#something is wrong with the water here but these are too pretty otherwise not to share

[sammyluvr]

broken, fine for tonight — sam & dean winchester

cw : gn!winchester!reader, hurt/comfort, some angst, reader's the youngest sibling, injury/pain, nicknames (kid, bud, sweetheart), 1.3K words. requested !

summary : you break your ankle but your older brother's are convinced it's just a sprain and leave to finish up a hunt.

dean sounds all gruff and almost annoyed when he says you’ll have to stay in the motel while they take down this nest of vamps. “you’ll be no help with a jacked up ankle,” he grumbles, because it’d be easier with three than two. but his eyes are a little soft as they flick down to your injury and you know it’s just because he’s no good at dealing with being worried about you.

sam comes back from the bathroom, giving you a sympathetic smile as he sets another pair of pain pills on the bedside table next to your half empty plastic water bottle. “you’re good to take these in half an hour,” he says, “and we’ll grab you a proper brace on the way back, alright?”

you give him a tight smile, your breathing measured so it doesn’t come across as labored. “sure,” you agree, still fighting against the pain in your foot in order to appear as composed as you’re expected to be. when you twisted it earlier today, sam and dean brushed it off as a sprain and haven’t stopped to think otherwise since then. 

dean had hauled you back up with strong hands and a comforting pat to your back. you’re alright, he insisted, ‘s just a little sprain, you’ve dealt with worse. he wasn’t trying to be dismissive, but you’ve felt a sprain before, and you’re sure that this is worse.

it must be a pretty bad sprain, sam said with a soft frown when you let out a pained gasp after trying to put just the slightest bit of pressure on it. he looped your other arm around his shoulders, and the two of them practically carried you back to the motel room. they set you down on the bed, and you know that sam normally would’ve checked your ankle with a bit more precision and care most days, but you’re all pretty sure that the vamps have caught on to you, which means the faster they get into the nest, the better. so he simply propped your foot up on all the spare pillows in the room with gentle hands, cringing each time the movement made you wince in pain. he wrapped it in an ace bandage, and you nearly cried out loud as he did. mind otherwise occupied, he’d just told you the pain would fade soon enough.

you think that somewhere in the back of their minds, both of your brothers know that you’re in enough pain to understand that this is worse than they want it to be. their concern is easy to read, but sometimes they hate the prospect of you being hurt so much that they’ll focus that energy onto a different problem until they have to face this one. so they’re out the door before you know it. 

hopefully they’ll give you a longer look when they get back. you’d very much like to go to the hospital to get checked out and hopefully return to the motel with a cast and pair of crutches.

the pain only gets worse and the minutes just drag. time flows so slowly that you start to worry, just like you do every time they’re off on a hunt without you. if they’ve been gone this long, something must’ve gone wrong, right? you check the time and realize it’s been less than a full hour. the ibuprofen you took a bit ago does nothing to help. 

your ankle hurts so badly that you’re teary and sniffly and even though no one’s here to witness it, you’re embarrassed by it nonetheless. but you might as well get the tears out of the way before they come back.

you’re convinced that it’s broken, and by the time the headlights of the impala shine through the half-closed blinds of the motel, you’re in too much of a haze to notice the door unlocking and the boys tramping into the room.

sam’s through the door first, and the second he lays eyes on you, he knows something’s not quite right. he says your name, soft of course, but still loud enough for you to hear. you don’t look over, and he drops his bag on the floor to rush over. dean immediately picks up on the tone of sam’s voice, following close behind.

sam’s big hand on your forehead rouses you. “hey. you with us sweetheart?” he murmurs, voice quiet and clearly concerned. your eyes flutter open and the only thing you can think to do when you register the worry on his face is give him a rueful smile.

“i think it’s broken,” you mumble, voice quiet and tired. you’re somehow numb and still hurting so much at the same time. dean gives a little scoff, more so out of affection than frustration, and rounds the bed to look at your ankle. you wince when he moves it, this time not bothering to hide just how much it really hurts.

“you think?” dean repeats back to you, “jesus, kid, why didn’t you say something before?”

“you didn’t give me a chance,” you retort, frowning deeply but too tired to actually sound upset. “you both said it was sprained.” before dean can make some comment about how it’s your ankle, not theirs so how would they know, sam intervenes.

“we’re sorry, bud,” he murmurs, “we should’ve paid you more attention.” you don’t see the pointed look he gives dean not to argue with you right now, or the way dean puts his hands up in frustration, then softens when he looks back at you. he knows that sam’s right, it’s not fair to get all snarky with you. he’s just fueled by worry and he forgets that his worry very easily turns to anger and irritability. dean’s not upset with you at all, but he is at himself for not noticing just how badly you were injured.

the way that he gently carries you to the back seat of the impala is his apology, plus the promise to find your favorite food after you get checked out from the hospital. sam sits in the back with you to keep you steady. steady and held. his hand holds your head softly, his other keeping your leg still as the car rumbles down along the road.

tonight, everything will be fine. your ankle will heal and once properly treated, it’s true that the pain will fade. sure, they won’t pay the medical bills with real credit cards and the doctor might be impressed or concerned, or both, by your pain tolerance. because this certainly isn’t the first time you’ve been cooped up in the back seat of the impala, hurting and maybe even a little scared while sam holds you and dean drives.

he always steals glances back at you through the rearview mirror, making eye contact with sam to be sure you’re awake and well. but he has to be the one driving because he feels like that’s the only thing he has control of when you’re like this. he just absolutely horrified by the thought that there might be a dark night on empty roads after a hunt or a nearly world-ending event where his can’t drive fast enough. what if, someday, you die in his car and your blood stains the leather, because how could he wipe your blood from the seats like that?

and sam’s the one who’ll be holding you, staunching your blood with his jacket, whispering assurances that you’ll be alright. he’s terrified by the thought that there might be a night where, in the backseat of this car, the place you all silently call home, you’ll die in his arms.

those are the sorts of things they think about. they know that you think about your own nightmares of them dying too. but in this life, the only thing you can do is tuck those thoughts away, somewhere deep and hidden, because tonight, everything will be fine.

[nino-ruins]

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

hiii i luv ur work^^ can i request a fic where carmy get sucked off so good it makes his brain short-circuit a little? like he came home all tired and pent up n reader just "blow" it all away. wanna see this man get taken care of🥺 he's alway got so much on his mind i just wanna see him fucked till his brain is empty

Short Circuit.

Carmy doesn’t know how to shut his brain off. Luckily, you do.

pairing - roommate!carmen berzatto x female reader

warnings - smut. cursing.

word count - 1.8k

authors note - carmy’s a little bitch in this one!! mwahahaha!! to my love who requested - i’m sorry I ended up making him a bit pathetic here, but in my defence… he does give off the energy of a wet cat, so. this set in the roommates universe, but the fics have no particular order <3

if you enjoyed, please reblog!! reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which in turn creates more. <3

masterlist. inbox. series masterlist.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Carmy blinks at you like a deer caught in headlights, confused and struggling to process.

“W-what?”

“You heard me, Carmen. Sit the fuck down before I shove you there myself.”

You gesture at the couch only a few feet away, crossing your arms over your chest expectantly.

He exhales shakily before placing his mug of coffee on the kitchen counter, walking over to do as you ordered.

He’s never really been bossed around by you before. Sure, you scold him occasionally, warn him when he does something wrong, but never like this. He can’t tell if he likes it. He thinks that maybe he does.

He gets comfy on the couch, sitting back against the cushions and spreading his legs. His white t shirt stretches deliciously across his broad shoulders, tight and worn. His old flannel pyjama pants look so cosy, you itch to reach out and run your hand across them.

Carmy’s watching you curiously, waiting for your next move. He can’t predict what’s going to happen, which would usually make him nervous. But right now, he’s got electricity buzzing through his veins, crackling and charged.

You set your own mug down and saunter over in his direction, as if you have all the time in the world. You stop at the window and shut the blinds, smirking over your shoulder when he raises his eyebrows in a silent question.

“Don’t want to give the neighbours a show.”

Carmy’s breath hitches in his chest, panting with anticipation. You crack your knuckles and stretch your arms above your head, suppressing a laugh when you see his eyes glued to the skin you expose between your t shirt and pyjama pants.

You stand in front of where he’s sat, patient and waiting. You look so tall, looking down on him, so completely powerful. He’s suddenly very confused by his own feelings.

“I’m sick of you bitching and moaning,” you begin, dropping to your knees on the patterned rug. “So I’m gonna make you shut the fuck up.”

Carmy suddenly sits up straight, full attention captured.

“What?”

“God, do you ever listen, Carmen?”

He’s silenced by your rebuttal, so you continue.

“You’re stressed to the max, and you don’t know how to leave work at work. You bring it home, complain for hours, and then wonder why you can’t relax. You need to shut your brain off.”

Carmy swallows harshly, eyes never leaving yours.

“And how am I supposed to do that?”

“You’re not. I’m gonna do it for you.”

With that, you rise up onto your knees so you’re face to face with your roommate.

“You okay with this?” you whisper, searching his features for any signs of trepidation.

“More than okay,” he breathes, leaning in to you. “Kiss me first? Please?”

You don’t think anyone would be able to resist him in this moment, when he looks and asks so pretty.

“Whatever you want, babe.”

You press your lips to his gently, testing the waters. Carmy instantly pulls you in with his arms around your back, deepening the kiss. You slip your tongue into his mouth and take control, nipping at his bottom lip when he gets too cocky.

“I’m in charge,” you tell him lowly. “If you wanna stop, say stop. But otherwise, I’m gonna keep going until you can’t remember your own name.”

Carmen’s eyes roll back at the promise, head hitting the sofa behind him as he groans. You settle back down between his legs, pulling his pyjama pants off and throwing them aside.

You trail open mouthed kisses up his thighs, starting at his knee and ending at his hip. Occasionally you bite down, soothing the sting with your tongue as you go. When he starts to fidget, you fully sink your teeth into his muscle, sharp and warning. He flinches, and you smirk.

“Patience, Carmen.”

“Don’t wanna be fuckin’ patient,” he grumbles under his breath, petulant as ever.

You look up at him firmly, and he gets the message.

Running your fingers up and down his thigh, you sit and enjoy the way goosebumps rise across his skin. You’re on a power trip, buzzing with the adrenaline of having a man like Carmy at your mercy.

“Good things come to those who wait,” you tease, before dancing your fingertips across the material of his boxers. His hips buck up into your hand and you relent, pulling his underwear down and off in one quick move.

He hisses as the cool air of the room hits his heated skin, the combination of sensations overwhelming.

You kiss along his hipbones, tasting salt and the musk that’s so Carmy. Nudging your nose into the juncture of his thigh, you chuckle when he shudders.

“Please, babe.”

“What do you want, Carm?”

“Just- just do something, please. Anything.”

Maybe it’s the rare show of manners, or maybe it’s his pleading tone, but you finally take pity on him. Grasping him in your hand, you give your wrist an experimental twist, biting your lip when he groans.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, all breathy and strained. He sounds so pretty like this, all loose limbed and pliable. “Shit, babe. Yeah.”

You take your time learning what he likes. Twisting, pulling, applying a little pressure. Carmy is writhing in his seat, completely unable to keep still. You keep pushing his hips back down firmly, putting him in his place.

He has his eyes screwed shut, head thrown back into the couch cushions, gorgeous neck exposed. You take him by surprise by wrapping your lips around him, sucking gently. His hand flies to your head, grasping for grip, for any kind of anchor.

You double down on your efforts, twisting your wrist as you hollow your cheeks. You rake the nails of your other hand down his thigh, squeezing occasionally to let him know you’re still good.

You feel his muscles go tense, knuckles gripping the cushion underneath him. He’s right on the edge - you can sense it.

So, you stop.

You pull away completely, laughing when his eyes shoot open, brows furrowed together.

“W-what? What the fuck? Why’d you stop?”

“Because I can.”

Carmy doesn’t even have the energy to come up with a sarcastic response. Instead, he sinks further into the couch, looking down at you with those big blue eyes.

“Babe.”

“So whiny. Jesus, Carmen, have some self respect.”

On any other day, he wouldn’t take that lying down. He’d sass you twice as hard, smirking when you roll your eyes. But today, he doesn’t have it in him.

“Please.”

“Oh you sound so pretty when you beg.”

He blushes, heat blooming up his chest and across his cheeks. He reaches out and traces your lips with his thumb, a tender gesture among all of the filth currently occurring.

“Do it more.”

He blinks at you, wondering if he heard you correctly.

“What?”

“Listen for once in your life, Berzatto. I said, do it more. Beg. Beg for it, and I’ll make you come.”

Carmy thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. He’s never seen this side of you before - in all honesty, you didn’t know it existed. He’s discovering a lot about himself tonight, and as confusing as it is, he’s loving it.

“Please, honey. Please.”

You click your tongue disapprovingly, shaking your head.

“Nuh uh. I want you to beg so hard that I am dripping, Carmen. Make it count.”

“You’re getting off on this,” he chuckles in disbelief. “Fuck, that’s so hot.”

You mime tapping an imaginary watch on your wrist, signalling him to hurry up. In reality, you’d kneel here on the rug all night if he wanted, content to watch him all high strung and flushed.

“Okay, okay. Sweetheart, please. Fuck, I need it. Need it so bad. Need you so bad. Just- give me anything, something, please.”

His voice has gone all breathy, shaky and unsure. He sounds like he’s on the verge of tears, and the mental image of him crying because of you turns you on more than it should.

“Oh baby,” you coo. “Was that so hard? Hmm?”

He shakes his head, bitten lip between his teeth.

“Gonna give you what you need now, because you were so good. My pretty, pretty boy.”

It might be your tone, or it might be because you called him your boy, but Carmy melts. He’s nothing but a puddle, mewling and panting, no coherent thoughts left in his brain.

You get back to work, hollowing your cheeks and working whatever you can’t fit in your mouth with your soft hands. You swirl your tongue, pressing it to the underside of him when you pull back slightly for air.

You wonder, for a second, if you’ve broken your roommate. Nonsense is leaving his lips in constant streams, babbling under his breath like he’s lost his mind.

“Yeah baby, keep going please, please don’t stop.”

“Fuck you’re so good, s’good, so good.”

“Just wanna come, please honey, I’ll do anything. Anything you want.”

“Ohhh, yesyesyes, oh fuck, thank you baby, shit.”

You keep humming in response, and the vibrations are Carmy’s undoing. His hips jolt upwards as his back arches off the couch, fingers scrambling for purchase. He hits the back of your throat and you groan, letting him ride it out however he needs. He relaxes back into his original position, body completely spent.

You squeeze his thigh to get his attention, making sure he watches as you swallow everything he’s given to you. He groans, low and tired, shaking his head with a smile on his face. You rest your head on his leg, looking up at him.

“You good, Carm?”

He nods, trying to gather the energy to answer you properly.

“Yeah,” he says after a while. “I genuinely think I’ve never been better.”

You laugh, and the sound makes him grin, all slow and saccharine.

“I can’t move. Think you’ve ruined me.”

��That was the plan,” you wink, standing up and pulling his boxers back up his legs.

You grab a bottle of water from the kitchen, watching as he downs it all in one go. Sitting next to him on the couch, he pulls you into his side, slotting you there perfectly.

“Thank you,” he whispers into the evening dusk of the room. “Not just for making me come harder than I ever have in my life. But, you know… for everything.”

You chuckle, intertwining your fingers with his.

“Of course. You’d do the same for me.”

“Next time you have a bad day, I’m gonna throw you on the couch and eat you out until you cry.”

You groan, pinching his thigh in warning.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

@enigmaticloki @kaelabear @idontexist-anymore @jazminsjaz @kingsqueensandvagabonds

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - We In A Slump, but help might be coming from a very strange source

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

Sept 2024 Week 4

Ongoing Series - Thai

Jack & Joker (Thai Mon IQIYI) ep 3 of 12 - I don’t have a lot to say except that the plot is somewhat predictable but the show is still very engaging. War is fantastic. I’m enjoying it a hell of a lot.

Monster Next Door (Thai Thurs Gaga ) ep 10 of 12 - The second leads are getting better in this one. I understand where they are coming from, which makes their conflict so much more understandably painful, and honest to a friends2lovers trope. The main couple is kinda standard college relationship drama, but they are cuties.  

Kidnap (Fri YT) ep 4 of 12 - How is Ohm so damn gorgeous? Meanwhile, babies’ first argument. And it’s sponge bath time. Q has got to be wondering if Min is as meticulous with all kinds of care and attention to detail all......the......time. Somebody here in the hellhole said something about this being "the most BL to ever BL." And I think they’re right. At least right now. Although, watch out, we got us a new contender from the east.

I Saw You in My Dream (Weds Gaga) ep 11 of 12 - I do love the continuation of the perversion, in a good way, of the punishment trope from last week's episode. Oh, has the show finally remembered its title? NO SINGING. 

Addicted Heroin (Thai Tues WeTV) ep 7 of 10 - More kidnapping and an attack and now there’s a girl involved and somebody’s going to China and I don’t understand anything! And I don’t really care. Is this how the actual book originally went? Because it’s wild. Also TOO MANY of flashbacks. I guess they got a bit of a boyfriend era, and the claiming during the water fight was cute, but otherwise...... meh

Love Sick 2024 (Thai Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 15 - One shouldn’t make comparisons, of course, but all I can think about is how amazing Captain was as Noh in the original series. Thus this show is mostly just making me want to rewatch the original. It’d be an interesting twist to have Aim be queer instead of a damaged cool girl slut. Was the helmet hand letting go a foreshadow of the iconic bookstore hands letting go? Also, I gotta say for the second episode of a series there are already too many flashbacks. Why are they using filler when they have so much content crammed into so few (comparable) episodes for a series? It’s annoying. Stop it.

Live in Love (Sun Gaga) ep 4 of 5 - This show has some interesting, if heavy handed, things to say about shipping and trolling, but also predatory/proprietary female behavior. It’s fascinating to see it tackled head on, if handled in a profoundly clumsy manner. I’m not sure how I feel about it. That said, most of this episode was actually an advertisement for a resort in Phuket. 

Bad Guy My Boss (Thai Sun Gaga) ep 2 of 10 - I'm getting What's Wrong with Secretary Kim? vibes from this show. Only this is WAY more bullying. It’s very old-fashioned 90’s billionaire romance novel only gay. It’s never a good sign when I’m watching two boys kiss and I really want one of them to just bite the other ones lip off instead.

Battle of the Writers (Sun YT) ep 9 of 12 - No ep this week. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

Sugar Dog Life (Japan Sun grey) ep 8 of 10 - Gosh it’s so frikin adorable. Baby got sick. He has SUCH A CRUSH. And such a courageous little confession! Yay! Can’t wait for next week. 

Teenager Judge (Vietnam Sat YouTube) ep 1 - sure, yes this is, in fact, just Ba Vinh doing his thing with pretty boys again. And yet...... There is a REASON this leapt into the standings guns blazing. So it’s high school set but it's stepbrothers trope. (My, aren’t we popular this year?) I know, but I NEVER get tired of this trope. We got us Bach (BV's sullen tsundere) and Dat (babygirl meets bully). It’s GREAT how the brothers' dynamic is entirely different at school than when they're at home. My ear isn’t trained for Vietnamese, but I think Dat is using different pronouns depending on his location (his personality entirely shifts when he’s at school). I’m not sold on the Bach character, although I always trust BV to serve in the end (at least we know the kisses will be good), but Dat is utterly in love, a touch spicy, and reasonably complex. The surrounding cast is good too, my favorite pretty boy is there playing top dog (woof), and one of the besties is out gay (YAY!). The plot of the show is...... well...... absent. Nothing happened. But if we are aiming for Love Sick slice of life style BL, I'm game. Subs are appropriately terrible and confusing. But I like it A FUCK TON so far, so I’m gonna keep it in rotation. Nice to have Vietnam back in play. What a shocker.

2024 has been a year of upsets.

Love is Like a Poison AKA Doku Koi: Doku mo Sugireba Koi to Naru (Japan Tues Netflix?) 3 of 10 eps - I weirdly enjoyed the farcical music and the utter absurdity of the court case. I also liked how it highlighted what a good team these two are. Frankly I don’t mind a bit of an antihero sleazy lawyer + conman, it's engaging. I’m getting wholesome out of Thailand. I don’t really need it from Japan at the moment. Also I don’t believe for one second our conman actually is serious about the relationship. Conmen gonna con. I'm reminded of the scorpion and the frog fable.

First Note Of Love (Taiwan Mon Gaga) ep 8 of 12 - I love Orca so much. I do not love the autotuned version of Orca, but I knew what I was in for with this particular show, it's in the title after all. I did laugh a whole lot when Laing used kha. Hon, I don't think that word means what you think it means......

The On1y One (Taiwan Thurs Gaga) eps 11-12fin - I never thought I’d say this, but the pacing was off in the penultimate episode. Taiwan, and its chronic misuse of flashbacks strikes again. That said we eventually got a "lock in" trope and Wang being the biggest little flirt shit in the cafe OMG!!! Of course, you shouldn’t use a girl to torment your bf, but it was so well done, I can’t really complain. Meanwhile, teacher kisses. And now I understand exactly why they’re present in this narrative. Clever. Bummer of a burden on that ending though. I cannot see how they’ll manage to stick this landing. [That was ep 11]

AND NOW EP 12 - doomey doomey doom

Not the water bottle trope! Argh the teenage lust of it all. Just stop it. Wang is so smart he knows exactly how bad he has to be to leave the class. And his bf certainly knows that too. And......

......

So that was not an ending and I’m not happy about it and no one is surprised. Even I’m not surprised. I’m just disappointed. Even tho I suspected this was where we were headed I'm disappointed. That’s it. That’s all I got. How do I review something that was such a crushing let down?

Conclusion:

Based on a Mou Mou novel + the Your Name Engraved Herein team, this is old-school coming of age BL and it was bloody fantastic. Tsundere seme to beat all tsundere (smartest + tallest + bestest at everything but people) meets socially-ept cutie smart-ass uke. They're living together by end of ep 1 and start kissing by end of ep 2. A stellar tense slow burn stepbrothers trope that ate my life and than just belly-flopped the finale. What I'm left with is epic levels of disappointment and well...... at least nobody died? My standard "fatally flawed" rating for any BL is 4/10 so I guess that’s what I’m giving it. 

Before you ask me for the stats: Taiwan does not have a history of second seasons. I went ahead and ran the numbers and the odds are certainly not in our favor. I put the chances at 2%.

Yes, I contemplated a revenge rating of 2/10 but even I'm not that mean.

It's airing but...

The Hidden Moon (Sat WeTV) ep 1 of 10 - This is a supernatural romance (my ghost boyfriend trope) by Violet Rain (I Feel You Linger). A man is hired to write an article about an old mansion in Chiang Mai being converted into a café. He sees the ghosts of people who died at the mansion, falls in love with one of them. Was substantially recast. I loved IFYLITA except the ending so I think I'll let this one run it's course you can tell me if it's work tracking down... if they managed to land it. I have my doubts.

In Case You Missed It

Falling For My Boss is vertical format (nash) short from Korean BL about a happy-go-unlucky man who keeps losing his flower shop business because of romantically misbehaving employees (apparently it's a thing). When his best employee brings in a new boy he's worried she's falling for him, but it turns out it's his own heart on the line. He a clueless softy and The Boy is a lost broken sweetheart, making this a gentle little snippet of a show. There's a baby linguistic negotiation, some hung slinging, awkward handholds, and everyone is very pretty. For me the absence of kisses and the vertical format were more annoying than the length, which felt fine but many viewers will find too short. I enjoyed the 30 minutes of cute. All of which makes this a solid 7/10 from me. It was originally only available on this one ap in very short form with ads so I wasn't gonna bother. Then some kind soul cut it together without ads and stuck it up for download. Say thank you.

Oddball recommendation next: This podcast episode touches on some stuff we see in Thai BL so I think it's worth listening to. Journalist Dominic Faulder on the Complex History Between Thailand & Myanmar

Happy of the End (Japan Gaga) - Completed its run. A boy is disowned for being gay, dumped by his boyfriend, and ends up in a dysfunctional co-dependant relationship with his would-be kidnapper. We were due for another messy JBL and it's exactly as expected. I do not like it at all and DNFed. Gossip round the hellhole is that was a solid decision.

Marriage Equality Law has officially been enacted in Thailand...

Yes the actual law. Goes into effect Jan 22, 2025

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

Coming Oct 2024:

10/3 Fourever You (Thai iQIYI?) 16 eps - New directs Earth (UWMA, 12%) + Pond (Century of Love, 180 Degrees), Bas (Gen Y, 2 Moons) + Maxky (Why You… Y Me?) and other familiar faces like Bever. Sampler pack university BL from Wabi Sabi that looks like it's trying to be a gay Boys Over Flowers (4 older med students hot boys) and I'm not mad about it. Trailer Not sure who's distributing this but my guess is iQIYI since they had the last few from this house.

10/7 Every You Every Me (Thai Gaga) 10 eps - Jade and Chin have lived over a thousand lifetimes. In each one they somehow manage to fall in love with each other. (This pair, TopMick was piloted in a My Universe ep, that was one of the only ones I liked.)

10/10 Eccentric Romance (Korea ????) 12 eps - Silkwood’s 2nd Thai/Korean colab, that has been in production since 2022 which is a LONG time in the BL world. I'm worried but I like the concept: friends of 10 years who’ve been hiding feelings for each other enter the same university. Plus MURDER.

10/10 Gangster and His Boyfriend (Korea ????) 8 eps? - Kim Dong Bin (famous trainee & idol reality competitor, yeah that happens) stars as a fallen idol who unexpectedly becomes entangled in a gangster family. Discovers that his friend’s father is responsible for the murder of his entire family years ago. I don't know much about this one, neither does anyone else and I'm not sure where I got that release date so……

10/21 Love in the Big City (Korea ????) 8 eps - Adaptation of Booker-nominated famous coming of age novel of the same title by Park Sang-Young. Cynical yet fun loving student writer Young pinballs from home, to class, to Tinder matches. He and Jaehee, his female besie and roommate, frequent nearby bars where they push away their worries about life, love, and money with soju. As time passes Jaehee settles down and leaves Young to face his problems on his own. Young finding comfort in the arms of the series of men, including one whose handsomeness is matched by his coldness and another who might be the great love of his life. Not really BL. Stars Kim Go-eun (The King: Eternal Monarch), Noh Sang-hyun, and Nam Yoon Su (The King’s Affection). This already released as a movie and isn't very well regarded, this date is supposedly an international release as a series. I'm wary of it being BL.

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

I got nothing, The On1y One drove me into a funk.

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity @rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in its infinite wisdom doesn't like too many at-ings.

[anniebeemine]

Blame It- s.r. x fem!reader

got you in the zone/blame it on the a-a-a-a-a-alcohol

warnings: alcohol consumption, heavy petting, memory loss, fade to black sex scene

Spencer’s not a drinker. Never has been. He’ll enjoy a sip or two, just to appease one of his friends, but he’d never liked the taste, the burn, or the pit it left in his stomach until he put something else in there. He especially didn’t like that he’d forget things.

Tonight is a rare night when he’s out with his friends. They’d brought him along to include him and he found the gesture kind. During their third round of drinks, Spencer took a big gulp of his mocktail. Only it wasn’t a mocktail, but a boozy drink with a hint of the essence of fruit juice.

He scrunched his nose, forcing himself to swallow the liquid. Penelope quickly noticed, apologizing for the confusion.

“I’ll take it back,” she offered, already pulling the drink towards her.

Spencer waved her off, knowing how long it had taken them to get the drinks in the first place. “I don’t want to bother the bartender.”

A few eyebrows raised but they let it go, not wanting to scare the poor boy. So, that’s how Spencer got to where he was now, sitting in a booth, smiling goofily as his friends took turns coming to check on him. Spencer, meanwhile, found himself smiling more easily, laughing at jokes he might have otherwise found mildly amusing. The warmth from the alcohol spread through him, loosening the usual tension in his shoulders.

At one point, Derek slid into the booth next to Spencer, nudging him playfully. "How you holding up, pretty boy?"

Spencer grinned, a little too wide. "I’m good. Really good.” He shakes his hands. “I feel something.”

Derek chuckles, clapping him in the back. “That’s everything you’ve ever been holding back fighting to come out.” He motioned to the rest of the room. “Go dance, pretty boy.”

Spencer looked out at the crowd, his gaze a little unfocused. “I will… in a minute.”

Derek smirked, not entirely convinced. “Emily’s got money down that you won’t make it out there, and I’m willing to split it with you if you prove her wrong.”

Spencer laughed softly, shaking his head. “Always the opportunist, huh?”

“Always.” Derek winked before sliding out of the booth, leaving Spencer alone with his thoughts. Spencer took another sip of his drink, the liquid burning slightly as it went down. He wasn’t sure he was ready to get up just yet, but the idea of proving Emily, and probably everyone else, wrong was tempting.

His gaze wandered back to the dance floor, where people were lost in the music, their bodies moving with a freedom that Spencer had always admired but rarely experienced himself. Then he spotted her.

She was in the middle of the dance floor, her hands shaking above her head as she let the music carry her. Her movements were fluid, uninhibited, completely in tune with the beat. Spencer couldn’t help but study the way she moved, how she seemed so free, so at ease with herself. As he watched, she accepted a drink from a man who leaned in to speak to her, but she quickly turned away, clearly uninterested in conversation. Spencer’s heart skipped a beat when she looked up and their eyes met across the room. His face warmed, a blush spreading across his cheeks as he realized she had caught him staring. She gave him a small, knowing smile before disappearing back into the crowd, leaving Spencer with a strange mix of curiosity and longing.

Before he could dwell too long on the moment, Penelope appeared at his side, setting a cup of water and another drink in front of him. “Here you go, sweetie. Feeling alright?”

He nods. “Thank you, Penelope.”

“Good,” she said, patting his arm. “Now, don’t let that drink go to waste. And that water better be gone when I get back."

Spencer took a sip, his mind still replaying the moment of eye contact. He’s on his fourth drink when she approaches him, holding a hand out and asking if he’d like to dance, her voice soft but clear over the music.

Spencer blinked, momentarily stunned by the unexpected offer. He glanced at her hand, then back at her face, searching for any sign that she might be joking. But her expression was open and genuine, her smile encouraging.

He hesitated, his usual doubts surfacing even through the alcohol-induced haze. “I’m not really… I mean, I don’t dance much,” he admitted, his voice a little shaky.

Her smile widened, and she tilted her head slightly. “That’s okay. You don’t have to be good at it. Just come and have fun.”

Something about the way she said it, so simple and unpressured, made it hard for Spencer to say no. He glanced around, briefly catching Derek’s eye across the room. Derek gave him a nod of approval, raising his glass in a silent toast.

Spencer took a deep breath and placed his hand in hers. “Alright,” he said, standing up and feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement swirl in his chest. “Let’s dance.”

She led him to the dance floor, the music washing over them as they found a spot among the other dancers. Spencer was stiff at first, unsure of what to do with his limbs, but she moved closer, guiding him gently with her own movements.

“Just follow the rhythm,” she whispered, her voice soothing. Spencer tried, letting the music guide him as he mirrored her steps. She was right—he didn’t have to be good at it. As long as he was with her, he could just enjoy the moment.

Spencer doesn’t remember much after that. The dancing had really gotten his blood pumping, the alcohol in full effect. He doesn’t remember handing his jacket off to Morgan and asking Penelope for another drink. He surely doesn’t remember Emily hunting him down, finding him in a booth, tongue wrestling with the mystery woman.

“Spence?” Emily’s voice had cut through the haze of the moment, but Spencer didn’t remember hearing her. She’d stood there, momentarily stunned, before clearing her throat and tapping him on the shoulder. The woman pulled away, looking a bit flustered, while Spencer had blinked up at Emily with dazed, glassy eyes.

“Uh, hey, Emily,” he’d mumbled, his words slurred. “What’s up?”

“What’s up?” Emily had repeated, half-amused and half-concerned. “Some of us are ready to get home. Are you coming?”

Spencer had already made a decision long before that. “No, no. I can get myself home.”

Emily raised an eyebrow at Spencer's response, her amusement laced with concern. “You sure about that? You’re not exactly in top form right now.”

Spencer, with a confident but unsteady grin, reached into his pocket and pulled out his car keys. “I’m sure,” he said, holding them out to her. “Take my car. I’ll call a cab when I’m ready.”

Emily hesitated, searching his face for any sign that he might change his mind. But Spencer’s determination, even in his slightly inebriated state, was clear. She sighed, taking the keys from him. “Alright, but be careful, okay? Don’t go wandering off.”

He waved her off with a sloppy salute. “I’m good, Em. I’ll be fine.”

Emily gave him one last look before turning to rejoin the group, leaving Spencer alone in the booth. He watched her walk away, then leaned back, letting the dim light and steady pulse of the music wash over him.

Spencer didn’t remember exactly how it happened, but at some point, they had left the booth together, her hand in his as they navigated the crowded bar. The next thing he knew, they were outside, the cool night air brushing against his skin as they hailed a cab. They didn’t talk much during the ride, but her hand remained on his, her thumb gently tracing circles on the back of his hand. He remembered feeling oddly at ease, the alcohol dulling the usual flood of thoughts that would have run through his mind in such a situation.

When they arrived at her apartment, everything seemed to blur together. Spencer could recall the sound of her laughter as they stumbled through the door, her giggles light and infectious. The apartment was cozy, the scent of cherries filling the air—sweet and slightly intoxicating, like the woman herself.

They hadn’t wasted much time. Spencer remembered her soft touches, the way her fingers had ghosted over his skin, sending shivers down his spine. The details were hazy, but the emotions were vivid—the warmth of her body pressed against his, the gentle brush of her lips as she kissed him, and the sound of their mingled breaths in the quiet of the room.

He knew they had sex. The physical sensations were the only clear memories he had from the night—the feeling of her skin under his fingertips, the way her body moved with his, the softness of her hair as it fell across his face. She had been sweet, almost tender, her touch lingering long after the moment had passed.

He remembered waking up briefly in the middle of the night, the scent of cherries still heavy in the air. She had been curled up beside him, her head resting on his chest, and he had felt a strange sense of peace, even in his foggy state. Her fingers had traced absent patterns on his skin, and he had drifted back to sleep, comforted by the warmth of her body against his.

Spencer's most vivid memory of the past 12 hours came when his phone rang, jolting him awake from a restless sleep. The sound was sharp and insistent, cutting through the hazy fog of his hungover state. He blinked groggily, reaching out for his phone, but it took a moment to fully grasp where he was and what was happening.

Panicked, he fumbled around the small apartment, trying to locate his clothes. He pulled on his shirt with one arm while searching for his pants, his movements hurried and disjointed. He could hear the muffled sound of her voice in the next room, still asleep, but he didn’t have time to explain or apologize.

Spencer’s heart raced as he grabbed his belongings, throwing on his clothes with little regard for appearance or order. He glanced around, spotting a piece of paper on the kitchen counter. On it, he scribbled his phone number and tacked it to the corkboard on the fridge. The urgency of the call left no room for him to stop by the bullpen for his bag. His mind raced as he hurried to catch a cab, cursing himself for the lack of preparation and the abrupt end to what had been an unexpectedly pleasant night.

As Spencer stepped out of the cab and onto the tarmac, he spotted JJ waiting by the jet. She held his go-bag, the one he kept beneath his desk. Her expression was neutral, but the way she looked at him conveyed a mix of understanding and curiosity.

“Thanks, JJ,” he said, taking the bag from her. He was mostly thanking her for saving him from a comment.

She nodded, her eyes following him as he made his way to the jet. He could feel the weight of her silence, but the pressing urgency of the case kept him from dwelling on it.

Inside the jet, Derek was waiting with a smirk. “Nice of you to join us, pretty boy. You look like you had a rough night.”

Spencer offered him a tired but restrained smile. Derek slid a twenty across the table and Spencer slid it back. “Don’t spend it all in one place,” he mumbled.

Morgan looked up from his file, curiosity piqued. “So, what was her name?”

Spencer blinked, drawing a blank. He tried to think of any clue, a hint of a syllable or a letter, but nothing came to mind. He rubbed his temples, feeling the remnants of the previous night’s fog.

“Uh, I don’t actually remember,” he admitted, shrugging.

Morgan’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You don’t remember her name? You’ve got to be kidding me.” He leaned back in his chair, grinning. “This is a first. Dr. Spencer Reid, the human encyclopedia, stumped by a name.”

Spencer couldn’t help but smile to himself. He started replaying the night in his mind—the way they’d met, the conversations they’d had, the connection that felt so genuine. He’d think about it until her name came back to him, that much he was sure of.

Spencer sighed, a mix of embarrassment and resignation on his face. He smiled to himself, beginning to replay the night. He'd think about it until her name came back to him. Though, he didn't have to wait long. Shortly after the initial briefing, his phone buzzed.

He fished it out of his pocket.

The message wasn’t just a flirty text—it was accompanied by a photo, one that left little to the imagination. His heart raced as he quickly looked around, making sure no one else had noticed.

He opened the message, and there it was: her name, signed at the end in a playful tone that matched the boldness of the photo.

So sad to see you left, but maybe I can convince you to come back ;)- Y/N

[glorious-spoon]

to loosen his grip [9-1-1 | Buck/Eddie]

~1k words | eddie & tommy; pre-relationship eddie/buck

spec fic for 7x04

-

The thing is, Eddie's not stupid.

Eddie's not stupid, and Buck's about as subtle as a brick to the face on a good day. He can't help it. Everything he's feeling comes spilling out of him; keeping it inside seems as impossible for him as holding the tide back with a leaky sieve. It's not something Eddie relates to that much, honestly. If anything, he's got the opposite problem. He crushes everything he's feeling into a tight little knot and holds onto it with white knuckles until he can't hold on anymore. It lost him Shannon—would have lost him Shannon even if she'd lived—and it nearly lost him both his job and his sanity in the end. He's still learning how to loosen his grip.

Buck still needs to learn how to get a grip, like, at all.

So yeah, Eddie knows. Not right away; he doesn't really think anything of it when he picks Tommy up from the hanger and Buck is there. In the truck, he watches Buck's receding figure in the rearview mirror for a moment before Tommy says, "Not trying to poach Evan from the 118, I promise."

He's laughing about it a little bit. Eddie scoffs and says, "Buck? You'd have to pry him out of that house before he'd go anywhere else."

He doesn't mention the lawsuit. That's water long under the bridge now, and it's not a time in his life he likes to think back on that much. But he knows it's true; Buck can say whatever he wants about keeping his options fluid, but when he finds people and a place he wants to keep, he hangs onto them.

Tommy is good company, anyway. It's something he's missed, since the Army: the easy camaraderie over beers, sitting in a shouting crowd in Vegas, shooting the shit in a bar afterward. Tommy's got a lift, and he brings his abuelo's Chevelle over, and it's an easy slide from that into a half-casual bout of muay thai, and Eddie has missed that, too: sparring just for fun, just for the hell of it, not for the money or because his demons were going to claw themselves out of his chest with bloody nails otherwise.

"See you've caught some lead," Tommy observes once they're done, bruised and a little breathless, shirtless on the bench in his garage. Eddie caps his Gatorade and glances up, and for a second he doesn't even know what Tommy is talking about until he nods at Eddie's right shoulder and asks, "That from overseas?"

Eddie touches the bullet scar, a long-healed dimple by now. It's not that noticeable anymore, at least from the front. The surgical scars from his thoracotomy are still more obvious, but even they've faded.

"Oh, no," he says. "I mean, yeah, I did, but this one was right here in L.A."

"Right, the sniper," Tommy agrees. "Shit. I remember seeing that Captain Nash caught a bullet. Didn't realize you were the other one from his house that got shot."

"Yeah, well." Eddie shrugs, uncapping his Gatorade again. "It was a long time ago."

He likes that, too. Talking about it with someone who never saw the bullet hole, only the scar. Talking about it with someone who's never had his blood in his mouth, who never knelt above him in a speeding truck and begged him to hang on.

He lied to Buck about it, because Buck's so close to it that he might as well have been shot too. It's easier like this, because Tommy isn't wounded by the memory; Tommy shrugs and asks if he wants to grab a pizza after this, and Eddie slings a towel over his shoulder and lets Tommy pull him to his feet, and they have pizza and a couple more beers, and it's easy. He's missed easy. He thinks he deserves to have something easy, for a change.

-

"I mean, I think it's great," Buck says, apropos of pretty much exactly nothing a couple of days later. "You can never have too many friends, you know?"

He's vibrating with that exact same anxious energy that Eddie remembers from his first day at the 118, when Buck seemed one wrong move away from pissing on the exercise equipment or maybe shoving him down the stairs. It awakens some puckish little part of Eddie that can't help but needle him. You're standing in the wrong light, man, as if he's ever in his life had an opinion about photography lighting, but it got Buck to bristle and snap like a wounded dog, all electric fury, and Eddie liked that, too, for reasons that he understands better now than he did back then.

So he shrugs, and he says lightly, "You know, it's like that thing when you meet somebody and you just click. You know what I mean?"

It's a jab, and not a very subtle one. He still remembers standing in the sunlight and listening to Buck tell him that Natalia saw him, after Eddie watched him hang there in the rain and felt his chest unmoving beneath his palms and sat through those endless hours in the fucking hospital waiting for him to wake up. After Eddie brought him home, and listened to his quiet confession in his kitchen, and tried as well as he knew how to hold Buck's still-beating heart gently.

But sure. Natalia saw him. For all of four months, apparently.

He thinks he wants Buck to flinch and snap back, just a little. It's not the place for it—they're in the middle of a goddamn call—but he's stupid about Buck. Always has been.

Buck doesn't flinch. He sags instead, his mouth downturned, and he mutters, "Yeah. Yeah, I really do."

And it's something they should talk about, maybe, but then Ravi calls up for more slack, and there are other things to focus on for the time being.

[skipper1331]

Taking care // Jessie Fleming

kinda pt. 2 of Protective Moms

a/n: based off this request.

"Tobs, I can walk on my own" you whined, the striker supporting you. "I have broken nose, nothing more"

"And a serious concussion"

You grumbled but you had no other choice, Tobin wouldn‘t leave your side until your body was laid down in your bed. "Can I at least have my phone back?"

"Ask Christen"

Back at your room you laid down, Tobs placed a glass of water on your nightstand before she tucked you under the duvet. "How shall I ask her when she isn’t here?"

"That‘s not my problem, we‘ll check up on you later." the forward then left the room, ready to go to training. (She tried to tell the coach that she had to watch you and take care of you but as soon as you heard that you argued with her, that you‘re old enough, etc. which she only half-heartedly accepted)

A long sigh left your throat.

-

"Jess is pretty amazing, isn‘t she?" you smiled as you went to breakfast with Chris and Tobs. "She‘s alright" said Tobin while Christen answered, "She’s such a sweetheart." As you had your breakfast on your plate you walked towards the table where Sonnett, Kelley and Alex sat. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your head, it throbbed and spun then went black. You passed out.

Everything seemed fine so far, your nose was broken but otherwise nothing to notice from the concussion. Yesterday, Chris, Tobin, Jess and you were out for a 'parents meet kids girlfriend' date and you were your usual self.

Well, until now. The plate shattered across the floor, your body hitting the floor with a 'humpf'. Christen was the first by your side, rapidly and firmly patting your cheek, with no luck in waking you - you were knocked out while Tobin ran around the hotel searching for someone from the physio team, a doc, anyone.

-

That‘s how you ended up for the rest of the day and the next few days in your bed with no phone and no remote to turn the tv on, strict guidelines: Rest, rest, rest! Tobin took the doc very serious, she wouldn‘t risk more damage. The little meet up with your girl was already to much after the knock from Chapman. Even though the moms where at training they made sure you had everything, a bottle of water beside your bed and painkillers next to it, just in case.

Meanwhile Jess was going crazy. Why hadn‘t you replied to her texts? Did the moms forbid you to contact her? Oh god, they didn‘t like her?! She tried to call you over and over, your phone ringing in Chris‘ bag as she was doing drills with her team mates.

"You good, Jess?" Sinc asked the young canadian as she saw how she was biting her lip nervously, her fingers playing with the hem of her hoodie.

"Huh? Yeah! I‘m fine" the midfielder replied. She wasn't convincing so Sinc took a seat beside her. She nudged the shoulder of the young canadian, silently asking what‘s wrong. "She isn‘t answering" she admitted, her ears turning red, "the only text she sent was a good morning which was hours ago"

"So? Maybe she‘s at training?"

"No, no. She has to be in bed because of her concussion"

"Well then, maybe she‘s sleeping" the older woman tried to ease Jessie‘s mind but with no success, she could see that her brain was working on high speed, trying to figure out what‘s wrong. "I just feel like something is off, you know? Like something happened."

The only thing Christine could do now was support her, "If you think someting is off then go to her." a big smile spread across the face of the small canadian "you think?"

"If you don‘t, you have to wait until she answers"

-

Knocking on your door, Jess was nervous. Shortly after her talk with Sinc the midfielder went to your hotel, it took her some time but she made it. She didn‘t know why she was nervous, you were her girlfriend after all yet the thought of an angry Tobin Heath opening the door was scary. Her knock wasn‘t too loud, she didn‘t want to make your headache worse though the knock was loud enough to be heard. "Hello?" you rasped out as you opened the door. "Hi" your girl said, shuffling with her feet.

"What‘re you doing here?" you looked down the hall before you pulled her in to her room. "You didn‘t answer my texts" you chuckled as you placed yourself back on the bed. "I don‘t have my phone," patting the spot next to you to signal her she should join you. "Why?" She asked, taking her shoes off, joining you. Immediately, your head rested on her chest as her arms wrapped around you. "Chris has it and the remote as well. I‘m so bored, you can‘t even imagine," you stated, melting in the embrace of your lover. "I get that, baby, but why?" While lips were pressed against your forehead, you answered, "strict doc rules 'cause I passed out. Tobin is being overprotective" in to her chest, slowly getting tired. The whole day, you‘d been laying around, doing nothing yet couldn‘t sleep but with your lovers arms around the tiredness started to set in. "You passed out?" The midfielder asked shocked, she knew something was off. "Yeah, i‘m alright though, just need to rest" your eyes shutting at the end of your sentence. "I love you" was the last thing you said before you fell in to deep slumber.

Freshly showered, the team got back to the hotel, Chris and Tobs already on her way to your room. As they opened the door and stepped in to the room, they could see the brunette you were hugging, both of you deep and fast asleep. Christen laughed softly; the two of you couldn‘t be away from each other. Even Tobin smiled, seeing you like this. Normally, she would have gone all protective but something in her was telling her that she was seeing the right thing, Jess was the right 'thing'

"They‘re adorable" said person stated, slinging her arm around the dark haired women who could only agree.

Sleeping in your lovers arms will always be the best kind of recovery.

————————

[l1tw1ck]

Dressed Up & Knocked Up

bottom!ftm!yandere gorou x top!masc!kitsune reader

↳ W.C: 957

↳ [Event Request] | ↳ [No AFAB Language Ver]

CW: Non-Con, Aphrodisiac, Breeding, Nipple Sucking, Overstimulation, Knotting, Manipulation

You, Yae [Name], sibling of Yae Miko, run the Yae Publishing House together. Meaning you know Ms. Hina well, very well. In fact, Ms. Hina is right here in your house.

"This looks amazing on you! I knew I made the right choice in choosing this fabric." You admire the new outfit you created for Ms. Hina's meet and greet.

"Thank you." Gorou smiles demurely. "I got you something, for your hard work." He hands you a small box of candies.

"Aw, really? I appreciate that a lot, Gorou, thank you." You eat one, tasting your favorite flavor. "How did you know I liked this?"

"Lucky guess." Gorou smiles.

As the sibling to a mischievous kitsune, you can tell when someone's got something up their sleeve.

You brushed it off, thinking your suspicions were wrong but you soon found out otherwise.

Your vision goes blurry, eyes focused on the very attractive guy in front of you. You try not to think about how much you'd like to devour him right now.

"Are you okay?" Gorou's voice only adds fuel to your fire of arousal. "Do you need water?" He notices you stumbling and helps you, your head hovering over his shoulder. He smells so good.

You slam him against the wall and bring him into a messy, heated kiss. You lift his legs up and search for his underwear, finding nothing but his wet sex. You don't think much of it, besides the consistent need to breed him, and pull off your pants.

Gorou wraps his arms and legs around you as you force yourself into him. You part from the kiss, only to focus on his neck. You kiss and lightly nip at his flesh as you get yourself fully inside him.

He leans back, moaning euphorically as you fulfill his long time fantasy. It's too bad he had to drug you though. You don't waste much time and start pounding into his pussy ruthlessly. Your nails dig into his sides as you bask in the amazing feeling of being inside him.

"Gonna- gonna come-" You groan, the aphrodisiac so strong that you can't help but spill inside him after a few minutes of fucking him. Gorou falls in love with the feeling of your cum filling his insides. Due to the aphrodisiac, this won't be the last time you come inside and knowing that almost makes him have an orgasm too.

You take out the padding from his chest and pull the front part down so you can suck on his nipples, thrusting into him slowly.

Gorou whimpers in pleasure and moans your name. "Ah- yes-" He grins.

You switch to his other nipple and speed up your thrusts, causing Gorou to erupt into loud wanton moans.

He rolls his eyes back, shaking heavily as he comes. He chokes out moans as you continue to fuck him without a care for him at all. You move back to his other nipple, wanting to give both of them equal love. Gorou squirms around, barely able to handle the pleasure.

You move him to your kitchen, the closest place to your office with a mostly empty surface, and bring him onto the table. You grab hold of his legs and use them as leverage to fuck him harder.

Gorou’s moans increase in their amount and loudness as he reaches his peak, his tight walls convulsing around your cock.

You slow down for a few moments and look at Gorou. He looks so pretty splayed out in his Ms. Hina outfit, if you were sober you’d be treating him a lot more gently in favor of not ruining your hard work.

You suddenly speed up, resuming your previous pace. You move back to his chest, licking the wet bud before sucking on it again.

Gorou doesn't understand your obsession with his nipples but he's not complaining. He cries out your name, squeezing your cock tightly thanks to the overstimulation. Drool and tears drip down his face, both due to how good he feels and how elated he is that his “lover” is finally fucking him.

He’s guilty of multiple crimes but they're all for you, so you can love him, and his efforts have finally come to fruition.

“Yes~! More!” Gorou moans, grinning stupidly.

You switch over to his other nipple while quickening your attack on his sensitive pussy. So sensitive that it doesn't take much for him to come again. You groan in pleasure, loving the way he feels when he orgasms.

It causes you to come a second time, spilling your cum into him but this time forming a knot, making sure he's properly bred. You bite his chest, a circle of bite marks forming around his nipple. You do the same to the other side and then to his neck, digging your teeth in so deep that he bleeds. So deep, that he becomes your mate.

You wake up on your bed, unsure of how you got there. Your knot has yet to go down so you’re still inside Gorou, who’s sleeping peacefully with a smile on his face.

You quickly go to wake him up, panicking at the fact that he's likely going to end up carrying your child.

Gorou’s eyes slowly flutter open. “Mm?” He asks.

“I- I don't know what happened but- but we can't- I can't..” You frown. “I can't have a kid, I’m not ready, I-”

“You’re going to leave me? This is your fault!” He starts to fake cry. “You- you forced me to have sex with you!”

Your heart pangs. “I…I’m sorry, Gorou. I didn't know…I don't know what got into me..”

“I…I’ll forgive you, if you stay with me.”

“Okay..”

Gorou hugs you tightly. “Thank you.”

[ponytailzuko]

my miraculous "enemies" au

i wanted to post something to give context to art i post so here it is! i think you can consider this my "miraculous rewrite" if you want to call it that...? but its just me wanting everyone trying to steal each others miraculous. that's literally it. i love drama. details under the cut:

The Premise:

When Fu was a child training with the Order, they left him to guard a Miracle Box for as long as possible without food or water. Eventually, Fu got curious - he opened the box and a beautiful array of animals spilled out. Tikki and Plagg act like the angel and devil on Fu's shoulder: Plagg, along with many of the other kwamis, urge Fu to use his Miraculous to transform in order to get food from the kitchens. Tikki warns him otherwise, but Fu transforms with the Peacock and the Black Cat, and the destructive power of his emotions go on a rampage, destroying the Order.

In the destruction, Fu loses most of the miraculous and the grimoire. They're scattered all across the world, falling into different people's hands. Tikki vows to help Fu rectify his mistake of trusting Plagg and help recover the lost miraculous.

What Does This Change?

Miraculouses and grimoire pages are spread around the world, so magic is pretty commonplace. Superheroes and supervillains have existed in Paris before "canon."

Adrien finds the Black Cat independently from the Guardian. He makes a deal with Plagg - freedom for freedom. Plagg gives Adrien powers that allow Adrien to get out of the house, and Adrien lets Plagg do whatever otherwise - no commands, unlike his past holders.

Hints of the Black Cat hit the news and Fu sees it. Fu is out of shape, and the Black Cat holder looks young. Tikki goes out to choose a new holder - Marinette. Marinette is mostly the same in this; she uses the Ladybug for stopping supervillains, but this time she doesn't have a partner.

The Black Cat has a terrible reputation... After all, Plagg was locked up in the Miracle Box and never used for a reason. Ever since its been out, people have used it for horrific purposes. Fu and TIkki are sure that Chat Noir must be up to something. If he's not, then it'd still be safer to keep Plagg in the box. Marinette, with no experience, takes their advice to heart.

Instead, she and CN are 'frenemies.' They end up working together to defeat supervillains, but before Ladybug gets the chance to take his Miraculous, something always goes wrong!

Chat Noir is unaware that Ladybug is working for the Guardian. He assumes she also gained her miraculous independently and he wants to be friends! He's never made friends before, though... why do his attempts keep going so poorly!?

When Chat Noir does figure out what Ladybug is trying to do, it turns into a competition on who can steal one another's Miraculous first. Plagg is adamant to never be put back in the box again.

When Chat Noir is first spotted in Paris, Hawkmoth doesn't reveal himself at all. Instead, he akumatizes people to try and lure CN (+LB) out and assess them. LB + CN are both unaware that the supervillains they put behind bars are actually akumatized. He tries to pit them against each other until the two accidentally break an object and discover an akuma. Oops :/

Eventually, after discovering Hawkmoth's existence, Ladybug and Chat Noir make a "truce" to work together to defeat him before getting back to their business (trying to take each other's miraculous lmao).

i have so many little things in this au and a bunch of doodles that i'll finish one day, but that's the general gist. later on, other characters get miraculous (also independently) which you know... it adds to it. writing isn't my personal forte and this is too much for more than the occasional comic from me. so i might write an outline for how i'd write the full thing at some point. (shrug)

TLDR: Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Hawkmoth all want each other's miraculous and team up and break up in different combos until eventually Ladybug and Chat Noir team up like in canon.

edit:

[moog-rt]

ɪɴ ᴀɴᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴜɴɪᴠᴇʀꜱᴇ [ch.2]

[Shigaraki Tomura x Fem!Reader]

Beginning: Prologue

Previous: Chapter One

➨ Chapter Two

Next: Chapter Three

Premise:

The multiverse theory is the idea that there is not only one universe but, instead, an infinite number of universes, parallel to one another.

You and Tenko were heroes in your universe. The war came and went, and that left only you. When you are thrown into a universe parallel to yours, you find out the hard way just how similar and different it is from your own.

♡

If you'd prefer to read on Ao3, here is the link:

Otherwise, enjoy!

♡ ♡ ♡

CHAPTER TWO

The stranger’s striking red eyes narrowed as he hesitantly took the bag from you. It was hard to see behind the hair covering his face, but you noticed the skin around his eyes seemed dry and irritated. It was obvious he had been scratching at it, as well.

You were looking at him for too long, and once you realized it, you shuffled backward. A glance at the person to his side revealed a middle-aged woman slightly taller than you with straight black hair and bangs cut across her forehead. Her outfit led you to believe she worked some sort of office job, very put together in contrast to the man’s grungy, all-black look.

The two of them were an odd duo but pretty ordinary otherwise.

So why did it feel like you had a pit in your stomach when you looked at them?

It took you a moment to notice the expression on the woman’s face, wide-eyed like she’d seen a ghost. She could only take a single shaky step towards you before the man moved in front of her, forcing your focus to return to him. You had to admit, he had a bit of an unsettling energy around him, characteristic of a villain. But you had picked up his receipt, and the list appeared long enough to cover everything he was carrying.

“Thanks,” he mumbled in such a gravelly tone that you could barely recognize it as a word. He turned and walked away, but the woman stayed frozen for a moment until her eyes flickered over to her companion. Her eyebrows pressed together, and she reluctantly followed.

You couldn’t pull your eyes away as you watched them make their way down the block and around the corner. Something was urging you to go after them, like a tether wrapped around your torso, tugging you forward. Intuition was such a fickle thing, and, after leading you astray enough times, you found it hard to trust.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk back to the station when you noticed a couple of bottles of water and a bag of chips still scattered on the ground. Picking them up, you trotted after the duo in hopes of catching them in time to return the forgotten items, but, when you peered around the corner, they were gone. The sidewalk was almost entirely empty, save for an older man who seemed to be fiddling with his smart phone.

With a heavy sigh, you walked back to the convenience store and left the belongings with the cashier in case the two came back for them. As you began your trek back to the station, you were going to send another report through your communicator before noticing the screen’s display. You frowned.

‘Server Error’

Quickly, you made a call to your agency using your cellphone, feeling you may have better luck that way. Your fingers were crossed as you waited to be directed to the automated message that would filter calls to their appropriate responders. There was a moment of silence and then a flat hum was all you could hear.

Your eyebrows pinched together.

Something was wrong.

Assuming the worst, you cancelled your plans to check in with the officers at the station and instead made a b-line for the agency. The only reason the phone line wouldn’t work would be due to outside interference. You could remember it happening once before when there was a group of villains attacking the building. It wasn’t outrageous to suspect that Dai Uchuu could have headed in that direction and initiated an assault on your colleagues.

Your legs were starting to ache from all the running you were doing, and you were sure they were relieved when you finally skidded to a halt in front of your agency—

Well, what should have been your agency.

Instead, you found yourself looking up at an old warehouse that seemed like it could collapse any second. You were certain you were at the right address. You knew this part of the city like the back of your hand.

So what the fuck was going on?

What do you do in this situation? Who do you call?

The cops were already busy handling that goon who was on the loose, so you figured they were out of the question. He couldn’t have teleported your entire building and swapped it with another one, could he? Everybody’s quirks had their limits.

Maybe…

Maybe you were just tired. Maybe you got the addresses mixed up after all, took a turn one block too early.

Maybe you just needed to go home and go to sleep. Too many nights of sleep deprivation can fog the brain, and you wouldn’t be surprised if that was the cause of your confusion.

Yeah…it was probably best if you just went home. You reported what you could, the police were on the case, and if they needed backup, there were countless other agencies for them to reach out to.

You were calling it a night.

As you slowly made your way back home, you were pretty sure you passed the same old man you’d seen by the convenience store earlier. Your eyes met, so you gave him a courteous smile. He grinned impossibly wide in response, causing your expression to falter. You walked past each other without further exchange.

Just when you thought the night couldn’t get any stranger, you found that your apartment building had vanished, as well. An empty gravel lot filled the space where it should have been, accessorized by two small signs. One announcing that the land was recently sold, and the other advertised the planned construction of a new apartment building.

Your apartment building. As if it hadn’t yet been built…

You were so tired, so tired and so confused and so frustrated you felt like you were going to break down into tears. Your heart was pounding. Your hands were trembling. And you could feel a tension headache pressing harshly against your temples.

You had no clue what you were supposed to do in this sort of scenario. It had gotten fairly late, and you needed someplace to stay. You knew she would be busy, but calling Toga was the best idea you could come up with at that moment.

You clicked on her contact and held your phone to your ear. Just as it began ringing through, the ringtone of someone else’s phone sounded off not twenty feet away from you. Having not noticed anyone around, you were mildly startled and glanced over at the source.

Your body stiffened when you saw the same old man you’d passed earlier, the same one that was nearby the convenience store. He fumbled with his phone for a moment and studied the screen. His eyes widened when he noticed your gaze honed on him. He slowly turned his phone off and slipped it back in his pocket before beginning to walk towards you.

To hell with it all.

You barely registered you were sent to voicemail as you whipped around to start hauling ass down the street. You were going to find whatever hotel or motel or bed and breakfast was closest and hunker down there for the night. Everything else could be sorted out in the morning.

If you remembered correctly, there should be a pretty nice hotel only a few streets down. You felt like kissing the ground when, finally , there was a building exactly where it should be. You’d never been actually been inside, but the familiar entrance was a sight for sore eyes. As you walked inside, the warm glow of countless lamps and chandeliers worked to soothe and dispel all the stress that had been building up within you.

Your shoulders went slack, and you dragged a hand across your face while making your way up to the front desk. Both receptionists were busy with customers, and there was one other person still waiting to be helped, so you took your place behind them.

It was a pretty stereotypical hotel. There was a small gift shop that doubled as a convenience store for the sorry souls who forgot a toiletry or two at home. There was also a common area with a large TV for folks to lounge and keep up with the news.

At the moment, they were reporting on the Overhaul raid that you helped with a few years back. It was pretty old news, so you weren’t sure why it was being brought up again unless there was new information pertaining to the incident. Perhaps it was due to the villain you were after since he was an asset to the gang during that fight. Your eyes squinted as you read the headline crossing the screen.

‘One week since Overhaul’s arrest’

You had barely any time to process what all that statement entailed before one of the receptionists called you forward. You booked your room and handed over your ID and credit card while throwing occasional glances back at the flatscreen. You thanked the receptionist after he handed you the keycard to your room and turned your back on the TV.

Overhaul was in detainment. If he’d gotten out, you certainly would have heard about it. Especially if a whole week had passed. They were likely replaying an old broadcast at the request of a customer, and if that wasn’t the case, it was a problem for tomorrow.

As soon as you’d gotten to your room and your head hit the pillow, you were out.

♡

You’d think after getting a full night’s rest you’d be able to get a good grasp on what was going on. However, the scowl on your face grew more and more prominent with each t-shirt you flipped through. Frankly, you were offended that the hotel you lived so close to for the past year sold clothing that donned some of the most notorious villains you knew.

The owners themselves must have rooted for them during the war. That was the only thing that made sense. It was either that or they had a really sick sense of humor.

Who in their right mind would sell merchandise for villains? Especially out in the open? 

Seeing as you didn’t want to be walking around town in your soaked hero suit all day, you would have to make a decision sooner or later. Pick the lesser of…way more than two evils. You didn’t bother sparing a glance at one you recognized immediately as All Might.

That guy could pound sand. He was certainly one of the worst villains you had to face. He and his little protege were the whole reason there was a war in the first place. They were the reason your life was as fucked up as it was.

Maybe you’d buy it just to desecrate it in whatever way you could. It could serve as therapy!

You pulled a shirt and a pair of inoffensive shorts from the rack and checked out at the counter. The cashier gave you a weird glance, avoiding direct eye contact with you much like many of the other hotel-goers. You weren’t sure if it was because you were in full hero garb or because your clothing was soaked to the bone.

Either way, you couldn’t wait to get into something dry. Wiggling into your tight, wet suit this morning was one of the most skin crawling sensations you’ve experienced. You did, however, blow dry the shit out of your bra and underwear. It was less tedious than doing your entire suit, and you weren’t about to go commando top and bottom for the whole day.

After changing, you officially started your day with the complimentary breakfast buffet the hotel offered. As you ate, you had only that massive flatscreen to entertain you, so you followed along to whatever the news was reporting on. A half an hour of that left you recognizing an odd pattern.

Every ‘hero’ you’d see was supposed to be a villain, and for some godforsaken reason, they were working towards the arrests of people you knew to be true heroes. How they managed to brainwash all of society—or at least that particular news station—you had no clue. Maybe you really were just staying in some pro-villain hotel that played propaganda to please their pro-villain occupants.

That was what you wanted to believe.

However, that wouldn’t explain why your agency and apartment building were AWOL. A single, pro-villain hotel wouldn’t cause all of the police at the station to reappear out of nowhere—which you were embarrassed to admit you hadn’t even noticed at first—or the sudden change in weather. There was no way to explain why there wasn’t even a hint of rainwater left on the sidewalk last night even though there had been a downpour not five minutes earlier.

It was as if you were on another planet. It was similar enough for you the recognize, but everything was so wrong.

Oh—

And the icing on the cake?

Apparently, you went back in time roughly three years. At least that’s what the dates on the news suggested. They also implied that you were nearing the end of summer when you knew for a fact that spring had only just sprung.

So, again, you wanted to believe that the hotel you were staying at was the cause for all of your confusion. However, you knew damn well that wasn’t the reason why everything was screwed up and backwards.

It wasn’t like you could just turn around and ignore the situation that had unfolded all around you, so you opted into delving deeper into the chaos. If you wanted to understand what was going on, you’d have to do some digging into what the new ‘status quo’ was.

How many villains were now considered heroes and vice versa?

You began by searching for the first thing that caught your eye since arriving at the hotel, Chisaki Kai’s arrest. One of the first articles you selected saved you some time by answering a few of your burning questions. You didn’t have to read very far before you were introduced to a prominent villain organization. It was like the universe wanted to rub it in your face that nearly all the people who had worked alongside you for years were no longer considered the heroes.

Skimming over the rest of the article confirmed more of what you suspected. The villains you remembered fighting when infiltrating the yakuza’s hideout played the roles of heroes instead.

Your next search was ‘the League of Villains.’

There were several public databases that listed all of the members’ names, quirks, photos, and any other information gathered on them. Your frown deepened as you scrolled through one of them. You recognized your old friends immediately. Toga looked like she was back in high school, but the uniform she was wearing didn’t belong to UA. Spinner’s outfit was also the only thing really different about him.

Touya, though…

Touya looked so different, you couldn’t tell it was him at first. His hair was no longer white and fluffy, and the horrifically burned skin that hung onto his face by a handful of staples was a new addition. At least his eyes were the same. The only reason you didn’t scroll past him was because his quirk was listed beneath his name—a name which did nothing to help you identify him.

Dabi.

Not once had you ever heard him be referred to as that.

You paused once got to Magne. Within the extra information on her profile was a statement proclaiming her deceased. You shouldn’t have been terribly surprised to read that. You knew Magne was killed in an altercation with Chisaki. Though her role in society was different, it seemed her fate remained the same.

However, your heart grew light as you read the information under Jin. He was alive. It made sense considering the war was still on the horizon at this point, so you shouldn’t have gotten as excited as you did. But it was years since you last saw him. You scrolled back up to revisit Touya’s profile to see he hadn’t died yet either.

If they were both still alive and well, that would mean that Tenko…

You flew down the rest of the list to find him. You completely scrolled past Astuhiro and Muscular and that mustard gas kid that ended up flunking out of his internship. You didn’t even spare a glance at profiles containing people you didn’t recognize. You reached the end of the page, but there was nothing on Shimura Tenko.

But just below some guy with a mop of light blue hair was a profile that you were certain belonged to you . You were listed under your hero name instead of your real one, and your quirk was also described to a T. Your age was estimated, but it was pretty close, and, in the photo they had of you, your face was almost entirely obscured by a mask.

Out of pure curiosity, you looked up your name next. The very first result made your hair stand on end. It wasn’t a link to another article, but a picture. In this one, your face was clear as day, but what caused you concern were the bold red letters above your head, spelling out ‘MISSING.’

A frenzied few minutes of scanning article after article on your apparent disappearance gained you only a minimal amount of information. The most notable was that the last time you were seen was just before Chisaki’s hideout was infiltrated. You could recall you were pretty messed up from that fight after one of the yakuza members nearly killed you with a moving pillar.

This time around, however, no hospitals reported taking you in as a patient. It was entirely possible that—if you were a ‘villain’—you were taken to one of the underground medical facilities instead. Hospitals that helped criminals and kept it confidential were far and few between, but it was no secret that they existed.

That was your best guess as to where this version of you could be. That fight had rendered you bedridden for weeks, so the timing added up.

With that somewhat squared away, the last thing you looked up was Tenko. According to everything else you’d seen, he should still be alive, but the results of your search proved you to be quite wrong in that assessment.

They all dated back 18 years—well 15 years if you were going off the date circled on the receptionist’s calendar—and reported on a ‘terrible accident’ that resulted in the death of the entire Shimura household. Officials believed it to be due to a villain attack, but there was no hard proof of anything due to the nature of the incident.

Everything you read made your blood run cold and your heart felt as though it was being constricted. They had invited you to countless family dinners and holidays. Their house was still standing, you knew that for a fact. There was no way they could all be dead.

That never happened. Those articles were bullshit. Everything you’ve seen in the last 24 hours was bullshit .

You didn’t know why everything was so backwards and messed up, but you knew that none of it was real. You were experiencing some sort of delusion, likely caused by that villain you got caught up with last night. Having more than one quirk was rare, but everything started going wrong after your brief altercation.

You had no clue how long your situation would last, but your best bet was to find him and make him put an end to it. You figured it could be a while until everything went back to normal considering you had no idea as to where he could be. When pursuing a villain with a quirk like his, you needed to be prepared to play the long game.  

Your dishes nearly clattered to the ground as you haphazardly bussed your table.

It was time for a day out on the town. The last time you went on a shopping spree had to be when you were moving into your apartment a year ago, and that was only because you had to get the ‘necessities’ for basic living. Silverware, shower curtains, and what have you. It was mostly due to lack of energy and motivation that you shut yourself away with the same pair of sweats until you wore holes in the thighs.

With confusion and panic rattling around your head, the adrenaline was fueling you into productivity. Even if it didn’t last the whole day, it could at least get you to the shopping district. You needed an outfit or two that didn’t have you repping a guy who felt no remorse for blowing out people’s eardrums.

A toothbrush and toothpaste would also be nice.

The commute was shorter than you expected, but you weren’t complaining. After you got everything you needed, you planned on connecting with any hero agencies that weren’t villains in disguise. Your fingers were crossed at least one or two of those still existed. If all else failed, you’d call the cops or something.

As you walked out of the train station, you checked your bank app to see what kind of price limit you’d need to put on yourself for the day. You were a successful hero, but your industry didn’t have the funding like it used to. Even though your pay wasn’t bad, you still needed to be on top of budgeting.

You felt your stomach twist from the surprisingly small number looking back at you. Your checking account was at a fraction of what it should be. There was no way you spent that much since your last paycheck. Sure, you ordered a lot of delivery, but that could hardly break the bank. You checked your transactions to find your hotel room deposit had already processed along with several other purchases you couldn’t recall making.

On top of everything else that was happening, of course your bank account would get hacked. You probably swiped your card through one of those tapped readers, and now some basement dweller was going to town with your money.

You suppressed a heaving groan as you put away your phone and changed your first stop to the ATM machine that was conveniently down the block. Whoever was using your money should only have access to your checking account. However, when you went to transfer money over to withdraw as cash, you noticed your savings was also significantly depleted. You groaned and took out as much money as you could, leaving nothing left for the freeloader.

The shopping district was bustling with people, some shoving past each other around to get where they needed to go while others wandered aimlessly as they window shopped. The thought of fighting your way through a crowd was enough to sap away a good bit of your energy. Yet you still had enough to dive your way into the pool of people.

Instant regret.

You were jostled around like pinball as you pushed forward, cursing at every elbow and shoulder that jabbed into you. As long as you could make it to even one clothing store, you would be satisfied. Once you bought what you needed, you’d run for the hills.

A rough hand wrapped around your neck just when you thought you’d found a way through. It held you in place, frozen as people swarmed around you. Instinctually, your hands flew up to grasp at it and pull yourself free, but it only tightened as a result. You winced as you attempted to look over your shoulder to see who your assailant was with no success.

“Stay quiet or I won’t think twice about killing you,” the person growled, his words hot against your ear. His thumb dragged up your throat until it met the edge of your jaw. “I suggest the next time you steal someone’s identity you should at least have a basic understanding of their ideals.”

Your stomach lurched at the sound of the man’s voice. It was both familiar and foreign.

“What are you talking about?” you asked in a harsh breath. Again, you tried to look back at the man, but his hand tightened around your throat to hold your head in place.

“Don’t be stupid. She wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a garbage t-shirt like that,” he hissed. His face was so close you could feel your hair shift as he spoke.

You looked around, trying to catch the eye of any passerby, but no one spared a glance at you. They just shifted around you and went on with their business.

For a hero, you weren’t a big fighter. Your quirk had more strategic uses, none of which helped much with physical altercations. If anything, it was best used for defense. In the scenario you were currently stuck in, it would be minimal help. Freezing the clothing of the man behind you would further trap you in his grasp.

“I mean, it wasn’t my first choice, but I didn’t have many options,” you strained out. If you couldn’t wiggle your way out of this ordeal, you’d have to rely on whatever charisma you had left in you. “It beats me why a place would sell clothes that rep some of the worst people in today’s society.”

“Are you trying to be convincing?” He put pressure on the back of your neck, forcing you to start moving forward. “You didn’t even recognize me last night. It only takes the bare minimum amount of research to at least get that right.”

Last night?

You ran into a bunch of people. You couldn’t be certain which one he was.

“I was a bit preoccupied last night. Maybe if you actually let me see you, I’d know who you were—”

He twisted your head around to face him.

You weren’t expecting him to be the young man from the convenience store. The woman he was with had behaved strangely, but he didn’t seem to think twice about you from what you could recall.

You scoured your brain for any hint of where you would know him from. Once again, he was wearing a mask to obscure his face. His complexion was unfamiliar, but…

His voice.

You knew his voice from somewhere. You knew it right away, but you couldn’t put your finger on where it was from. Your eyes bore into his as if they would tell you.

The corner of your lips fell along with your heart. You wished you could say you found your answer, but that would contradict all the articles you read.

His voice was raspier than you remember, as if he was sick, and the skin condition around his eyes took over a larger portion of his face. Despite that, it was undeniably him.

“Tenko?” you whispered, leaning closer to him as his grip around your neck became noticeably weaker.

His eyes went wide as his head jerked back slightly. “How—”

“Oh my god.” Your throat grew tight of your own accord. You swiped at your eyes as your vision began to blur.

Were you really seeing clearly?

Was any of this even real?

You didn’t care. If all of this was a build up to a dream, you hoped it would last forever.

“Oh my god,” you cried. He stumbled back as you threw yourself against him. You wrapped your arms around his torso and pressed your face into his neck. You clung to him like your life depended on it. It felt too real to be a dream.

His body was stiff as he looked down at you, alarmed. “What are you—”

“How are you here?” you choked out before leaning back to look at him. “How are you here ?!”

He glanced around at the people who had begun staring at the two of you. Grabbing a fistful of your shirt, he hauled you out of the crowd.

You pushed away from him, taking several steps back. Your hands dragged up your face and through your hair as your eyes darted around your surroundings. Hot tears were streaking down your cheeks.

“What is happening ?” you sobbed.

♡ ♡ ♡

➨ Chapter Three

taglist: @boogiemansbitch @multisstuff

[brooooswriting]

82 with carol danvers! 🥹

top service carol x switch reader pretty please! when reader pretends to be mad at carol after being intimate so carol gets all whiney and soft because she is 😭

just watched the marvels and she is just so babie gurl i can't right now.

Very good

I love soft Carol, send Carol requests 🥰

82. “Did I do good?”

Carol heaved on top of you as you came down from your high, her hips slowing as she pressed kisses to your lips. You were laying on her ‘bed’ in the spaceship next to the giant window, but no matter how beautiful the view was the view on top of you was way better. Her lips were unbelievably soft on yours as she kissed you softly building a contrast to how she was railing you minutes ago.

But as nice as this moment was you had a mission. Carol has been pranking you back and forth for weeks and now you decided to get back at her. So when she finally pulled out and fell on the bed next to you, you turned your head towards the big window, starring at the stars. Normally you would be all over each other, cuddling and kissing softly to make sure the other was fine. Without even looking you could sense that she was confused. “Love?” She whispered as she scooted closer, her front pressing into your side.

You could hear a small whine escape her when you didn’t move. “Baby? Can you talk to me?” She asked, her voice small as her hand rubbed over your arm. A sigh left her when there was no response. Again. So she turned away to stand up, “I’ll get everything ready for aftercare” she added before walking away.

Truth be told, you felt bad but a) she had pranked you so much that she kinda deserved it and b) she was unbelievably cute when she got all soft and whiny. You turned your head to watch her walk towards the bathroom and then into the kitchen. When she came back she send you a small smile, it was timid and unsure. “I got you a water, a granola bar and I’m preparing a bath” you grumbled a thanks and took the water from her as she sat on the edge of the bed, her hand immediately gravitating towards you.

“Did I do good? I-was it enough? I’m sorry if I made you mad or anything, I-“ you couldn’t listen to her anymore, while you loved her whiney being you did not want to feed into her self doubt.

“You did good baby, very good” you told her as you placed the empty glass on the bed to give her the physical touch she needed. “Come here, I’m sorry” you mumbled as you engulfed her into your arms for a short moment. “Bath?” She nodded and stood up her hand extended for you to grab. She led you into the bathroom and stopped the water flow before helping you into the bathtub.

You looked at her confused as she didn’t make a move to get into the tub too, instead just looking at you with a small pout. “What’s wrong princess? Why are you dressed and not in here?” You asked, extending your hand the moment her oversized shirt hit the ground. A blush still covering her cheeks from the nickname. Once she stood in the tub she didn’t really move until you asked what was wrong. But the only response you got was a whine, “Care bear, you gotta talk to me. I don’t know what you want otherwise” you told her but she still only whined. “Sit down love” you helped her sit on your lap, your arms quickly wrapping around her waist to pull her into you.

“Did I really do good?” She mumbled as her head leaned against your left shoulder.

You placed a couple of soft kisses along her neck while answering. “You did so good, you pleased me so well. Made me cum so hard that I saw stars for a while because you did so good” you mumbled over and over, reassuring her the best you could. Her hands intertwined themselves behind your neck in hopes to get even closer to you, her soft side showing even more than before. “So pretty and so good princess” you whispered into her ear making her whimper and blush at the same time, a small smile erupting on your lips.

It was silent until she started to mumble something you didn’t understand, “what was that?” You asked, your thumb stroking her side underwater.

“Kiss” you couldn’t help but smile as she repeated her mumble. “Come here” you carefully pulled her face from your shoulder so you could plant several soft but firm kisses on her lips, never really deepening them as you didn’t want to overwhelm her.

Once the water was cold you both got out and not even 15 minutes later you were dressed in an oversized shirt and underwear. You were both laying under the same fluffy blanket while watching something on the Tv you installed at the foot of the bed. You started while laying next to each other on your backs, arms still touching but at some point Carol whined at the minimum contact you had. She climbed in front of you, sitting between your legs and leaning back into your chest as your arms found their place around her waist.

“I thought you were mad at me earlier” she suddenly confessed in a small voice making you cringe inside. You placed a kiss on top of her head and tightened your arms.

“I’m sorry, I wanted to prank you but it wasn’t fun in the end” you confessed with a guilty grin. She gasped and turned slightly to lightly hit your shoulder.

“You’re such an ass” she laughed but still pressed a kiss to the underside of your jaw.

“I love you baby, and you did very very good” you reassured her again, mumbling into her hair. She sank even deeper into you with a content sigh this time.

“I love you too”

[aliorsboxostuff]

hi V3 I am so sorry i am BLOWING UP YOUR INBOX OMGGG but I totally forgot the character Id like is Hobie, I think cause I was talking about him I thought I said his name but i forgor ty bae ily 🤗🤗🗣️‼️‼️‼️‼️

HOBIEEE gotta be my fav 2nd to Miguel, i’m working on a fanart of that cool mf too. He’s such an interesting character to write, i’m honestly pretty sad i only thought something so short for this HC’s T-T I hope you enjoy this though big man, Hobie is definitely the type to hang out with you when youre going through those rough times <3

"Anythin' you wanna be."

Tags: Hobie Brown & ftm!Reader, fluff, dysphoria, Headcanons, going through those tough times, Hobie being the Homie he is, Reader is implied a Spider-person, But also up to interpretation, Comfort and Fluff, no angst

Hobie Brown headcanons for anyone that’s going through those dysphoric episodes <3

first of all, let's get one thing straight here: Hobie FULLY SUPPORTS you being trans

He doesn't see you as anything fem aligned unless said otherwise

lets you crash in his universe, especially when you need it

he thrifts a lot of big and baggy jackets and sweaters, only to give them to you saying he "bought the wrong size"

There's definitely a couple of sweaters from his own wardrobe that you've stolen

you've definitely worn his jacket that he usually wears over his spidey suit, it makes you feel as cool as him

he made you your own jacket, with a trans pin and another with his Spidey logo

lets you borrow anything you want because he knows it makes you feel good 

the type to check in on you if you've been binding the whole day

When things get too much and you feel bad in your own skin, Hobie would spend time with you in his universe

he makes you a comfy fort blanket where you can stay and watch anything you please while he plucks the strings of his guitar on the floor

definitely, the type to get you anything you wanna eat when you've lost your appetite 

stays by your side, letting you lean on him when you seek comfort

If it gets too much as tears start to fall, he’ll hold you through it, brings you into his arms while you let all those feelings out

Rakes his fingers through your hair or just likes softly petting you if it helps you calm down 

completely understands if you need some alone time when dealing with dysphoria, making sure you have enough snacks and water before he leaves to hang somewhere else

he's the spokesperson whenever you wanna be left alone, making sure the others won't bother you too

Says "You're cooler than me mate, cooler than Miles too,"

says dumb shit like; "You are the manliest man to ever man," or "No one does a better job being a boy than you," Just to make you feel better

his side-eye game STRONG 💪dont look at you weird or he'll give them a bone-chilling, soul-crushing, ‘wish I was dead’ side eye

He and Pav is the type to make little trinkets for their friends tbh, he deff makes pins from bottle caps and gives them to you

His favorite spot to bring you when you feel down is near the top of any tall building, bringing snacks and a blanket. He says it makes him feel better knowing everyone is so small, and the world is huge, so in the end, nothing really matters and so be whatever the fuck you wanna be.

Requests are open! Reblogs are appreciated <3

[velvetcloxds]

KISS ME | J.M.

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: basically city girl kissing the pretty surfer boy in the ocean

summary: jj has been acting like your local tour guide since you came to the island on vacation and though you can't stay there forever, there's something else that you can do

“Trust me,” it was an easy ask, truly if you were to trust anyone to lead you into what you considered undeniable danger it would be him, JJ Maybank, blonde hair, sun-kissed skin, eyes that promised nothing but bad decisions, and unforgettable nights. You’d met him on your first night on the island, all dressed up in your cutest little tourist outfit walking around all the wrong places when you stumbled into him and his friends. You had a feeling he wasn’t this welcoming to all the tourists that washed ashore via overpriced fairy and first-class ticket, but you couldn’t deny the allure of running about with a local doing everything you wouldn’t dare to think of at home.

He'd taken you on an adventure you didn’t sign up for, took you walking among the trees, showed you all his favorite spots, hiding or otherwise, stopped at the mainland to show you all the little stores meant for people like you, even stood in line with you to buy one of those beautiful but in his opinion, cringy, overprized shell necklaces, though he made sure to lay on the compliments soon after he’d helped you put it on. The logical part of you considered that this wasn’t entirely wise, allowing a stranger to whisk you about a strange place without a second thought, you’d briefly envisioned your name on some newspaper back home, “tourist girl disappears after having the best month of her life”, alas you ignored reason and allowed him to continue to talk you into his insistent spontaneity.

“Trust you?” you scoffed, a foot testing the water before gently splashing him from where he stood holding a hand out to you, hoping that that dreamy smile would convince you to onto the boat with him, it was very convincing, you’d give him that but the water splashing around you wasn’t and it brought to mind very many other newspaper articles you could end up on. “I just met you a week ago, trust is a hard ask.”

“Have I given you any reason not to trust me yet?” low was his voice, magnetic, a siren song of sorts because you inched closer, biting back a squeal when the water climbed up to your knees, wetting your sundress in the process.

“You sure you know how to drive that thing?” he’d already answered that question at least ten times since he suggested this activity last night, twice at dinner when he helped you remove the shells from your shrimp, once more on the walk home when you stopped to see someone busking by the beach, again when he walked you to your hotel, again on the phone when you called to make sure he got home alright after you’d made him late- the rest was accounted for on the way here, yet he still smiled, playfully rolled his eyes and offered you the same answers as before.

“Yes, I’m sure. Now would you just come over here already,” and with a shaky sigh and a demand from your mind to stop being a baby about it you were taking his hand to have him help you onto the boat he’d borrowed from John B. You didn’t dare take note of the way his hands lingered on your waist, or the smirk on his lips when you gripped onto his wrist until you were safe, just as you hoped he didn’t notice you trying to hide the warmth spreading to your cheeks.

JJ gave you a moment to settle once the boat started moving, hands gripping the edge very tightly as he tried not to admire the sight of you too long, brushing an entirely out-of-character respectful hand over the small of your back as he passed you to the steering wheel, you couldn't look towards him, settling your gaze on the water around you, talking your nerves down.

The nerves in question settled lightly as soon as you went further in, the beauty something you could only imagine, finally being able to experience something you’d seen on the postcards you’d bought to tell your mother all about your time here. You’d gotten courage by the time he’d dropped anker, choosing the perfect spot for what he deemed a casual swim- eyes now locked with his as he took off his shirt, dragged a hand through his hair, preparing himself for his latest pitch.

“Are you planning on seducing me into the water, JJ?” you were only half teasing, partly because you knew that if that was his plan it might just work, and partly because the idea of getting into the water was even more terrifying than getting onto the water.

“Sweet talk yes,” he confirmed, and it was embarrassing how quickly your heartbeat spiked when he flicked the strings of your sundress, a measly little piece of fabric held together by dreams and wishes, it was the only bit of your mother you could bring with you, it deserved to experience this place too. “Seduce, only as a last resort,” you scoffed at that, humming when he slid his arms to either side of you to grip the handle behind you. “You trust me yet?” he had to know the answer to that by now, so when you nodded embarrassingly eagerly, you didn’t expect him to look so surprised, or so smug to be fair. “Well then,” he was careful, seemed to always be so around you, as he released one hand to pull at the strings he flicked at earlier, expert fingers opening your dress to reveal your bathing suit. A little wink was all you got before your sundress dropped to your feet and he was over the edge and into the water.

Be brave, was all you could remind yourself, taking another second to appreciate how beautiful everything around you was, how once in a lifetime the moment felt, and how you knew without a doubt that you’d regret it for the rest of your life if you didn’t go swimming in the ocean with one of the hottest guys that ever looked at you, so you did it. You slipped in slowly, reached for JJ immediately after you’d caught your breath and he was ready for it, settled his hands on your waist, and laughed lightly as you gripped his shoulders.

“Took your time,” he teased, and you could only smile, your head hadn’t caught up with you just yet, with the cold water lapping gently around you, the smell of salt lingering heavy in the air, the heat of the wind unlike how it felt at home, his body against yours, the feel of his fingers somehow still identifiable even under the water. “Talked yourself into it?”

“Just took it all in,” you shook your head, it was worthy of a thousand photos, you had to settle for capturing it in your head, securely filing it under the best few days you’d ever have, the perfect scenes, entries in diaries there weren’t enough pages to cover. “It’s amazing, everything has been so amazing, I wish I didn’t have to leave,” you were surprised you’d managed the sincerity while being so focused on his thumbs brushing ever so close to your hips, up and down matching the rhythm of the ocean.

“Why can’t you?” he challenged and though you knew it must seem so simple from where you were, had he had any idea what brought you here, what you’d run from, what you’d have to get back to, it would probably seem even simpler.

“We can’t always do everything that we want, surfer boy,” he flushed at the nickname, and stuck his tongue in his cheek, how you’d managed to make the most mundane words feel so perfectly special was beyond him. Moving his hands came naturally, instinct, pulling you closer partly because of the increased tide creeping in and because he knew this was it, the peak of your time together and he wanted to make the most of it, savor it, rush it, replay it every moment until he watched you leave.

“What about just one?” he suggested and you’d be left to wonder what on earth that meant had his eyes not drifted to your lips for a fleeting glance before meeting your eyes again, tinted cheeks though not of embarrassment as much as excitement. “What’s one thing you want that you can actually do,” you were happy for the bravery that survived from when you’d talked yourself down there.

“Kiss you,” you didn’t need much time to admit it, consider it, might as well face it and he knew you would, or hoped at least because it didn’t take him much time either to bring you flush against him, chest to chest, far closer than ever before, one hand tightening around his neck to assist you in pulling yourself up, the other though far from steady cupped his cheek. “I want to kiss you,” you breathed though far less certain, eager still but in a nervous, shaken way.

“Well, then, city girl,” he lifted a hand as well, climbed the surface all the way up to your head where he forced you to close the distance, his lips tasted of salt and coconut, perfectly fitting you managed to decide on before getting lost in the kiss and when you pulled away with a light giggle and newly wettened hair from the boat bumping into you, JJ swore he could kiss you all over again. “You could stay,” he argued, humming as you returned your hand to fall over the other, arms folded around his neck, no need for space now which is why you didn’t stray away from him brushing his nose against yours. “There’s still so much more I could show you,” you didn’t mean to shake your head so quickly and turn him down, but for once you didn’t want to think about what was next, only now.

“Kiss me again,” you demanded and you were perfectly in place to do it yourself really, but you needed him to stop talking. “Just stop talking and kiss me.”

“Now who is seducing who,” his words were laughably contradicting as he tapped your legs to have them wrap around his waist, hands drifting daringly low as he did just as you asked and selfishly he had no plans on stopping anytime soon.

[therealslimshakespeare]

As Requested: The Birth of Jesse and Ella

From the Sarge and lil Mama Universe

Warnings: pretty darn fluffy and sweet with the exception of descriptions of birth and labor, along with what might be considered disturbing inclusions of period typical insensitivity towards women’s wishes during labor and mention of a husband stitch

Word Count: 5k…a blurb was requested, well, uh, sorry about that

With excerpts from:

October, 1958 Memphis

Birth was awful, Elaine had always heard it, been cautioned of it, had the warning dumped like ice water on her motherly ambitions. You want a lotta kids? -just wait till you have to push a single one out. Elaine had expected it to hurt worse than anything she ever imagined but somehow, she thought it would feel more natural than this.

The pain was terrifyingly foreign and without a single cessation to get on top of it, the contractions put broken bones and smashed flesh to shame, and the helpless urge to do something was a floundering and aimless desperation that filled her with anxiety so strong she could barely breathe from it. The nurse cupping the gas mask to her face smiled down assuringly and Elaine hated her for it, the gal was so sure all would be well when everything in Elaine’s body rebelled against the drugged misery, the flat back, stirrup strapped contortion the doctor had locked her body in and left her at.

She thought it would at least feel natural. Like pulling a tooth. Like taking a man. Like all the other painful rites of passage that women surmounted generation after generation.

But now, near puking from pain and cuffed like a psych prisoner to the bed, no distraction save the flicker off the fluorescent bulbs above her, Elaine felt a wrongness and a betrayal she never expected.

She’d been so agreeable to going to the hospital, never thought otherwise. The army had been accommodating enough to let them return to Memphis and everything, and here she lay giving birth in the same ward she was born in. It should have been sweet. She had assumed it would be and it had been non negotiable with Elvis, things were to be done properly for his babies, and she had no comparison to cause her to object.

Elvis lost his brother in a twin birth, a home birth, and nearly his mama too. Things had to be done properly. What else was his money for?

Elaine hadn’t thought to object. What else was there? Primitive squatting in the woods somewhere? She was a decent, suburban girl, she had passed through a successive graduation of establishments throughout her life, preschools and proms and community services and now she was at St. Joseph’s pushing out her first child in a condoned, sterile, proper facility. Elvis, cheated of such all American properness by his upbringing, often praised her teasingly for being “such an upstandin’ lil citizen”.

Somehow the pride didn’t manage to fill her this time. Just the wrongness of it all. She tried to think of Elvis in those first hours, how anxious he must be having been kept out of the room, how happy she’d make him by presenting two healthy children at the end of her feminine ordeal. She refused to accept the thought for anything going wrong. Women were made for this, and she had assumed a miraculous sort of sustenance and wisdom were given them during.

Laying rigid and wracked with pain on scratchy white sheets -Elaine had never felt so alone, not a shred of Divine motivation or husbandly encouragement left in her exhausted heart. Becoming frantic as the ordeal wore on, she found herself begging for some assurance, more than those spinster nurses and bored physicians could provide her. She begged for her mama, she begged for Dodger who had told her they’d do nothing more than torture her “in that big ole place.”

No visitors are allowed, Mrs. Presley -she was denied each time.

Dodger, as usual, had been right. And Elaine demanded she be let in. She was sure that her husband and his grandma had stayed in the waiting room, they weren’t far.

Bring Minnie Mae in -she was Elaine Presley, wife of Memphis’ own Elvis Presley, and if they denied her she’d ruin their hospital's name.

Bring her Dodger, she needed Dodger.

Dodger came in, in low, slung-back heels and a dress that was fashionable three decades ago, wrinkled bony hands and thin, hard set mouth. Elaine thought she’d seen an Angel.

“What do you want?” Dodger grunted down at her.

Elaine whimpered and shook her head, entirely unsure, she’d just wanted comfort or direction. “I thought you’d know what to do.” she explained in a wheeze.

“You push ‘em out.”

“I can’t.” Elaine sobbed, she physically didn’t feel capable of doing anything but enduring. She really had thought she’d be able to participate in her own delivery.

“What’s gonna make ya?” Dodger asked.

“I can’t do anything like this.” Elaine cried, yanking at her restraints.

“Wanna stand up?”

Elaine was startled at the suggestion and through the fog of pain and gas it sounded like a rebellion of sorts. She hesitated. “Maybe.”

“You ever shit layin’ down?” Dodger put it ever so delicately in clearer, enlightening terms. “No one can ‘nless they got the runs. Baby’s head ain’t no runs, get up.”

Dodger had yanked the straps off and threatened to use the forceps on the objecting nurse. She stood Elaine up with a yank to the girl's arms and spun her round till she was facing the bed, feet spread apart and hands on the bed, head hanging low and her back heaving in breaths now the position allowed her to breath. She’d taken Elvis this way a hundred times, nothing to it -you just hang your head and tilt your hips and breathe through it till the cock didn’t feel so big.

This she knew. “Ok, ok, it is better.” she agreed even as a scream tore out of her at the burning stretch down below.

That stretch had been Jesse’s head, although in the midst of agony and Bureaucratic chaos, Elaine didn’t know anything beyond fiery stretching and a gush down her legs. His little noggin almost hit the floor he slid out so lanky and tiny, no sooner had she register a modicum of relief from passing her first child than the doctor berated her.

“Almost hit his head, this is why we labor in beds.” he had said and she could have gnawed his balding head off his scrawny neck for using the word “we” when he’d never felt or ever would feel what she had just endured. “She’s torn, a lot actually, going to be a mess to clean up later but I guess it will help the next one.”

They took Jesse and they wiped him clean as his first cries sounded somewhere behind his mama, Dodger’s hand still pressed firmly to her lower back as Ella used his newfound vacancy to make an effort herself. Elaine struggled and twisted, trying to catch sight of her son.

“I want my baby.” she gasped, “Y’all give me my baby.” she stood straight with an effort that even Dodger tried to prevent. “I want my baby!”

“You can’t hold him now-“

“Give him to me-“

“Elaine honey,” Dodger shushed as gently as the old bird knew how, “you’re too weak, can’t push and hold. Let ‘em put him on the bed. Put him there, right in front of ya, yeah, that’s it, so you can see him. Just do it, ya pinstriped idiot, it’s her kid, ain’t it?”

When the nurse laid Jesse down on the sheets, he was a dark haired, swaddled little thing in a bloody towel. Tiny but not so shrimpy for a twin, he was red and purple all over with the puffiest little face and the juiciest little lips and a tiny nose and eyes that squinted shut in tears. His cord was still attached to her, hanging off the bed between her legs, the tether not yet cut. Elaine felt it to be the specialist moment in the world, that one right then.

Oh it’s an unaccountable thing, that rush of gratitude and relief when your first born is laid on you. Violent love surges after it, quick as a tidal wave, as a tiny hand still covered in your blood pats your skin to learn you from the outside this time, the only person who’s ever done it opposite from all others. It's immeasurable the strength that frail little being gives you, to push once more, to bring out another life after it, a twin to reunite the Trinity.

“My son” Elaine acknowledged the gift through the agony, her sweaty forehead against his fuzzy one, watching his brave little face take in the lights and sounds and pain of this life she’d given him with a wonder that steeled her as she braced and pushed again.

Ella was easier, in the way someone at the brink of their worst feels no exacerbation of their agony. It was every bit as bad and every bit as tiring, doubly so with one already done, but this time Jesse lay there with an oxygen cannula taped to his fuzzy cheek and watched his mama huff and grimace above him, her hips cradled by Dodger’s boney hands, and in between the increasing spams, Elaine gasped adorations and babbled welcomes to him. After a short time Jesse snoozed in his little cacoon, and his peacefulness was more calming than any breath coaching the staff could give her. She matched her breaths to the rise and fall of his tiny chest and soon enough when she felt between her legs, there was the furry little head of his sister.

This time the doctor was prepared and had a nurse knelt to catch Elvis’ Presley second child. Little Ella came out the opposite of Jesse, no trouble at all with her petite head but a decent belly and buttox in the little girl gave Elaine a brief bit of grief before she popped out entirely.

Ella may have been caught in the safe hands of a registered nurse but Elaine had no such luck. No sooner was the rush over and her impediments pushed out of her body than she staggered backwards and landed flat on the floor, her legs giving out. Dodger’s shins caught the back of her head and saved her from splitting her skull on the tile but it was a brutal jarring nonetheless and it cemented a terrified horror where Elaine felt that she was entirely neglected in a room full of people sworn to help her.

Dodger, bless her, cursed up a storm at the accident and knelt beside the poor girl, doing her best to gather Elaine up as blood and fluids gushed freely between her legs.

Elaine felt like sobbing. Soon she fully was and remained so as the Doctor and two nurses hefted her onto the bed as gingerly as they could, profusely apologizing to Mr. Presley’s new wife. Jesse was placed on her chest and Ella, after having the cord snipped and washed, bundled and had her foot stamped, was brought over, too. Elaine laid there on her back again, eighteen hours after she had first begun and did her best to hold them as the sugar crash and blood loss made her teeth chatter and limbs tremble.

“A healthy five pounds both of them,” the doctor beamed with the satisfaction of a man who had accomplished a hard day’s work, “although the boy has a couple points on the girl.”

They were perfect, they were positively perfect, that’s what Elaine tried her best to focus on as her bearings came back to her and tiredness drug her limbs down. They were perfect and they were here. “Dodger,” she addressed Grandma in a thin voice, not even bothering to send her request to the staff, “would you go tell Elvis they’re here? Tell him they’re perfect.”

“He can’t come in yet, dear!” The head nurse protested, knowing the mulish young man would be forcing entry as soon as he heard.

“Why not? It’s over.” Elaine sighed.

“We’ve got to clean you up!” The nurse was scandalized, “He mustn’t see you all disheveled like this, it can very negatively effect a man, seeing his wife rumpled and brutalized by the birthing process. It's ended some marriages.” She warned and then added, “And you must be stitched first.”

“Then could we please -do it?” Elaine asked, “I’d like to see my husband and I’d like him not to worry any longer.”

“Y’all clean her up,” Dodger motioned, “and I’ll go fetch him.”

They were applying ice towels to her swollen eyes to reduce the evidence of weeping when she left. They sat Elaine up and they checked her pulse and blood pressure and her temperature. All was well, or as well as could be hoped. All except down south with her house, Elaine chewed her lip anxiously and clutched little Jesse harder for comfort as the doctor inspected her, rather like Elvis had done when proposing. Except Elvis was always so tender and he worked his touches up from gentle to firm, never went right in and spread torn petals apart without a care. Elaine bit her lip and figured she’d been awful enough to the staff, harsh and stubborn, a rebel in so many ways and now her ordeal was over, it would be best to resume the proper attitude she’d been taught.

So she was meek, and she was obliging and grateful, and she tiredly agreed when the doctor said she’d need stitches, the same as any other tear to the flesh. And when, lamp beaming at her nether regions and needle in hand, the doctor told her he was going to add one extra little stitch for her husband's enjoyment, Elaine assumed it was a medical formality. After all, he didn’t ask if he could, he said he was going to, and doctors only do what doctors must. She had her babies now, and anything required to have more must be done.

Sat up on stitched and taut flesh, pillows stuffed behind her back and her face scrubbed into immaculate freshness, Elaine put on her widest smile for Elvis, not a hard thing to do with the gifts in her arms. It turned fully genuine as her man burst through the door only to stall and moderate his intensity the minute he realized he had arrived. Elvis looked bewildered, eyes wide as saucers and his long legs stumbling to a halt as the door thudded behind him in Vernon’s face, assessing every bit of equipment inside and potential threat before his eyes landed on the bed that held his new family.

Elaine could hear his intake of breath from across the room and her grin now threatened to split her face.

“Those our babies?” he asked hoarsely with a shaking finger, not making a single move to come closer. Like this whole ordeal had him so shaken he didn’t know which way was up or down.

“Yeah baby, they’re ours.” Elaine had to force her smile closed to talk, marveling at his timidity, the awed look on his face and the reverent little shakes coursing up his body like he was about to go up Mount Sinai and meet God. “Come meet your children, Elvis.” she whispered, framing it in a way she hoped would remind him he too belonged in this room, he was head of them all, their protector, their provider and perhaps most importantly, the architect of the dream that brought them into being. “They wanna meet their daddy, keep lookin’ around and fussing like they know someone’s missing.”

He gave her a look of reproof for fibbing to spare his feelings before one of the babies came to their mother’s rescue and let out a pitiful, newborn wail. Elvis flinched at the sound, drawing back into himself for a brief moment before the cry was repeated and his instinct to soothe dominated his tentative fear.

“See, I told you!” Elaine grinned as she pulled down the blanket little Jesse was swaddled in and showed his puckered face.

Slowly, with light footfalls and a hand running along the bed for support, Elvis drew closer until he was beside them and Elaine saw his face light up with more overwhelmed joy than she’d ever seen on him before, just as his eyes filled with tears in an instant.

“Oh Laney,” he put his hand to his mouth unsteadily, “you done good mamas.”

She did her best to scoot her legs over without wincing and nodded to the vacated little space on the bed. “C’mon Elvis, they don’t bite. Not yet.” she whispered, casting a glance at the nurse who was peddling soundlessly in the far corner, back turned and utterly discreet, waiting if she were needed at any moment.

“I’m jus’ worried ‘bout breakin’ ‘em.” he confessed, gingerly sitting down beside her, his eyes never wavering in their metronome bounce from one child to the next and back. “They’re so little, so fragile lookin’ and -a-and they’re so pink, baby, look how pinks and fluffy they is.” Elaine thought his wide-eyed, rosebud mouthed awe was rather identical to the faces he was admiring and understood his shock, pretty things take the wind out of you. “I-I-I was so damn scared of touchin’ you, you’re so lil and gentle a-a-and they’re even littler!”

“I’ve never seen a more tender man, you’ve got fingers so delicate they could undo a knot in silk thread.” Elaine disagreed, “You should feel their cheeks, even softer than they look.”

Elvis swallowed hard, screwing up his courage before he raised his hand from where it had been wiping sweat off on his pants and brought it dried and shaking to gently run along the curve of Ella’s tiny face.

He little out a little gasping laugh. “Angels, they’re gen-u-ine angels.” He pronounced softly after rubbing his forefinger along Jesse’s tiny nose. “Ain’t nothin’ made me happier than I am right this minute.” he realized and Elaine’s heart clenched in gratification for the success of all her labor. “God took away one, gave me three back.” he huffed in a breath and realizing he needed a handkerchief, pulled his hand back, looking around in the white sheets like one would appear. The kindly nurse took pity and brought one over wordlessly, Elvis was a little shocked to find her present, not registering her existence in the room before, (as was she to meet Elvis Presley wordlessly with a proffered tissue) but he took it gratefully.

“Would you like to hold one of them, Mr. Presley?” she asked after having given Elaine some water as Elvis still sat where he’d perched himself and stared like he was looking into a portal.

“C’mon daddy.” Elaine whispered, nudging his stiff leg with her foot, “they wanna meet their daddy.”

Elaine suggested Jesse be the one as he’d eaten most recently while Ella was having some trouble latching. The nurse took Jesse from his warm little cocoon at Elaine’s side, and brought him around the bed to his daddy, who carefully formed a cradle with his arms and the nurse deposited his son there.

“Yeah, give me my boy.” Elvis nodded through parched lips and shuddered as he felt the tiny weight of his child settle in his arms, tiny head cradled to his chest. “Hey buddy,” he whispered, head reared back and expression a little frozen, like he was either holding something very dangerous or something very good that could be taken back at anytime, “sorry bout all the racket in there.” he referred to his pounding heart right beneath Jesse’s pink ear, “S’just that I’m so glad to meet you. Been waitin’ so long.”

Elaine watched them happily, exhaustion and satisfaction turning her complex feelings into the most rudimentary emotions and thoughts. “We made these.” she marveled and thought she heard the nurse titter for a moment, “Does everyone say that?” She asked her with a laugh.

“Not uncommon.” The woman agreed bashfully, “Me and my man did. Couldn’t stop saying it.”

“Absolute miracle.” Elvis protested, growing bold enough the thumb as Jesse’s cheek as he held him, “We made ‘em alright, strangest thing, the way I’m holdin’ something that’s half me and half you!”

“Made duplicates just in case.” Elaine added her joke and they both laughed.

“Sweet Jesus I think he just cracked a smile.” Elvis’ laugh was suddenly cut short as he wheezed in fascination.

“Babies usually don’t smile until much later.“ the nurse soothed gently but Elvis interrupted with an adamant-

“-well it appears that my son is extra smart, ma’am.” He grinned down at his boy with an immense amount of pride at his good humor which reminded him of his pride in Elaine and his eyes flitted up to hers and locked there. “You know I love you, Tink, but I-I-I- d-don’t think you’ve got the vaguest notion h-h-how grateful I am to you right this minute. You’re makin’ dreams come true like a goddamn fairy. I-I-I can’t say enough I-I don’t got words for it I just -I’d die for you, girl, and you and our babies ain’t ever gonna want for nothin’, I swear it.”

Elaine had never trusted another human being more in her life than she trusted this young man sat on her bed, about as young and lost as herself but so determined that she hadn’t a single choice or doubt except to believe him.

Ella began to fuss and the nurse asked if she wanted to try feeding again, no doubt the baby girl was hungry and Elaine agreed. “Here, Mr. Presley, I’ll take the little boy so you can go.” she helpfully held out her arms but Elvis clutched his precious bundle like she was gonna take him permanently. Elaine was reminded of a story Miss Gladys used to tell her about baby Elvis and a prized sack of bananas.

“I-I-I don’t wanna give him.” Elvis settled for this moderate expression of his sentiments on the subject.

“But sir -your wife needs to nurse. I'm sure they’ll extend the visiting hours for you, no need to worry on that account.”

“Oh I’m not leavin’ for that ma’am.” he clarified breezily, “I hold eatin’ in mighty high regard and I’d like to see to it my daughter finds her footin’ in it, ya see.”

“But-“ the nurse was rather astounded at this simple logic and in torn loyalties she turned back to Mrs. Presley in concern “-wouldn’t you like some privacy, ma’am? We’ll have to…uncover you.”

Elaine looked at her a little puzzled before assuring softly, “I don’t mind, he’s seen me before.”

The nurse colored at this modest statement that spoke so much and Elvis wasn’t sure if she was taken aback at their comfortableness around each other or at the suggestion of The Elvis Presley and his little wife making babies. Half the nation were obsessed with what they did behind closed doors and Elvis eyed her suspiciously lest she turn into some sorta fascinated personage. She didn’t though, she allowed Jesse to remain with his father and, rather more delicately than necessary, helped Elaine with Ella’s latching.

There had been dribbles of milk that Elvis had seen before Elaine gave birth, but it was nothing like the profusion that poured out now, so much sustenance that Ella’s tiny throat made great gulping sounds as she drank. Elvis, much to the nurse’s horror, was fascinated by it and soon found his old boldness, scooting himself up till he was sat beside Elaine in the narrow bed and could support her elbow while watching. The nurse was made more uncomfortable when the new father took to whispering a thousand different thanks and endearments into his young wife’s ear, and sweet as it was, the aggressive smooches she answered him with were of the sort the nurse was usually of the assumption led to more. But not with this couple, they swapped affection easily, too easily, and shared sentiments and compared their two children for the next hour, pointing out features and guessing at characteristics until the nurse quietly took her leave, stumbling into a barricade of men outside waiting on their boss.

“You should sing to them.” Elaine suggested to him once she’d gone, when Jesse wouldn’t stop fussing when it was his time to burp. “They’ve heard it for nine months, worked with the kicks every time.” she recalled and Elvis smiled sheepishly in reminiscence that those little kicks he’d once poured his heart out to were now little souls laying in his arms with his features printed on them.

At the first swooping and softly sung words of ‘My Father’s House’ by their daddy both babies stilled and their little slits of eyes searched restlessly until they found his face and they stayed staring at him until their violet, paper thin eyelids fluttered closed in sleep.

————————————————-

|| Excerpt from Mrs. Presley and Other Living Martyrs:||

“There was a narrow window in the door he’d rather uh, rudely let slam behind him,” Billy Smith would later recall with a smile, “and you best believe the whole lot of us were pressed up to it trying to get a glimpse of them inside. We were all real excited about the babies and we knew Elaine was a champ but it’s one thing to think about it and it’s another for her to do it and be alright after. We were all worried for her, last time we’d been in this hospital it had been with Gladys. So we were all crowding the window and Vernon and Mr. Phipps were actin’ like teenagers with their elbows jabbin’ at each other for space but this one time the grandpas seemed to be actually jokin’ about it. Granny tried gettin’ us to leave ‘em be but it wasn’t like we were disturbin’ them none, they didn’t mind us one bit and it was the sweetest thing watchin’ them pass a baby back and forth and they were gigglin’ so much one minute then cryin’ the next. EP was an absolute mess, he was so happy. They looked like a couple of kids clutchin’ a candy haul they stole and figured someone was gonna come along and say they were too young for ‘em and had to give ‘em up. Just two kids really, two kids with a couple of babies they’d made. Not sure they’d ever had such a normal moment in their lives, not since he got famous, at least. They stayed like that for a couple of hours ‘till Elvis realized he could have some fun introducin’ his new kids and so he came out the door holding little Jesse above his head like he was the damn Prince of Memphis. The whole hallway was jam packed with folks who were visiting their hospitalized relatives, loitering staff, all sorts, everybody havin’ heard she was here delivering, and the whole place erupted when he brought the baby out, said that him and his sister were well and Miss Elaine was in fine shape. That applause must’ve been real gratifying for Mrs. Presley.”

Ten days were encouraged for the new mother to stay in the hospital but after five Elaine found herself anxious and uncomfortable away from her home and she begged Elvis to make the staff let her come home.

“Elvis was never more besotted with Elaine than when she was pregnant, and it only got worse when she’d just popped out a kid and was holding it and asking for something.” Joe Esposita wrote, “She talked him into making them send some staff to Graceland and letting her out early, and she swore she’d let him carry her up and down any stairs for the next week. So, after he made her sign a drink coaster that said as much, he went and charmed the administrator into sparing a doctor and four nurses to come live at Graceland for 10 days. We later learned the staff had flipped coins to see who got to go, everyone was so eager to see the famous couple up close. ”

Five days after delivering, Elaine got her wish and was wheeled out of the maternity ward in a wheel chair and down the hall to the elevator, a pristine and glamorous figure with a baby swaddled in her arms as her handsome husband strode by her side, wearing his uniform on leave as suggested by the Colonel, and carrying a precious bundle himself.

In “TLC: The Presley Way” -Marie Presley’s documentary of her family’s life- Ella recounted having often heard from her mother the story of Elvis preparing her to leave for home.

Ella recounted: “She would often tell me about how daddy had come up to the room with all these bags. He’d already brought so much stuff over during her stay, they had to haul literal baskets full of possessions and gifts and stuffed animals out of her ward back to Graceland when they moved out, it had been like a hotel stay, collecting so much. But he did come up that day with these pretty pink bags and he was so excited, he tore the tissue paper out himself and showed her this absurdly fluffy white coat he’d bought. It was way too heavy for October but it was a little chilly out and it gave her the perfect excuse to wear it. It was made out of arctic foxes and was the fluffiest, most expensive, whitest thing you’ve ever seen and it hid her swollen figure perfectly, made her look like an angel in the press pictures. Mama said he also brought a little makeup kit, and there was hairspray and curlers and combs in the other bag, and daddy sat on her hospital bed while she was in a chair and he carefully painted her face. She always loved telling about how sweet and careful he was about her image, she said she had felt very humiliated and out of control during the labor, and it was like he was putting her back together, making her familiar to herself again, crafting some dignity back. And -you’ve seen the pictures, she’s perfection, her makeup is flawless and he had swooped her hair back from her face so she’s glowing. Even tied it back with that little ribbon, it’s just so much, I mean -she looks like a doll carrying out smaller dollies from the hospital. And of course later the female press would slam her for making something as hard as birth and children look like dollhouse props but like a lot of things, they didn’t realize it came from love. It came from daddy caring about how she felt, how she wanted to be presented, they both had a lot of pride and were complementary in that way. She had just delivered twins and was about to meet half of Memphis on the curb before going home. Can you really blame her for letting her husband make her up? Can you blame him for pouring out his pride in what she’d done through his art?”

Along with tender care and as much provision for her comfort as possible, it would be Elvis Presley’s last gift to his wife before he left for Germany less than two weeks later.

Hope y’all enjoyed! Your “bugging” and “screaming” is music to my ears, fuel to my fire and keeps me writing, please never hold back -this is a safe space for feral little Elvis loving rodents…like you and me.

If you’d like to be tagged in this particular series please drop a note below. I’ll admit I’m disorganized and have trouble keeping all the requests sorted when they’re scattered, what I do check regularly are the requests in the notes for chapters -and I do manage to get those added. So, if you’ve put in a request and I’ve failed ya, or if you’re new and would like to be added, please pop a note below. Xoxo 💋

@paradsol000

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@foreverdolly

@powerofelvis

@butlersxbirdy

@crash-and-cure

@elvisabutler

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@stylespresleyhearted

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@i-r-i-n-a-a

@obsessedvibee

@peskybedtime

@goth-cowgirl-03

@stephthestallion

@fav-fanficssss

@loving-elvis

@honeyorangess

@soloangel

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@60svintage

@dragonkingsdaughter

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@whatstruthgottodowithit

[agentmarvel]

hey <3

🩷 - 👻 - don't look!

hello, dearest nonnie! thank you for sending one in!🥰

simon "ghost" riley x gn!reader

cw: none

mdni - 18+; minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

You squeeze the excess water from your hair as you peel back the shower curtain, a healthy layer of condensation blanketing the mirror. Rivulets of water drip down the length of your back. Safehouses usually suck, but at least this one has running water.

The towel slides off the bar as you tug it gently, wrapping yourself in a threadbare cloak with little to no expectation of it absorbing anything at all. Still, you’re grateful for even this small favor. You remind yourself to ask Price to tip his cleaning lady more often, the mere thought making you laugh inwardly.

Wiping a hand across the glass, a face that doesn’t quite look like yours stares back. It’s conspicuously absent of the dirt and grime you’ve grown accustomed to while looking far more worn and tired than you recall. A sigh leaves you, and you opt to look away. You need to find a toothbrush anyway.

There’s a mild groan of complaint from the hinges as you open the door, but the house is otherwise silent. No floorboards protest as your soft footsteps pad back towards the singular bedroom.

The door is more than cracked, you notice, as a thin beam of dull yellow washes across your ankles. You think nothing of it as you push it a little further, but you should’ve.

Your lieutenant stands on the other side, face bare of his usual attire. The leisurely pace you’ve set falters at the sight of his mussed, sandy blonde hair, and your breath catches in your throat. 

He’s beautiful in every sense of the word; every dimple, crease, and scar placed perfectly by the hands of God himself. No painter or sculptor, no artist of any medium that ever has or will live could dare to dream up something so resplendent. You reserve the image before you in a mere moment, seared behind your eyelids as you squeeze them shut.

It feels wrong to see him like this. A primary rule of joining the 141: if Ghost has his mask off, don’t look. And somehow, the first mission you’re on alone - together - you manage to fuck it up.

Admittedly, you’ve always had a thing for Simon. How could you not? His jokes always make you laugh (even if the rest of the guys groan), he holds doors for you, always checks in after absolutely kicking your ass in sparring, makes sure you’re taking care of yourself after long missions. There’s nothing about him that dissuades your little crush. But that’s all it is, right? A little crush; nothing more.

To solidify your commitment to not peeking, you put your hands over your eyes, issuing a startled apology.

Simon laughs - actually laughs - and you feel a pair of warm hands close around your wrists. He tugs gently, a soft hum of your name on his lips.

“Am I really that ugly, Sergeant?” he asks, breath fanning across your cheek in a warm haze. You shake your head. “Then why don’t you wanna look at me?��

“Not supposed to, sir,” you answer, eyes still pinched shut. Simon releases your wrists, instead shifting his hold to your cheeks, cradling them in his palms like he’s carrying an injured animal.

“C’mon, little bird. Open those pretty eyes, yeah? S’okay. I want you to see me.”

Cautiously, you crack one eye open. You can feel your heart racing, pounding against your ribcage with violent glee. Simon chuckles again, mere inches away, and those stained glass eyes of his crinkle at the corners.

“Tha’s it. Good. Want you to remember what I look like, doll. May not see it in the field much, but I’d like you to see it more when we’re alone.”

“What do you mean?” You let the other eye open slowly only to arch a brow.

“You like me, right? Yeah, not too subtle about it, are ya? It’s mutual; figured we could try a date or two to see if it’s right.”

pick your prompt here! 💌

[divijohm]

Can you Do When Ben Drowned Comforts Suicidal Fem!S/O (Also If Anyone is Suicidal then I Felt Sorry for Them and I Wish I Could see People Have to Care for Them or Someone have to Call Suicidal Hotline So It will Helps Them, Seriously Don't do this IRL Otherwise Suicide is Tragic)

Ben comforting Suicidal s/o

A/n: As a person who tried to kill myself 3 times by pure rage and raw strength (unplanned) I'll base this in my experience. If you're passing through this thoughts please seek help the world isn't as shitty as media makes it look like, I recommend following @/jacobsimonsays on TikTok he tells daily good news about the world, also #hopecore is great it'll give you a lil more hope in humans ALSO step outside, even if it's just in your backyard take a little bit of sunlight, eat and drink, go for a walk, get a pet if you can, seriously it may sound dumb but as someone who's been there this helps lots. The pet specially is a great suicide prevention, you'll think of them when you're trying and (at least for me) it makes you stop, just remember to take care of the lil fella

TW: SUICIDE, (3) FAILED SUICIDE ATTEMPTS, SUICIDE IDEALISATION, PASSIVE SUICIDE

⚰️ He found you, rope attached to your neck, you weren't really up anything you're just going to pull the rope until you died. You were crying, but you weren't stopping anytime soon. You wanted it all to end, he had to call help because he couldn't get your grip out of the rope. You blacked out but other than that, and the rope bruise on your neck, you're fine

⚰️ then he found you, again, this time violently banging your head on the wall trying to crack your skull over he managed to make you stop voluntary, he did a quick bandage on your bleeding head but not much after that, he was worried of course but he didn't really knew how to best act in this situation so he just. Stayed there while you cried until you slept.

⚰️ The third time was what really got him, you're in the bathtub, you've used something that made your body limp, your head wasn't above water and your wrists where cut making the water a pretty light pink, he panicked so hard he couldn't help you nor get help. You're not moving, he thought you died he screamed so hard that he bleed out of his throat, someone else heard it and helped.

⚰️ "Why would you do that? Aren't you happy here? Don't you like my company? Have I done something? Is someone or something bothering you?" He asked after you finally woke up. You couldn't answer, you didn't know what was wrong, your life wasn't bad, you lived well, you had good friends, a good family, etc. Maybe you weren't cut out for this world. You couldn't answer so you cried, cried and cried some more he held you close the whole time.

⚰️ He never really asked why after that only time

⚰️ After that chat you stopped your attempts, for his sake and for the sake of your family, you would want your favorite family member and him to have to bury you, but that didn't mean you've stopped desiring death.

⚰️ You started acting more recklessly than your usual, they would notice if looked close enough, you started eating less and when you did it wasn't healthy, you've stopped looking to both sides when crossing the street, engaged more with potentially violent people, started drinking (more if you drunk already), etc

⚰️ no one seemed to notice, but Ben did, he was worried but didn't know how to approach the situation.

⚰️ After some research from his part he started taking care of you in subtle ways, taking you to those fancy healthy restaurants where there's all the junk food you like but they're made of healthy things, calling you to go to park dates so you can get sunlight and walk a bit, healthy things disguised as silly stuff

⚰️ You got a little bit better with all that, after all a healthy body is a healthy mind but still not good enough for Ben you were still acting too recklessly for his taste.

⚰️ He heard that pets help people's mental health so he got you a dog, a big one, think golden retriever or German Shepherd big. You love it.

⚰️ You're not in good health yet, you still have your super down days, but now you're better and the future looks a little bit brighter