#splatter capital

[queen-mabs-revenge]

about halfway through this rn and am loving it even as someone who isn't really into horror (esp gory horror). bc the whole thesis of the book is tracing the peaks of splatter horror through the peaks of capitalist crises, the intro gives a gloss of marxist economic theory that is one of the best and most digestible (lmao relevant) i've ever read??? it's a really fun theory read so far which is not smth you get to say often!

[thechurchofsplatterdaysaints]

[rawliverandgoronspice]

.

fighting everything cynical and spiteful in me because I still want to love and believe in people regardless of their flaws, but fucking hell I've hardly ever been tried on such a wide scale before. a lot of people, including people I really love, are making it really really hard to not only hold onto hope that there is a better future than this, but to feel like it's even worth it to try.

I had an inkling there would be a war on mental health on top of everything else going on, and thanks everything I am at a place in my life where it's not enough to send me tumbling down the deep end, but the thread remains thin. And it's genuinely super important to refuse to fall apart, it's absolutely necessary to find a way to persevere in the rise of a worldwide technofascist order because fuck them they don't deserve our despair, but. Yeah. I sincerely doubt it's going to get any easier any time soon, and given they're trying to destroy solidarity, to both monetize and punish self-expression and self-identity, mangle the essence of art and creation, force everybody into poverty and precarity, hunt down any indesirable in more and more unhinged ways and gradually restrict the consumption of everything... Yeah it's going to be a fucking nightmare moving forward.

My heart goes to everybody who's worse off than me on any of these topics, and who's already running on limited options and drained-out mental health. I don't know how to circumvent this entire situation we're facing, and specifically all the surgical ways they're trying to blot out hope and shut down solidarity. I just know it's absolutely necessary to find a way regardless.

[ghostwise]

I can't wait to get to the fucked up parts of qdt.

[tidalblazex]

Tw major depression

like at this point. im already holding literally fucking everything together with scotch tape. i think if djt wins. like literally i

i can't like. like i literally see nothing. if djt wins i just throw in the towel and take my life? like that's where i am. ksowpdjleodjodskshoskwnsodjdjhdkeoejehsososowwoqopidjekednfbdosnsnwkxkxnxnzmzapwrhbfbgbfhfhfhffffgsiqoqoqpqpskndncncjfkdhgsjskwopwpwpqksjdhxbcjifkgoroeoejdjchkxjsjsnwkqppqpqjzhcjckckwjsnsnkzozjsnsjwkdochhchsjsjsjskaoqpqpuxuvyeyxuzysuaopqkdbndndozozjsjahevjfjcgskwoxhwvqopjdkekskdosospwppqppppdodjaj1jjfncnzpaowiehjdkxo

[captain-hawks]

double shift

— kento nanami x f!reader

summary: Kento Nanami hates overtime, but who is he to say no when his boss asks him to go check on his wife while he's out of town?

word count: 4.2k

content: NSFW, 18+, smut, infidelity, heavy lactation kink, fingering, unprotected p in v, creampie, multiple orgasms, degradation, dirty talk, squirting, breeding kink, restraints, counter sex, wet & messy

Kento’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as he stares at his phone nestled in the cupholder, limbs taut with aggravation as the bored voice of his boss continues on, “She hasn’t been answering my calls all day, and I’m not flying back for another week yet. I know you’re probably about to leave the office, but I’m going to need you to stop at my house and check on her first, Nanami.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, the words ‘OVERTIME’ flashing red behind his eyes and drawing forth a fresh surge of anger that has him contemplating the consequences of smashing his phone on the pavement outside and finding a new job entirely.

Today has been shit.

Capital S, Shit.

His asshole boss has been out of town for nearly a week already, every client is somehow ten times more unbearable than usual, the incompetence across the office has become a goddamn disease, and he knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that that piece of shit is doing anything  but keeping his dick in his pants while his wife and their new baby are left home alone.

His very attractive, very lovely wife who probably has no idea what a waste of oxygen her husband is. 

You’re too fucking good for him.

And you’re also too good for Kento, who’s spent more nights than he’d care to admit furiously fisting his cock to the memory of whatever tantalizing outfit you’d turned up at the office wearing that day.

And seeing you pregnant?

While the knowledge that you were now entirely stuck with that undeserving asshole sent his blood boiling, Kento could hardly complain about the sight of you during those months, his shaft straining painfully in his slacks every time he laid eyes upon your gloriously swollen, heavy breasts. 

And the cum he splattered all over the mirror and sink after inevitably rushing out of his office when you finally left? Well, that was between him and the four walls of the men’s bathroom. 

So after the awful day he’s already had, Kento’s not sure he can imagine a worse type of overtime than waltzing into your house and playing the part of a dutiful employee checking in on his boss’s wife, acting like he doesn’t want to fuck you so bad it’s driving him up a goddamn wall.

But he’ll fucking do it.

Of course he will. 

“Sure,” he replies tersely, before hanging up and peeling out of the parking lot.

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

She’s finally asleep.

Sighing weakly in relief, you close the door to your daughter’s bedroom and shuffle down the hallway. You make it all the way to the kitchen before you’re forced to lean heavily against the countertop, gritting your teeth as another wave of discomfort radiates from your sore, swollen breasts. 

“Hello?” a familiar, male voice tentatively calls out in a hushed tone.

You whip around, still clutching the counter for support, eyes widening at the side of Kento Nanami standing in the doorway to your kitchen. 

“Hi?” you respond, your heart doing a somersault as you drink in the sight of his tall, muscled form. 

He twirls a key around his finger twice before catching it in the palm of his hand and stuffing it in his pocket. “I apologize for barging in, but your spare key hiding spot is shit, and I didn’t want to ring the doorbell and wake the baby.”

“It’s okay, Nanami,” you assure him, the erratic thrumming in your chest far from a feeling of fear.

For whatever reason, he appears to be attempting to avert his eyes after glancing over at you quickly, roughly running a hand through his hair. “Your husband asked me to check on you. He said he hasn’t heard from you all day,” he explains carefully. 

“Well, I figured it would be rude to interrupt the wild orgies he pays for with the company credit card,” you deadpan.

Nanami’s jaw ticks, “He—”

“I’m well aware of what he does.”

“Then why—”

“Because I realized too late, and I’m too tired to do anything about it right now,” you sigh, wincing at the continuous ache of your breasts.

And it’s then that you realize why Nanami’s been looking anywhere but at you directly.

You’re wearing nothing but an oversized t-shirt and knee-high socks, which in and of itself isn’t overtly reprehensible, given that you’re in your own house, you have a four-month-old child, and you can’t remember the last time you got a full night’s rest. The issue is that your breasts are so sore and tender right now, you haven’t been able to even look at a bra in days. 

Which, once again, wouldn’t be an issue alone in the privacy of your home…when one of your husband’s employees isn’t desperately trying not to acknowledge the fact that two large wet spots have soaked through your shirt. 

“I should…” you trail off awkwardly, glancing around the room in hopes that you left one of your flannel over shirts lying within reach. 

“It’s fine,” Nanami blurts out, scratching the back of his head and studiously feigning interest in the collection of party invites and shopping lists stuck to the side of your fridge. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

It’s not fine. 

It’s anything but fine. 

It’s a complete fucking disaster. 

Kento hasn’t seen you since you gave birth. And despite how exhausted he knows you are—he can see it in the bags under your eyes and the limpness of your posture— your soft pregnancy glow has transformed into a postpartum radiance that has his breath catching in his throat each time his eyes sweep over you. 

You’re fucking stunning. 

And somehow, he knows your husband hasn’t noticed this. Hasn’t told you how incredible you are, how fantastic motherhood looks on you. It sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through him, the mere thought that he could bear to let himself stray from you—especially now, at such a vulnerable time. 

But any hopes Kento had of trying not to commit this sight of you to memory were swiftly dashed the moment he noticed the wet spots on your shirt. 

Even now, when he’s looking at a box of cereal on the counter as if it’s the most interesting thing in the entire world, every layer of his inner psyche is rapidly overheating at the thought of your heavy, swollen breasts. The milk leaking from them, soaking through your clothes and inevitably trailing down your stomach. 

He needs to fucking leave. Now. 

“I should go—“

“—do you want some tea?”

You both speak at the same time, and when Kento turns to face you again, you’ve slipped a blue flannel shirt on, buttoning it up partway. As if his traitorous cock will somehow forget what he now knows is obscured underneath the added layer of material. But despite the growing discomfort swelling and throbbing against the zipper of his pants, he concedes, his need to quell the apparent loneliness in your eyes with a moment of company winning out over his lust-addled desire to disappear to the nearest private place to jerk off. 

He’s thankful to sit after you pour him a cup, hiding any and all evidence of what a terrible man he is beneath the table, one leg idly bouncing as he wills his hard on to go down. It’s a big ask, though, given that you’re probably not even aware of what you’re doing to him when you lean your body over the kitchen island with your mug clutched between your fingers as you idly chat with him, your oversized shirt just barely masking the flash of pink panties it reveals beneath each time your shoulders bounce as you laugh. 

He’s two seconds from excusing himself to put his fucking dick in the freezer. 

His chair scrapes against the tile floor as he pushes it back, having decided he’s at his limit, but he pauses when a pained sound escapes your lips. 

“Are you alright?” he asks, hurrying over to where you’re now pressing your forehead against the island countertop, whimpering softly. His hand hovers for a moment before he opts to gently touch your shoulder, just to let you know he’s there. 

Your fingers scrape over the marble as you breathe out in a quiet voice, “No.”

As if on instinct, Kento begins to rub small, comforting circles into your upper back, his tentative touches growing more confident when he feels your tense body behind to relax slightly. 

“What’s wrong? What can I do?”

You whine again, standing up straighter but keeping your back to him as you clutch at your chest. “They…they hurt so bad.”

Kento’s halfway certain his soul has left his body as he watches, stunned, while you slide your hands up under your shirt and squeeze at your breasts, exhaling a chorus of breathy little sounds like the fucked up cherry on top. 

“Do you need to…” he trails off, and though you can’t see from where he’s standing behind you, he vaguely gestures in the general direction where he can only surmise the baby’s room is. 

“It’s…they’re clogged,” you whisper, elbows lifting up and revealing the small of your back as you begin to knead your tits desperately. “They’ve been so sore and swollen for days.”

Kento bites his lower lip, mentally steadying himself for a moment before he asks, “Tell me how I can help.”

“Can you grab a clean washcloth out of the drawer next to the sink and soak it in hot water?”

He swiftly complies with your request, returning moments later after wringing out the small towel and waiting for it to cool down slightly. You’re still using the counter to steady yourself, so he approaches you from behind and goes to hand you the washcloth, only to find his hand immediately pinned between your own and one of your breasts. 

You let out a whimpering cry of relief, and it takes everything in him not to let out the noise rumbling in his own throat as you squeeze his hand over your tit. 

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “It just feels so…”

“It’s okay,” Kento murmurs. “Relax.”

Internally, every single warning bell inside of his head is blaring indignantly over the fact that he’s got his hand under his boss’s wife’s shirt, and he’s massaging her lactating breasts with a hot towel while she whimpers and presses into his touch. 

But your fingers are laced with his, and you’re not telling him to stop. 

In fact, you’re begging him to keep going, keeping a hold of his left hand when he switches the towel to his right, urging him to massage both of your tits at the same time. And who is he to tell you no?

Kento’s fairly certain his balls are going to be aching for days when he feels the warm liquid that begins to coat his fingers.

Fucking fuck. 

What the fuck is he doing?

Then your back arches as you outright moan when he brazenly toys with both of your nipples at the same time, milk squirting out, your ass pressing directly into his throbbing erection. 

And fuck it, fuck dignity, because Kento’s on the verge of coming in his pants. 

But then you spin around to face him, your back pressed into the island as you gaze at him shyly and say, “I…I think I need more.”

Your eyes flick from his mouth back down to your breasts, and he cups the side of your face as he asks, “Are you sure?”

You nod, slipping your shirt off entirely and tossing it aside, and Kento’s mouth goes dry as he stares at the trails of milk leaking from your tits, wondering how he’d ever thought to call today ‘Shitty’. 

He motions toward the counter, his large hands grasping your waist to help you get seated up on top of it, fingertips hesitant to pull away from your lacy panties when he spies the wet spot over your cunt. 

Kento has never thought of himself as a greedy man. Far from it, actually. 

But the moment his mouth latches onto one of your hot, swollen breasts, pulling a shameless moan from your pretty lips as your thighs wrap around him, the sweet taste of your milk hitting his tongue, he feels fucking insatiable. 

His mind is a buzz of static as he drinks from your tits, all the blood in his body rushing to his cock, precum soaking through his boxers and slacks. Your fingers tangle in his hair, the heel of your foot pressing into his back and pulling him closer, and he groans, one hand grasping your upper thigh as he teases your nipples between his teeth and squeezes a spray of liquid onto his gluttonous tongue. 

“Feels so good, Nanami,” you whine, fingertips sliding down the front of his dress shirt, catching on each button.  

“Kento,” he exhales, licking up the milk dripping down your chest. 

“Kento,” you moan, tugging hard on the tousled blond strands that have fallen onto his forehead. 

And at the sound of your breathy, wrecked tone moaning out his name for the first time, every nerve ending in Kento’s body goes up in flames. 

᠃ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘ ᠂ ⚘ ᠃

Nothing has ever felt this good. 

Nothing. 

Kento Nanami’s sinful mouth is latched onto your heavy, engorged tits, greedily drinking every spurt of breast milk that comes leaking out of you, the flow growing steadier with each lap and squeeze. 

He has no fucking clue that most of your impromptu visits to the office are actually to see him. To talk to him, if only for a few moments. Kento Nanami, who has always treated you with unfailing kindness under his sometimes brash exterior. Who extends more patience toward you than all of his coworkers combined. 

He has no idea how trapped you feel in your marriage, how often you’ve longed for the bland touch of your husband in bed to be his. 

He doesn’t know how many times you’ve brought yourself over the edge with your fingers with his face lingering in your mind, the rough, teasing sound of words you’ve imagined in his voice playing out in your head like the most sinful soundtrack you’ve ever heard. 

And now he’s grunting and moaning as he makes a mess of both of you, his lips and chin gleaming with the same wet, sticky milk that’s all over your chest and thighs and his hands and pooling on the countertop beneath you. 

It’s filthy.

It’s so fucking filthy. 

And maybe it’s wrong. 

But you’re so desperate for him. For this. You need more. You need it so badly, you can hardly breathe. Searing desire is coiled so tightly in your abdomen, you’re trembling with restraint, aching with the desire to beg him to fuck you. You know he wants it, too, though. It’s hard to miss the thick, mouth-watering outline of his cock straining against his pants, like a beacon waiting to fulfill your darkest desires. 

It’s a line you know he won’t cross unless you ask for it. 

“Kento,” you murmur again, pulling his face up to meet yours. 

“Mmm?” he asks, pupils blown wide with lust, and you can tell he’s slightly dazed, drunk off of the taste of the milk leaking from your tits. 

You lean closer, letting your lips hover over his, Kento’s breath mingling with your own as you whisper, “Please touch me.”

He gently pushes your thighs further apart, carefully running a finger over the front of your panties. His voice is a rough, gravelly sound as he asks, “Here?”

A thrill shoots up your spine at the feather-light touch. “Yes.”

“More?” he questions, his lips brushing against your mouth as he hooks a finger in your underwear and pulls them aside. 

“More,” you keen, bucking into him as his knuckles graze your clit. 

He slides a finger through your folds, visibility shuddering as he comments, “You’re so fucking wet.”

“For you,” you pant, trying to resist the urge to shamelessly start riding his hand. 

Kento’s mouth engulfs yours in a rough, hungry kiss at the same moment he slides a thick digit into your cunt, and he swallows down the whimpering cry of pleasure that spills out of you. His lips are relentless as they slot against yours, and you arch into him, every part of your body drawn to his blazing touch on your skin. 

You can taste the remnants of your breastmilk on Kento’s lips, but you don’t care as you let him slip his tongue into your mouth. He kisses you so deeply it makes your toes curl, one hand cradling the back of your head while he stuffs a second finger into your hole. 

And just when you thought you couldn’t get any more sensitive under his touch, he dips his head back down to continue ravishing your forgotten breasts, pumping his soaked fingers in and out of your pussy all the while. 

“Kento,” you whimper, chest heaving as you press your heels into the cabinets below, every muscle in your body going taut under the onslaught of arousal coursing through you. 

“Can you come for me?” he asks, his gravelly, barely restrained tone searing itself into your mind. 

It’s the combination of his thumb massaging circles into your sensitive bundle of nerves and the sight of milk dripping down his chin as he messily drinks from you that sends you tumbling over the edge, the rubber band inside of you snapping like a whip as your orgasm washes over you. There’s an unfamiliar feeling that accompanies it, clear liquid squirting from your cunt and soaking the front of Kento’s dress shirt. 

Kento’s eyes darken a fraction as he grasps your chin, thumb pressing into your bottom lip. “Good girl,” he murmurs, kissing you. “Good fucking girl.”

Hand reaching between your bodies, you grasp his cock through his slacks, marveling at how maddeningly thick he feels. 

“I want you to fuck me now, Kento,” you tell him in no uncertain terms, rubbing your palm up and down his erection for good measure. “Fuck me like I’m a bad girl.”

Kento growls, hand palming the side of your neck, thumb caressing your collarbones, “You have no fucking clue what you do to me.”

“Show me.”

You’ve hardly had a chance to unbutton his pants before he’s slipping your panties down, stuffing them into his pocket. His hands come up to undo his tie, but rather than tossing the silky material aside, he asks, “Do you trust me?”

You nod in response, and he steps around the island, pulling your hands behind your back and tying your wrists together snugly with the yellow and black material. Anticipation zings through your chest, a fresh wave of arousal dripping from your sensitive cunt. 

“Is that too tight?”

You shake your head. “It’s perfect.”

He wastes no time in shedding the rest of his clothes, and you find yourself pressing hard against the restraints once you see his cock in all its glory, thick and flushed and so fucking big that you whimper.  

You spread your legs wide for him again as he steps between them, rubbing the leaking head of his cock against your damp slit. He notches it at your entrance, tilting your chin to his mouth and dragging your bottom lip between his teeth before he murmurs, “You’re perfect.”

Kento’s hands grasp your hips as he notches his cock at your dripping entrance, slowly easing into you. He massages your breasts, his hot mouth nipping and lapping a trail from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your earlobe while he pushes deeper into your cunt. When he eventually bottoms out, you’re both breathing hard, and his tie is fighting for its life to keep your wrists bound behind you. 

“Are you okay?” 

You let out a huff of air, your entire body poised to implode with the weight of the lust and pleasure raging inside of you. “Fuck me like you mean it, Kento.”

Whatever thinly veiled restraint was left in him crumbles to dust at your request, and Kento tugs you closer to the edge of the counter as he begins to pound into your cunt at a ruthless pace, splitting you open right in the middle of your kitchen. The cool marble is slick and sticky beneath you, covered in a myriad of filthy fluids that continue to leak out of you. 

“So beautiful,” he grunts, punctuating each word with a rough snap of his hips. 

“I feel like a whore,” you admit, biting your lower lip, tits bouncing heavily with his punishing thrusts. 

A short, dark laugh escapes Kento’s lips, his brows raising. He leans in, stuffing his cock deep into your cunt as he presses his mouth to yours and murmurs, “Well you’re my pretty, filthy whore.”

If your husband talked to you like this, you’d slap him. But from Kento…the liquid heat that churns in your belly is anything but anger. 

“Am I?” you ask, trying to sound as innocent as you can when he’s balls deep inside of you. 

“Yeah,” he rasps, not missing a beat as he catches on to what you want to hear. He squeezes your tits, milk squirting everywhere. “My dirty slut. You’re such a good girl, making a such a fucking mess. Squirting all over me while your tits leak everywhere.”

You gasp as he leans down, burying his face in your tits, latching on to one of your nipples and drinking deeply from you again. The combined feeling of him sucking on your breasts and the push and drag of his shaft inside of you leaves you cock drunk, begging and babbling senselessly as tears of pleasure prick at the corners of your eyes.

“Wanna put another baby in you, keep these nice and round and full for me,” he grunts, letting milk spray from your tits and leak down your bodies, dripping down his cock and coating his balls. 

The thought leaves you dizzy and breathless, keening as you imagine Kento filling you over and over with his seed. Waking up each morning to his cock already stuffed inside of you, fucking the previous night’s cum right back into your needy cunt. Tying you up to your bed posts with that goddamn tie. The satisfaction on his face when your breasts grow heavy and your belly grows round again for him, awakening something so feral inside of him he’s incapable of keeping his mouth off of your tits and his cock from the heat between your thighs whenever you’re alone. 

Rational thinking is a thing of the past as you choke out, nearly sobbing with pleasure, cunt squelching wetly as he pounds into you, “Fill me, Kento. Please.”

Kento curses, leaning in to caress the side of your face as he mutters, “My filthy girl.”

“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”

He captures your mouth in a deep, heated kiss, fingers grasping your hips for purchase as he plunges into your cunt, drawing shuddering, unabashed moans out of you. “Come all over my cock then,” he instructs, his rough tone dragging down your spine, fingers toying with your clit while your pussy clenches down on every inch of him. 

And when he leans down, holding eye contact with you as he licks up a forgotten trail of milk rolling down one of your tits, there’s nothing that can stop the searing explosion of pleasure that ignites inside of you, your entire body trembling with the relentless, burning hot flood of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever had. 

He follows moments after you, driving his length in to the hilt as he groans, fingers gripping you tightly, his thick cock pulsing heavily inside of you as he fills your cunt deeply with ropes of cum. As fucked out as you feel, you can’t help but whine at the ceaseless arousal that stirs within your gut as your pussy quivers around the stretch of his cock, milking every drop of Kento’s seed from him. 

Kento feels you subtly rocking your hips back into him, and his answering chuckle is like warm honey as he reaches between you. He plays with your overstimulated clit, pressing gentle kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck as his seed begins to leak out of you. You moan softly, head falling against his shoulder, pleasure mounting inside of you once more. Leveraging what remains of his softening cock, he slowly fucks his cum back inside of you, his rough whispers of praise a warm caress against the shell of your ear as your entire body dissolves into one last blissful climax that leaves you completely boneless. 

You have all of two minutes to bask in the afterglow, Kento’s hands and lips tenderly mapping out your body, when the sound of your phone ringing on the countertop beside you startles you both. Your gaze meets his as you both see the unwelcome name that flashes on the screen, and he promptly flips your phone over and scoops you into his arms as he makes his way toward the living room.

“If I’m working overtime, I’m making this a double shift.”

— likes, comments, & reblogs are appreciated!

[b0tster]

Are typos part of transfem culture? Asking as a trans man

heck if i know i just turned auto correct off in like 2018 cuz it was auto capitalizing corporation names and it pissed my petty ass off and now yeag is splattered all over the internet

[eldritchravens]

Welcome Home - The Homewarming Update : A compilation of the secrets I could find

⚠️SPOILERS AHEAD!⚠️

This post is simply a compilation of all the things I could find during my exploration of the website. I'm not going to delve too much into theories. Enjoy the read!

1- Statics

Every background is now filled with statics. I tried zooming out but I couldn't find anything. Not really a secret, but still interesting to note.

2- It's a dog! Oh, and a pea!

Found in the "Official Welcome Home Cook Book" in the merchandise page. I am... A little worried about Barnaby. For those who are aware, the pea is foreshadowing for a much bigger secret.

3- Audio distortion

Surprisingly, I was only able to find one instance where the audio distorts. In the "Homewarming Storybook Record", when Wally speaks here (timestamp is 18:16), the audio gets distorted. Please let me know if you found more audio glitches on the main website!

4- The page is breathing

I was able to capture something that made my skin crawl. Look very closely at this illustration. It's... breathing. I'm unsure if any other image in the website does that too. Very troubling.

5- Lost track of time

Uh-oh! Looks like our beloved writer is losing their perception of time itself. An effect of the black substance maybe? You can find this on the News page.

6- Pixels? Smudges? Oh, and a new friend!

In The Neighboorhood page, Home now has little white pixels around him? I'm unsure if this was intentional or not. Interestingly, the secret link under Home dissapeared along with every other traces of Wally.

The logo on certain pages looks... dirty? Look closely, there are brownish stains on some letters. This doesn't appear everywhere.

And! New friend! Hello new friend!

7- Symbols!

Okay, now onto the main course. Something I think we've all noticed straight away! There's a ton of tiny little doodles splattered around the website. The doodles are all named after a letter. Here is every letter translated from their respective symbol you can find on the website :

Home : M I O A Merchandise : P Y E R Media : Y G About us : A R Stickers : E News : T Neighboorhood : S F N E Wally : W Exhibition : N Ghestbook : W W W Transcript : Y

"www" huh? Interesting, like a web link. At first, all of this doesn't really mean anything, until we stumble upon this!

Fascinating, it's a code! Eddie here is giving us the translation to every single doodle. Next, if we solve the question here "What does Home wear at parties?", it gives us the next clue we need. The answer is "ADDRESS". Address? Now, remember the "www" thing? That's right! We need to assemble the letters we found to make a link!

8- Away from Prying Eyes

After assembling a link, you will be able to visit a secret page. In it is by far the biggest secret in this update : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/

When I tell you I lost my marbles when I discovered this. There is a lot to say here! Firstly, one thing to note is that unlike any other secrets we had found in previous updates, Wally didn't put this here. Instead, it was this mysterious "W". Go read the whole thing! It's PACKED with information!

"W" purposely put this here for US to find. W is in distress, confused and scared; this looks like a call for help.

Might or might not be important, but the word "Paranoid" here starts with a capital. It did catch my eye, so maybe it is noteworthy.

This entire phone call is absolutely fascinating and gives us answers about the lore. I highly recommend people to give it a listen : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/phone

AND THIS??? OH MY GOODNESS!!! Clown is spoiling us with gifts for this Homewarming! Truly, thank you Clown and the whole WH team, you're doing such a marvelous job. Watch the whole thing here : https://www.awayfrompryingeyes.net/commercials

And what's this hidden among the commercials? Eddie! Remember how I said the pea was foreshadowing? Eddie can hear Home's heartbeat. Well, our dearest mailman doesn't look too well :( Thankfully Frank seems to be looking out for him!

_________________________

Important things to note: This update is almost completely void of any trace of Wally infesting the website. The symbols were placed by the website manager here. Wally is not there anymore. Also, Eddie is purposely left out of the main update, only to be the center of attention in the commercial compilation.

Well! That's all I managed to find for now! Please let me know in the replies if I've missed anything. Thank you for reading, and Happy Homewarming! <3

Edit : Added some new things I just noticed!

[tiramisuc0ffee]

Cold Nights.

☆~~~~☆~~~~☆ pairing: Gojo Satoru x F!reader

Summary: Suguru defected. Satoru comes to you for comfort.

warnings/tags: Takes place before "The Ghost of You" (which you can read here), and takes place after Warm Afternoons (which you can read here). Mentions events during the Hidden Inventory Arc, reader, and Satoru are close friends, but it's clear there is something more, ANGST, ANGST, ANGST, not a lot of comfort tbh- like a sprinkle of fluff? slight OOC!Gojo, imo teehee

word count: 3.2k (I KEEP GOING OVERBOARD WHEN IT COMES TO THIS MAN)

☆~~~~☆~~~~☆

It was an incredibly rare day off. Classes had been canceled and no missions had been assigned to you. The only flimsy explanation you were given by Yaga was that some form of internal investigation needed to be done within the school and it was in everyone's best interests to keep most of the students away from the main campus.

The news had been a shock and you certainly had several questions—the suddenness, the complete lack of clarity—it simply didn't sit right with you. A part of you wanted to attempt and pry for more details but, truthfully, the allure of finally having a day to just take it easy and potentially indulge in some hobbies you've fallen out of touch with was so tempting that you simply nodded with a smile before heading back to your dorm.

The sun shone brightly when you left Yaga's office, the day couldn't be more perfect. You capitalized on this, taking the time to finally visit that cafe you had been eyeing for a while, bringing along that fiction book that had been doing nothing but collecting dust on the shelf. You even did some shopping, treating yourself to a new outfit that you hoped to find an excuse to wear sometime soon.

But as evening approached, dark clouds rolled in and rain began to fall. Your eyes watched how the raindrops splattered across the window of your room, creating a repetitive pattern as you held a cup of tea close to your chest, sitting upright, your knees to your chest on your bean bag.

Finally a day off... God knew how badly you and everyone else needed it.

Especially Satoru and Suguru.

You couldn't help the frown that tugged at your lips as you thought of the two men. Of course, you only heard stories of what they went through. Stories of a young girl by the name of Anamai who they couldn't protect, how Suguru had to watch her life being taken right before his very eyes, watching as the blood poured from her head, Satoru who came face-to-face with death and essentially lost his touch with reality, resorting to killing a man, though an assassin, in such a brutal manner.

You hadn't been there to witness any of it, but you saw the evident repercussions and how deeply the events affected them both.

With each passing day, you could see Suguru was looking worse for wear. Deep and dark circles contrasted heavily against pale skin, his hair growing long and unruly, and his body slimming, losing the definition it once had. And even though Satoru and Shoko would seemingly take his lazy excuses at face value when they asked, you were certain that you all knew how the raven-haired boy had something eating away at him.

Then Haibara died, and a hefty state of mourning took over the campus.

You watched as Nanami would have these flashes of anger, seeing several moments of barely contained rage and sadness. You understood his emotions deeply. You felt gutted. There was a part of you that always felt like you built a family within Jujutsu Tech, that these were your people and you cared deeply for each and every single one of them.

You remember the tears you shed silently in your room the night you found out. Remembering the handful of outings you, Suguru, Shoko, Satoru, Nanami, and Haibara went on. Several afternoons and evenings were filled with goofing off... just living life, feeling like normal high schoolers.

He was so young...

You didn't have it in you to go to the morgue to see his body, you weren't sure you could stomach the sight of it all. You knew Suguru went with Nanami, the two of them didn't talk much that day.

You tried to be as supportive as you could. You couldn't stomach the thought of seeing another one of your beloved friends fall, so you tried to be there. There were times you tried talking to Suguru, during the one-off chances you got to be alone with him for a brief couple of moments, but he would brush you off gently, giving you reassurances that you knew were nothing more than poorly constructed lies.

You wanted to be there. But what could you do? As much as it pained you to see him struggle, it's hard to help someone who wasn't ready for it.

You sighed softly.

But Satoru on the other hand of it all, his response was exactly what you expected, and if you were an outsider you would honestly have thought that he was completely unaffected by it all.

His normal demeanor was the same as always, carrying himself around with a lax and carefree attitude.

But, you second-years knew better.

Suddenly Satoru was pushing himself more and more, so much more than he normally did. You saw his determination tenfold and how there was this prominent need to push himself further to master his technique. You watched on as he managed to figure out how to manipulate his Infinity to discern levels of danger, automatically at that. His struggle to use Red was no more, mastering it to a tee and now proudly showing off the fact he was able to utilize the Reverse Cursed Technique as well.

He rose above everyone else so quickly, at such an alarming rate, it left many of you in the dust when it came to strength-

He truly had become the strongest.

But you knew, this all developed from deep-rooted frustration.

You could see as plain as day that he took what happened to Amanai and himself as a hard-hitting failure and a sign of weakness. And he wanted to make sure that it would never happen again.

But as a direct result of his intensive training and remarkable improvements, you got to accompany him on missions less and less, meaning he was away a lot more often than he usually was.

He often went alone returning with an earful of stories the moment he reunited with you, talking about what weak first grade he had to obliterate that day. Talking with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic delivery as you would laugh at his antics, munching on whatever sweet treat he picked up on his way back to share with you.

At least they had today to take it easy, you thought to yourself. You hoped that they would utilize this opportunity to do something fun to add some color to their life. Especially for Suguru, maybe Satoru or Shoko decided to drag him out somewhere, the thought made you smile for a moment as you took a sip of your tea.

Yeah, a day off for both of them was definitely needed. They deserved to feel like normal people again... even if it was just for a day.

BANG BANG BANG

A loud banging on your door had you jolting and letting out a soft squeak as you nearly spilled your half-cold tea all over your lap. You scramble to set the mug aside on your coffee table at you hurriedly rise to your feet, sliding on your slippers as the knocking begins to grow a bit more restless.

BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG "Coming!" you called out, hoping the knocking would finally cease. You swallowed your annoyance, trying to find it within you not to curse out whoever was at the door for giving you a scare as just a few gentle knocks would have sufficed.

You approach your front door and your fingers reach out and wrap around the doorknob, twisting and pulling.

"Satoru?" you blinked, your voice laced with surprise when you opened the door and were greeted with the sight of him.

It wasn't that strange for him to show up unannounced, he did it all the time and you were more than accustomed to the habit. No, what confused you was the fact that he was soaked as if he had been caught in the rain. His hair was matted down, his clothes clinging to his body as waterdrops dripped from his skin.

He didn't have his Infinity activated. Something was clearly wrong.

“Hey—are you okay—” you started, cutting yourself off with a gentle 'hmph!' when Satoru suddenly pulled you into him wordlessly. Your clothes dampened from his own soaked ones and normally you would curse the life out of him for something like this, but you made sure to hold your tongue, knowing very well now wasn't the time for that.

He held you tightly in his arms, and you could feel the shivering of his body against your own, likely from the cold wind nipping at his body from being out in the rain for who knows how long.

You frown, letting him hold you for a few seconds longer before gently patting his back, indicating for him to ease up his hold. You can feel him hesitate, giving you one last gentle squeeze before pulling away. You take the opportunity to close the door behind him, locking it and glancing up at him wordlessly before walking further into your apartment, inviting him further in.

"You're going to catch a cold..." you sigh out loud, moving hurriedly to your dresser, first fetching a towel and tossing it to him, which he catches with ease. He still doesn't speak and it bothers you deeply. The Satoru you were used to had no off switch, he could talk aimlessly for hours without a care. But this unnerving silence, the way it was so blatantly evident that something was bothering him and he wasn't even trying to cover it up— it was strange.

You open up one of your drawers, fetching out one of his shirts and joggers that the two of you agreed to keep in your room given how often he decided to stay over. Closing your drawer, you hold them delicately and make your way back over to Satoru, watching as he dried his hair, his gaze lowered to your floorboards.

"When you're done drying yourself, change into these... I'll get you something warm to drink and then we'll talk, okay?" You murmur softly, handing him the change of clothes, a gentle sympathetic smile on your face as you place a reassuring hand on his arm.

He nodded simply, leaving your side and heading into your bathroom, sliding the door shut behind him. You sigh softly, allowing your smile to drop to a frown as you immediately busy yourself by putting together a cup of hot chocolate. You grabbed a mug from your cupboard, poured in the hot chocolate powder as you heated up some milk, and reluctantly dropped two sugar cubes into the mug, knowing that Satoru would comment on it if you didn't.

As you are pouring in the milk, you hear the sound of your bathroom door sliding open once more, causing your eyes to flicker away. Satoru emerges, looking a little more put together than before, his hair was a ruffled mess but at least he was wearing dry clothes.

"You can hang them by the heater..." you say to him softly, eyes flickering down to the damp clothes that were in his hands while you stirred together the milk, sugar, and hot chocolate powder.

He does just that, gently laying out his clothes before sauntering over to your bed and sitting on top of the plush covers. You follow suit, fingers gently holding the handle of the mug, you walk over to him, leaning down to hand him the warm drink.

He musters up what looks like a weak smile, and you whisper a soft 'you're welcome' before pulling away and moving to go sit back in your beanbag—

But a gentle hand grabs your wrist.

And you meet his gaze.

His normally bright cerulean eyes are dulled down. He looks tired, and there's this specific look on his face— you don't like it—he looks so worn down.

He gently tugs on your arm and you immediately understand. Wordlessly, you sit down next to him on the bed. His free hand laces with yours and you give him a gentle squeeze, watching as he takes a sip of the hot chocolate, a soft sigh leaving his lips from the warmth.

He's running his thumb along your knuckles, lips tugging down into a frown as his eyebrows furrow.

A moment of silence passes.

"Suguru's defected" Satoru finally speaks, his voice devoid of any emotion, it's light, quiet in volume but the words have a sharp edge to them. They hang in the hair for a second, five, then ten—

"What?" you say incredulously, sounding more like a statement rather than a question. It's the only word your mind can conjure, your eyebrows furrowing, wondering if you heard him correctly, wondering if this was one of Satoru's sick pranks that simply went too far.

"He killed an entire village, he killed his parents— I went and saw him, there was this look of indifference on his face like it was nothing to him..." Words started to spill from his lips the more he spoke, not being able to stop since he started, "I wanted to stop him, I knew I had to, he would kill more, I could see it in his eyes but I—" "Satoru please slow down—" you tried to interject watching as he was getting more and more worked up with each word he spoke. His leg was bouncing rapidly and the hold he had on your hand was starting to become a little painful. His gaze was straight ahead, boring into the wall with this thousand-yard stare. He look petrified.

"But I couldn't, and he knew I wouldn't, he taunted me the bastard essentially telling me to go ahead and just pull the fucking trigger but I-" His voice broke and his eyes screwed shut, his head swinging down as his lips began to tremble. "I couldn't, (Y/N), I couldn't do it"

Then you see it.

Cascading down his cheek...

...along his pale skin...

...collecting at his jaw...

...dripping onto his freshly changed shirt...

A tear.

Your heart broke.

"I mean how could I...?" he laughs bitterly, "I'm not that heartless, am I?" he continues to laugh, a sorrowful sight as more tears begin to leave his eyes.

"I knew- we all knew something was wrong. And I tried... I swear I tried. But the fucker just wouldn't talk to me" his smile is wobbly, his bottom lip continuing to tremble and he bites down on it, a huff of air leaving his nose as he tries to still himself.

You truly didn't know what to say.

This simply was too much. You had never seen Satoru so vulnerable before. You had never seen him cry. And beyond that, you were still reeling from the news he brought to you. Your mind was running at a million miles per hour, searching for something, anything to say. Begging that somehow the right words that would heal everything would appear and leave your mouth.

But you drew a blank. So silently, you remove the mug from his hand, setting it on the coffee table next to your long-forgotten cup of tea, and slowly, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close. Hoping that maybe something as childish and as simple as a hug would provide some measly sense of comfort for him.

He breaks.

He's pulling you into his lap, arms tight around your waist and he shoves his face into your neck, stifling his emotions. His breathing is ragged and he's stuttering out nonsense as he tries to find his voice again but fails pathetically.

You felt your entire being shatter at the sight of your best friend being so broken, "This is not your fault, Satoru" you finally whisper, your own voice cracking, wondering if what you said was the right thing to say. "Like you said... you tried, we all tried- we wanted to help him, we really did-" A soft sob leaves your lips at the end of your sentence and the two of you just hold onto each other tighter.

"We can't save those who don't want to be helped.." you resolve, your hand gently running up and down the expanse of his clothed back.

You didn't know what more to say, what could you say at a time like this? Were there any right words? You were still reeling from your own emotions, you didn't know what to make of it all, and you simply felt devastated.

So the two of you sit there, silently crying in each other's arms, mourning over the fact that you lost another one of your friends. Wondering what you both could have done differently, wondering how you could have let Suguru fall so low?

"Stay with me tonight..?" he suddenly speaks again, his voice slightly hoarse as he continues to cling to you tightly.

"Of course..." You whisper back to him, not missing a beat as you attempt to wipe away your tears.

Eventually, the two of you move, making your way underneath the covers of your bed, lying on your side and facing each other. He brought you back to his chest, engulfing you in his arms wordlessly, allowing the two of you to fall into silence for just a few moments.

"Do you remember that mission we had together a couple months ago? The one where we thought we'd be going up against Grade Two Curses" he starts, voice nothing more than a hushed whisper that if you hadn't been so close to him, you may not have heard him. "Yeah, and it turned out to be Grade One's instead..." you whisper back, briefly recalling your annoyance over the misinformation that you and Satoru were given at the time.

He lets out a soft chuckle and you feel you've earned yourself a small victory. "That's the one..." he trailed off, letting out a shaky breath before continuing to speak, "we decided to wander about for a bit afterward... and we just- watched the sunset together and talked," he said, his hands trailing up your back to begin playing with the ends of your hair and a soft smile graces your lips at the action.

"Yeah, I remember that" you murmur, recalling the fond memory as you leaned into his chest a little more.

"So-" he begins, cutting himself with a shaky sigh, "...You don't plan on going anywhere, right?" his voice breaks again, and your ears perk up, realizing he was mimicking those exact words he spoke to you that day.

And you're unsure if this is a narrative you're creating in your head, but you realize at that moment that Satoru was just as terrified as you were.

As selfish as it felt, you realized that he also was afraid of losing more people. That there was a part of him that also didn't know if he could stand to watch as another person slipped through his fingers.

That maybe, he was afraid of potentially losing you just as you were scared shitless of losing him.

You felt something stir within you, an emotion that you couldn't quite place as you processed your own thoughts.

"I promise you... you're stuck with me" you say with teary eyes, mimicking your exact answer to him from that evening. You feel his body tremble and he just holds you tighter, the next few words he speaks coming out shaky and strained.

"...Thank you..."

☆~~~~☆~~~~☆

A/N: well if you read "Ghost of You" - if you know- you know :P But that is the 2nd and final prequel/addition to the Ghost of You story. I wanted to write these two parts as I thought it would help bring more meaning to the story and that it would also offer a bit more of a deep dive into the dynamic that Satoru and the Reader had, and it'll help sort of justify Satoru's reactions and emotions during the story. But thank you guys for the love and support on this fic! It did so much better than I ever thought it would! I have a few drafts of drabbles that I have been preparing to post but I hope you guys will stick around and see some of the new works I will be posting. Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!

Taglist: @hyori2 @kalulakunundrum @smolbeanzzz @numblytemporary @satxoru

[whimsicalwritingsandmore]

The Elite Four | stray kids x reader

Pairing: ot8!straykids x fem!reader, ??? x fem!reader

Genre: fantasy au, romance, magic

Warnings: you get attacked.

Word count: 1986 words

a/n: well well well, it is I! And I bring you a new story! Hope you enjoy and reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated as it'll keep me motivated! <3

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

Chapter 1

It rained when everything fell apart.

But before that, you loved the rain. You were from the lone district, a place that only experienced either clear skies and intense sunlight or overcast skies with steady or torrential downpours. Usually Summer was much more prominent so when it rained, you welcomed it with open arms. The weather held sentimental value to you and you were certain there was nothing that could make you dislike rainy weather.

It rained when you met Chan. You were only 12 years old, and he had just moved right next to your home. As the droplets began to splatter and become more intense, Chan tried to make a run inside with his childhood dog in his arms. Unfortunately for him, the cheerful and friendly pooch had other plans. The small and cute creature broke free from his embrace and barreled its way right into your legs as you appeared into its view. You fell into the mud with Chan screaming “Berry, noooo!” and rushing to your side to help.

It drizzled when you met Minho and Jisung. It had actually rained earlier in the day so the forest was a muddy and slippery ground at the time. While you and Chan mindlessly tossed pebbles into the vast lake that was nestled in the forest, out of nowhere, two boys came skating and screaming down the hill. Jisung was at the forefront and he tightly grasped Minho’s hand like his life depended on it while the latter wailed and yelled at him to let him go. They both fell right into the cold water.

It was foggy when you met Changbin due to the sudden torrential downpour that lingered for days. You were at the border that separated the lone district from the capital city, Pruvine. The border was adorned with lush berry bushes that bore the sweetest berries you ever tasted. However, it was a risk to be on the border alone. Pruvine Surviellants, just like the citizens, were not fond of people from the district, unless you were able to be of use for something. Surviellants would antagonize your people before finding some excuse to arrest them and bring them in for questioning. You were forbidden from going to the border by yourself but unfortunately for your parents, you had selective hearing and nothing could stop you from your berry addiction. So when you were ambushed and chased by a guard dog, Changbin grabbed your wrist to prevent you from falling down a slope and pulled you with him to safety.

And it had a torrential downpour when you met Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin. They were three close friends who spent most of their days lounging on top of the highest trees in the forest, staring out the Academy that stood beautifully in the capital. When a downpour began, they remained in their spots protected by the trees while the five of you were down below seeking shelter. Jisung who was panicked as he began to recall the last time he was in the forest and the muddy ground, scampered up one of the trees which Felix was on and refused to come down. The rest of you joined him on the other trees in close proximity and befriended the trio as you waited for the storm to pass. By the end of the day, your group was now a total of eight.

Truly you believed there was nothing to make you dislike rain.

You enjoyed living in the lone district despite the political unrest between Pruvine and the undercity. Pruvine is the city that flourished and prospered with wealth and the latest technology. The metropolis was a sprawling canva of urbanity as it was always buzzing with ceaseless activity from merchants, politicians and important people who came from all over the world. Its market was always bustling with activity and it was a buzzing hub for commerce. The city was adorned with towering buildings and pillars that were a testament to its grandeur and the ancient walls that were deeper into the centre were steeped in history, whispering tales from long ago.

On the other hand, the undercity was a dystopian community that was tucked away in an underground somewhere right off the cliff at the end of the forest. It was a community that felt the heavy injustice of the Pruvine Council after the failed rebellion centuries ago. It was said to be a gloomy landscape with a sprawling labyrinth of alleys. However, you also heard that the nightlife of the undercity was a spectrum of neon signs and lively bars. The city came alive at night and the after-hours was a playground for night owls with rumored rooftop bars, offering panoramic views of the starlit cityscape.

The lone district was right in between the two parallel cities. Your home was a petite town that was neatly crammed right next to the neighbouring vast forest. Descendants from the district were rumoured to have been from the undercity, who sought to establish their own home due to the continuous unrest and then failed uprising. It would definitely explain why Pruvine civilians did not take too kindly to your people.

But despite the neverending social turbulence, you liked your home - you had your friends and family and that’s all that mattered.

Until, Chan went off to the Academy. Despite the personal vendettas Pruvine citizens may have towards your people, there was no law barring you or anyone from your district to attend the Academy. You could if you chose to but it did require a very heavy and lengthy entrance examination. Perhaps it was the city’s way to show their equality and egalitarianism. 

Since that courtesy was not extended to the undercity’s civilians. 

Chan always considered potentially trying to enrol into the Academy. And after he met you and the boys, he was determined to secure a place and further his education. It would mean that he could create an avenue for a better life for everyone. He envisioned that you all would come to the city to live and have the most comfortable lifestyle the city had to offer. Despite your uneasiness and uncertainty with anything related to Pruvine, you trusted Chan and supported him in his efforts.

Till, he returned with a new friend. Kiara was the daughter of wealthy politicians and her mother sat on the Pruvine Council. She was nice, to the others at least. She avoided any one-on-one conversations with you and steered clear of your company if the others had left the two of you alone in the room. She kept close to Chan (much to your chagrin) and befriended Changbin, Seungmin, Felix and Jeongin easily. As far as Minho and Jisung were concerned, she seemed nice but neither really found it important to be close to her. However, Minho in particular began to notice her odd behaviour towards you. She would make back-handed compliments and subtly discredit any achievements you had. The others didn’t pick up on it since she was good at making it seem like a harmless and normal conversation. Minho wasn’t there the first few times she did it but then she made the mistake of saying it in front of him, and he was quick to reply to her with a snarky remark. She laughed it off initially but then sulked to Chan that Minho didn’t like her. Chan comforted her but their close proximity was a little too close to your liking.

But who were you to say anything? Chan wasn’t your boyfriend, so while your heart felt like it was being tugged mercilessly, you bit your tongue. You ignored it as best you could until you couldn’t.

 It was raining when Kiara decided to host a party at Chan’s to celebrate him completing his first year. She refused to leave his side and it was clear, she did not want to leave the two of you alone even for a second. She invited a few of their classmates and dragged him along to mingle with her. You could feel the stares and hear the whispers of gossip that were about you, because every time you tried to approach Chan, she would pull him away.

Ultimately, it all became too much, the living room you knew so well at Chan’s that was always homely, cozy and welcoming, began to feel too small and suffocating. So when nobody was looking, you ran off into and headed to the forest to breathe.

You felt like a failure. Although you knew Kiara was horrible and whatever issue she had with you was one-sided and clearly rooted in some kind of jealousy, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of inferiority. She was pretty and educated, she had seen the world while you never left the district, she was ambitious and talented at dance. And just yesterday, you heard Chan’s mom tell yours what a good match she would be for Chan.

And of course she would be. You were just a girl from the lone district, you did not want to attend the Academy, quite frankly, you would never step foot in Pruvine if you could. 

You were just you.

The rain had stopped for a while. As you got deeper into the forest though, you felt light droplets on your skin - it was beginning to drizzle. Just as you were about to make up your mind to turn back, you heard a marching of footsteps coming your way. Immediately, your heart began to hammer in your chest. It was already late and the sky above you was starting to become unnaturally dark with layers of gigantic and heavy clouds giving off an ominous and threatening feeling. There was a sudden flickering of white light bursting across the sky and in the distance, thunder began to rumble. It was beginning to get foggy and the wind seemed to escalate in strength, rattling the branches of the trees.

Before you could even take a step, you were shoved to the ground with a menacing figure towering over you ready to attack. With all your might you kicked him and bolted deeper into the forest. More foreign voices filled your ears and you distinctly heard a gruff voice yelling to ‘get her.’ A torrential shower hammered down soon after and you tumbled with every step you took as the ground became slippery and muddy. You were covered in mud and your hands were covered in cuts. You were freezing cold as the temperature dropped. You felt nothing but blind terror and dread twisted in your gut as you came to the clearing of the cliff. You were trapped. Suddenly, you were being attacked and hit from all sides. You felt the blood beginning to leak down your face, and as it mixed with the rain it stained your clothes. One of the perpetrators grabbed your arm and as you tried to pull back your sleeve was ripped. 

You were bruised and bloodied as you fell to the ground. Just as one of the goons was about to land the final blow, Jisung’s voice rang through the forest calling for you. The group scampered away and a blurry Jisung came into view. He cried and screamed your name, running to you and hugging you close, begging you to remain conscious. You faintly heard him mention the words help and Chan before running as fast he could back into the forest.

There were a few things you remembered that night. As you laid on the ground slowly teetering into unconsciousness, you saw three silhouettes come up from the bushes. Fear spiked in your body but there was nothing you could do. As your eyes began to flutter shut and you slowly accepted your fate, a gentle hand caressed your head.

That’s all you remembered as everything faded to black.

Oh, and you also never liked rain again.

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

a/n: Never fear, Hyunjin will appear in the next chapter! if you would like to be on the taglist, please send me an ask or private message, that way I'll see it faster!

Taglist: @wealwayskeepfighting

[queen-mabs-revenge]

i'm gonna quote it at length here, but let me tell you, after just having read mark steven's splatter capital earlier this year, dracula daily is truly hitting different. if this is your first dracula experience, spoilers ahead!

[...]

remembering that the communist manifesto (1848) was written and published between frankenstein (1818) and dracula (1897), truly sets the context for the historical conditions of capitalism in which a life-draining land-speculating proprietor is the face of inhuman horror

[cordyce]

"i don’t like the way they keep staring at you." w/ peeta 'if it weren't for the baby' mellark? :3

truthfully, your hands are beginning to grow a little shaky from doing this for so long. the minor tremble is smudging your paint strokes, causing a few swipes to stray from the imaginary lines you have mapped out in your head. but no one can fault you for that; not rightfully. you're not the skilled painter here.

and as if on cue the man who's art you adore so much is sliding up next to you. painfully close–abnormally close, more like. you are not a stranger to his affection but something about how a calloused hand finds the divot in the small of your back so swiftly has you tipping your head to address him. in such a public venue, no less.

"yes?" you adhere as you turn to peeta with a smile. but a smile is not what you're greeted with in return. no, this upturn of lips is a little too slanted for that, a little too suave.

"nothing, just came to admire the expert at work." it's all he says, all he gives, and you know it cannot be all there is because he has that glint in his eye he only gets when he is being smarmy.

"right, well, we both know i'm not the expert here, so," you blow through a chuckle as you drop your paintbrush into a murky cup of water. "what is it you really came over here for, mr. mellark?"

you turn to face him properly and expect this to be where he drops his hands, looses his hold on you. but he does exactly the opposite. instead of feigning, his fingers simply shift–down to your belt loops. there's a single tug; harsh and surging enough you can now feel the heat of his thighs radiating against yours.

"i don't like the way they keep staring at you." and it's jolting; how he says it with such a sickeningly sweet tongue and cherry pressed lips, as if his eyes aren't glinting like the blades of daggers in moonlight.

you lick your lips, force a laugh as you pat at his chest to stave off the turn of your stomach. "please, they're probably just admiring my expert painting skills. this is a dog and pony show, you know."

it's meant to be a jab, a taunt. throwing peeta's own words back in his face to throw him off and maybe turn his grin a little more genuine and a little less guileful. yet all it does is seem to cause his lips to twitch ever deeper, carve their way up to the dimple in his cheek.

"i know what they're admiring, and it isn't your canvas."

he side steps you, picks your brush back up and in one swift motion tosses it behind him in such a way it looks like a mere accidental dropping. an accident, that seems to have splattered the red stain directly on that of a capital patron who is positioned a little closer than you thought they were allowed to be to the.. entertainment.

eyes slightly widened, there is no denying the skip of your heart now as peeta's lip brush against the shell of your ear. "you belong in a gallery all of my own. a stunning, private collection," he whispers.

then with no more than an innocent kiss to your temple and a squeeze to your hip, he's gone. rushing to retrieve your brush and usher out apologies through his golden boy personage, his charm winning as it always does in favor of the capitol. and you are left dazed, wanting nothing more than to shrink into your skin. not because of the peering and prying eyes of the entire nation; but because of the yearning and burning eyes of your lover.

[coryosbaby]

Camera Ready ✧･ﾟ: Finnick Odair x reader

Summary: Neither of you really care if anyone sees.

Warning: exhibitism, voyeurism, p n v, riding, they fuck in the arena while it’s being televised, spit kink, size kink, creampie, switch ! Finnick, switch! Reader

⭒

“You know you could walk a little slower, sweetness. ”

Finnick’s voice blares out teasingly into the morning air as he trails behind you. Your hair sticks to your forehead in sweaty strands, your body on high alert as you make sure to scope out any remaining candidates that aren’t on your side. Which isn’t much, considering you have Katniss and the others, but it’s still a good idea to be cautious. To your relief you had found Finnick in the woods last night. And as much of a victor as you are, the dark makes you nervous. So he had allowed you to sleep beside him, curled up with his arms wrapped around you. It wasn’t intentional, of course, but when he sleeps it seems that he tends to get handsy. And when the warmth of his body was beside you, you couldn’t resist letting him throw you into his embrace.

“Maybe you could walk a little faster, pretty boy.”

He chuckles at the nickname, his pace finally catching up with you so you can see the cocky smile on his face.

“You think I’m pretty?”

Your friendship is like this, a lot. Flirtation, playful banter, and a few hook ups every now and then since the two of you met at a capital event one year. And now, even when you’re supposed to be enemies, you’re working together. It’s just a connection, an order that makes you both flow freely with each other and get the things you desire.

You ignore the way Finnick’s hands ignite flames on your skin and the way his smile makes your heart flourish. You also ignore the way you feel the constant need to protect him and keep him alive. In this game, you can’t have anything serious.

“Mm..” you reply. “Sometimes.”

Your hands wrap around his neck as you pull him to you. He smiles, that pretty crooked smile, and presses a kiss to your temple.

And then, you hear a snap.

You and Finnick are both on high alert then, and turning around you’re both faced with a victor. Not an ally, it seems, as she’s pointing a knife at the both of you.

It doesn’t take long before she’s dead, but it’s still a bother to you. You don’t like murdering these people, and you’ve never liked the whole idea or subject of the hunger games. The first time you had won, but at what cost when they’ve sent you right back in?

It’s kill or be killed. And as the woman’s blood splatters on your face, you sense that familiar feeling of rage from the first time you killed creeping back into your psyche. That rage that loathes the capital, loathes those stupid fucking districts as they fall into the ground. And your knife doesn’t stop the assault on her as you make sure she’s dead. It’s better, this way, to overdo it so they don’t have to suffer. Finnick is surprised at your strength and skill, he always has been, but he finds it best not to bring it to attention.

As you two walk away, the woods begins to clear. And then you both watch as you see the Arena come into view, dark and blood soaked.

“Great,” you mutter. “More to show the people.”

It’s obvious that everything is being recorded, but this is the most clear spot. As you sit down on one of the rock formations, your lean back to watch the clouds and the orange sunset. Finnick sits beside you, his neck and chest splattered with blood. And after a moment, you begin to speak.

“I don’t like doing this.” You state. “It’s all bullshit. It’s psychotic.”

Finnick nods in agreement, his jaw clenched as he watches the stains on your shirt.

“We should give them a show.” He says. “Do something that we know they can’t get away from.”

And that’s when you get the idea.

You look at him, a mere glance. You’re both probably sweaty and disgusting, but even now Finnick looks absolutely god like. You know he’s chiseled, under that gray suit. And you know what big thing lies underneath the crotch of his underwear.

You smile, your hand coming to rest gently on his muscled thigh. His eyebrows furrow in confusion, as he watches your palm begin to move up more.

“What are you doing?” He asks. He doesn’t seem completely against the idea, though. Because then that cocky smirk you know so good and well is plastered onto his face, his hands finding there way to the exposed skin of your shoulder. He leans over and kisses your collarbone, gently. You huff, your lips moving to graze the spot below his ear.

“If they want them a show, let’s give them a show.”

Seeming to be on the same page, Finnick crashes his lips into yours in a bruising kiss.

Meanwhile, at the capital, the monitors in the room begin to awkwardly watch as you push Finnick down onto the rocky arm. His back hits the floor with a grunt, and then he’s watching as you sit up and unzip the back of your suit. He groans when your tits are revealed to them, full and sitting in all their glory. He brings his hands up and gropes one in his hand, feels the soft skin and your pert nipples being brought to attention. You tut when he tries to move his fingers down to your pussy.

“No, Finn.” You coo. Your nails scratch his addam’s apple, and he flushes as you begin to climb on top of him. “No touching there until I say.”

He groans when you press down against his growing bulge.

“You know if we don’t hurry we could die, right?” He huffs.

“I don’t want to hear excuses, baby. We both know fucking me again is the last thing you want to do before you go.”

He can’t deny that, and as you demand that he lift himself up and unzip his suit down to his thighs, he follows your directions with desperation. You watch as you pull his briefs down below his balls, watch as his girthy length springs to full attention. He moans when your hand connects to his skin, and begins to jerk him off with vigor. You can feel a tension in the air, the feeling of being watched extremely prominent. And it shouldn’t get you so wet, but it does. So you bring yourself to eye level with Finnick’s cock, and spit down on him, quick to shove his tip into the warm confines of your mouth. He makes a deep sound in his throat, and you move away teasingly when his hips try and move his cock farther into your throat.

“C’mon, sugar.” He says, overwhelmed. “Don’t be mean.”

“Why don’t you just shut up and do what I say, Odair?” You demand. You slap his cock, and he groans, legs beginning to tremble at the pain and pleasure mixing. “Besides, I’m not letting you use my mouth right now. I just needed to get you wet.”

He whines in protest when you pull away from him. But then you’re pushing your suit down, past your calfs and onto the ground.

So help you, if you’re going to die it’s going to be like this.

When your pussy is revealed to him, Finnick’s cock jumps and he sits up to guide you to his lap. He’s warm, his cock drooling and messy. You don’t hesitate to rub his tip against your clit, your thighs holding his lean body down.

“Please, y/n, fuck!” Finnick stutters, the feeling of your wet silky cunt making him go crazy.

You smile as you finally guide him to your entrance, and sink down. His cock fills you up to impossible levels, his balls pressed flush against you when he finally bottoms out. His hands go to your waist, and when you bounce on him, his eyes roll back and he cries out like a bitch in heat.

“Jesus Christ.. you feel so fuckin’ good, angel. Love your pussy so much.”

“I know, sweet boy.” You moan when he grazes a soft spot inside you. “It f-feels good, doesn’t it? My little pussy feel good around that big cock?”

“God, yes. Cmon, ride me harder, momma. I know you can.”

And when you begin to fuck him faster, he brings his hands down to your ass, and begins bucking up into you with a feral pace. Your arousal makes him keen, makes his brain turn to mush the moment your scent hits him. You look so beautiful, so flushed and perfect, and something snaps inside of Finnick, then. His fingers spread your cheeks apart, and his voice is raw.

“Bet you like this, huh? The whole capital watching you get fuckin’ destroyed by my big cock? Hm?”

You gasp at his words, your fingers clawing at his chest.

“Finn, baby, fuck!”

“You love it, don’t you?”

No reply. Finnick slaps your ass harshly, and you yelp at the sting. His hands grab your throat in a harsh grip.

“Answer me!” He demands. You cry out, trying to nod the best you can, and then uttering out a “Yes! Yes sir!” As his large hands cut off your air supply.

“That’s my fuckin girl.” He replies. His fingers rub your clit, leaving your throat as you gasp for air and your orgasm washes over you. Your pussy gushes all over him, soaking his cock and balls and the rock below the both of you, and without warning Finnick is grabbing your hips with his large hands and turning you over so you’re beneath him. It’s quick, and you’re incredibly surprised. You wrap your legs around him as he begins to pummel you, now with more leverage and strength, and his cock feels like it’s destroying you from the inside out. You don’t complain, though. And when Finnick’s hips begin stuttering, you know he’s about to cum.

“C’mon, baby, cum inside me, cum in my pussy!”

Your words spur him on, makes him leave bruising marks on your wrists as he holds them above your head and begins to cum in thick, messy ropes. Your walls practically milk him of everything he’s got, and when he’s done you can feel the stickiness of his seed dripping off his cock and onto your thighs.

He buries his face in your neck, then. And with a small laugh, he pulls himself out and begins to lick his cum out of you. Your middle finger comes up into the air as he does it. A sign, as the victor from district 4 eats your pussy. A big ‘fuck you’ to the capital.

The cameramen and people at home watch in shock and awe. There’s a debate of whether or not they should turn it off, and after a while everyone becomes too distracted by the images on screen to worry about it. The next day, none of the other tributes look at you both the same.

Because at that time, they had been watching, too.

@emsbookcase

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Ask, and You Shall Receive

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x f!reader Warnings: Mentions of female masturbation, slight coercion and degradation, smut. Word count: ~2k

Summary: Daemon's maidservant has been quietly lusting after him for three months, waiting for him to make the first move. Based on this request.

Author's note: I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications for updates of when I post fics. Community labels are for cops.

When she’d first been assigned the duty of serving as Prince Daemon Targaryen’s maidservant, a rush of excitement had run hotly through her veins.

There were many names that the King’s younger brother went by, but the one that intrigued her most was Lord Flea Bottom, a moniker earned for how often he was seen in that particular part of the capital. It was no secret that the Rogue Prince enjoyed the company of whores; he frequented all of the pleasure houses within the Street of Silk, despite his marriage to Lady Rhea Royce, and no matter how much nobles and smallfolk alike enjoyed gossiping about his exploits, he was undeterred from this salacious behaviour. Daemon was not a man who concerned himself with the opinions or approval of others.

She had lusted after the Prince from afar for as long as she’d worked at the Keep, and ordinarily she’d never dream that someone of such high standing would give her the slightest bit of attention - she was a lowborn servant, a nobody - yet learning he frequented brothels gave her a glimmer of hope that he might deign to give her the attention she so desperately craved from him. A maidservant was certainly a step up from a common whore, and at the very least he would not have to part with coin in exchange for her company.

Much to her disappointment, it has been three months since she began attending to Daemon and he has not so much as spared a glance her way. He returns each evening from his duties as Commander of the City Watch, and she draws him a bath before helping him from his gold cloak and armour.

She allows herself the briefest gaze of admiration before averting her eyes, feeling her skin grow heated whenever he stands bare before her, tall, broad and godlike. He is the very image of power itself, surely hand-carved by the Seven.

When he reclines in the tub full of steamy water, her eyes roam appreciatively over the breadth of his chest and shoulders as she drags the dampened wash cloth across them, down the length of his arms and the span of his large hands.

The silken strands of his silver hair are impossibly soft against her fingers as she runs them through it, washing away the dirt of the city. The rumble of contentment that vibrates in his throat as her fingertips work against his scalp has desire pooling between her legs. She wonders what else she could do to elicit those sounds from him. Alas, no matter how deftly she washes his body and attends to his needs, he has never touched her. Though he is utterly relaxed in her presence, it seems to be in spite of it rather than because of it. 

This frustrates her. She goes to bed each night pent up, her hand slipping between her legs and bringing herself to release, imagining what it would feel like to have his dampened body move against her own.

There is fire in his eyes when he returns to his quarters that evening, his brow furrowed in long spent anger, his jaw set in a way that indicates he is in no mood to talk. The darkened maroon splatters on his breastplate are doubtless dried blood, and not his own.

She longs to ask what has happened, but knows better. It is not her place to question a Prince. She has heard talk of Daemon putting tougher measures in place to deal with the rapists of King’s Landing, a recent development. She suspects that this is likely the cause of his bloodied ire tonight. Her heart swells at the thought of his chivalrous bravery. Longing to reward him for his service to the people of the city, and perhaps a last ditch attempt at gaining his attention, she decides to put extra care into his evening bath.

She ensures the water is slightly hotter than usual, scented with rose and lavender, and sets oils beside the tub, almond to use on his hair, and lemon for his body. Her final action is to strip down to just her shift, stepping out of the dress she wears that identifies her as serving staff of the Red Keep and shedding her smallclothes. She wants him to see her. If he takes offence or queries it, she reasons that she will simply apologise and say that the warmth of his bath was making her too hot. However, somehow she doubts he will be offended.

As she steps towards him to begin helping with the removal of his armour, she notices his eyes drift over her body. Covered only by a thin layer of cotton, her silhouette is illuminated through the material by the soft light of the candles that burn throughout the chamber. He says nothing, standing in silence and allowing her to disrobe him. She places each heavy piece carefully to one side, as always, though this time her hands shake with the effort.

Sweat prickles the back of her neck as he is revealed to her, her mouth running dry at the sight of him, thick thighs slightly parted as he stands with his feet planted. She catches his eye as she glances upwards and her breath sticks in her throat. He is watching her ogle him. The faintest twitch of his brow is his only reaction. She cannot tell if it is amusement or annoyance.

He lets out a low hum of appreciation as he steps into the tub, clearly noticing the difference in both scent and temperature. A small smile of pride tugs at her lips as she steps behind him, preparing to begin their nightly routine.

Carefully she wets his hair, cupping water into her hands and spreading it from root to tip, before coating her palms and fingertips in almond oil and working it through his pale tresses. She takes her time, rubbing tight, slightly pressured circles against his scalp, noticing the way his eyelids drift closed, leaning into her touch. She forgoes the use of the washcloth this evening, pouring lemon essence directly into her hands and massaging it into his chest and shoulders. The tightness in his muscles melts like butter beneath her touch as she works her way down the length of his arms, watching the way the tension he has been clinging onto dissipates with every sweep of her hands across his body.

As she moves lower, about to dip her hand beneath the surface of the bathwater, she lets out a small gasp, caught off guard by the suddenness with which Daemon grasps her wrist - not applying enough pressure to hurt her, but enough for her to know she can no longer move her arm of her own volition. Her wide eyes stare at him imploringly, though his expression is impassive as he regards her carefully.

“Do you wish to fuck me, little maid?” he asks, voice low, the slightest of smirks upon his face.

She feels as though all the air has been sucked from the room. Her heart hammers wildly in her chest as her lips part in shock. She knows that Daemon speaks plainly, but she had never expected him to be so lewd, so direct. It has warmth blooming in her lower belly. A dull, throbbing ache settles between her legs.

She lets out a squeal when, clearly dissatisfied with her silence, he hauls her into the tub with him. She sits astride him, shift soaking wet and clinging to the contours of her body as she attempts to control her breathing. His hands grip her waist, holding her in place to ensure she doesn’t try to climb back out. The hardness of his body against hers, the warmth of the water lapping against her skin, the heady aroma of rose and lavender, it is all too much. Her head swims with the effort to keep her composure. 

This is all she has ever wanted. Yet, she knows one wrong move could spoil it all.

Daemon reaches up, tweaking the hardened peak of her nipple that pebbles through the wet fabric, making her whine and clench around nothing. “You didn’t answer me - but I think I already know the answer. I see the way you look at me, the way you prance about my chamber like a bitch in heat.”

She squirms, mewling desperately when he hands push her soaked cotton of her shift above her hips, his thumb dipping between her legs to lightly circle her pearl. She clings tightly to his shoulders for support, wanting to say something, anything, but the words will not come. Mercifully, he is eager to speak for both of them.

“The thing is, little maid, wanton sluts don’t get what they want unless they ask nicely. Did you really think the power of your feminine charm alone would be enough to entice me? I am a Prince. People beg for my attention, not the other way around.”

Her chest rises and falls rapidly with effort it takes her to remember to breathe. Her thighs shake either side of Daemon’s hips as he continues to rub against her sensitive bud. Her brows are knitted together, an expression of both unbridled pleasure and humiliation.

He chuckles quietly. “So, are you ready to ask for what it is you want?”

Resolve crumbling, she nods fervently, hoping he will take mercy on her, but it is not enough.

“Say it,” he commands forcefully, removing his hand from between her legs.

When she eventually finds her voice, it sounds foreign to her, broken and pitiful, not her own. “P-please…Your Grace…I-I want you to fuck me.”

“Good girl,” he whispers.

She barely has time to register the weightiness of his thick cock as it rests against his palm before he is pressing it inside of her, its girth pushing apart her fleshy inner walls with its brutal intrusion. Though she is adequately aroused, it is a stretch to accommodate him. She muffles a squeak into the crook of his neck as he sheathes himself fully within her.

His fingers curl themselves into the hair at the back of her head, gently tugging her back, an air of smugness etched across his handsome features as he looks up at her. “You will not hide from me,” he says huskily. “You wanted me to fuck you, so you will let me watch you as I do it.”

The slight threat that simmers beneath his words sends a shiver of excitement through her. The bath water begins to sway with the undulation of his hips as they thrust languidly up into hers. His pace is lazy, unhurried, yet every stroke is achingly deep as the head of him brushes against the rough patch inside of her that causes her toes to curl involuntarily. He is like a cat playing with a mouse, his eyes never leaving her face, studying every slackening of her jaw and slight scrunch of her nose as he fucks himself into her.

As he coaxes her towards her peak, she feels a familiar pressure building inside of her. It crashes over her in white hot waves, causing her to slump against Daemon’s chest with a cry of ecstasy. She feels boneless, weightless, but he is far from done with her.

Seizing her incapacitation as an opportunity, he grasps her hips, quickening his pace and pulling her downwards to meet each snap of his pelvis, the force of his movements causing the water to cascade over the sides of the wooden tub and onto the flagstone floor as he chases his own end. He grunts in satisfaction as he spends inside of her, and in the back of her pleasure-addled mind comes the hazy thought that she will need to drink moon tea in the morning.

They lay as they are for a few moments longer, as Daemon catches his breath, what remains of the bathwater rapidly cooling around them. When she finally has the strength to lift herself from his chest, she sees fire in his eyes once more, though it is not derived from fury. There is warmth behind his gaze, a fondness that she has not seen before.

He strokes her back absentmindedly, his fingers plucking at the wet shift that sticks to it. “Take this off,” he whispers, “and go to my bedchambers. We shall see if you are as good at warming my bed as you are at making my bath go cold.”

Read on AO3

More Daemon fics

[oweninadaydream]

𝐅𝐄𝐄𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐒𝐇 || 𝐂𝐇.𝟐

summary : Jake cannot stop thinking about him. Jake cannot stop thinking about the first time he saw him. Jake cannot stop hating himself for what he is doing.

pairing : Jake 'Hangman' Seresin x male!character

word count : 2.5k

contains : allusions to sex, emotional distress, religious trauma, self-deprecating thoughts and yeah, basically the same warnings from part 1 haha.

a/n : Gif by @tay-swifts. Okay so rn for me it's 2:45 am so please ignore any incoherence or mistakes or if it's not as good as part 1. I hope yall don't hate me for not posting in so long, this is my attempt to go back into writing :)

“Seventy-nine. Down. Eighty. Down. Eighty-one. Down-” Maverick’s voice resonated inside the squad’s ear canal as he counted the number of push-ups they had done so far. This time they only had to do 100, but the heat and tiredness from all those previous hours spent in the air made the seemingly easy exercise a hellish torture. The concrete floor splattered with sweat drops falling from their foreheads was burning hot and their hands were begging to cease contact with the ground. All those physical stimuli did not possess enough power to distract Hangman from the million thoughts that flooded his mind ; the characteristic dullness of the exercise had sent him into a tortuous crisis full of some memories he didn’t want to relive and some others he wanted to relive so desperately that the realization that it was in fact impossible hurt him more than any wound acquired in the battlefield. 

After pushing his body back up from push-up number 92, he closed his eyes for a second and that was enough for a film-like reminiscence to start playing inside his head.

Speed. 100. 110. 120. 150. The tight grip to the steering wheel. Quick shallow breaths. Accelerated palpitations. Those were just some of the symptoms that showed his unnerved emotional state. Taking a right exit, he found himself entering the mysterious city of L.A ; coming from a Texan town, Los Angeles seemed like the capital of the unruly. Don't get him wrong, he has always been a menace himself, but big cities had always made him feel strangely small. 

He had no clue where he was going, but that's the thing about spontaneously bolting from base at 11 pm on a Friday. Hangman had no explicit motives to feel trapped within his routine; in fact, he thrived under strict organization (one of the many reasons why he decided to join the army), so what the hell was he doing? That was a question that was going to be left unanswered for now, so the next best thing was to find a distraction from the everlasting anger flooding his system.

He quickly realized that he had driven to a neighborhood full of pubs and bars decorated in colorful lights and full of people queuing to get in and have a drink or two, perhaps dance or make out too. His eyes also took in the many flags that hung from all of the buildings of the street; he recognized the gay flag but the rest, he could not tell what they represented. While staring at a pink, purple and blue one, he got blinded by a very powerful blue light, which made him stop abruptly. After it had dimmed down, he turned his head to identify where the light was coming from.

“Mon Ange” he mumbled to himself. His tired gaze revitalized at the hypnotic sight. If he had to be completely honest, he knew the reason why he fled the scene earlier that night. The truth was that he felt stuck, unable to move forward in life; something was missing but he couldn’t pinpoint what it was and the enigma was driving the pilot crazy. He was 35 and having an identity crisis, how lame was that? Looking at the people waiting to enter ‘Mon Ange’, he noticed that everyone was dressing so eccentrically, smiling so brightly and chatting so loudly; he was obviously not part of their community but, could a night in this place so out of character for him relax his mind enough to see things in a different light? He would get in, order a drink and head out, that’s it. Spending time in a place that was filled with strangers who did not have any type of expectations or preconceived ideas of him sounded nice enough to make the move.

The odor of alcohol and sweat flooded Jake’s nostrils as soon as he stepped in the club. The wide circle-shaped  room was packed to the brim but there was an upper floor with less people. The songs playing were not his style so he could not recognize the artists ; after scanning the place, he found the bartender. He got served pretty quickly and he could tell that his face card had made that happen. He did not find it in himself to order a fancy drink, so he settled for a beer. 

Looking for the bathroom, he stumbled with a semi-open door. Assuming it to be the toilet's entrance, he stepped into the dark room. He instinctively patted the wall in search of the switch, but there was not one to be found. Moans and other sounds Jake was no stranger to found their way to his ears, making him jump back and leave the room. Back in the hall, he was breathing unevenly, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

“How ya doin’, handsome? Too crowded for a pretty thing like you?” A decently buff (but not bigger than him), hairy man was leaning “seductively” towards him as he spoke. Jake felt pure disgust and indignation pooling in the lower part of his stomach ; he could see how his presence in a place with such characteristics could lead up to certain conclusions but, approaching him like that was so out of line. The stranger’s gaze made him feel like a piece of meat and he was momentarily struck with the thought of whether he had ever made a girl feel similarly.

“Fuck off, asshole. Fuck around and find out.” Jake pushed him away so he could escape the situation he found himself in. His harsh frown warned the other man to stay away unless he wanted to leave the place with a black eye. After making it out of those suffocating halls, he decided to leave ; this whole idea had been pure foolery motivated by how lost he was feeling in life.  

Searching frantically for the exit door, his eyes landed on a couple shamelessly flirting and exchanging caresses of all kinds. The sparks in their eyes seemed genuine and that made the pilot sigh in a longing manner. Jake shook his head in order to try to slow down the speeding and confusing thoughts running though his mind. Suddenly, an entrancing voice started directing its words at him. He had been so focused on the couple by the bar that he didn’t process what the handsome- handsome?- stranger was trying to tell him. It couldn’t be anything good, based on his concerned facial expressions that Jake could barely make up because of the lighting of the room.

“Sorry, what?” he mumbled while finally setting his confused and dissociated gaze on the other man.

“I’m (Y/N), I saw you walking down the hallway back there and you seemed…” he hesitated, trying to find the best adjective to describe it. “distressed. Just wanted to make sure that you were ok. You’re not from around here, are you? And if I’m correct, you’re by yourself. This place can be overwhelming when you come for the first time”

Jake could feel the way his eyes widened at the words of the man standing in front of him. (Y/N)’s smile invited him to open up, to share the deepest and darkest parts of himself; but the pilot was no fool and quickly activated his protective shields again. He began to excuse himself after clearing his throat, lowering his voice an octave unconsciously “Thank man but I just entered because I had a problem with my car and it was the only place open at this time and I need to go back to my…”

“Calm down hahaha, I am not the police, don’t have to justify yourself. As to the car thing, the manager that runs this place knows a thing or two about cars. Is the dark green one yours?” Jake nodded, dumbstruck by the casual nature of this encounter “Fabio will help you for sure. If you want I can go look for him and you’ll be on your way in no time” Another grin took possession of the younger man’s lips.

Jake’s cheeks began to change colors into a pretty obvious red. He had created a lie that he could not follow with; how was he supposed to get out of that very uncomfortable moment? Fuck, fuck, fuck “I, eh…” It was not very often that Seresin ran out of things to say; his squad wouldn’t let him hear the end of it if they were witnesses to this pathetic scene.

“Look I don’t know who you are or what you’re doing here but it’s okay, alright? We don’t know each other so I cannot snitch to anyone about you being here; not that I would if we did know each other. Here” he looked in his black bag and took out a water bottle “I sneak these all the time, they’re expensive as fuck in here” a smirk accompanied the confession, giving Jake the sensation of being his partner in crime.

He took the drink and chugged it down in an instant “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me tonight, really appreciate it. I don’t think I’ll come round here any time soon but I owe you big-time”

“How about you tell me your name?” a playful but still innocent gaze stole Jake’s breath away. Fuck, how rude had he been? He hadn’t introduced himself back in the club and this person had gotten out of their way to help him. His southern heart shrinked at such an impolite act; this was definitely not meemaw approved but at the end of the day, none of this whole night was.

“Excuse me, Jake Seresin”

“Nice to meet you, Jake Seresin” he chuckled. “Well, I guess this is where we part ways, isn’t it? And don’t worry, you don’t actually owe me anything.”

“There must be something I can do. Where I’m from, you show your gratitude to the people who’ve helped you yknow”

“Here” as if it were the most natural thing, M/N took the blonde’s hand and wrote down his number. “If you’re ever in trouble again or you just want to chat, here’s my number. And don’t worry, no second intentions or anything included, just think you’re cool and could use a friend round here” he clarified after taking a look at Jake’s conflicted face. Despite the alarm in his head stating very loudly that he had to get out of there as soon as possible, he let the other man take his hand in his for a second too long. Jake was no shy person but the questionable tension in that moment crossed a very clear line that had been established many years ago and was irremovable now. Breaking their little bubble, Jake nervously searched for his car keys as he thanked M/N and wished him a great night.

While driving away, the rear-view mirror captured M/N’s image, framing his still figure in the small reflecting surface for Jake to stare at, making him ignore the clearly red light and almost crash with a grey truck whose driver shouted every single insult under the sun at him. But the lieutenant could not care any less, his worries laid elsewhere. What the fuck had happened tonight? He found himself desperately trying to make some sense of his decision-making process-

“HANGMAN” 

Startled at the mention of his name in such a shrill manner, Jake regained control of his body and mind which had traveled to the past for quite a while, for he could not recall when they had stopped training and had gotten inside, taking turns to shower in the base’s facilities. “The day you stop annoying me, Rooster, hell will freeze over” he grumpily murmured, but with no real meanness behind his words.

“You’ve been acting very strangely, Hangman, and not in your usual weird way” Bradley narrowed his eyes as if it would allow him to access Jake's deepest thoughts that were apparently holding him hostage. After Jake had rolled his eyes and dropped some sarcastic comments about his “stupid ass moustache”, he decided he would let it slide, for now. “Anyway, you’re comin’ tonight, aren’t you?”

“Nah, gotta do some paperwork and prepare for tomorrow’s session” he discarded the offer quickly.

“C’mon don’t be such a pussy, man” another of his coworkers commented from nearby.

The way he slammed the locker’s door provoked a loud bang that made everyone turn their heads to see what was going on in that part of the locker room “Who the fuck has said that shit? I ain’t gonna let you live, motherfucker” and just like a bull ready to kill, only seeing red, he started to search for the idiot who had decided to speak and make a comment he definitely did not need to hear at the moment “don't hide now, who.was.it?”

“Hey Jake, calm down man, it was just a joke, what the hell? “Rooster questioned, absolutely puzzled at his mate’s reaction; it was just common locker room jargon, they often teased each other or said something dumb about their dicks or something like that, and Jake would often reply with a laugh or an equally offensive response so, something was definitely wrong with the normally nonchalant Hangman.

Shrugging off the hand Roosted had placed on his shoulder to ground him, Jake picked his bag and stormed off huffing and cursing under his breath. After having reached his car, his forehead was pressed against the steering wheel and his eyes were shut closed; breath for 3 seconds, hold it in for 4 seconds and exhale for 7 seconds. This was a technique he learnt when he was young to repress any anxiety or panic attack that tried to break the controlled facade he showed his family, the church, his superiors and his friends. A frustrated groan escaped Jake’s sealed lips, a clear sign of all that pent up frustration.

His phone buzzing caught his attention and decided to take a look. The three messages appearing in the lock screen where all from the only person who could make him feel okay again but also, this person was the one who had triggered this chaos  he had so carefully repressed in order to create the perfect persona; a masculine, chill guy who walked through life as if he had everything under control, when in reality he was a 36 year old full of pain and doubts that the church, his family and the army had made sure to reinforce. 

Texts from M/N:

M/N : hey, you forgot your sweatshirt at my place

M/N : are you going to Mon Ange next saturday? I can hand it to you then. Yknow, that day’s theme is cowboys and I’d kill to see you even with just a fake cowboy hat 

M/N: you can teach me how the Two Step thing works ;) no pressure tho, as always <3

Jake S. : wouldn’t miss it for the world, get your boots ready.

This was like being stuck in a car with no brakes and Jake had decided to try and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted.

[cha0s-boyy]

some blinkies and stamps i made! :D f2u just please credit me!

(first one is dog park dissidents lyrics)

[ID: 1. a black and hot pink blinkie that says, "i'm a bad bad bad bad dog," in block letters. the colors invert every frame and the "dog" frame has rotating bones on either end and the letters are only an outline. 2. a scrolling rainbow gradient blinkie. 3. a magenta blinkie that says "hey, lover." in capitalized serif typeface. it has a black border and flashing hearts on either end. 4. a blinkie that says, "hot pink," in block letters with hearts on both ends. it flashes in different shades of pink. 5. a blinkie that says "I heart Boys" (using a drawn heart) with the mars/male symbol on either end. it alternates between hot pink on white and white on blue. 6. a blinkie made to look like a text bubble in which the words, "oh my god neil cicierega" appear, followed by a heart eyes emoji. 7. a blinkie in the TF2 achievement colors with the TF2 logo on either end upon which, "team fortress 2," appears word by word, letter by letter, then, "TF2," flashes 3 times. 8. a blinkie that says, "awooooooooooooo," in all caps white text on a black background. the letters bob up and down in alternating order. 9. a 99x56 stamp featuring a brown wolf in front of a night sky, with the text, "Awoo..." 9. a 99x56 stamp with a dark rainbow gradient background that says, "sparkle," in white all caps with a pink and black sparkledog with a rainbow mohawk beside it. 10. a 99x56 stamp that says, "werewolf," in bloodstained white letters above a set of white fangs on a dark red splatter background. /end ID]