming to them. “Two blondes walk into a bar. You’d think one of ‘em would’ve seen it.” He stares at you for a moment, his eyebrows raising. “Did.. Did you just..” You laugh weakly and nod, looking at him. “I did.” You clear your throat again and squeeze his fingers. “Did it because you’re in your head.. Don’t hafta think so.. so much when you’re with me, Simon.”

Simon brushes his thumb over your knuckles once again and he can’t help but silently agree—he doesn’t have to think about anything right now, he can just sit here, with you—even if it’s in a place like this, with you in a condition like that. Simon looks at you and you look back at him, into his soul—and for the first time, he doesn’t want to look away.

taglist;; @alwaystired--neversleeping @handsomeunderwear-art @indefenseofkara @kaysav608 @1-is-loneliest-number @rosee-sensuelle @kitty-satan1 @k4marina @rahmown @royalty-purple @bowtruckleninja @cumikering @silent-neptune @purechaosss @hauntedpass @mxtokko @meimhem [crossed out = not able to tag sorry!]

[moongreenlight]

Said my piece about stalker!soap but how could I forget stalker ex boyfriend!ghost????????????!

Cw: Creepy crawler behavior. Stalking. Breaking in.

Maybe you should stop listening to true crime podcasts at work.

It feels entirely silly. You’re surely working yourself up over nothing, but some mornings you wake up and have to explain-away the way that your toothbrush is in the wrong spot or that there’s a lunch packed in the fridge that you can’t remember putting together yourself. There’s pictures on your phone that look like your dark bedroom that you’re pretty sure you didn’t take yourself. Maybe you accidentally took it on the way to bed? While you were getting up to use the bathroom?

You talk yourself blue in the face explaining it away well enough that you convince yourself your flat must be haunted. It seems almost logical? Better than any of the alternatives you can come up with if nothing else.

You live with the infrequent tweaks and changes to your surroundings. Lights on you shut off. Doors open you left closed. Your laptop charger going missing when you were certain you left it on the desk.

You almost go so far as to get a motion-activated light to plug into the outlet by your bedroom door, but you convince yourself against it after wandering the aisles of a drugstore with it in your cart long enough for an employee to start following you around. You toss it back on the wrong shelf and buy a packet of sweets you won’t eat in an attempt to not look like you were casing the joint.

But then it picks up. Gets more serious. Windows being opened while you sleep. Strange creaking of floorboards that are too loud to be the building settling. Your bed being made when you get back from an outing you had to rush out the door for. Massive men’s sweaters showing up in your in-unit dryer. The trash being emptied while you were at work. It gets so bad that you stop staying at home because it’s simply too creepy.

It’s the kind of fear that settles in the craggy parts of your brain. Seems silly if you think about it too hard the same way being scared of the dark in your closet after watching a horror movie does. Being scared of a potentially haunted apartment doesn’t really convey the severity of the situation when you try and talk about it with people.

You stay with friends. Couch surf as long as you can until you cannot possibly force people to take you in any longer. And when you’ve exhausted all other options, you find yourself texting Ghost for the first time in months.

Hey.

It’s hours before he responds. Not unusual. And instead of him texting back, you see a phone call block out the video you’re watching on your phone from a very well-lit spot in the living room. Also not unusual.

You pick up, but it takes you a few seconds to choke out words around the sudden lump in your throat.

“Forget how to answer the phone?”

He sounds irritated -again- not unusual.

It’s quiet where he is. Sounds like maybe he’s in a smaller space. His bedroom or his car? Though you couldn’t imagine him out at this hour of the night.

“Sorry. No. I- sorry.”

Shifting from his end. The static of fabric brushing past the microphone. A hefty sigh.

“Sorry.”

“You said.”

“Uh- I don’t really know how to ask you this, it’s- silly. I don’t know. Are you- um- busy?”

“S’half one in the morning.”

“It was a better time when I texted.”

It’s hard not to snark at him.

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. I’m not busy.”

You’d love nothing more than to hang up on him, but you stayed up the entire two nights before because you couldn’t find anyone to come stay with you and you were getting desperate.

“Could you come over?”

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— LIVIN IN YOU

SUMMARY : dean actually loves reading. it should have been obvious what he’d enjoy reading the most. he doesn’t hate all books. he likes fun ones, ones with spice and romance.

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : none

WARNINGS : nsfw(18+), smut, smutty thoughts, fluff, sub!dean, dom!reader

WORD COUNT : 4.9k

A/N : title from a song by radio company. I was doing research on erotic novels for this and Bared to You by Silvia Day was the first book that popped up so I started reading it as research and planned to read only one chapter. It was all I was gonna include but I ended up liking it, and finished it lmaooo X

Dean couldn’t sleep. His bed was too empty, too cold. He moved around trying to find a comfortable position to finally fall asleep in, before he groaned and stared up at the ceiling thinking of what to do to put himself to sleep.

Y/N was out really late with Cas and Jack getting dinner since Cas and Jack went out on a hunt together and succeeded. Dean had just showered and eaten when they came back and Jack was starving so Y/N kissed Dean goodnight and went to take Jack and Cas for a late night dinner.

He chuckled shyly to himself as his brain suggested something. He looked around for his headphones and then searched in his box where he had his porn. Y/N didn’t look inside because she wasn’t interested in it—having him and all that was her reasoning. He hasn’t looked at his porn in years but he still liked collecting it anyway and Y/N didn’t mind that he did.

He finally found what he was looking for at the bottom of the box, beneath the Busty Asian Beauties magazines he had. He was paranoid and embarrassed about the thought of Y/N finding this out. It was a book he hadn’t read when he first got it. He and Cas had gone to the library years back and he was looking for something to teach Cas about sex while Y/N and Sam stayed back at the Bunker, cooking.

Dean led Cas to the erotic novels sections at the bookstore in town and he started to pick random books for him to read, from LGBTQ+ to heterosexual couples, monogamy to polyamory, BDSM, and more. Even Dean learned a few new things and they made him realise how right Rowena was when she said he was “sheltered”.

Dean sat, cross-legged, in the middle of his bed and kept his sheets on his lap to keep him warm. He plugged his headphones into his phone and let Led Zeppelin play quietly as he tried to focus on the words of the book. He was shy about reading it, so he was barely on chapter six of the book titled Bared to You. It was intense and straight to the point while all at once being a slow burn.

The main character, Eva, reminded him a little of Y/N with her wit and stubbornness, while the love interest, Gideon Cross, reminded him of himself if he were rich and more intense.

He wanted to skip straight to the sex scenes, but since it was surprisingly good, he decided against it. Once he’d started reading it—thinking he’d fall asleep quickly a few days ago, he found himself enthralled and captivated page after page as if he hadn’t had much more intense and creative sex with Y/N at least every night and morning.

He enjoyed the book more by imagining it was him and Y/N as Gideon and Eva. It could at least explain the blush that flared up his neck to his ears and cheeks, and the way his cock stiffened and swelled inside his black boxers.

He never touched himself, he just kept reading the fucked up relationship between Eva and Gideon, grateful that—as fucked up as he and Y/N were, they didn’t have something as complicated or toxic as them.

He wasn’t very good at talking about his feelings or his troubles, but he got there eventually as he processed events. Y/N didn’t push, she was just there—waiting for him, and never complained. She trusted him and she was kind, which helped to make her trust him. It was easier since she knew how to handle her own emotions despite how powerfully she felt them. So much about her made him feel safe enough to feel whatever he was feeling without being judged, invalidated, or forced to talk about it.

He didn’t always tell her he loved her in the traditional sense—through words, but he hoped—when he kissed her, when he made love to her, when he cooked for her, when he held her hand, when he smiled at her, and everything else he did—that she knew it was his way of saying it when it was too much to say out loud.

The book wasn’t very long and it was occasionally real to him. He sometimes related to Gideon and Eva, to their trauma, the feeling of being undeserving of love, the fear of vulnerability and intimacy, the inadequate feeling self-hate caused, disgust, and using sex as a coping mechanism. Now, when he had sex, it was because of surges of love and lust from how kind and tender Y/N was with him.

He didn’t feel used or objectified by her, he didn’t feel good about himself only during sex. He felt loved, worshipped, beautiful, and worthy with every press of her lips on his freckled skin, with every movement of her hands on his body, with the adoring words whispered into his mouth, against his skin. He felt it outside of the bedroom when she gazed at him lovingly when he talked about anything at all—and there was a special little glint when he gushed about cowboys. He felt it when he ate and caught her looking at him already with warm and amused eyes, when she cooked and fed him, praising him and complimenting him for looking cute as he ate. He felt it when she listened and kept her eyes on him like he was the only one in the room worth looking at, the way she hung on his every word, and how she was kind to him despite all the hurt she’s felt. She was everything. There wasn’t a single moment he’s spent with her where he hasn’t felt it.

So, even though the story did stress him out sometimes, he liked comparing Gideon and Eva to himself and Y/N. It made him feel proud of their relationship and good about himself because Gideon was really frustrating to him—and yes, Dean was aware how he keeps stuff to himself as well. However, he had never inflicted such anguish on Y/N by doing so, and he can��t keep it inside very long when Y/N makes him open up like a flower when it’s kissed by the sunrise. It’s not forced, he’s not pressured, it's just natural that he does so, bending to her tender will.

He already knew, years ago, when he started to love her. But the moment he actually let it take him over was when he was fresh out of hell, when they stood by his car in the cold, outside that barn where they hid Anna from Uriel and Cas. And he knew he was done for when she looked at him like he was everything, even as she confessed to knowing what he’d done in hell, when he realised that it didn’t alter or affect her feelings for him.

His walls were obliterated as if they were hit by a meteor when she kissed him, when she stole his breath for the first time, when she touched him so tenderly. When he felt her naked skin against his for the first time, and she quietly chanted his name over and over when he claimed her inside the backseat of his car. He was devastated by the gentle caress of her touch, by her soft panting breaths as he teased her, by the taste of her, by the way she tasted him. He felt beautiful—like a star after its death—when he was inside her that night for the first time, when he’d made love to her like he’d never loved anyone else.

He’d always known she was the only person he’d truly love after that Djinn made her his girlfriend in the wish-dream many years ago. When he told her he loved her in that dream-state and as he said them, he thought to himself that those words were only for her, he swore to himself that he’d never say them to anyone.

He’d gotten to chapter thirteen in a breeze and he was still invested in the story. There was so much drama going on between the characters and he was blushing—not just from how hot the sex was, but because he was embarrassed that he actually liked the book.

Just as he got to another sex scene he shuddered when he felt a little draught and he jumped when he looked up and saw Y/N standing with the door open. She looked like she’d been caught, she was frozen and blinked at him with confusion and surprise.

Immediately, he closed the book and turned it onto its back to hide the cover, then removed his headphones. She relaxed and smiled softly at him, “I thought you’d be asleep.” She stepped forward, her eyes filled with love as she reached out for his face. He stared up at her with a deep blush on his face, he was anxious to be discovered by her, but he closed his eyes when her fingertips gently brushed across his cheeks.

“Couldn’t sleep without you,” he murmured and opened his eyes, glancing up at her through his thick lashes. Her smile widened slightly and she cupped the side of his jaw, letting him rest his breathtaking face in her soft palm.

“I’m here now,” she whispered. He smiled softly, lifting his hand to hold her wrist and moved it to his mouth so he could kiss her pulse. “Let me get cleaned up, I’ll be right back.” He nodded gently, closing his eyes when she leaned down to kiss his forehead. He leaned into her with a content smile, then offered his lips to her when she pulled away. A single press of her warm mouth on his made his lips tingle, but he let her walk away, and licked his lips as he watched her leave his room. He let himself bask in the aftermath of her tenderness for a few seconds. He just stared at the door she exited from, his eyes drifting away little by little as he bit his lip, deep in thought. Thinking of her—naked, mostly.

Shortly after, he made quick work of hiding his book where it had been and returned his headphones to where they were before as well. He sighed and threw his phone on the wooden bedside table carelessly. He felt a bit of adrenaline at the thought of being discovered and arousal from having been fantasising sexual encounters with Y/N.

Still, he innocently returned to his spot on the bed. He moved beneath the warm sheets of his bed—sitting, and rubbed his eyes when he heard his bedroom door opening again. Y/N was standing there for a while, smiling at the way he rubbed his eyes before she entered. She quietly closed the door behind her and walked towards him, “what were you doing before I interrupted you?”

He stared at the black shirt she wore. It was his Led Zeppelin shirt with a grainy black and white image of a zeppelin and orange coloured words. He smiled at how big it fit her—like a minidress. His adoring, honeydew eyes fell to her bare legs and her blue ankle socks with white clouds, to the grey slippers on her feet.

She climbed onto the bed and he bit his lip, shyly looking at his hands, “listening to music and reading some book about wraiths. It was interesting, so, uh, I couldn’t fall asleep after all,” he lied and she chuckled. She still raised a brow as she inspected his flushed state, and moved the sheets to straddle him, unaware that he was hard. He exhaled shakily when she sat back on his thighs and his hands flexed on her legs as she rested her arms on his shoulders. “How’d it go with Jack and Cas?” He cleared his throat and held her hips, hoping to change the subject even though he only wanted to pull her onto his cock.

“Good,” she murmured, “Jack wanted a burger, milkshake, and some fries.” She smiled down at him, then kissed his lips softly oblivious to the way it only fueled his lust. His eyes fluttered shut and he hummed softly. “Cas was just sitting there all stiff, but he relaxed a little when Jack started to ask questions about how all of the food they served was made.” She cupped his face in both of her hands, feeling his ticklish stubble on her palms and the heat of his blush. “You’re warm, are you okay?”

She sounded concerned and she brushed her lips against his forehead to see if he was sick. He only nodded to reassure her he was fine and captured her lips with his in a needy kiss. He brought her hips forward, finally letting her know what was going on down south. She gasped against his mouth at the friction against her clit and he groaned softly at the sound of it, tightening his grip.

“A book on wraiths made you hard?” She teased breathlessly, her eyes fluttering shut when he kissed the corner of her mouth. Her heart rate picked up with excitement and her skin started to get warm with the rush of blood through her body.

“Shut up,” he murmured, kissing across her jaw, nibbling gently on her jawline. He trailed his opened mouth down her neck, his tongue sliding against her soft skin, tasting her and breathing in the fruity scent mixed with the aroma of flowers in her soft hair. “I was thinking of you,” he told her, his voice deep and husky, it made her pussy quiver.

“What about me?” She whispered, her fingers buried in his short hair. He slowly moved his hands up her back beneath the shirt she wore and brought his mouth up to her lips, but he didn’t kiss her.

“The first time I was inside your tight, hot, wet little cunt,” he growled, taking a moment to see her reaction.

“Dean,” she gasped, her stomach fluttering with excitement. Pleased with her response, he pressed his lips against hers, passionate and thrilled with a newfound confidence. He pulled the shirt up and off her body quickly. Her hands returned to his hair to tug at the short strands, drawing out little grunts from him that went straight to her clit. He didn’t give her much time to catch her breath, instantly returning to her lips once he removed the shirt, not that she needed air as she robbed him of his own oxygen with the depth and passion of her returned kiss.

He gently prodded at the seam of her lips with his tongue and she opened up to him swiftly, a sudden neediness controlling their actions. He could taste chocolate on her tongue when he licked into her mouth, savouring the flavour of the milkshake she must have ordered as his fingers toyed with the hem of her panties. He felt his skin electrify when she moaned at the gentle strokes of his hot tongue.

“I wanna make you come,” he whispered against her lips. He pulled her closer, her breasts squeezed against his broad chest which was covered in a black Henley. The cotton rubbed against her breasts deliciously and made her nipples tighten. He turned her over onto her back with his arms around her waist and he watched her chest rise and fall with each breath she took.

He looked down at her, seeing her shiver now that she wasn’t warmed by his body heat and took a moment to admire as she laid naked beneath him. His eyes drifted away from her pink cheeks to look at her full breasts, down her slightly concaving stomach, and finally her pink underwear. His hands flexed on her thighs, slowly rising to her hip bones where her underwear was resting.

“Take me,” she whispered, reaching over to lift his shirt up off him as well, “however you want,” she told him quietly. He groaned softly at her words, quickly taking his shirt off to do as she clearly wanted him to. She stared up at him with wide eyes that swallowed him whole like beautiful, hungry black holes.

“Whatever you say, angel,” he murmured, looking away from her blushing face fro a few seconds just to remove his boxers. Like him, she’d looked away from his face to watch him strip completely, her little tongue dipping out to moisten her dry lips at the sight of his stiff cock. He looked up at the right moment, caught her quite literally salivating at the sight of his dick leaking at the tip. “Wanna taste?”

That was usually her line, when he’d stare at her glistening folds debating on whether to fuck her already or eat her out. Unlike him, she’d say it bashfully. She’d move his attention away from between her legs because she was just like that sometimes. He adored her to pieces with every fibre in his body.

As she crawled over to him, he sat back on his legs, his hands stretched out behind him as his cock bobbed with excitement. His eyes were on her, right where they belonged, watching her lower herself slightly and very teasingly dipped her tongue into his slit, tonguing away his precum. His breath hitched and his hands fisted the sheets, his hips instinctively moving upwards.

“Yummy,” she said playfully, moving up his body. He stared at her with parted lips, panting as his cock ached for attention, but her hands slid up his thighs and stayed there.

“Please,” he moaned impatiently. She blinked at him once, a little smile on her face making her even more irresistible. She shifted slightly, but his eyes were glued on her as she slowly trailed her fingertips up his cock. She became flustered and averted her gaze to his lips, leaning forward just a bit when he became a little too intense to stare at. Dean felt his lips tingle as they brushed against hers, but he let her have control, let her tease him by refusing to just kiss him senseless.

Her touch was teasing, light and slow as she moved her hand up and down at last. Her thumb swiped over the slit, spreading the warm precum that had started to bead out, her mouth watering at the sight. But instead of continuing to tease him, she moved onto his lap, pulled away from his face to guide his cock to her soaked entrance. And just with the sensation of her warmth around the tip, he whined.

The sound made her insides quiver and she cursed under her breath, a little smirk tugging at her lips. His hands clasped her thighs painfully, the tortuous way she slid down the length of him made him roll his hips up impatiently. The breath she took had caught in her chest at how good it felt to be this close to him once again.

Her lips were on his again, at last, swiftly aiding the passion that made her tummy warm, that made his body burn with so much heat he felt like a sun had started to burn inside of him. He loved it. Being loud on purpose. Losing himself in her completely and giving in, letting her take control and please him the way only she knew how to do.

A loud moan slipped past his lips, into her loving mouth when she sat fully on his lap. The way she tightened around him after each sound spurred him on. His hands moved up her sides, grasping tightly at her hips, hoping to mark her skin as he tugged her forward, fervently giving himself pleasure.

“Just wait,” she murmured against his lips, pulling away to push his shoulders until he was lying down on his back. He whined in response, bratty—cutely refusing to stop. His head tipped back, letting his body relax into the bed while he lifted his hips up, his lips parting to vocalise more of his pleasure. “You’re so fucking pretty,” she chuckled breathlessly, staring down at him—utterly enraptured by his impatience and his determination to make himself feel good.

“Need to cum so ba-Fuck!” He screwed his eyes shut when she lifted herself up and roughly slammed back down. She smiled and laughed, slightly amused and then leaned forward to kiss him, his eyes barely starting to open, only to flutter shut again when he got lost in her kiss.

“You’re so fucking desperate, D,” she teased, her lips brushing against his hairline. A whine from him at her words showed her that he liked it and she moaned in response, continuing to ride him as eagerly as he wanted her to.

His eyes were fixated on hers, heavy with lust, pupils dilated with both love and desire. The way she lifted herself with such agility tore more sounds of pleasure from his throat, deep and rumbling groans that came from within his chest and made her smirk smugly at him. It was so hot, it drew so much arousal from her that lifting herself up and down was embarrassingly smooth, the squelching sound of her pussy being filled by his cock echoed around his room and made his moans get louder.

His grip on her hips tightened, blunt nails digging into her flesh, his back arching from how rough she was fucking him, giving him so much pleasure he thought he’d explode. “Fuck, baby, ‘m so close,” he moaned. His mind was hazy, his skin burning hot and sensitive so that even the way she dug her nails into his chest added to his pleasure. He loved being on the bottom, more than he’d like to admit.

“I could cum just listening to you, Dean,” she panted, leaning over him slightly, one of her hands clutching the pillow his head rested on. She changed the angle of her hips, her clit rubbing against his pelvis, her other hand slid up his chest, wrapping around his throat and squeezing gently.

“Shit,” he gasped, his hips bucking upwards.

“You’re so kinky,” she chuckled, “how about you just cum already, D?” She clenched around him, a gasp slipping past his lips. He shook his head, his teeth digging into his plump bottom lip to hold back another moan, his stomach tightening as he tried holding back his orgasm. “Fine,” she chuckled, grinding down on him to stimulate her clit until he was whining, bringing herself closer to the edge as he squirmed beneath her.

“Oh… fuck,” he moaned loudly, his orgasm washing over him before he could even stop it. An arousing look contorted his face as he came, quick curses and whispers of her name puffing past his parted lips that left his mouth and lips dry, making him look so beautiful.

“That’s right, D,” she chuckled, biting her lip to muffle a moan when she felt the warmth of his cum inside her. She started to lift herself up and down again, hard and fast until she reached her own orgasm, her velvety walls squeezing him tightly, and he took it despite how sensitive he was starting to get.

He let her finish, his fingers bruising the flesh of her hips until she stopped shuddering completely. Her entire body turned to jelly, a little smile growing on her lips, gazing at each other in the slight darkness of his room. Only one lamp allowed him to see the state she was in, flushed and a little sweaty like him.

Her gentle eyes swept over his face, watching neutrally as he sat up tiredly, a languid smile on his face when their breaths became normal again, “I didn’t expect that,” he murmured hoarsely, brushing her hair to the side and kissing her cheek. She relaxed in his arms, placing a little kiss on his lips before resting her cheek on his shoulders.

“Y’know I don’t believe you, right?” She mumbled against his shoulder, smirking when his hands stilled on her back. He recovered quickly, his hands continuing to venture up and down her spine, ignoring the feeling of their cum oozing out of her.

“What do you mean?” he chuckled deeply, “I didn’t plan on us having sex tonight.” He knew he sounded unconvincing, but mostly he knew that she wasn’t talking about that at all.

“What were you reading?” She asked, pulling away to analyse him. He swallowed nervously, licking his dry lips as he thought about what to say, but he still felt dazed from his orgasm that no lie to get himself out of the situation came to his mind to rescue him. “Tell me, if it gets you this worked up, I might have to give it a read,” she teased, lifting herself off him.

“Fuck,” he hissed, smacking her ass when he saw she was purposely lifting herself up slowly. She plopped down next to him, rubbing her thighs together as her pussy continued to throb with. He bit his lip gently and admired her, dragging his hand up her soft and warm thighs to reach between her legs where she was completely soaked. “I’m too embarrassed to tell you,” he chuckled, gently massaging her sensitive clit.

“That’s okay because I already know,” she whispered, moving his hand away from between her legs so she could return to his lap. His lips parted, a look of confusion and embarrassment turned his face red, his lips parting with no words being formed. “I clean your room, D, it’s not just magically without dust all the time.. Plus I’m curious about your porn, okay? Some of those ladies are crazy fine,” she chuckled, kissing him passionately.

He pulled away from the kiss, giving her a dirty look that made her laugh. “I’m going to throw them out if you say that again,” he pouted, his fingers mindlessly caressing her thighs.

“Don’t be jealous of them, you know you're my only girl, Dean,” she teased, burying her fingers into his hair and tugging him forward to give him one of the best kisses of his life. He moaned softly, his hands flexing on her thighs, instinctively bringing her closer so her body was pressed against his. He whined against her mouth, pouting at again. Her teeth dug into his plump lower lip, seductively pulling it before she let it go and smiled down at him.

She snickered when she saw the confused look on his face. “I don’t even know what that means,” he mumbled cutely, tracing a few freckles on her legs. She sighed dramatically and grinned at him, getting up to clean herself with a random hand towel he had in his drawer.

He watched her naked body move itself away from him with another pout on his face, waiting for her to look back at him. She did eventually, smirking and shaking her head. He blushed, becoming a little shy, he turned over onto his side to watch her but also to stop himself from doing things to get her attention.

She turned the water on in the sink and leaned against it to clean herself up, letting him see his work. He held his breath, heat spreading over his face like a fire in the forest, his hands clutching his pillow. His eyes were fixated on her every movement, inspecting the way she spread her folds open to clean herself thoroughly despite the sleepiness that made his eyes heavy.

“Enjoying the show?” She smirked, glancing up at him. His eyes snapped up to her face and he shrugged with a little laugh.

“Always.” She stood normally and walked towards him again, into his soft bed until she was right next to him. The towel was slightly wet, and she folded it to use a clean part on him, carefully taking his soft cock to clean him. He hissed quietly, watching her face at first, and then watching how gentle she was with her hands, reaching down to his balls to clean where their cum and her arousal had dripped down. “Round two?” He whimpered and she smirked, pulling her hands away from his dick.

“As horny as I still am, you need to sleep, baby.” Her shoulders shook with silent laughter and he nodded, a lazy smile growing on his lips. He loved this. She moved out of bed to place the dirty towel somewhere to remind herself to wash it tomorrow, and then to wash her hands before she made her way to his drawers to pick a clean pair of boxers for him and clean panties for herself.

She slipped the Led Zeppelin shirt on again and handed him the Henley he’d been wearing, but he childishly put it on the nightstand, “no, I want easy access in the morning,” he whined, stopping her from taking his boxers to him. She laughed softly, then returned their underwear to the drawer neatly.

“Does that mean I’m the little spoon tonight?” She asked, amused, taking his shirt to fold it neatly and placed it back in place. He nodded, fixing the blanket so she could join him beneath them. “Okay, pretty boy,” she murmured, smiling as she made her way to him beneath the sheets, kissing him softly and mumbling goodnight against his lips before turning around. His arm slung over her waist, a happy smile growing on his lips, snuggling closer to her warm body as he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

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[mapofthemazeinthemirror]

When he thought he'd moved on (ex-boyfriend!txt)

Warnings: not really gender neutral

note: when I started this I wondered if it was appropriate, please let me know if there is any problem. sad hours open, I guess.

Soobin

The cafe was quiet, just the way he liked it. This was your meeting place; even if the place was closed, the two of you would meet here. He got here early, the table in the corner waiting for him as always. The owner had smiled at him and said hello, recognising him as a long-time customer.

As he pulls his earphones from his pocket and begins to detangle them, he unconsciously bounces his leg, an old habit. Soobin's thoughts are distracted, the new song he wants to show you by his favourite band occupying his mind. He's sure you'll like it - he's slowly converted you to a fan over the years.

Once the wires of the earphones are all straightened out, and he plugs them into his phone. The ear with a green sharpie heart is his side, the one with the blue is yours, a little faded from so many bus rides and time spent in bed sharing music together.

The bell on the door grabs his attention, and he looks up - and remembers. It wasn't you who he was meeting. This isn't your meeting place anymore. He feels guilty about being excited, more guilty about forgetting that he's supposedly moved on. Still, he grins painfully convincingly as she takes the seat across from him, as if this was what he had been expecting all along. He tries to figure out how he could have forgotten that this is how things are now, nodding as she is talking, although he doesn’t hear a word.

Yeonjun

Yeonjun doesn't know what day it is, what time it is. All he knows is his phone is ringing, dragging him from his much needed sleep. With a long groan he rolls toward the edge of the bed, not even daring to open his eyes and expose them to the bright light of the sun he can now see from behind his eyelids. Which means he hasn't looked at the caller ID. Which means he answers the way he normally would, half asleep and his brain not quite engaged. He answers with your name.

But it's not you. The voice that replies is so different from yours that it snaps him awake entirely. He is so disappointed he doesn't even panic, his voice so groggy he can play it off that she heard him wrong. After a short conversation, most of which he wasn't paying attention for, he throws the phone into the covers and wonders if he's made a big mistake by starting something new.

Beomgyu

He can't remember much about the dream, only your smile, your eyes, and your hand in his. Now he's awake, and the bed is familiarly warm, the sound of soft breathing behind him. He rolls over with a contened sigh, reaching arms out to pull you against his chest, pressing his nose into your hair. He feels a cheek nuzzle against his neck and all feels right with the world.

"Did you get a new shampoo?" he asks, voice rough with its first use of the day. He lazily pulls his head back and opens his eyes, and reality cracks down over his head like an egg when he sees her.

"No," comes her reply.

It's the first time she's stayed over, the first time anyone has stayed over but you. He was totally fine with it last night. Now it feels so gut wrenchingly wrong. Maybe he should wait a while longer before letting her stay again.

Taehyun

It's been a long, long day. Every muscle aches, and even his brain feels like a muscle with how tired he is. He drops his bag at the door and kicks off his shoes, the sofa calling to him longingly from across the room. The minute his back is on the soft cushion, he knows he'll fall asleep here, but he's not sure that he cares - he's fallen asleep worse places than this. Flicking on the TV, the first thing he sees is an ad about an upcoming movie, a remake of an old classic. He smiles.

"Hey babe," he calls out, "we should take your mom to see this, it's her favourite."

Hearing the familiar creak of the floorboards leading into the kitchen he glances up, and his smile falters. How could he have forgotten? She's looking at the screen with a confused expression, shaking her head. "No, it's not. I've never heard of it." She swings around to look at him now. "Have you even met my mom yet?"

He blinks, somehow feeling more drained than he was before. "Oh... I meant my mom."

Maybe he will go to bed after all.

Huening Kai

He's looking at the photos again, the ones in his phone that he keeps telling himself he'll delete. But every time he pulls them up to get rid of them, he finds he can't. He should, he knows he should, but it seems his head and his heart are at war.

He spends so long flicking through them, there are so many, accumulated over the years you spent together. He lands on his favourite; the two of you at the carnival. The memories the photo brings are so vivid, so precious, he swears he can remember every detail; the temperature of the air, the foods you ate, even the songs you listened to on the way home, car windows down and an impressive amount of sugar in your systems as you sang and bopped along. His mind replays the scene of the two of you on a ride, your laughter amidst the screams of other riders, clutching onto each other's arms for dear life, and how you almost dropped your phone as you reached out to capture the moment.

Kai forgets himself, forgets where he is right now, that this isn't your room he's lounging in, and a loud laugh bursts from him. When his joy filled eyes turn to meet hers, she is giving him an incredulous look over the top of her computer screen. He snaps out of it in an instant and tucks his phone away, apologising with a duck of his head. What is he going to do about those photos?

written by mapofthemazeinthemirror - do not repost my work in any form

[chezzywezzy]

Yandere Birdbox (3/5)

Word count; 3.8k

For the first time, Y/n had the concious thought about whether they could use their ability to see their surroundings. They always thought their blindness was a curse, but in the apolcolypse, it had come in usefully. Whether this was only an ability in their sleep, Y/n had yet to determine, but they hoped it wasn’t — Y/n didn’t see any other way to survive.

Y/n laid their head against the counter. They plugged their phone in, dreading the day when electricity was no longer available and Siri — Y/n’s only friend — was silenced. And then came the issue of food. They were stuck. Y’n couldn’t help but ponder death. They were aware of how generally awful they were as a person, and that kept Y/n with a will to live and a will to die.

Y/n was selfish, rude, and a coward. They were bitter at the world for being unfair and punished the people around them the same. Too selfish and afraid to die, but too hateful toward the world to live. It was a conundrum. Y/n figured, though, that their general confusion would be the death of them, as they were too confused on what to do. Y/n had their talents in a paintbrush, not a weapon. Y/n couldn’t see. Y/n hardly knew the area because their father often shipped groceries to their doorstep so Y/n only left the house for exhibitions, interviews, and art supplies. 

Their father. Y/n sat up, grabbing the phone. 

“Hey, Siri. Call dad.”

The phone began ringing. The screen was slightly cracked, but its not as though Y/n cared. The phone rang. And rang. And rang.

“The person you are trying to reach is unavailable. After the tone, please leave a message.”

A wave of sadness and worry washed over Y/n. They recognized that their father was the most important person in their life. Perhaps his phone was dead. Perhaps it was lost. Perhaps he was asleep.

Or perhaps he was dead.

For the first time since hell had descended on earth, Y/n began to cry. They wandered over to the couch to lay down, curling on their side. For the first time in a while, they thought of ‘Last Look’s dreadful day.

“Doctor, why can’t my child see? How can they get their sight back?” their father pleaded.

“Sir, I’m sory, We’ve ran several tests, but sometimes, things like this happen. A hidden gene. A faulty switch in the occipital lobe. Although there is still no noticable differences in their brain development, nerves, or blood work, cases like this happen. It’s unfortunate, and unfair. Sometimes, the eyes shut down entirely overnight from unknown causes. And, currently, we don’t have the technology to do anything about it.”

Their father’s eyebrows furrowed. Although Y/n couldn’t see it, he was losing hope. He wondered if he had somehow failed his only child. 

“I… I did some research. They somehow made a young boy see again —“

“That was a scientific anomaly, sir,” the doctor argued desperately. “And anyway, this clinic is incapable of giving that kind of treatment.”

Y/n’s father began to sob. They are crying, too. The doctor’s words scared them. They clawed and rubbed at their eyes, but their father grabbed their hands, squeezing tightly. He comforted them, whispering sweet words that everything would be alright. That they would make due. That there was nothing wrong with being blind. That it wasn’t the end of the world.

But Y/n was only a child. Their entire future had been robbed. Y/n didn’t know of any blind heros. Anyone out there that made a living or lived independently. Y/n was uneducated. All they knew was that their world had ended, and that they wanted to see again.

And see they now did. Y/n shot up. It was but a blink, but they saw. It was like they physically transcended their body and walked to the door, going right through it. They reached for a canvas, their fingers tracing it like a memory. A man. Middle-aged, beer-bellied, straggling jawline, balding. Pale eyes with a daze. Pounding, over and over. His knuckles bleeding. His clothes torn and bloody. The woman’s corpse beside him, eyes torn open and from her skull, as though his fingers had dug into them to remove them personally. In the woman’s chest, there was an iron rod.

Y/n could still see it clearly. The man was really there, still pounding ruthlessly. Y/n had blocked out the knocking, but with sudden focus, their ears returned to the sound.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

They dropped the brush and went over to the kitchen. They pulled a knife from the drawe, removing the blade cover. The wind was still howling outside, pounding at the windows. They went over to the door.

Y/n suddenly found courage and a voice.

“How are you alive? Why are you here? How did you know I was here?”

The knocking stopped suddenly. With its absense, an eerie silence followed. Y/n suddenly regretted speaking up.

A gruff voice, enchanted yet ery, very dry and cracked, answered. “They showed me true beuty. They want me to show you. Let me give you my eyes, Y/n. I want to give you my eyes —“

“Why is everyone else dead but you? What’s doing all this?” Y/n’s voice was shaky yet steady. 

“…Sinners. All of them. They did not want to see. But I do. You do. They want me to show you it all. Open the door, Y/n. Let me give you my eyes.”

“That’s impossible. I am blind. Please, leave me alone —“

“But you have the sight!” the man suddenly boomed. “They gave it to you a long, long time ago. And now, they will show you everything great and beautiful. Open the door. Open the door. Let me give you my eyes.”

Y/n only grew more confused with every sentence. Nothing made sense. 

“How will you give me your eyes?”

Manic, cracked laughter ensued. “I will tear them from my skull and hand them to you. You must see it, Y/n. It is beautiful! Beautiful, I tell you! Open the door!”

“Leave your eyes at the doorstep. I will take them that way.”

“I wish to see you myself. They speak so highly of you. You are the most beautiful landscape of all. I must see you, Y/n. I must see you and hand you my eyes —!”

Shivers rolled down their spine and they took a step away from the door. Y/n was left with more questions than answers. The whole endeavor was pointless. However, Y/n knew that they couldn’t stand the knocking anymore. And they didn’t trust that this man would just die. Something supernatural had consumed the world. The man’s eyes weren’t normal. Perhaps his biology wasn’t, either.

With that, Y/n didn’t let the fear take over. They unlocked the front door and swung it open. The voice was no longer muffled. They aimed to stab, but the man suddenly bellowed and collapsed to his knees. The man was far more vocally gruesome with a door no longer seperating them. The man bowed.

His scarred, bloody hands touched Y/n’s feet. He scrambled and panted. Y/n is left stunned, allowing the man to grovel at their feet. 

Sobs echoed the empty hallway.

And Y/n was shaking from head to toe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful!” he cried. “They were right! The most beautiful thing in creation!”

His praises fell on deaf ears. Rough hands squeezed Y/n’s feet and they felt overwhelming disgust, overpowering the fear. The hands clawe at their calves and then their thighs. Suddenly, he withdrew, falling silent. His face was drenched in sweat. He glistened with salt and oil. Tears continued to fall, and although Y/n did not know, his eyes were glued to their figure in awe.

And then, he began to claw. He dug his thumb and pointer finger into his eyelids. Y/n stumbled back, hearing the squelch. The man released painful gurgles. Slowly and painfully, he removed his eyes. The man sobbed desperately, and yet all he cried was blood.

Y/n felt a spray against their pants. Y/n had enough. Their selfish, angry side kicked in, adrenaline suddenly bursting through their veins. Gritting their teeth, they stabbed the man in the neck, somehow knowing exactly where to aim. The man gurgled out a cry, dropping his eyeballs and collapsing to the welcome mat. Y/n kicked the man away, feeling their socks get drenched with liquids. The man’s thud was the last sound he made. 

Y/n felt around the corpse for the knife, disgusted. They removed it. 

They slammed the door shut and locked it again.

The corpse sat there. The man lay there, decaying and wet. The eyeballs were completely seperated and long cords spun out from his eyes. Despite the pain he and Y/n had caused, the man was smiling.

Y/n was rattled to their core, turning and sliding down the door. Their hands had intense tremors. They knew damn well they couldn’t stay stuck. The wind was howling, harder and harder. The beast was near. And the insane missionary had found them once. Another one surely could. 

Y/n stayed frozen on the floor, cradling the moist knife like a child, for a very, very long time. It was slowly settling on them that they had commited murder. It didn’t feel like self-defense. The man had worshipped them, for christ’s sake. They couldn’t help but wonder what would have happened, had they taken the eyes? What would they have seen?

They decided to think it over in the shower; they knew they had to move while they had the resources. Siri wouldn’t live forever. Their food supply wouldn’t last. They needed to find a grocery store to camp in — one that wouldn’t be too populated with hypothetical looters.

They also needed resolution on what happened to their father.

When they hopped out of the shower, they began to pack the essentials: their charger, phone, cane, clothing, food, and paints. Everything they’d need to survive, but also live. 

Y/n’s first thought of where to go was the corner store down the block. It’s where they often went for an easy snack. Y/n took their cane and turned Siri on to the corner store. They shoved the phone in their pocket after plugging in earbuds. 

They felt their way toward the elevator. Their ears were keen, but the hallway was silent.Usually, their apatment building was full of hustle and bustle, especially at… god, Y/n didn’t even know what time it was. So, they asked while in the elevator.

“Seven-thirty-three.”

The elevator beeped and the doors opened. More silence. Siri repeated directions, but Y/n knew the way to the front entrance. 

They paused. The beast seemed to follow their every move; it was everywhere. It was the air Y/n was breathing. That much they knew. They hovered, afraid to leave. But Y/n’s will to survive and be selfish was the most important part.

And then they hear it: a screaming woman. Y/n dashed out the door, selfishly believing this was their chance. In Y/n’s mind, the wind would divert its attention, even if it was an entire entity. The screams echoed and grew louder. The wind was bustling and squealing in their ears. They could hardly use their cane, relying solely on Siri’s directions.

“Turn left to reach your destination.”

Y/n skidded to a stop, losing their footing. Y/n grunted loudly, knowing they would probably be left with a nasty bruise. They scrambled onto their knees. They dropped the cane, but as the wind whistled and bustled, the cane was the last thing on their mind. In their world of darkness, they crawled forward, finally feeling at a glass panel. Y/n scrambled to their feet, gripping the handle.

They pulled at it desperately, almost falling again as the door swung open. They felt papers adorn the inside, and a wave of relief washed over them as they pulled the door shut. Y/n was shaking in their boots as they held the position, feeling the wind beat against the door. 

Click.

Y/n tensed, turning wildly and reluctantly releasing the doorknob. Their voice came out as a squeak.

“Who’s there?”

“Don’t move. Hands up.”

A man’s voice echoed in the otherwise silent corner store. The man sounds gruff, and Y/n can tell that the man sounds rather redneck. And by the clicking, the man held a gun. Y/n complied.

The man emerged from behind a shelf, crouched slightly, and had a pistol aimed directly at them. Y/n panted, unaware of the man’s exact location. Their head turned every which way, attempting to locate the man. The man wore a dark leather jacket and was somewhat older. He had a peppered beard and a big bald spot on his head. He wore glasses and ripped jeans, giving off the general aesthetic of a retired biker. 

“Now, what’s it like out there? Have you seen it?”

“I - I don’t know. It’s quiet, sir,” Y/n stuttered. “I’m blind — I can’t see the monster —“

“Bullshit.”

“I dropped my cane right outside the door —“

“I know you’re just like the last guy. Trying to fool me, are you —“

“I’m blind! I’m Y/n L/n — I’m famous, haven’t you fucking heard of me, you fucking loser?” Y/n exclaimed, almost insulted. “Just look out, and you’ll see you fucking cane —“

While Y/n had been ranting and tossing insults at the man, he had progressed silently. Y/n stared out blankly, expression angry and unchanging as the man snuck up on them. Y/n paused, breathing heavily. All they saw was darkness, unaware of whether a gunshot would shoot them dead.

“Boo.”

Y/n jumped wildly, flailing to the ground. They burst into tears, which made the man laugh. He glanced out the paper, noticing the cane. “By golly, I guess you are blind. Or one hell of an actor. You don’t got the same eyes as them, either.”

“Jesus, fuck you —“

The man lowered his gun and chuckled gruffly. “Yeah, yeah. If you saw the world we were living in right now, you’d understand. Now, get away from the door and behind this here counter.”

Without asking, the man grabbed and pulled them. Y/n frowned firmly but allowed it to happen. Behind the counter was a small pile of wrapper trash and a torn up sleeping bag. The man beckoned to sit, but they gathered that once they felt the counter. Their movements were still skittery, untrusting of the man before them.

“So, let’s exchange stories.”

“Stories?”

“My name is Mark. I’m the owner of this establishment, although that doesn’t mean much these days,” he explained. “I followed the news religiously, waiting for something like this. Then, I noticed reports of mass hysteria starting in Italy. I shut down shop immediately, and not even an hour or so later, the news turned to shit, and so did the world outside. I learned that whatever’s out there cannot be seen and all that shit, so I’ve got my trusty blindfold around my neck just in case. And finally, I guess it’s safe here for now, but we sure as hell can’t stay here. It’s a fucking corner store. The supplies aren’t endless.”

Y/n listened intently to his ramblings and, deciding to suspend distrust, nodded and replied. “Yeah, okay. So, I’m blind. I’m surprised you haven’t heard of me. I’m the ‘blind painter.’ I had a gallery that day and was heading home when it all started. Uh, and I was fine until I started having… dreams. Seeing things that were there. Like this cult guy outside my door that wouldn’t leave me alone. I actually saw what he looked like in my head. I killed the guy and he was fucking worshiping me. Something about how he wanted me to see. God, he pulled out his eyes —“ Y/n stopped, replaying that moment in their head and shuddering. “Uh, and I came here… Oh. And I’m Y/n.”

“The fuck?”

“I guess this plague affects everyone differently, but if I’d known that, I sure as hell wouldn’t have let you in.”

“It’s a gift,” Y/n insisted anxiously. “A stupid one. But my father always told me god gave me eyes in my dreams. The truth is, I think I’ve seen the monster in my dreams. And when I focused, I could see the man outside my apartment. But only when asleep.”

“Prove it. Show me some of your drawings. You obviously brought the fucking supplies.”

“I haven’t used this notebook in years. It’s only old drafts,” Y/n answered, withdrawing the notebook from their bag. 

“Well, if you’re some fancy painter, it doesn’t really matter.”

Without warning, the man snatched the notebook from their grasp and started going through the pages. He slowly goes through them, ignoring Y/n’s angry expression from the invasion. Inside the notebook was several drafts of pretty locations. Some faces. The occasional animal.

Mark paused at a page, his brows crinkling. “This the monster you saw in your head?”

“What is it?”

Mark described it to them.

“Yes. Although that could have been my imagination.”

Mark continued to stare at the scribbles. It was somehow made of clean yet untidy scribbles. There was a large circle surrounding a large head that had long, spindly tendrils, leaving a cavernous mouth. The thing had slits for eyes, and there was a gleam to the flesh of the beast. It was like a halo over it, and Mark couldn’t help but admire the drawing. 

Then, he turned the page to find another one. He was suspicious, but the drawings were aged and marked with a date from several years ago. This drawing had a clearer face image, showing the tall, slimy forehead. The slits for eyes were open, bulbous, and consumed with black charcoal. The tendrils leaked down the paper like Y/n had switched to paint halfway through.

After that sketch, it returned to an image of a mountain waterfall.

“…Huh. So you’re telling me you saw this shit coming too?”

“Hardly. I thought they were nothing but recurring dreams until now.”

“Well, let me get some food. I think there’s a spare sleeping bag in the back, too.”

Mark rose and weaved around Y/n. Y/n remained still, grabbing their notebook back and getting lost in thought.

They thought about how long they would be able to stay, especially in the company of Mark. Another person meant the distribution of resources, but Mark could also see and shoot. Y/n figured their thoughts were selfish, but the world would probably be much prettier without fellow humans polluting it. Yn didn’t care much bout life, but cared enough that they refused to commit suicide. Y/n wondered if their father was alive —

Y/n heard a door open and assumed Mark was returning. Mark returned with a box of Frosted Flakes and a rolled-up, far newer sleeping bag. 

A sense of safety and exhaustion reached Y/n as they silently munched on Frosted Flakes. The taste was slightly stale, and despite their typical pickiness, there was a sense of comfort. They came to terms calmly with the fact that the apocalypse was upon them. That meant that stale cereal, a warm sleeping bag, and a man with a gun weren’t the worst things in the world at that moment.

“You sure you aren’t possessed?” Mark yawned, perking up and cradling his pistol.

“He said ‘they’’ wanted to give me my eyes back. To give me true sight. The ma worshipped me as a god,” Y/n recalled with a pause. “I wish I was possessed because whatever they are seeing… it must be incredible.”

~~~

Y/n was awoken from a deep, terrifying slumber with animated shaking. “Wake the fuck up!” Mark bellowed. “What are you seeing?”

Y/n scrambled, sleep in their eyes. Mark was on top of things, scrambling for their paint palette and notebook. Y/n felt at them. Some terrified tears escaped their eyes as they scribbled roughly on the notebook paper. Mark was silent and watched carefully as Y/n drew, their gaze staring up fearfully and unknowingly making direct eye contact with Mark.

Y/n suddenly dropped the paint brush and panted. “This. I saw this.”

Y/n handed the notebook over. Some time had passed; according to Mark, they had rationed well, and a week or so had passed. Trust had formed between the two of them. Sometimes, Y/n dreamt and they drew. But based on the violence in their head, Mark must have known something was especially wrong with this one. Y/n often woke up with the sun, according to Mark, but Y/n had the sense that the sun was not up yet.

“I… hope I drew it right. I saw many, many people. A mob. They were walking down a road, dazed and enchanted. They’ve seen it.”

Mak analyzed the work intensely. He was still amazed at his comrade's ability and figured it would be his demise. But at least it kept him on his toes. It made for conversation, too. 

The image depicted rocky, cold, and dying terrain with stale grass and swamplands in the distance. A few abandoned, rotting cars were on a large, spacious road, which was covered in oddly detailed figures. The mob was walking, dazed, just as Y/n had described. The mob was thick, and despite their harmless and dumb expressions, they yielded weapons — anything from crowbars to hammers to guns. 

“That’s Dale. My coworker,” Mark stated, pointing to one of the figures. “We worked at the same local construction company for a while.”

“Local?”

“Local.”

The realization dawned on the pair. Mark examined the road further. “That same road. It’s the main road leading into town.”

“Fuck.”

“Do you know what that means? Why are they coming here?” Mark inquired carefully, perturbed by the situation.

“They’re… coming for me, I think. It won’t take a genius to realize that I moved. Please, we have to go somewhere else —“

“Jesus, I get it. Let’s pack what we can. We can go out to back. And, Y/n, I want you to wear this blindfold. Just in case.”

[balkanradfem]

I have a story to tell! It's about the laptop's broken power button.

I realized I wouldn't be able to turn my laptop back on if I ever shut it off, so I decided to keep it in 'Sleep mode', from which it can wake up by the spacebar key. I got an advice from a cool woman on tumblr to try and download a program that would allow me to power it up by opening the lid – however I didn't have internet at home, and so I had to wait for tomorrow, to go outside and get some public wifi.

I wake up at 6am, go to the park with my laptop in sleep mode, and discover that my laptop, has decided to power off completely, and is not interested in turning back on. I try to open and close the lid a few times, because that's how I brought it back to life last 2 times, but nothing. The plastic frame of the laptop is so badly broken it's being held together only by ductape and some internal parts have completely crumbled, including the power button.

At this point I had to go to work, so I spent my morning at work, putting a plan together in my head. When I came back home, I opened the closet, and got my old laptop out, the one that stopped working 3 years ago. I liked my old laptop so much, that after it died, I bought a used one that was the exact same mark and build, so that if my new laptop had a broken part, I could take it out of the old one. And now, I would figure out how to replace the power button.

I had not ever dissembled my laptop to this depth, to get to the power button you have to dissemble most of it, so I thought it would be a good practice to do it on the old laptop first. I tried to also watch a video on my phone on how to do that, but my phone just looked at me and went 'do you know how old I am? I am older than youtube. Respect me and get this nonsense out of my screen' and then it died. So I was on my own for this. I had experience replacing the hard drive, and the power jack, but I usually did the power jack in a sneaky way, only dissembling it partially and plugging it in at an angle. I didn't know if I could do the power button in a sneaky way.

Dissembling an old laptop was fun, but I did have to remove and unplug almost every single hardware in there, and I managed to remove the power button without removing the motherboard, so at least I had that going on for me. Dissembling my current laptop was an anxiety-ridden nightmare, I kept reminding myself that laptops are machinery, and they're made to be dissembled by males, so the parts can't be so fragile that they would stop working if I just unplug them and set them aside, and I would remember to plug everything back where it was. But even so, my brain was going 'The save of Stardew Valley is in here! If you mess it up its gone!'

I decided I wanted more shortcuts, and the frame of my laptop is already so broken, I was able to twist it and pull it apart without a complete disassembly, and I jammed the new power button and the little card that goes with it, in there, and screwed it in at an angle, using a knife tip instead of a screwdriver. You should have seen it; I had another knife handle stuck inside the laptop to keep it opened enough, a lamp on my shoulder, lightbulb aimed inside the laptop so I could see what I was doing, my hands at odd angles trying to locate the place where I could plug the card into the motherboard, it was brilliant. I was like an old master at work. And I plugged the damn thing in!

I assembled the laptop back nervously, again telling myself that putting a single screw into the wrong place will likely not destroy the laptop, and that it only matters it's all plugged in correctly. I opened the laptop, pressed the power button, and nothing. It didn't work.

Well what now? That was my only plan. I turned it over, started dissembling it, and I noticed right away that even with my trickery, the thing unplugged from the motherboard because I did not, in my mischief, pin it inside correctly. So I did the whole thing again, lamp on the shoulder and everything, and even before I managed to assemble the laptop back, the power button triggered from some internal debris and the laptop started powering on.

It's working now! I did it correctly. Now, while I was assembling it back and putting ductape all over it, it turned off 4 more times just because the frame is so broken it keeps triggering the power button accidentally, so I'm not having high hopes of this laptop surviving a long time, it's very old at this point, the fact that it works is a miracle and my persistence in replacing the parts. I can only have access to tumblr while I have a laptop! My phone laughs at me if I try to open an app on it. So, I'm here for now, due to the mischief and courage to open the laptop and mess with it, but, if I disappear randomly, the laptop said no, and I didn't manage to access tumblr in the local library because they block risky sites a lot.

[floofeh-purpi]

Getting Isekai'd?! (Part 4)

Sagau! Genshin Fatui x Gn! Reader (ft. Your bsf)

『Beloved fluffball/s mentioned below! 💜』

@justmare @mc-cos-charm

YEY NEW FLUFFBALL, HIII!!!

☆

Sidenote: CUS ITS BEEN RAINING IN MAINLA HINDI KABA NILALAMIG?! (Song reference lol) 😫

Warnings: Cursing, grammatical/spelling errors, my delulu-ahh brain forgot to write english isnt my first language and im too lazy to edit the other warnings again, me probably switching the povs alot because... yeah, filipino reader maybe speaking tagalog and bisaya, mentions of you having a wound on one of your feet, blood, author's shitty attempts at making you laugh.

【Part 3】

☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆★☆

You eventually woke up from your nap coma with a sore ass throat and a somehow still fully batteried phone. "Ok, how the fuck is my phone still 100%?! 😰 But atleast I dont have to wait 2 hours to charge my phone lmao." You mused out inside your head cus you'd say it out loud ur throat would even more sore than it already fucking is.

"I should've bought a water bottle with me earlier... ☹" You thought as you putted your phone inside one of the pockets of your pajamas and slowly went downstairs and went to the kitchen.

You sneaked into the kitchen undetected by guests. Because all you wanted to do right now was sleep again rest. Anygays, you gobbled the entire glass of water within one go and putted the glass into the sink. "Nah, y/b/f/n's gonna wash them dishes today lmao." You thought before you plugged your earphones into your phone and listened to your playlist while humming softly to the song before going upstairs.

☆

The harbingers heard someone humming in where they assumed is the kitchen before someone passed by the living room still humming and with a tiny-ahh smile going upstairs. "Oh my~ Who was that beautiful person~?" Asked the Damselette. Its true though, you were the prettiest person y/b/f/n met. "That was Y/n. :)" The harbingers and the Tsaritsa's eyes widened at that name. But are still in denial because they need to confirm just one more thing. Denial, denial, denial IS a river in Eygpt 💀🙌

☆

You eeked mentally when your playlist started playing 'Good Looking by Suki Waterhouse' (Recommend listening to it 10000/10) since you dont have spotify premium and you ran out of skips. 😔

You sat down on the chair infront of your desk, which was messier than dogshit. "Omfg im too lazy to clean it up rn 😭🙌" you thought before you grabbed some paper that you totally didnt rip out from y/b/f/n's notebook like 2 days ago before yall were isekai'd and started drawing basically a city. Aka the city you lived in before this fiasco happened.

*Insert your drawing here cus I cant find anything that was close to my imagination 🥲*

After you finished drawing, you gave your arms a very well needed stretch you desperately needed that shit after sitting down with a posture looking like a fucking shrimp if you looked at what you looked like in the side for 3 fucking hours while your earphones were still playing music, "Finally done, im tired again lmao" you thought before you slept on your chair like when its math class 💔 because you were too fucking sleepy to even get out of your chair its comfier that those damned armchairs you'd sleep on during math class. 💀

But then, your foot accidentally hitted the leg of the table so fucking hard, that it caused the sleepiness in you to go *poof* "PUTANG INA NING LAMESA 👹" (Fuck this table) you yelled loud enough for only yourself to hear you held back your tendency to scream out filipino curses loud enough for the entire damn universe to hear you because... well, the people downstairs... Are downstairs...—

You felt your atoms and dna coursing inside you still shaking at the collision of your foot and the table, whats even worse is that the foot was the one that was wounded, which made the pain all the fucking worse.

"Bandages be damned. I need to fucking change these little shits. Bweshet nih. 😔" You cursed out loud as your throat wasnt as sore as earlier we call it mineral water for a reason /jk, you made your way into your bathroom while not walking normally.

♤

You were just drinking some water in kitchen peacefully, and of course your clumsy ass hand somewhat slipped and you accidentally dropped it onto the floor... and your foot. You winced at shards of bloodied glass digging into the flesh of your foot as sat on the nearest chair while y/b/f/n tended to your wound/s OHMIGASH KILIG NAKO AYIEEEEEEE!!!!!

♤ (End of flashback)

You got some bandages which were fortunately on the sink from the last time you changed your bandages and forgetting to put it back to its original place AGAIN, but you didnt give a shit rn. But as soon as you unwrapped your bandages, instead of the crimson blood you were expecting to see on your wound, the blood was... golden.

"...What the fuck?"

☆

YEY FINISHED PART 4!!! My hands are tired from holding the phone but its ok ❤

Filipino readers where u at? 😭

【Part 5】

Published: June 30 2024. 10:38pm.

[gravehags]

dream (a little dream of me)

Pairing: Aether x f!Reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ ONLY MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Tags: somnophilia (with consent), dry humping, Copia briefly cockblocking, plus size reader, quintessence magic

Words: 1,664

Summary: It's been a long, successful day for you. Perhaps a nighttime visit from a certain Quintessence ghoul will be the cherry on top.

a/n: Hooray for the first fun thing I've written in like a whole ass month jfc!! Once again, a concept that came to me in a dream. A Satanic portent if you will. I am the pythia of the Ghost ministry. All my cirrus x aether x reader lovers...i hope you enjoy that ending lmao

divider by @ghuleh-recs

You don’t remember the last time you were this tired.

You’re already stripping as you push the door to your quarters open, dropping garments on the floor. Making your way into the room, you groan as you remove your bra and fling it somewhere where you think it knocks something over but you’re too exhausted to care. Leaning against the wall you unlace your boots and shimmy out of your trousers and underwear until you’re standing in the middle of the room stark naked and staring lovingly at your bed. You know you should shower, should remove your makeup at the very least but the soft covers of your duvet and fluffy pillows call to you like a siren’s song. Sathanas, what a day. You spent most of it cleaning the chapels and attending Papa Copia at mass, your most favorite task. Your devotion to the Olde One ran true, and attending services always moved you deeply whether you were participating or merely a devout spectator. Vaguely you recall something about Aether texting you earlier in the day, asking you to check in with him when you got back to your room so you fumble around in the pockets of your discarded pants for your phone.

I’m here, very sleepy. Coming over?

You think of the towering form of the ghoul, the way his strong arms encircle you when you bury your face into his chest. The rumble of purrs that come out of him when you rub your hands along his broad back. The sounds you can tease out of him when he’s at his most vulnerable, large hands gripping at your hips and his wonderfully thick cock pulsing inside you. Your lips curl up in a soft grin as you await his response, a rush of warmth spreading from your belly to the apex of your thighs. Before it can truly grow into anything more, your brain reminds you how exhausted you are and you feel the edges of your vision start to blur with the need for sleep. You hesitate only a moment before typing out an additional text.

Gonna go to bed. If you want me you can have me…

He responds right away and you nearly laugh at his eagerness.

On my way over right now

Walking over to your bed with a smile, you plug in your phone to the charger, fling back the covers and crawl in, sighing deeply when your head hits the pillows. The cool sheets and comforting weight of your blankets immediately sets you at ease and before you know it, your heavy eyelids shut and you drift off to sleep.

Twenty minutes have passed since you sent Aether the suggestive text and he is finally at your room after being waylaid by Copia in the hall who, in his peculiar way, began complimenting you and your devotion during the service that day. The conversation went on for far longer than Aether wanted, but finally Copia let him go with a wink and a little elbow-shove about how you’re probably waiting for him. Aether tried not to look too eager when he walked away from Papa, but Copia looked at his retreating back with a suggestive eyebrow waggle all the same. When he opens your door, he’s met with dim lighting and nearly trips on your discarded items of clothing strewn in a trail from the entryway. He smiles fondly when he spies you, bundled up in your blanket and softly snoring, and he immediately begins to strip. When he’s fully nude, he slips in beside you, groaning at the cocoon of warmth you’ve created. He wraps an arm around you and pulls you flush against him, a purr rumbling in his chest when your naked flesh meets his. He gently leans in and nuzzles your hair: you smell like the incense Papa uses in his masses and the unique, sweet, intoxicating scent he’s come to know as you. Unconsciously, his hips shift forward and his half-hard cock brushes against the curve of your ass. You’re so kind, so good to him, always giving and loving. He thinks about the text you sent earlier and a flood of warmth begins to rush through his veins.

If you want me you can have me

He can’t lie, he’s often thought about having you like this. Fucking against you or into you as you sleep, watching you shift and moan even through the haze of slumber. Slowly, he slides one of his large hands up your side, squeezing the meat of your hip briefly before moving over your belly and up to your breasts. When he cups one, thumb brushing over the nipple, you make a small noise in your sleep and shift your hips backwards against him, causing him to groan. He lowers his lips to your shoulder and begins mouthing at the warm skin there, tongue tracing up the curve of your neck as he gently pinches your now hardened nipple between his thumb and forefinger. His cock, now profusely leaking precum onto your skin, ruts against you slowly, every roll of his hips in sync with the movement of his mouth on your flesh. He pulls you closer, if that’s even possible, and with steady, firm movements begins to fuck himself against you. His breath stirs the hairs strewn around the side of your face and his hand abandons your breast to grip at your hip.

“So good for me, even in sleep,” he growls lowly, face buried in your neck. “So fucking soft.”

You’re providing so much pleasure for him, he thinks, but receiving none in return. That simply won’t do. With his hand wrapping around your body to cup the curve of your belly he concentrates his quintessence on your sweet cunt, making you feel the presence of his cock within you even as he ruts against you. He’s sure he’s woken you from your slumber when you let out a long, low moan but your eyes remain shut even as your breathing becomes unsteady. With every thrust, every drag of his cock along your skin he imagines being inside you, stretching you just how you like, the way you clench so tightly around him. He visualizes hitting that glorious sweet spot within you and when he slides his hand down to the juncture of your thighs, he moans loudly when he finds you sopping wet. Even as his phantom cock thrusts inside of you, he toys with your swollen clit, making you whimper and your eyes dart around behind your eyelids. Your breathing comes out in soft pants punctuated with beautiful little mewls as he presses his forehead to the back of your head, concentrating on your softness as his hips begin to jerk forward with more fervor. 

“Fuck, my love,” he groans, fingers sliding through your slick to rub at you, “fuck, you’re perfect. So perfect just - ah! - just for me. My sweet girl.”

He imagines how you must feel, mind drifting through subconscious thoughts even as you’re filled with the stretch of him. He wonders what you dream of, if it’s of him. His thrusts become shorter and faster as you tip your head back against him, mouth hanging open. With a gasp, you moan one word with your back arching, hips bucking into his touch.

“Aether!”

It’s all he needs to drive him over the edge and suddenly he’s coming, hard, all over your ass and lower back. He barely notices that you’re stirring, cheeks flushed and eyes blearily looking at your surroundings as he fucks himself into overstimulation against you. He only stops when your hand shifts behind you and grabs at his hips, stilling him. Sweat slides down his forehead as his seed cools on your skin and you hold him flush against you.

“I’m sorry,” he pants quietly, hoarsely, “I’m sorry I woke you.”

“Mmmm don’t be,” you say sleepily, pushing your own hips back to brush against his softening cock. “That was gorgeous.”

He smiles against your hair and tells you not to move as he gets out of bed and heads to your small bathroom. After a moment he returns with a warm, damp washcloth and tends to the mess he’s left on your skin. Half of it has slid off you and onto the sheets - a problem for tomorrow.

“Thank you,” you murmur as he discards the cloth in your hamper. Reaching out, you make a needy grabby hand gesture, beckoning him back to bed. When he slides back in alongside you, you roll over to face him.

“How’d you do that?” you say with a yawn, sleep clearly falling upon you once more.

“Hmm?”

“How were you inside me while…not being inside me? That was…wow.”

“Ah,” he says, leaning forward to kiss your forehead, “quintessence magic.”

You waggle your eyebrows suggestively and reach up to stroke the base of his horn while his tail pulls you closer under the covers until you’re nestled against his chest.

“Felt amazing,” you whisper, fingers carding through his chest hair, “like being fucked on a cloud. You were so close but still far away. Weird feeling.”

“But you liked it?” Aether asks, looking down on you with his brow furrowed.

“Mmm fuck yes.”

“You’re not upset with me?”

“Love, the only thing I’m upset about is you not using that magic earlier. You were holding out on me.”

Your eyes are shut but your lips are curled into a mischievous smile and he strokes your hair.

“I’ve got all kinds of tricks up my sleeve. Maybe Cirrus and I will show you…”

You make one last noise - a mix of intrigue and contentment - before sleep overtakes you once more. Aether holds you close, the spade of his tail drifting up and down your leg under the covers.

Before his own eyes slide shut, he reminds himself to thank Papa for including you in his mass today. Maybe he could tire you out more often.

[fernandopiastri28]

quand c'est? - part 1 ~ ln4 x op81

part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7

With whatever energy he manages to have still left in him, he slings himself over the toilet bowl and retches, his back scooped like a cat. The noise of him sputtering out the taste of bile from his mouth clearly wakes the Australian up, who knocks on the bathroom door. “Lando?” The door creaks open, revealing Oscar in a pair of burnt orange plaid pyjama pants and a white shirt, his logo printed over the breast. 

warnings: major illness, cancer, sickness, major angst wc: 1655

Lando feels like he might be dying.

He reaches a hand out, patting around for the pale expanse of his boyfriend’s back, nothing, nothing, nothing. Oscar’s not there. He’s not there because Oscar’s is laying in bed, sleeping like he’s under fucking general anesthetic while Lando is on the bathroom floor, a clammy mess. 

His curls stick to his forehead and there's a bead of sweat trickling down his throat. He needs Oscar in here, but his voice isn’t complying and he can’t stand, he can’t get Oscar in here. His phone is still plugged in next to Oscar, mainly to stop Lando from going on his phone late at night instead of sleeping. 

Fuck Oscar for always being so caring, he needs that phone right now.

He wishes like hell that he had it with him so he could call Oscar to wake him up. Instead, he focuses his energy to his right leg that’s slightly bent. He pushes it out, flexing and straightening so his heel hits the door with a dull thud. 

It hardly makes a noise, so he tries again, this time harder. It’s enough to send a shot of pain up through his foot and a high ringing in his brain, but there’s no response from Oscar. Lando stops, letting his leg fall back into its bent position and covering his face with his forearm. 

He shouldn’t be trying to wake up his boyfriend, his teammate , the night before a race. Oscar’s starting in P3, and if the car continues to perform as it has been all weekend, the Aussie will get another podium to his name. Lando hadn’t been as successful in quali. He hadn't realised it then, but he was already coming down with whatever this was at the tail end of last week's race. He’d blamed it on jetlag and stress from a double header, but maybe he was genuinely sick.

Sleep isn’t coming to him, so he stares up at the ceiling of the hotel bathroom and focuses on something positive. He thinks about winning in Miami, he thinks about laughing his ass off with Carlos, he thinks about kissing Oscar for the first time. They’re nice memories, but he feels a tight pinching in his stomach that distracts him from momentarily being happy. 

With whatever energy he manages to have still left in him, he slings himself over the toilet bowl and retches, his back scooped like a cat. The noise of him sputtering out the taste of bile from his mouth clearly wakes the Australian up, who knocks on the bathroom door. “Lando?” The door creaks open, revealing Oscar in a pair of burnt orange plaid pyjama pants and a white shirt, his logo printed over the breast. 

“Oscar,” He groans, falling back to the floor and letting his hands drop to his stomach, cradling it. There’s hardly any light seeping in from the main bedroom, yet Lando can see Oscar’s face just enough to see his features twisted in panic.

“Lando,” Oscar kneels down next to him, his strong arms scoop[ing him up so Lando is halfway to sitting. “What’s wrong, babe?” Lando doesn’t feel any words trying to come out of his mouth, and he can’t muster the strength to procure any, so he just stares at a patch of the tile wall, his eyes hazy and tired.

The back of one of Oscar’s hands presses Lando's sweaty forehead and he winces, “Lan, you’re burning up,” It’s nothing Lando doesn’t know. Right now, he just wants to crawl back into bed with Oscar on his back like a Koala until he falls asleep. He wants normality, he can’t break his routine before a race.

“Bed,”

“No Lando, you need medicine,” Oscar tuts, fussing over him by wiping his head with a wet towel. Lando must’ve blacked out for a moment because he wasn’t sure when Oscar had gotten that. He also has his sweat drenched shirt off so Oscar can wipe down his chest, and he wasn’t sure when that had gone either.

If Lando was feeling better, he’d make some joke about the moment, about Oscar being a dirty dog getting him undressed on the bathroom floor. Unfortunately, his mind is buzzing in the wrong way and his throat hurts too much to say anything.

So he stays silent, allows his eyes to just stare at Oscar as he wipes him down.

“Do you reckon you can stand up?” Lando feels nauseous at the thought, “I’ll help you, Lan, don’t worry,”

“I think so,” He leans forward, his whole body lurching with the motion. He purses his lips tight, holding back what he feels like might be another vomit. “Yeah,” Oscar’s arms are holding him tight, a hand around his waist and one on his back 

“That’s good, that’s good, really good,” He praises with each step Lando makes out of the bathroom and towards the bed. God, it looks so comfortable, so warm. He wants to sleep so badly, yet it seems miles away. “When you lay down, I need you to stay awake for me just for a bit, okay?”

Lando’s mind is so foggy, “Why?”

“I need to get some medicine,” He pauses, still helping Lando to the bed, “Can you tell me where the pain is the worst? Is it just your stomach?” 

Lando shakes his head, and the sudden movement hurts worse than before, “No,” He croaks. He thought it was his stomach, and that’s probably what Oscar assumed too, because of the vomiting. In actuality, his stomach is fine, it’s his head, “My.. my,” He can’t get the word out, so he brings a weak hand to his forehead. 

“Your head?”

He can’t nod, and he can’t speak, so he makes a noise from the back of his throat, ‘ hmhm,’

“Alright,” His movements when lying Lando down on the bed are slow and calculated, his rounded back and ass first, then his shoulders, his legs, and his head is by Lando’s own decision. “Stay up, just a few more minutes,” Oscar reminds him, moving over to his half unpacked suitcase and rummaging through a small white cosmetics bag. Obviously, it’s not used for makeup though- medication instead. 

Kim and Jon would never know about the self medication, but it was just a small few ‘harmless’ pills on nights where they didn’t want to venture out to the rooms of their trainers, begging for pain killers.

“I know, I know,” His head buries into a plush hotel pillow, the ache in his head calming down for just a moment, “I won’t fall asleep on you,”

Oscar laughs, a deep throaty laugh that Lando wants to bottle up and keep forever, “You sure look like you will,” He turns around, a bottle of pills in one hand and a half drunk water bottle in the other. “Sit up for me,”

Lando tries, he really does, but it hurts too bad. “Can’t” He whispers, and his voice doesn’t reach Oscar. A tinge of panic spreads through his body- why can’t he sit up? What is keeping him from moving? Oscar peers over him, licking his lips and biting on his bottom lip. It’s not in a sexy way, more Oscar’s ‘poker face’ of worry. 

“Baku,” His nose nudges against the pillow. Oscar frowns, his hand snaking into Lando’s drying curls to stroke his face. His brain can’t process the word Azerbaijan to allow him to say it, so he settles for the track name.

Oscar presses a kiss to Lando’s forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me?” His expression is pinched- betrayed.

“It’s just a cold, Osc,” He mumbles, rolling over to where his face is at height with his boyfriend’s hips. “Drugs- please,”

Oscar smirks, rolling his eyes, “Sit up,” 

“I can’t,” His head thrums harder. Oscar might feel in the mood for joking around and laughing, but Lando still feels on the brink of death. “It hurts,”

Like a light switch, he snaps back into overprotective and intense caring mode. “Let me prop your head up a bit and… yeah, okay, I’ll just pour some of the water into your mouth and put the pills in, alright?” He’s fussing again, and for once, Lando appreciates being babied. 

He also appreciates Oscar’s willingness to put up with him. Some stupid head cold and now he can’t even move his head. You’d think as an F1 driver he’d be able to handle himself better, but he’s just as weak and pathetic as the next guy when he’s unwell.

Oscar sits down cross legged right next to Lando, the Brit's head right next to the Aussie’s knee. He doesn’t do anything, just lets Oscar take care of him. Usually, he’s insistent on taking care of himself, but he can’t quite manage it today. 

His head rests on Oscar’s lap, the fabric of his pants rubbing comfortingly against Lando’s warm cheeks. Oscar’s thumb presses against the seam of Lando’s lips, helping him to keep his mouth open. A tiny bit of water lands in his mouth, and he’s having trouble processing anything. “Swallow,” Oscar reminds him, and it’s not under the circumstances he’d usually like to be hearing his boyfriend say that.

His throat works to do just that, all of his focus and energy going towards such a natural and practised movement. He gets them down, and his body feels drained from doing absolutely nothing. Maybe it’s just the Singapore air- so humid and hot, he’s probably suffering some form of heatstroke. It’s a lot like Qatar last year, but just worse.

“You can sleep now,” Oscar strokes his hair intensely gently. Lando still feels sticky and hot despite having had the blanket removed from on top of him, likely something Oscar had done without him realising, and he’s only in his boxers. It’s not going to be a pleasant sleep, he knows that much, but it’s better than being awake like this.

[secretlytranced]

I need to let this words be expressed and shared somewhere. I am in so much need. I can't keep my mind quiet for all it wants is to be controlled and taken over.

I thought hypnosis and brainwashing were not going to affect me if they weren't practiced on me by a professional. I believed that in order to mindlessly follow suggestions, a professional had to constantly have sessions with me and little by little start creating the changes needed by getting to know me, and after doing a lot of trial and error.

I thought that behavioral changes, reduction of thinking process, simplemindedness and the urge to look and be different through brainwashing was a pretty unlikely and fantastic thing to happen.

But perhaps because I've been on and off of Tumblr for years, or maybe because the world itself has made me grow tired of how "things should be", I can now say that I am not who I used to be, and have been experiencing first hand and all by myself everything I just mentioned.

Now I just cynically crave being turned into a brainless doll programmed to stop thinking, flood my brain with pleasure chemicals and sleep, plugged to a spiral and mantras infinite loop feed.

I don't know when the person my family and society worked so hard to create fell and disappeared. I don't know if it is still in there somewhere, or if I have already deleted and forgot about it. And I mean, of course I'm a "normal" human being experiencing daily life's problems and joys, but the fact that now I know I can literally and with not that much effort be turned off and obey and react just like a machine would when alone, drives me crazy and turns me on like nothing else on earth.

I love how lost I get by staring into a spiral and the unknown and incomprehensible feelings that arise. I love how reading a simple sentence can make me forget where I am and what I was doing for a moment and instead of worrying, it just starts repeating the words like a video on repeat. I love everything about the community and how many files and refined content there is everywhere now, as if the hypnokink was out of its hiding and now shamelessly exhibiting itself to everyone with a phone or computer and a pair of headphones.

I love being mindless. I love who or what I'm becoming. And I love how it's now a big role in my life.

this is absolutely beautiful... thank you <3

[lulublack90]

Prompt 16 - Summer

@wolfstarmicrofic August 16, word count 803

Previous part First Jegulus part

Sirius had popped home after the café had closed for the day and picked up their airbed. He’d offered Regulus a place to sleep at theirs while he got the flat sorted, but he’d refused. Sirius could see how excited his brother was to have a space all of his own, so he didn’t push it. He’d collected a few other things for Regulus that they had going spare. A floor lamp, pillow and duvet, the picnic set and travel kettle, a rug that he’d bought home and Remus had hated, that had been rolled up on top of their wardrobe ever since, and a few of their books, on loan, of course, or Remus would have his guts for garters. Remus was a book dragon and hoarded his books like they were precious treasures. 

He had so much in his arms that he ended up dumping it in the sidecar of his motorbike and drove it over to the café. It had been too long since he had driven the second love of his life. She growled happily beneath him as he drove the short distance to the café. He beeped the squeaky horn when he arrived and saw a disgruntled Regulus glaring at him from the upstairs window. 

“Come down and let me in!” He called after he’d taken his helmet off. Regulus, seeing it was him, gave him a small wave and disappeared from the window. 

“You didn’t have to bring all this, Sirius,” Regulus said quietly as Sirius plied his arms high with the things he’d brought. 

“Nonsense, it’s too late to go get anything tonight, and you need a few things to make it feel more like home,” Sirius grinned at him as he began to lug everything upstairs. 

The summer sun was still shining outside and bathed the room in its golden glow. “Sorry, I didn’t think about curtains. I can go back, I’m sure we have some spare,” He said when he took in the bare windows. Regulus shook his head and pointed above the frame. 

“There’s nothing to hang them off any way.” 

“Oh, you’re right.” Sirius huffed out a laugh. “Well, we’ll add it to the list of things you need,” He furrowed his brow as he tried to figure out when they could go shopping. “I can maybe see if we can shut the café a bit earlier tomorrow so we can go look for some things for you. But we’ve got the BBQ and Remus will go mental if we’re not there on time, so we’d have to look around quickish,” Sirius said as he set up the floor lamp in the corner of Regulus’s bedroom and began to spread out the air bed. It was a fancy one with the pump in it, all he had to do was plug it in and it did the rest. 

“Erm, about that,” Regulus said from the doorway, scuffing his shoe against the floor. “I kind of already agreed to go with James tomorrow morning. He said he knows a place that had good furniture for reasonable prices, and they should be able to do same-day delivery,” Regulus was chewing his lip nervously, clearly waiting for Sirius’s disapproval. Sirius pressed the on button on the air bed and stood back as it began to fill with air. 

“Actually, that’s a much better idea,” He smiled at his brother. “You’ll have more time to look, and I can help Remus set up,” The look of relief on Regulus’s face let Sirius know he’d said the right thing. “Oh and don’t tell Remus, but I borrowed a few of his books for you to read until you can get some more of your own. I’m guessing you didn’t have time to get any before…” He didn’t need nor want to finish that sentence. 

“Yeah, I had to leave most of them behind,” Regulus said sadly. Sirius’s brain went into overdrive and a plan began to form in his mind. He’d rectify that situation as well as he could, probably with the help of a certain matriarch and her electric blue 500. 

“Shall we order in for dinner? I don’t know about you, but I’m famished,” Sirius said, pulling out his phone and punching in the number of his favourite pizza place. “You eat carbs, dairy and processed meats again, don’t you?” He grinned wickedly at Regulus. Regulus rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, alright, get me a Hawaiian will you, please,” He said as he sifted through the books Sirius had brought. 

“Heathen,” Sirius winked at him as he turned the air pump off and placed their order. He smiled to himself, as he realised that this was the longest he and Regulus had gone in a long time without fighting. It was nice. It was really nice.

Next part

[weniswastelandwenis]

Man Under the Sea

// Hancock x Sole Survivor x X6-88 Oneshot //

The sky lit aglow with an ominous green haze, enveloping the entire wasteland in its uneasy lime hue. A sharp thunderclap sounded out, accompanied by violent howling winds which whistled through the broken windows. Sole lay uneasily on a mattress on the floor, waiting for the radstorm to pass. She had attempted to catch an hour or two of sleep, but every so often the booming thunder would startle her awake, or a tiny droplet would sneak through a hole in the roof and land on her forehead.

She resigned herself to stare at the ceiling, before being startled slightly at the sound of the door opening. Heavy footsteps sounded throughout the room and without looking up she knew who was approaching by the cadence of his uniform steps.

“You’re still awake.” X6-88 observed from where he stood above her. He must have finished patrolling the perimeter. Sole looked up at him silently at first. His face was expressionless and set resolutely as he stared at her.

“The weather is keeping me up.” She explained.

“You need to sleep, otherwise your body will fail.” He affirmed, droplets of rain dotted his face and armored coat. The water pooled at his boots and in the doorway. X6-88 didn’t take notice of his current state and continued to stare at her.

Lighting struck, illuminating his stoic face, followed by a loud rumble of thunder. She sat up quickly and looked to the window, but he did not react to look away from her. Her Geiger counter ticked ominously and X6-88 stepped forward.

“We should get back to the institute. It is clear you will not be able to sleep under these conditions.” He said. She reluctantly stood, the old springs of the mattress creaking as she gathered herself. He watched her silently, holding his arm out expectantly. She gazed at his arm with unsure eyes.

“This always makes me feel sick.” She said.

“If nausea occurs, we can visit the bioscience division if necessary.”

She placed her hand on his arm, bracing for the inevitable vertigo to come.

“X6-88 ready to relay back to the institute.”

White light flashed before her eyes blinding her temporarily, before settling on a cascading kaleidoscope of cerulean hues.

When she opened her eyes father was standing before them, hanging brain.

“Daddy.” X6-88 said firmly, performing a dual-handed salute.

“Both hands?” Father asked proudly. “Your two handedness has improved. I do hope to see more of that in Daddy’s bedroom.” He whispered in his ear, hoping Sole hadn’t heard.

She did.

Sole cleared her throat, both men unaware she too was in the room.

“Excellent, you’re back. I do hope your travels in the commonwealth have proven fruitful?” He questioned, both hands clasped behind his back, dong still hanging and swaying slightly in the breeze produced by the institute’s air conditioning.

“They have, thank you.” She forced herself to look at him eye-level even though the shriveled thing was just hanging there like that.

There was still rain on X6-88’s form, along with perspiration which was produced quite quickly much to Father’s chagrin. He gave X6-69 a knowing look. Sole excused herself from the room quickly yet respectfully and left to explore the rest of the Institute's bowels. She looked over her shoulder, and as she was leaving she saw Father plugging his phone charger into X6-88s multi tool sexily.

Sole strode through the halls, trying to forget what she just witnessed. She would never get used to the sterile environment the Institute provided. Synths strode past her like worker bees, not paying her any mind. She supposed Father was the queen.

Absent-mindedly she peered down at her Geiger counter and noticed it was getting dangerously close to the ‘dead’ level. A trip to the med-bay wouldn’t hurt.

When she arrived at the med-bay her Geiger counter strangely began to go off again. When she looked up she found Hancock, rifling through the medicine drawers and filling his pockets with jet. To his left was a dead doctor with the star spangled banner tied around her neck in a lethal stranglehold, hanging from the ceiling.

“Hancock, what in tarnation!?” Sole half squealed and half screamed. She was happy to see him as they were friends with benefits, but brushing another Hancock-induced death under the rug wasn’t what she had planned for today.

“Sister, check out this haul! No wonder these bitches love being down here so much, they’re all high as a kite and jerking each other off.”

“Tell me about it. I just saw my son’s dong.”

Suddenly X6-88 strode into the room, his tall gait strong and immovable. His muscles rippling and writhing under his skin. His height was impressively tall. He opened his mouth and an alarming air horn-like noise emitted from it.

“Intruder alert! Intruder alert!”

Sole and Hancock covered their ears (although Hancock just has ear holes) in an attempt to not be deafened.

All the sudden Father sprinted in, almost tripping as his pants were around his ankles.

“What seems to be the problem!?” His eyes shot to the dead doctor. Hancock had a “did I do that?” expression, kind of like Urkel from Family Matters.

Everyone’s eyes shot to the handkerchief around the dead doctors neck, that clearly had “property of Hancock” lovingly stitched onto the edge. Sole blushed and covered her “property of hancock” tattoo lovingly stitched on her arm.

“X6-88,” Father said expectantly and held out his hand.

X69 shot out his multi tool as ordered.

“Get ready for the ass beating of your life you little bitch.”

”And then, uhhh…” The campfire crackled around the huddled group of dirty children of Little Lamplight.

“You mungo! What happens next?!”

MacCready took a long drink from his juice box and stared up at the stars.

“There is no ending, we’ll never know what happened. And that’s life, sometimes stories just kind of… end.”

FIN

[sillydumbdoll]

Scenarios? Hmm...

For some reason your owner had been practically obsessed with training your flexibility lately, tying you up even more than usual, figuring out exactly how he could contort your body and how long you could stay like that before the usual signs of bondage bliss turned to discomfort. Packing you into smaller and smaller boxes At first you didn't question it, because Dolls obey.

But it became such a large part of your playtimes, you would have considered opening your mouth to ask, but for his birthday you'd used your final words to beg him to remove your ability to talk, the memory of being put to sleep for the procedure still making you shudder and drip. Dolls don't speak after all.

Finally the day arrived that you'd find out. Your owner opening the door to your wardrobe for you to see two suitcases, one packed with clothing, both yours and his, and the other case completely empty. He dresses you and poses you on your knees with your eyes wide and pretty, mouth open demurely. As he prepares his ropes, a small line of drool drips from your parted lips down onto the hot pink bow, making up most of the top of your 'outfit'. The familiar feeling of being just a toy never stops being excited and you can feel yourself about to drip from between your thighs too. Dolls love being placid and pretty.

He starts tying you, much like one would wrap a precious gift, with a smile on his face and a fascinated attention to detail. It's a tie you remember well, one of the more restrictive but without putting pressure anywhere in particular. When he's done, he lifts you by the ropes and slots you neatly into the formerly empty case and begins to push clothings and a few pairs of 'your' shoes into gaps around the edges. He suddenly turns around to get something as if he almost forgot, when he returns he slips a lubricated plug into you, it then buzzes once as it connects to his phone. He watches your face as he turns it up on his phone, but you're determined not to react at all. Somehow he still sees what he's looking for and smiles. You don't know how, but it doesn't matter, Dolls don't think.

He zips up the case with breathing vents all around it, and you feel as it's lifted up onto the wheels and pulled away. You don't wonder where you're going or when you'll get there, just like his belt doesn't wonder. That's just not what dolls do. You're just a toy, just a possession, just a Doll.

Wow… 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 so i think this is the best thing I’ve ever read, something to play on loop in my head as it gets emptier and emptier and I just end up in doll mode…

To be that constricted in that predicament, trained to be a flexible dolly with no mind or autonomy sounds like pure bliss… overstimulating my body and turning off my brain so all I have to do is be a toy.

Dolls don’t speak, dolls don’t think, dolls obey, dolls love being placid and pretty, and im just a toy…im just a possession….im just a doll 😵‍💫

[transformation4life]

I want to make people happy, bht have been struggling to make that happen, so i thought, well, might as well give someone a chance to use me to fufill their dreams. Mind transforming me into something thatll make ya real happy?

So you want to be something that makes me happy? Well that's the first someone asked for that. Well I'm into a lot of things so let's look into two scenarios!

As you might be able to tell, korean men are something I'm into so how about we say...

You awaken from a slumber as your phone rings from an unknown caller. Despite your usual attitude of ignoring such calls you were so groggy you decided to answer the phone. The call started and all on the other side was loud static and maybe some words like "muscle", "korean" and "growth", but you were barely awake to even understand anything and the call eventually ended. You were very confused and just shook it off as some weird scam, promptly going back to sleep. Unbeknownst to you your body was slowly being remodeled into the perfect korean bodybuilder as your shirt tightened and your pecs ballooning up as well as other muscles growing. By morning you were already the perfect korean bodybuilder snoozing real cutely.

You awaken from your slumber not realizing you were a big hunk, scratching your head as you headed your way to your bathroom. You looked into the mirror and couldn't believe your eyes. You were hot! You quickly took your shirt off and took no time in flexing for the mirror.

As you flexed, the memories of a korean bodybuilder replaced your own current memories until the korean man you saw before you was all you knew. Of course your apartment was now a house and you had a youtube video to make so you turned on the camera and began to speak.

"안녕하세요 여러분 황철순입니다" (Hello everyone, Hwang Chul Soon here.)

The video making process without a hitch and you uploaded the video and the comments came rolling in. One comment intrigued you though by a someone named "Transformation4life"

"Nice muscles" They said. You wanted to get to know them better and we'll just have to see where that goes...

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

And that's one possibility... But you know I also like big strong burly guys so...

You make you way to the gym after finally getting the courage to finally get big.

"Oh a newbie!" the large front desk clerk remarked. You didn't expect the clerk to be big but he was pretty good looking.

You sign up for the gym membership pretty quickly and the clerk smiled.

"Now that you're signed up all members get a cool free set of headphones! Enjoy!" The clerk reached into a cabinet with a set of headphones and handed them to you. You completely forgot to get yours so this is convenient.

After putting your extra set of clothes in your assigned locker you make your way to a workout machine and plug the headphone jack in to your phone and the the headphones into your ears with your favorite music blasting and pick up the weights before you. You begin to lift and lift and lift and lift. Despite your inexperience somehow you felt like you've been doing it for multiple years. When you finally feel like you're finished you feel... different. You look down and see that... woah! You have beefed up in size in a flash. Your pecs are meaty yet bouncy, bodyhair all over, strong biceps, a manly bear, and even a tattoo? The pure masculine energy now emanating from you was enough to make you want to flex ripping your shirt right off in the mirror.

That flex was a trigger that caused a whole slew of memories to seep into your brain as you were rewired to be a years experienced bodybuilder who loved being a manly man. The memories made you flex again with a lot more cockiness never felt before.

Before getting back to your routine workout you notice someone that's inexperienced in working out and is having trouble with their workout. Being the bodybuilder you are you approach them and so something begins perhaps....

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

And that's just two possibilities... either way thanks for the opportunity to write this kind of thing i appreciate it!

[muchmoreclever]

so... this is my first time writing smut. I'm very nervous about it so, apologies if it absolutely sucks. also, there is such a lack of marauders ladies smut so obviously i had to remedy this.

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

words: 4194

warnings: knives, blood, oral (f. rec), marking, biting, hair pulling, aftercare.

It's late. Far later than she should be awake, and yet here she is. She had been sleeping peacefully, dreams of something warm and bright, the smell of chestnut and vanilla still lingering in her nose, when something had startled her awake.

Her first thought is someone is breaking in. She doesn't exactly live in the best part of town, and it wouldn't be the first time someone around her was robbed. Her second thought is if she should call the police, it seems the logical thing to do when one’s home is being burgled. Just as she's reaching for her phone she hears something that sounds familiar to her flatmate's voice–no, yeah that is definitely Lily. She’s humming something. So… they're not getting robbed then? Surely if Lily is out there humming about, nothing out of the ordinary can be happening.

Mary pushes back the blankets on her bed, sliding her legs over the side and walking tentatively to her locked bedroom door. With bated breath, she unlocks the door. In the silence of the room, the click sounds far too loud. She stands there for a moment with her hand on the doorknob, her heartbeat hammering away at her chest despite the fact she knows nothing can be wrong, there's just something in the air making the hair on the back of her neck stand up. In the purely animal part of her brain, she almost feels like prey.

When she pushes through the ridiculous fear, and steps into the hallway she can see a light on in the kitchen. The small little nightlight they had plugged in directly after Lily moved in, complaining of a fear of the dark. It's a warm sort of lighting that only casts over half the room, and barely makes things recognisable.

Mary walks slowly toward the light, her bare feet freezing on the cold hardwood. When she makes it to the kitchen she can just see the outline of Lily by the sink, her eyes still adjusting to the darkness. Lily has something in her hands, and her humming has become louder now, the song recognisable, it's a song she never even heard Lily listen to before, who’d of thought she was a fan of Nelly Furtado?

“Lily?” Mary hesitantly asks, Lily's humming cuts off and her body straightens, but she keeps her back to Mary.

“Did I wake you?” Lily asks, “I didn't mean to, was just… Getting a snack.”

There’s something in the way Lily says the last word, it has weight to it, but Mary couldn't think of a single reason as to why. She steps further into their tiny kitchen, barely a few steps away from Lily, and reaches into one of the cupboards, pulling down a bowl.

"Do you want me to make you something?” Mary asks, and it's silent for a beat too long, “Lily?”

Something is dripping, in the silence Mary can now hear it. For a moment she thinks it's the sink, that Lily left it on or maybe it has a leak but as her eyes travel to it, it's dry as a desert. Her eyes search for the source of the sound, travelling down from the sink to the countertops, and from the countertops to Lily's hands, which are, in fact, dripping . At first, she isn't really sure what it is, only that the parts of Lily she can see are covered in it. 

“Oh my god–Lily?” She breathes, “Are you alright? You're blee–?”

“Are you scared?” 

Yes. Especially now.

Because Lily has turned around, all innocently doe-eyed and covered in blood. And Mary is no stranger to blood, she's been an ER nurse for nearly three years now, and she sees blood every fucking day of her life. Pints of the stuff, all poured out onto herself and other people, she knows inhumane amounts of blood–but somehow this is more. It's everywhere–in her hair, arms, her mouth. Yes, her mouth thats where it's the worst. It’s caked around her lips and her chin, and neck, as if she had been–

As if she had been eating it.

Mary is a logical girl, there has to be a logical answer to this. She just can't think of one.

“I didn't mean to scare you,” Lily says, and she brings her hands up, for a moment Mary tenses, as if Lily is going to reach for her, but no. She simply is holding an apple and a knife, she continues talking as she casually cuts the apple, as if she and it aren't slathered in blood. “I thought you were working, or I would've been quieter.”

Mary can't say a word, her mouth has gone completely dry and her heart is once again working double time. She watches as Lily cuts into her apple, her crimson hands a stark contrast to the slick silver of the blade, she watches as those same hands take the apple slice and slowly pop it onto her tongue, she seems to almost hesitate for a moment, her mouth hanging open before her teeth sink into the skin, liquid slipping between her lips and falling down her chin, mixing with the blood.

Lily lets it fall for a moment, before darting her tongue out and licking her lips. And really, there must be something horribly, awfully wrong with Mary because she is… she is finding it difficult to breathe for an entirely different reason than fear. Lily must know it too, because she is staring intently at Mary, her pupils blown and her lip between two sharp teeth. 

Carelessly, Lily lets her hand fall limp, the knife falling from it onto the floor with a clatter.

“Oh.” She sighs as if completely shocked by the turn of events, “Do you mind?”

Mary should know better. Mary should say no. Instead, she keeps her eyes on Lily’s and sinks to her knees, just for the thrill of seeing Lily's reaction and it does not disappoint. Lily's eyes widen slightly, a small proud smirk on her lips and she gives an encouraging nod to Mary. Mary lets her hand feel around blindly for the knife, not caring if she gets cut, Lily would probably like that anyway.

When she does finally find the knife, she lets her eyes leave Lily’s for a split second, just to watch herself wrap her palm around the handle, to see the way the blood stains her skin. When she looks back up at Lily her gaze has darkened, the smile is gone, and she is just observing Mary. As if waiting for the wrong move.

With the knife in hand and eye contact reinstated, she makes a move to stand back up but quickly stops when Lily gives a small shake of the head. Standing as tall as she can from her knees she hands Lily the knife and watches intently as Lily takes it back and gives it a once-over. Lily looks down at her with hooded eyelids as something akin to hunger overtakes her features, and without sparing Mary another look she sticks out her tongue and licks over the length of the knife, from the handle to the tip of her blade that she lets snag her tongue, cutting into it so very gently. Lily continues to lick the blade, letting her own blood mingle with the blood already on the blade, a sick union that Mary is so sure is born of murder of some sort.

When Lily finishes, she leaves the knife spotless. Mary is completely hypnotised. Lily, sweet, kind, fucking teacher Lily, is standing in front of her with a knife in her hand and a completely feral look on her face. She looks as if she wants to rip Mary apart, and for some reason, Mary is willing to let her. God, she never pegged herself to have a blood kink–

Lily is breathing heavily now, and twisting the knife around her fingers carelessly as if she wants to be cut. When she has a solid hold on it again, she decides the best thing to do is to stick it to Mary's throat, tilting her head up. The blade is warm on her skin, Lily is pushing with just enough pressure that she can feel the threat of skin breaking, one wrong move and she's bleeding.

“Are you still scared?” Lily asks in a whisper.

“Yes,” Mary answers honestly.

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“No .” She all but pleads.

Lily smiles at her, and trails the knife up her face, to the tips of her cheekbones and back down to her cupids bow. Lily holds it to her lips for a moment as she slowly sinks down, crouching until she’s at eye level with Mary. Lily brings the knife down, pulling Mary’s bottom lip into a pout.

“God, you're just so fucking appetizing,” Lily whispered leaning in closer and closer until the only thing that separates them is the blade of her knife. Mary expects her to move it, maybe hold it under her throat again in a way so intoxicating, but Lily chooses to kiss her over the knife. She isn't careful about it, nor gentle, and Mary feels panic flare up when she tastes the first bit of blood fall onto her tongue, but it only seems to encourage Lily.

Lily does eventually remove the knife, once again licking it before she throws it carelessly over her shoulder so she can deepen the kiss. It's nothing like the kisses Mary has ever had before, it's heavy and violent. Lily’s tongue licking at her teeth and biting her lip where it split so blood will spill over, every time Lily tastes it she groans. The sound enough makes Mary willing to give up every ounce of her blood as long as Lily keeps making those noises.

Lily's hands are everywhere, travelling slowly from the small of Mary’s back up to her shoulders and then into her hair where she grabs a handful of Mary's curls and pulls . Mary can’t help but gasp as her eyes roll back, a moan falling from her lips as Lily takes advantage of the new territory, mouthing up and down Mary’s neck. Lily licks the heated skin, nipping at it gently at first and then more violently. Mary isn't completely sure, but it is almost as if Lily's teeth get longer, sharper . The more into it Lily gets, the more aggressive until she pulls back with a groan, wiping violently at her own face and smearing the old blood away, making a clean canvas for her newest project. Lily is hovering around Mary's neck, just under the soft spot where she can feel Mary's pulse. Mary can feel her haggard breath on her skin, she can feel Lily lick the skin and drag her teeth along it, but just before she can get on with it, Mary has a revelation.

“Wait–Wait, stop.” Mary gasps, and God, she knows she’s the one that stops it all but when Lily leans away she can't help but whine, “We can't. It's wrong, Lily.”

“Doesn't feel wrong to me,” Lily says, leaning closer and running her hands up and down Mary’s thighs.

And in all honesty, it doesn't, maybe it's the fact that she's never been more turned on in her life thats clouding her judgement, but she has never felt so sure about something. Even as she feels the blood from Lily's hands drying on the skin of her thighs, she's sure she’s never wanted anything. And really, she would just go ahead and fuck her if wasn't for the fact that her boyfriend would not at all appreciate it.

“I can't.” Mary shook her head desperately, “Nash would be so upset.”

Lily let out a sweet laugh, her hands tightening their grip around Mary’s thighs, leaning back into Mary’s neck, “Nash isn't a problem anymore, dont worry your pretty little head .” She punctuated the last three words with gentle bites up Mary’s throat.

Mary used every ounce of her self-control to pull back away from Lily, heavy-lidded eyes staring into hers, “What do you mean?”

Lily smiled something sinister, her pretty white smile stained red. Mary was starting to think she knew whose blood it was, and found herself… relieved, in a sick sense. God, she was so fucked up. So fucked up for this girl.

“You trust me, don't you Mare?” Lily asked, “You would've run if you didn't.”

Mary nods.

Lily leans in close to Mary’s ear, “Then stop thinking and let me help you.” Lily pulled back with a tender smile, “Thats easy enough isn't it? Just to sit there and look pretty?”

“Mhm.” Mary hummed as she watched Lily search for the knife she had disposed of earlier, her eyes brightening when she saw it.

Lily crowds back into Mary's space, pushing the knife flush with her thigh, “Just sitting there, trying not to get hurt? Sit so very still and careful for me?” Mary nods, “Letting me just… do what I want?”

“Yes.” Mary breathes.

Lily hums, something deep in the back of her throat and smacks harshly at Mary's leg. She pulls herself up in a way that should not be so seductive in their dingy little kitchen and lets her hands cradle Mary’s face.

“Stand up.”

Mary does.

Lily's hands wrap around her waist, pulling Mary to where she wants her, and with a strength you wouldn't expect from such a person she lifts Mary up, pushing her back onto the counter and stepping in between her legs. Her hands travel up from her ass to the hem of her shirt, and agonizingly slowly Lily's hands slip under, cold skin meeting warm and shivers erupting for both parties. Her hands go farther and farther until she’s caressing Mary’s breasts.

“No bra?”

“What?” Mary's mind has ceased to work, the words taking far longer than they should to sink in, “No I was–I was uhm, sleeping.”

“You never wear one to sleep?” Lily asks, but Mary hardly hears her, she’s gone ahead and let her eyes slip shut just enjoying the sensations that come with every move of Lily's hands. “If it's too distracting I’m going to stop.”

“ No! No, it's... No, I don't.” Mary grits out, “It's restricting. Bad for you.”

Lily's hands fall and Mary can't help but throw her head back into the cabinets out of frustration, “What the fuck? I answered–”

“Oh hush,” Lily chastises with a sharp pinch on the soft skin of Mary’s stomach, “stop being so fucking needy. Good girls are patient.”.

When Mary has finally pried her eyes open she sees Lily in a new position, the knife held snugly between her lips as examines her her hands. Most of the blood was gone by now, at least the bits that covered her arms, leaving just patches of pale skin and freckles. Mary wants to lick it, bite it, just as Lily had done to her. She wants to be just as violent. 

With a sigh Lily pops the knife out of her mouth, tossing it to the side once again and refusing on her hands–or more specifically her nails. Lily is a pretty girl, which was only amplified by the fact she kept herself somehow perfectly groomed at all times, including always having a fresh manicure. This week her nails are white, dotted with little pink roses. Innocent, and sweet. Everything she isn't. 

At first, Mary doesn't really get the problem. Yes, you have beautiful fucking nails, awesome! Get on with it and put your hand to use– oh. Yeah, she's starting to realize what's wrong. The woes of lesbianism. And honestly, she is fine with skipping that bit. Wouldnt bother her a bit as long as Lily just fucking does something, but Lily seems to have other plans as she brings her hand up to her face and all but rips the acrylic off with her teeth, spitting out the fake nails onto the floor. 

“Ow.” Mary hisses, cringing a bit, “Did that not hurt?”

Lily looks at her incredulously, “I'm a literal maneater. No, it did not hurt.”

“Oh,” Mary nods, “Right, sorry. Wait, are we gonna talk about that because–”

“Later .” Lily groans as she grabs Mary’s cheeks roughly and all but inhales her.

The kiss deepens quickly, hands in hair and nails clawing at skin hard enough to break. Lily is gripping everywhere, her shoulders, her waist, her breasts… Her mouth follows everywhere her hand bruises, kissing the pain away until she's grasping at her thighs and pushing them further apart.

She nips her way down Mary’s legs, taking her sweet time and ignoring every single beg. She only comes up to suck a bruise on her inner thighs, so close to where Mary wants her but dutifully neglecting it. Mary isn't even sure she’s alive anymore, her brain has become completely mush, she is only sensation. Lily has hardly even touched her and yet she feels like a single breath on just the right place could push her over the edge. 

Lily pulls away and wipes the spit from her chin, without a word she grips the bottom of Mary’s shirt and pulls it up and over, throwing it somewhere away in the abyss. Her mouth takes quick advantage of all the free skin now, biting at the sensitive skin before letting her tongue soothe the ache that came with being denied for so long.

Mary tangles her fingers in the soft strands of Lily's hair as she continues to mouth at her breasts, her back arching seeking the warmth of Lily's mouth. Lily continues to just bite, looking up at Mary with wide eyes and stained teeth, Mary’s dark skin so contrast to the white of Lily's teeth.

“Lily, Please– Please .” Mary gasps, “Please, please, please–”

Lily pulls away with a pop, “What? Tell me what you want and you can have it.”

“I, uh... Fuck..” Lily has slid her hands down to the waistband of Mary’s shorts, just the tips of her fingers venturing in.

“Keep talking.” Lily orders, “I want to hear what you want.”

And so Mary does. Babbling every incoherent thought as Lily drags her shorts, and then her panties. Even when Lily finally gives her what she's been begging for she talks, fighting through each moan and gasp as Lily puts her tongue to use, because if Mary stops talking…

There’s a harsh slap that brings Mary back to reality, Lily's glare sobering her as she realises the pleasure has stopped. Mary gasps and pants as she scrambles to get it back, willing to say or do anything.

“I'm sorry, sorry. Please, I'm sorry–Fucking christ ..”

“It's like you want me to stop,” Lily chastises as she lets her finger drag across Mary, “You just want me to get upset with you.”

“No, I don't, I'm trying I swear–” Marys cut off with a moan as Lily lets a single finger slip inside, pumping antagonizingly slow, her other hand rubbing comfortingly on her thigh,

“I think you want me to be mean to you.” Lily continues, “Don't you? You want me to deny you? Call you a fucking slut?”

“Lily, more, please–Please, I was–”

“Or do you want to be good?” Lily asks, “Take everything I give you? Like a good girl?”

“I can be good–I am.” Mary shakes her head, if she just moves her finger just there then Mary can… “I can be so good, swear.”

“Then stop fucking begging.” Lily whispers, “And take it.”

Mary has to bite her lip to stop the pleas from falling past, and as Lily slips in another finger Mary swears she's done for. The pace is slow at first, really drawing it all, but then Lily uses her tongue and she's starting to see stars. Lily can obviously feel it too, sucking Mary’s clit between her lips and humming as her finger goes deeper, curling up deliciously. 

Mary is choking, biting down on her lip so much that the split reopens and she can taste herself. She's trying her hardest not to beg, not to touch, to be good but when Lily groans around her clit she can't help but grab a handful of her hair and grind upwards. It doesn't take much after that to send her over the edge, her thighs shaking on either side of Lily's head and her eyes rolling back inside her head as waves of pleasure consume her.

When Mary is conscious of herself once again she can feel Lily pressing a soft kiss on her lower stomach, and massaging her thighs from where they have unclenched from around her head and fallen limp. Mary's face is burning and she’s sticky with sweat, her heartbeat is beginning to fall back to normal and her head is clearing up. She feels… well, kinda gross but in a really, really good way. Because nothing Lily could ever do, especially to her, could ever be bad.

“Alright, love, you're alright.” Lily is whispering as she pulls Mary flush against her own body, her hands hooking under Mary's thighs, “Come on, now.”.

Mary lets herself be pulled up, wrapping her arms around Lily's shoulders and letting her head rest upon them as she feels Lily walking them away from the kitchen. The air is cold and practically freezing on Mary’s bare skin, the only thing she can hear is the hum of the refrigerator and the pat of Lily's bare feet on the hardwood.

“Mare, open your eyes for a mo’, yeah?” Lily encourages, “Gotta put you down for a second.”

Mary hums in dissatisfaction but does open her eyes and unravel her arms from Lily's neck, allowing her to be put down on the bathroom counter. For a moment she’s confused about why they're in here, having assumed Lily was just bringing her to bed, but her questions are quickly answered when Lily flips the shower on and starts to undress herself. Mary watches intently as Lily pulls the stiff, blood-soaked clothing from her skin, it's stained her. Lily is careful with her discarded clothing, folding the garments the best she can and placing them atop the laundry hamper. Lily pulls her underwear off next, letting it fall down her legs and rest on the floor, in only her bra she comes toward Mary and turns.

“Little help?” She asks, pulling her hair over her shoulder.

Mary’s hands make quick work of the strap, unclipping the back of the bra and gently shrugging it off Lily’s shoulders, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder blades as she goes. Lily hums appreciatively, her head slipping back a little bit to give Mary room to kiss her way up her neck. Eventually, Lily's hand comes up to Mary's cheek and pulls her into a kiss, honesty it's hardly a kiss, just a brush of lips, the best part is how Lily rests her forehead on Mary's.

Lily offers her hand to Mary, helping her down off the counters as the bathroom steams up, pulling her into the soft spray of the hot water in their shower. Mary relishes in it, dipping her head back and letting her curls get wet. Lily’s hands are caressing her hips, soothing over dark bruises, she only pulls away to squirt soap on her hands and then begins to clean Mary’s skin. She massages away the sweat, blood and tears, whispering sweet things the whole time.

When it's Lily’s turn, Mary is exceedingly gentle. The water and previous activities have rid of most of the blood, but there's still enough to be noticeable. Mary and Lily switch positions, Lily now under the spray of water and Mary's hands lathered in sweet-smelling soap. Mary starts at her legs, working her way up until Lily is lying back against the hard wall of their shower and completely relaxed. In all honesty, it could turn sexual very fast, if thats what either one wanted, but the intimate nature of just taking care of one another is just as satisfying as sex would be at the moment. So Mary works her way up, taking careful consideration of every inch of Lily, until the water is stained pink and her skin is clean.

After, they wrap each other in towels, trading soft murmurs and even softer kisses. Lily eventually leads Mary to her bedroom, and without a second thought, they curl around each other under the warmth of the duvet. Mary's hands have found their way to Lliy’s hair, and Lily's arms have wrapped around Mary’s waist, her head resting on her chest. It's domestic in a way you expect from someone thats apparently.. so violent. It's something Mary wants for the rest of her life.

“Lily?”

“Hm?”

“What are you?”

Lily pushes herself up from Mary's chest, looking down at her with an expression so soft it makes her want to melt, “I haven't a clue what you mean.” Lily tucks a wet damp curl behind Mary's ear, “Maybe you should go to sleep, hm?”.

And so they do.

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