#throwing him down a hole just to see how far down it goes

[leveragedlibrarians]

@running-in-the-dark you're right and you should say it

"We're gonna need badges. There are three levels. Each successive level gets you better access."

Leverage S04E09 The Cross My Heart Job.

[toranesu]

Case 7 0 7 : just for you .

⌗ sub bottom afab. sukuna x dom top m. reader

cw. punishment-goes-too-far, threat of free use, degrading, pussy slapping, ooc, talk about breeding.

the room smelled filthy of sex and fluids, disheveled clothes everywhere on the floor, and long discarded. "you think that was funny, huh? pulling shit like that," you growled, pressing your fingers up against sukuna's sweet spot.

"nhhhaah...! f-fuck!" there laid the great king of curses, legs spread wide open to give you access to his wet folds. "f-fuck you! i can do whatever the fuck i want!" he spat out, managing to give you a dirty glare as if to show that he was in control.

alas, he wasn't. "ah-hah!" sukuna wailed, his toes curling as he felt your palm landing on his clit.

"still acting like a brat, aren't you?" you frowned, plunging your fingers back and forth into his entrance. "you would think that by now, you know who's in control here, 'kuna," he cries when he feels your thumb rub over his clitoris. so sensitive when you've barely done anything to him.

he bites his lip, struggling to bite back at you. "y-you— you're just a lowly human," he spits, nails clawing into the bedsheets when he feels you bury your fingers knuckle-deep inside him.

"am i, ryo?" the usage of his first name makes his insides clench around you, keeping you buried deep inside him. "maybe i am," you lean down, pressing your lips below his ear, "but to you, i'm not."

sukuna whines, bucking his hips up at your words. it's true, after all. only you got to see him like this. only you could make him like this. only you could ever treat him like some lowly being, and he'd let you get away with it.

"so i don't appreciate you getting all touchy feely with people who aren't me," you nibble at his earlobe, the gesture leaving sukuna wet and wanting. without him realizing it, sukuna's arms reach to wrap around your neck, pulling you closer.

your free hand glides across sukuna's thigh, getting comfortable on his hip as he exhales, his warm insides clenching and unclenching around you. "you know you're mine as much as i am yours, don't you?" sukuna's legs tighten around your waist as your fingers start to move inside him once more.

sukuna moans, bucking his hips up to your touch. "i'm not—" he starts. oh, how sweet you are to him.. how sweet and rough you can be to him at the same time. it makes him weak. his pride simply cannot allow that.

"you're my property, you're my dog," he digs his nails into your back, "not the other way around." you sigh, pulling your fingers out of his hole without a word. sukuna whines, pulling away from you and shooting you a dirty glare.

in a swift move, you're forcing yourself inside him. your hands on his hips as you plunge yourself deep inside him. "aahngh–! " sukuna moans in surprise, his head throwing back as he claws the bedsheets, almost enough to rip them.

"you don't ever fucking learn, do you, sukuna?" you bite, pulling his hips closer to you and nuzzling against that spot that feels so, so good. sukuna's chest heaves, an arm covering half of his face, yet showing enough of his eyes to know he's once again glaring at you.

he snarls, "hah, what the fuck do i need to learn from a mutt like you?" your gaze goes cold, and you pull out enough for just the tip to be in. when your nails dig into his skin, and you snap your hips against his, sukuna lets the most obnoxious moan you've heard all night.

you look down, and you notice the light bulge on his stomach that always grows whenever you're in the deepest parts of him. "say what you want. but you're mine, and you know it," you say with a light growl, your hand pressing on his stomach to feel the bulge.

sukuna looks down to his stomach, feeling you, your touch, your dick, oh, it's too much. he whimpers, clamping down on you while his hand reaches to lay on top of yours.

"but alright, if that's what you want," you pull your hand away from his, staring down on him from above. "maybe i'll just let everyone see how the great king of the curses really is," he squirms at your words, lightly pressing his hips down on yours.

he glares at you, yet not finding the words to spit back at you. your rough hand glides across his thigh, fiddling with his cunt as he spasms and groans. "or i'll let them use you. since i don't seem to be enough for you anyway," he clenches up at that, his hand reaching to wrap around your wrist.

"f-fuck you–" sukuna spites, and you slap his cunt once more, earning a cry from sukuna as his hips buck up. "what? i bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?" you stare at him coldly, lightly grinding your hips against his as he bites back his moans.

"i'd spread your legs open for those curses to use as they please. or maybe the humans too. maybe gojo, maybe uraume," you bring up onto the topic of what he'd done earlier today, purposely riling you up and getting way too close to that servant of his.

sukuna visibly flinches at your words. the utter emptiness in your voice frightened him. he wondered if you'd actually do that. "i'd just leave you there, probably. it'd be too disgusting for me to look at," you spit, spreading his folds open with your fingers.

"y-you—" sukuna starts, red eyes glaring at you from below. your words make his heart clench. even he, felt disgusted at your words. he felt his soul crash down, he felt uncomfortable, he felt guilty. "what? you started this," you sigh, not even giving him the courtesy of a kiss, and just mindlessly slamming your hips against his.

sukuna groaned, his hands scrambling, not knowing what to do with them. it felt good. sex always felt good with you, but after what you said? it's different now.

"and since you're not mine, there's no reason for me to be yours, either," you continue, lazily pulling your dick out until just the tip was in, and pounding into him only half in. sukuna's hands reach to grab yours, squeezing so tightly that it hurts. "i am your king," he growled, slamming his hips down on yours to get you all the way in. what the hell were you saying? what the hell are you doing?

"like hell you are," you grab his hands with one of yours, pinning his wrists above his head. sukuna could easily knock you out. sukuna could easily push you away if he wanted to. hell, he could kill you if he wanted to. but he doesn't. he simply moans and thrusts his hips back up to yours.

he's weak. too weak to even find the words to spite you. the sex doesn't feel as good as it usually is. his pussy is clenching tightly around you, your words ringing through his head. "you can do whatever you want, and so will i," you look down on him, pressing the tip of your dick onto his sweet spot.

sukuna throws his head back, his pussy spasming around you. he feels like he's close, but he can't come. he just can't. "you can get your slutty hole used by whoever you want, sukuna," you say, rolling your hips against his. "i'll fuck someone else. i mean, anyone would be glad to get knocked up by me, y'know?" your words stung like a knife into his heart.

"plus, by then, your cunt would be too lose, anyway," and just like that, he breaks. sukuna's legs drop down, his nails digging into his palms as his lips tremble. "fuck you," he snarls, his whole body going limp as he feels tears threatening to spill out of the corner of his eyes.

for a split second, you felt guilty. surely you didn't go too far, right? wrong.

sukuna couldn't even find the words to bite back at you, trying to keep himself intact after you said all those words to him. he doesn't want that. he doesn't want to be shared. he doesn't want you to be shared.

"you gonna start crying, slut?" you snap your hips against his, shoving your feelings aside. "you started this, so see it to the fucking end, will you?" sukuna's heart shatters, the sex really didn't feel good now.

your hands are still restricting his, so he couldn't push you away. he's strong. he's the strongest. so why can't he fight you back now? his nails are starting to draw blood out from his palm, everything was starting to hurt. with a light sob, he calls out your name.

" 'm sorry," sukuna cries. he didn't want this. he was just looking for some fun. he just wanted to rile you up for some punishment, for some good sex. "y-you fucking asshole," tears were starting to pour out of his eyes.

the great sukuna did cry during sex, but not like this. your hands immediately release his wrists, wrapping your arms around him as if on instinct. "ryo, i'm sorry, i–" you try to apologize, only to be responded by sukuna wrapping his arms and legs around you tightly, his nails digging onto your back, as if he was petrified of you leaving him.

"i didn't mean that," you tell him, trying to get ahold of yourself as he buries his face into your shoulder. he felt embarrassed, then too. the great sukuna doesn't cry. especially not due to things like this. "..please," sukuna whimpers, his whole body trembling.

he sobs onto your shoulder, clinging onto your body as if you were to die, once again. "don't do that to me," he begs of you. and at that moment, he couldn't even register how pathetic he sounded. how could he, the king of curses, crumble under mere words of threat? how could he become this weak?

your heart drops down to your chest when you realize what you've done. perhaps, the monster was you. "i'm sorry," you whisper out, holding him closer. "i wouldn't do that, ryo. you know i wouldn't," sukuna exhales shakily, the embarrassment creeping alongside the hurt.

"i hate you," he whimpers, but he knows you wouldn't. he knows you love him. you've loved him for years, and never once have you said things like that towards him. he can't help feeling hurt.

all this hurt his pride. to think mere words from a mere human could hurt him this much? to think something so silly had him weak, unable to move an inch, unable to pull or push away. this is the vulnerable side only you would ever see.

you pull away from the hug, getting a good look at sukuna's face. his cheeks were wet from tears, his face red and lips slightly bloody from biting himself. "i'd rather kill myself than hand you or myself over to anyone else," sukuna's lips tremble when he feels you wipe his tears, reminding him of the gentle ways you usually use on him.

"don't fucking say shit like that again," he growls, yet it being covered by an involuntary whimper, "i'll kill you if you do."

you chuckle lightly, pressing your forehead onto his. "i'm sorry," you apologize, just barely above a whisper. sukuna pouts slightly before pulling you into a kiss, grinding his hips onto yours to remind you that you were still inside him.

"just impregnate me or something so we both don't have to worry about shit like that," he smirks, barely joking as he pulls you close.

you couldn't help but chuckle, "as if you'd ever be ready for that."

© toranesu

[hysteria-things]

helloo!! if you don't mind(and if you have time), can you please make a matt smut inspired by the song She's so Nice by Pink Guy ??

It can be a chris smut too if you want !!

this man quite literally made me go BARK BARK BARK

SHE'S SO NICE

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: EDIT: i forgot to put one so i’m just gonna say doing the deed with matt sturniolo

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT SMUT, big tits reader, cheating (don’t do that!), marking, titty fucking, mouth fucking, hair gripping, p in v, degradation, choking, stomach bulge, ROUGHHH

ASSUME YOU'RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 705

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: request for @skadltmf and anon! these two felt right to combine :)

i hope i did okay??? ngl this one was hard to do LOL

as somebody with big tatas this made me giggle and kick my feet a lot🤭 (my back hurts all the time)

hickeys ran from your neck down to the top of your breasts, the things matt worships the most about you.

you think having double d’s are the worst, but he is by far mesmerized by them.

you squirm and whine underneath his grip as he sucks one last mark into your skin. he lifts his head to admire your naked body, roaming his hands along your curves. he approaches your breasts and starts to squeeze them.

you whine again. “matt.”

“what?” he asks, finally releasing his hard dick from his underwear. you feel his knees on the bed as he hovers over you. “what do you want?”

you lift yourself onto your elbows and look at him through hooded eyes. “i—” you pause when matt starts to stroke himself while throwing his head back with a moan.

you don’t have time to blink when he aligns himself to your tits and starts thrusting into them. his hands push them together to make them squeeze around him.

your mouth hangs open as you watch himself use your chest to get off. “i fucking love these tits, man.” he groans.

the arousal between your legs starts to drip onto the sheets below you because of how pathetically wet you are. he grunts as he goes faster, but pulls away before he can release.

he grips your hair which makes you whimper. he lifts your head slightly so you can look into his eyes. his tip grazes against your lips. “open your mouth.”

you don’t have a chance to open all the way when he’s already pushing himself slowly inside. matt lets out a sigh of relief when he feels the warmth consuming his dick.

the grip on your hair stays when he starts to rut his hips forward. your eyes start to water when he reaches the back of your throat, the gulping and gagging sounds cause him to let out a breathy laugh. “look at you; choking on another man’s cock. such a fucking slut.”

you moan around him, his fist on your hair tightening. he starts to bob your head to match his rhythm, drool dribbling down your chin.

“shit.” he breathes, taking himself out of your mouth and smearing his cum all over your tits.

“matt.” you repeat in the same whiny tone as before. “he’s going to be here soon.”

“good.” he grips your throat, pushing his still-hard erection into your dripping hole. “he can walk in and see how much of a whore his girlfriend is, yeah?”

he starts pounding into you immediately, causing you to cry out. your mascara starts to run down your face.

it feels like you don’t have time to breathe by how each thrust knocks the air out of your lungs. “p-please, go harder.”

he releases his hand from your neck and grabs the back of your knees, pushing them further apart so he can go deeper. “your boyfriend has no idea what he’s missing out on. fuck, you’re so tight.”

you’re clenching so hard around his cock that he can’t even pull out all the way. instead, it makes him push further into your pussy.

your eyes cross, the bulge in your abdomen showing as clear as day. “feel how deep i am inside your tummy? you were made to be fucked by me. such a good slut for me.”

“cum—” you blab, your tongue starting to stick out. “gonna cum for you.”

matt’s eyes are fixated on the way your tits bounce aggressively at how hard he’s railing into you. he grabs your throat again. “look at me.”

your eyes flutter to his, and he grins. “there you go.” he says as you feel him paint your walls white.

you twitch, seeing stars as your face scrunches with pleasure when your orgasm hits you like a train. “cumming… cumming…”

“i know baby, i know,” he says, now doing tiny thrusts to make sure you take it all.

he slowly pulls out of you, wincing at the sudden emptiness. he sits up, looking at your painted white tits and pussy that’s leaking both his and your release. he smiles proudly.

“i should leave you like this so your boyfriend knows what a real orgasm looks like.”

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss

[theonewiththefanfics]

Seal It With a Kiss (one-shot)

Synopsys: After a looting session goes wrong, Astarion and Reader have to face the music and confront their feelings. Whatever they might be.

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit

Word count: 3234

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

The light was too bright. And the ground was too hard. And the pillow too tough and lumpy. And why did Y/N feel so hot when it was literally snowing? And, actually, when had it started snowing? From bright blue skies, might she add?

Slowly, haziness dissipated from her eyes, and the world around came into sharp, painful focus. The light was too bright because half of her surroundings were on literal fire. The ground was too hard because she was half on rubble that once was a palace roof, and the tough, lumpy pillow was a rock her head had smashed against, while the snow was ashes flowing down, covering everything, including her, in a grey layer of soot, the sky peeking in from the hole above.

Although her sight was clearing, a sharp ringing pierced her ears. Or was it shouting?

A shadow crossed the sky, and above her, she could see their resident vampiric elf’s mouth moving.

“ – were you thinking?!” Finally, her ears started to clear as well. “You absolute imbecile! Why would you do that?!”

Y/N just groaned in response, as her memories came back in quick flashes. Everyone was arguing about where they should look for another magical artefact, Astarion shooting down what Gale had proposed, Wyll trying to make a sensible plan while Lae’Zel interrupted Shadowheart at any given moment. A deep rumble from the depths of the abandoned palace they were in silenced them all, Karlach throwing them a worried expression. And then the whole building exploded.

On instinct, Y/N had pushed Astarion as far away as she could before the ceiling came crashing down on top of her. It was nothing short of a miracle, she had managed to survive. Bruised, battered, no doubt with broken bones, but alive nonetheless. Maybe she’d have to thank a goddess or two. That was if Astarion didn’t rip her to pieces beforehand with how furious he looked.

Slowly Y/N tried to lift herself onto her forearms, and for all his admonishments, Astarion was quick to crouch down and help her, putting his arms under her pits and letting her rest against his chest.

“Oh dear,” she mumbled, noticing a large bannister lying across her leg. “That’s not good.”

“Not good?!” Astarion practically shrieked, his hands tightening around her ribs. “How hard did you hit your fucking head? This is so beyond not good I can’t even think of a level!”

Y/N winced at his tone. “Can you stop shouting, please? Gods, my head is splitting.”

“Oh, is it now? It would be quite the fucking miracle if it wasn’t, seeing as a whole fucking palace just toppled on you!”

“Quit being so dramatic and help get that thing off me! Where’re the rest?”

“Frankly, I don’t fucking care right now!” Astarion gently laid Y/N back down and went to the large boulder.

His arms strained as he lifted the piece of the pillar, her eyes widening at the display of strength.

She sometimes forgot how strong Astarion actually was, how easily he could snap her neck with just a twist of his hands if he so wished while Y/N allowed him to drink from her. But he was always gentle instead, with how he held her nape, fingers soothingly pressing into her scalp and knuckles brushing against her collarbones once he was done in a sweet gesture of thanks.

As quickly as she could, Y/N scooted from under the rubble, Astarion dropping the boulder back unceremoniously, and he was back by her side in a second, an arm wrapping around her waist, so she could lean on him.

“We have to find the others,” Y/N hissed as she stood. Her whole body screamed in pain, but they had to get out of the now-ruined palace, lest another explosion happen.

“They can find their own way out,” Astarion grunted, as he led them towards the exit.

“Astarion!”

“No!” He snapped his head to look at Y/N, and his scarlet eyes held such a desperate gaze in them, that she pinched her lips shut. “I will knock you out if I have to. I am not letting you get hurt again.”

“Astarion, they’re our friends,” Y/N’s voice was gentle. “We have to help them if we can.”

For a moment, Astarion truly looked like he might just throw her over his shoulder and march out of the place. But then he sighed, hanging his head in defeat before looking at her with pain distorting his features. “Why do you always have to be so good?”

Something tugged at her heart. That expression on his face, as if it physically put him in agony to lead them around the ruined palace in search of their companions, as he flinched and tightened his hold on her whenever something crackled, ready to throw his own body atop hers, in case something happened. It wasn’t selfishness, not one bit. Something deeper lay beneath Astarion’s reluctance.

It took them a while to find their party, but luckily no one was injured, and Y/N was the worst one off.  Shadowheart was by her side in an instant, giving her a healing potion.

“Should keep you set until we get back to camp.” She patted her shoulder. “I’ll heal you fully once we’re out of immediate danger.”

“Thank you.” Y/N smiled at the cleric.

She was just about to ask Astarion whether he was alright, but the vampire had already detached himself and was glaring at the ground, arms crossed over his chest ten feet away from her.

Y/N couldn’t deny – it stung. He’d been so worried just a few moments ago, yet now he couldn’t even look at her?

Her feet worked on their own accord, moving in his direction, but the way he turned his back to her, told her all she needed to know – he didn’t want to talk.

Pain shot through her heart, and it was definitely not because of the explosion, but Y/N respected his privacy, so she didn’t approach him any further, even though they always, always, walked next to one another.

“We should head back,” she spoke up, eyes remaining on Astarion’s taut back. “Maybe get some rest as well. We still have tomorrow anyway to search this place.”

When Astarion left the palace without even waiting to see if anyone was following, Y/N could do nothing but sigh and depart as well.

The walk to where they’d set up their camp was uncharacteristically quiet, especially from the pale elf’s side. He’d usually fill their travels with mindless talk and sarcastic quips, but this time around, he hung towards the back of their group and was as mum as a grave. He didn’t even comment on whatever Gale was saying, which made Y/N all the more uneasy.

She couldn’t wrap her mind around why he’d become so distant all of a sudden. What’d happened at the palace was nothing unusual. They risked their lives on the daily, saving others and themselves, so why in the world was Astarion so pissed about this, she had no clue.

Karlach leaned to the side, watching as the vampire entered his tent, closing the laces immediately. “Fangs is quite in a bad mood. Anything we should know about, soldier?”

Y/N huffed. “Probably broke a nail or something. In any case – nothing important enough to be acting the way he is.”

“Maybe I should go and – “

She put a palm on Karlach’s shoulder, stopping her, and giving her friend a wry smile. “I’ll talk to him. Better he’s angry at me and only me, not someone else as well. Apparently, I’ve pissed him off as is.”

“You sure?” the tiefling asked.

“Yeah.” Y/N nodded. “I think we need to have a talk anyway.”

With a “good luck” from Karlach, she sighed and steeled herself against whatever the vampire would throw her way. She unlaced the ties and lifted the flap to the side. With crossed arms, she entered Astarion’s tent, only to be greeted by his back as he stubbornly kept looking at a book in his hands, not even acknowledging her.

“Are you seriously pouting right now?” Y/N asked after a minute of silence.

“I’m not pouting, I’m brooding. There’s a difference.”

“Well, does brooding involve giving the silent treatment, or can we talk?”

Astarion threw a withering gaze over his shoulder. “What is there you want to talk about? Unless it’s an apology, I don’t want to hear it.”

Y/N let out an exasperated huff. “I’m sorry to disappoint, but I won’t apologise for saving your life.”

“By putting your own life in danger?!” Astarion spun around, throwing the tome he’d been holding onto his bedroll.

“Comes with the territory.” She shrugged. “You should know how it is.”

“Letting a whole building collapse on top of you is very different to knocking a blade out of the way!”

“Why are you so angry with me?” Y/N raised her voice, matching Astarion’s furious tone. “I saved your life!

“I didn’t ask for you to!”

She let out a disbelieving scoff. “Well, sucks to be you then! Because I was not just going to let you get crushed underneath all that rubble! Your life is just as important as everyone else’s!”

“Not to me! Not when it comes to you!”

Now that shut her up completely, her lips pinched in a thin line, eyes wide in shock. She and Astarion were friends, at least Y/N would've liked to think so. She most definitely had developed deeper feelings than that, but would only admit to it over her own dead body. The thought of Astarion’s rejection made her want to crumple into a small heap, but his reaction put thoughts in her head that maybe, just maybe, her feelings weren’t one-sided.

“What do you suppose I would do if you – if – if,” he stumbled on his words. “If I had to go on without you? If you were no longer with us… with me…”

“Astarion…”

“Do you understand how it felt to see you go down?” He sighed, hanging his head. “When I saw the roof caving in and then felt you push me away before you vanished beneath rubble and dust and ash… I’ve never been more terrified in all of my life, two hundred years of which were spent under the rule of an absolute sadist, where horrors awaited around every corner.”

His eyes bore nothing but pain and despair he’d felt in that moment. “I heard everyone else screaming - Shadowheart calling out, Wyll and Karlach making sure Gale and Lae’Zel were alright but nothing… not a single whisper from your voice. You tell me I’m pouting, but all I can see when I close my eyes is you… how you would look… dead. Your eyes closed forever, your blood spilling out of your body and I… I have to stand and watch as I am unable to save you.

“But I’m alright.” Y/N stepped up to him, taking one of his palms in hers, and squeezing it. “Astarion, I’m alive, and I’m fine.”

“But you almost weren’t!” he hissed, pulling her closer, bringing their clasped hands to rest against his chest. “And all I would have been left to do was wait for the dust to settle and dig out your broken body. You would have condemned me to eternity without you… I just almost lost the person I love... and that fear is something I never wish to experience again.”

Y/N’s breath hitched in her throat at such an honest confession. “I umm I didn’t know you felt that way about me.” Friendship was one thing, but love? That threw her completely off balance.

“Feel? Felt? What does it matter anymore? Clearly, it’s not like it’s reciprocated.” He scoffed, back the mask of bravado and not caring, but Y/N wasn’t having any of it.

“It matters to me.” Her brows furrowed. “It matters a great deal to me. Why do you think I did what I did, exactly? Because it’s fun? Because I enjoy blocks of buildings dropping down on me? Because it’s such an absolute delight to realise - if I don’t push you out of the way, you will be in direct line of fire, and I might lose you?”

Astarion’s mouth opened and closed. “I didn’t – I –“

“No!” Y/N pointed an accusatory finger at him. Now she was angry. “You don’t get to play the "I'm in love with you" card and be angry with me. Not if you dare tell me how I feel without asking first!”

“You...” He shook his head, a crease to his brow. “You never indicated you held anything more than… friendly affections towards me.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and scoffed. “Yes, because I let everyone in this party use me as their personal snack each night. I’d say that should’ve been your first clue.”

“I’d say you’re a full-course meal, my darling, but I understand the sentiment.” And though back was his usual air of sarcasm, a deep vulnerability could be seen shining in his crimson eyes as he weaved a gentle hand to wrap around the small of her waist, brushing underneath her sleep tunic to rest against her skin.

Cold met warm, and Y/N gasped as a shiver ran down her spine. His slender fingers dug into her back as he pulled Y/N closer, their breaths mingling, and if they only moved just a couple of centimetres, lips would touch.

“I just – I cannot stand and watch you throw your life away for someone like me. The thought of your brightness being extinguished because of it… I couldn’t bear it.”

Y/N tilted her head to the side. “Someone like who exactly? Someone who I’ve grown to look at as my dearest confidant? Someone who I know will always tell me the truth and be there if I cannot handle it? Or someone who so deftly has stolen my heart, he cannot even comprehend it’s been his the whole time? Besides, even if it wasn’t reciprocated...” She played with the string of his shirt, “you can’t tell me to be more careful, to not save you when you do the exact same thing.”

“How can I not?” Astarion’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, and for once, he seemed to want the moment to reflect what truly lay in his soul. “You make my heart beat on its own. If I had to give up walking in the sun for the rest of my life, I would. As long as it meant you were safe and happy. I’d even gladly go back to Cazador if you were on the line. Without a second to spare.”

“Don’t you dare fucking say that!"

“But it’s true.”

“Not if I can help it,” Y/N grumbled, tightening her hold on his shirt by his hips, pulling him closer like she had to make sure he wasn’t going anywhere. “He’s not ever going to get near you. I’ll level the whole of Baldur’s Gate if I have to.”

“And I am being honest when I say, if I had to choose between you being unhurt or me being imprisoned, being used as I was, I would always put you first.”

Y/N was on the verge of tears. “You listen to me you pompous blood-sucking elf – you will do no such thing. Whatever comes, we both will get through it. And Cazador will have his head ripped from his shoulders, but not before I gouge his eyes out, and do every single vile thing he did to you back onto him. I will skin him alive and then throw him in a tomb with nothing but cockroaches. Let him drink his own blood and see how he likes it.” She shuddered, taking in a deep breath. “Your life is not worth less than mine. Don’t you ever dare think that way.”

A watery chuckle escaped Astarion, and his eyes brimmed with silvery tears. “Can I kiss you?” He didn’t dare lift his gaze, focusing on their intertwined fingers, resting against where his heart no doubt would have been rattling a crazy rhythm if it still beat.

“If you want to.” Y/N’s reply was as quiet as his question had been, but there was no teasing in her tone.

His eyes flashed for a second, but she didn’t get a full grasp on what it was she saw. Maybe surprise. Maybe gratitude? She couldn’t tell really, all she knew was that the emotion caused a pang to ring to her very core. She’d kill Cazador with her own bloody hands.

“I want it.” He nodded. “More than anything.”

“More than my blood? That first night you almost drained me dry,” Y/N’s words, though true, held no malice, only gentle teasing.

“And how do you know that first time I wasn’t trying to wake up the sleeping princess with a magical true love’s kiss? The feeding just ended up being a bonus.” He brushed her nose with his, and couldn’t help the way his own lips turned up as Y/N smiled.

“Well, this sleeping princess would’ve punched you in the nose, had you awoken her for such silly things. Besides, you did miss my lips.”

Astarion chuckled, relishing the way her body pressed against his. “But I am allowed to awaken you to drink from you?”

“Well...” She nudged his nose with hers now. “Seeing as you become absolutely unbearable when hungry, I think for my own peace and everyone else’s, that does count as a vital reason to rouse me."

Gentle hands cupped her cheeks. “Allow me to demonstrate then how vital a kiss can be to one’s survival.”

And then their lips met.

She’d never admit it out loud, for his ego would surely grow larger than it already was, but it did feel like a magical kiss of life. Her whole body sang as his fingers slid against the nape of her neck, pulling her closer, almost like Astarion was afraid she’d pull back, but she could never. Not when he slipped his tongue past her lips, and her knees almost crumbled.

Y/N had to tighten her hold on his waist to not completely lose it, and she could feel the smirk growing on the vampire’s face, as he realised just how incapacitated his kiss had made her. He nipped at the bottom of her lip and relished in the small whimper he got to devour.

After what felt like ages, they pulled back, panting, but not going too far as Astarion rested his forehead against hers.

Y/N smiled. “True love’s kiss you say?”

“It feels like it,” he mumbled, allowing himself to indulge in the tender touch of her fingers skimming up and down his back. “Though I don’t know much about… love… I’d like to experience it with you. All of it. The good and the bad that might come with it.”

“I’ll be here,” Y/N promised. “As long as you want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

“And if I ask for forever?”

She let out an over-exaggerated, dramatic sigh. “Forever’s quite a long time, don’t you think?”

“Not long enough,” Astarion replied, a smile tugging up his lips. “It’d never be long enough with you.”

Y/N quirked a brow. “Is that a challenge?”

He chuckled at that. “I’d say it’s more of a promise, if anything.”

“Seal it with a kiss?”

“Deal, my love.”

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: my tags are always open, so just drop a message if you want to be tagged :)

P.S. do not plagiarise my work or repost it on other platforms!!!

[dwaekkicidal]

Any thoughts on daddy boyfriend Minho? x

DADDY BOYFIE MINHO?¿¿??¿?? 😣😣 many thoughts... i got a little (a lot) carried away and made this sugar daddy to boyfriend minho and a lot longer than i meant to lol.. hope you enjoy <3

warnings: gn!reader, last paragraph has pet play, daddy dom!minho

For some reason I instantly thought of Sugar Daddy Minho, who is only <10 years older than you but is well off due to his job AND gives off the dominant vibes that make you respect him as an 'elder' right off the bat. He first sees you in a coffee shop he goes to with one of his friends, you're too pretty for him to miss out on so he strikes up a conversation with you. His looks mixed with the confidence he gave off made you instantly attracted to him. So much so that you fold embarrassingly fast when he brings up a 'Sugar Baby' idea.

You trust him pretty easily right away because he made you both sign a contract containing agreements for both of your safety and HE'S the one who puts the 'no sex' rule in place: only asking for your companionship and occasional dates (he doesn't tell you right away but he only did it for your comfort, he makes it VERY clear how into you he is both emotionally and physically). After you find that out, you tell him you don't want the rule in place and he immediately throws it out the window. (& you two fuck that night hehe) Everything is still the same after this but now you two are dating and the contract hold less meaning the longer you two date (until he inevitably brings up vetoing the contract because he trusts you that much c':)

On the outside: You two look like any other couple! The only time people bat an eye is when you "Daddy! Can you buy me this?? Pleaseee~" to him in public after they just watched you kiss on the lips (LMFAO). And let me tell you, Daddy boyfie Minho spoils you rotten. Even more so now that you two have known each other for a long while so he's no longer afraid of being 'scammed by a stranger'. Now it's just the love of his life who he plans to marry soon enough is asking for a well deserved treat. He leaves no space for any ifs, ands, or buts from anybody when he decides that you deserve a new present. The store is out of stock? Tough shit. Order it now or show him the nearest store that has it in stock. Oh, it's not for sale anymore? That's unfortunate. "I'll pay you triple if you give me the last ones you have in the back."

"Don't worry kitty. I don't care how many places I have to drive to, you earned this this so you are getting this. Nuh-uh! No 'buts.'"

Oh, and Daddy boyfie Minho absolutely folds the second he sees your puppy dog eyes and pouted lips, no matter what is for. Whether it be for him to do something for you that he wouldn't do for anybody else or go somewhere with you that he doesn't want to go or anything that his friends wouldn't catch him dead doing. For you? It's done the second the request leaves your lips. That concert that you want to go to with him but he's busy that day? Oh look at that, the meeting was 'randomly' pushed back a day. That pretty piece of jewelry he told you to 'wait' for? "Don't give me those eyes, kitty.. You know I- Ah. Fuck it. Excuse me, can I buy one of those?" That person hurt your feelings? Realistically nothing much he can do but he will stare holes into their head and do everything in his power to get them far far away from you while cooing at you and comforting you.

"Kitty... you know I hate crowded places.." Pleeeease Daddy! It will only last a few hours! And I promise I'll make it up to you~

Daddy boyfie Minho who is an ass man and absolutely LOVES to spank you in any scenario. You're cooking a meal? Should've kept your guard up. -smack- Oh, you're minding your business doing work at your desk? Will literally go out of his way to stand you up, land a smack to your ass, then sit you back down and walk away. There will be days where he doesn't hit you on the ass even once, but that always means that he has already or will grab a handful and just sit there. Also does this in public and in front of your & his friends. After a while nobody is phased, and everybody goes on with the conversation as if he isn't grabbing at your cheeks like a freak.

In front of my parents? Really? "Sorry Jagiii. (he's not) You know I can't help myself! You're just too cute~"

Behind closed doors: Daddy boyfie Minho who you can't help but submit to immediately every time you're in the bedroom. You did it the first time you had sex and you can tell he felt something awakened in him. Now, after many many sessions, you default to kneeling on the floor in front of him while he stands or sits in before you and pets your hair softy like his little kitty<3. Even on days you're particularly bratty, you tend to just submit the second he's in a position with space between his legs for you. He loves being in power both in and outside of the bedroom, so any time you're below him and oh so submissive he's weak in the knees and his chest is swelling with pride & horniess.

"You're always so good for me, right kitty? Just a good little pet for your Daddy~"

Daddy boyfie Minho who, I literally can't stress this enough, loooves when you submit it him with no struggle. That being said, on particularly stressful days when one of you is pent up and wants a harder scenario, he can't lie to himself and say he doesn't enjoy if you brat out and make him work for it. But on days like that, just remember that he's in MeanRacha for a reason😉 Likes having you lay across his lap so he can swap between fingering you and spanking you (or on particularly fiending days, will use a dildo and/or vibrator on you hehe). Coos at you and smiles at your strangled moans and pleads of "Daddy please! 'S too much" , only to then push the dildo even deeper into you or the vibrator harder against you.

"Awww it's too much? Too bad. Now be a good little kitty and take what is given to you." >.<

I'm a firm believer that Daddy boyfie Minho would love to put a collar on you and keeps a whole collection for you to choose from depending on your outfit/mood. Discreet ones (aka general "submissive collars") for when you're going in public and not trying to be uncomfortable with other people's looks. But then he has very obvious ones for the bedroom, specifically ones with a biiig hole in the middle or a space attached to it so he can attach a leash to it. When you're sitting between his legs he likes to wrap the leash around his hand a few times and hold you close against his thigh, stroking your cheek and just sitting there enjoying the comfort of the moment. But it only lasts so long before he uses the leverage of the tight leash to fuck your mouth onto his dick <3

"Which pretty collar will it be today, my love? The black one matches your outfit, but you know I do love that mint one on you."

[junkdrawerfics]

Game On

(one of my favorite clips, lowkey)

Jasper X Reader

Summary: A little snippet of wolf!reader playing baseball with the Cullens. You and Emmett have a little rivalry going, and you'll do anything for some Jasper scratches.

Word Count: 1021

---

“You sure you can keep up with us, wolfie?” Emmet calls from the batter’s box with an absolutely snarky grin.

You cock a brow at him, settling into a crouch with an equally vicious smile, “Just you watch me, Em, you won’t make it to first base.”

“I’d like to see that,” he taunts back, twisting his grip on the bat and posing it over his shoulder.

Jasper chuckles from across the field, the sound easily reaching your sensitive ears, “Take it easy on him, darlin’.”

“No can do, Jas.” Your friendly rivalry with Emmett started as soon as you and Jasper got together, only made worse by you being a shifter. Competitiveness runs deep in your blood. “Someone has to put him in his place, and you pansies sure aren’t going to.”

“Ooh-” Emmett hisses through his teeth dramatically. “-you gonna let her talk to you like that?”

“I’m not one to get offended by a few words,” Jasper shoots back, smirk all too cocky, “Not like when you whined a full week when she called you a cream puff.”

“Hey-”

“It’s time!” Alice chimes before Emmett can stand up for himself.

You snicker and he throws a glare your way.

Game on.

With your enhanced speed and strength, you put up a good fight against the vampires. It’s almost unfair, you and Jasper working perfectly in sync, getting them out one at a time. On your turn to bat, the feeling of smashing the ball, brutal and unrestrained, makes your whole body spark to life, driving you through the plates like a flash of lightning. It’s exhilarating.

Nearing the end of the thunderstorm, the game is close, your team up by one run. Emmett is back up to bat. Chest heaving, heart pounding, you make eye contact with him and, with the most wolfish smile, mouth a silent, ‘Bring it.’

Emmett scowls, eyes focusing back on Alice, and you hear Jasper chuckle softly.

Alice winds up, moving with practiced ease, and launches the baseball straight down the line. A crack of thunder overlaps the loud ring of the bat slamming into it, and it goes flying. You go flying after it.

You tear through the trees, eyes bright with glee as you follow the ball. The wind whips your hair around wildly, the damp ground giving way under your feet. You feel free. Out of breath, every muscle aching, but free. The moment right before your feet leave the ground, adrenaline surges through every cell of your body and you explode into a mess of fur and snapping teeth.

You jump, far too high, far too fast. But your teeth clamp down on the baseball, practically ripping through the leather, before you go crashing to the ground in a flurry of dirt and grass. The earth shakes at your impact, the sound louder than the storm’s thunder.

“(Y/n)!”

The family of vampires freeze, eyes wide. Jasper races after you. Worry burns through his veins as he comes to a stop at the crater’s edge. Gold eyes narrowed, he desperately searches through the haze of dirt for a sign that you’re okay.

Then you pop back up, and all his concern dissipates. You, in wolf form, look up at him with happy, squinted eyes, the ball still clamped firmly in your jaws. Your whole body practically shakes with how hard your tail is wagging.

“Well look at you,” the blond sighs, shaking his head, “I didn’t know wolves could fly, darlin’.”

Shaking off the dirt clinging to your fur, you scramble out of the hole you created. Without hesitation, you push into Jasper’s open arms. He chuckles as you wiggle in his grip, letting out little happy huffs as he scratches your head. You love it when he gives you scratches in wolf form, it’s like getting a massage in human form.

“You know-” You perk your ears and pause to look up at his slanted, mischievous grin. “-Emmett won’t like this.”

You let out a muffled ‘woof’. He better not like it, because he just signed his defeat. You won. The thought makes you growl happily as you adjust the ball in your mouth. Time to show off your victory.

Jasper sticks by your side and you trot back to the field. The moment you reach the tree line, Emmett lets out a loud, rumbling groan.

“That has to be cheating!”

“Umpire?”

Everyone turns to Esme. Emmett looks so hopeful, but then she looks at you and winks. You’ve never been so happy to see someone’s face plummet.

“You’re out, Emmett.”

You drop the ball and let out a small victorious howl. The man glares at you playfully, but you catch the smallest glimpse of a smile when you do a few happy stomps and throw yourself at Jasper. The blond grunts as your full weight takes you both to the ground. 

“Darlin’,” he wheezes out a bright laugh, “you’re crushing me.”

You huff, not caring even a bit as you drop your head on top of his chest. More scratches. You deserve more scratches, you won the game! Jasper can feel your insistence, having grown accustomed to reading your more chaotic emotions in this form, and gives in when you nudge him with your nose, licking his face. He curls his fingers through your thick fur, earning a happy grumble from you.

“We’re going to head back to the house,” Carlisle announces, voice ringing with amusement, “Feel free to join us when you would like to.”

Which ends up being far later in the night because there is something so lovely about just curling up with your vampire and watching the stars come out. He eventually goes and retrieves your extra clothes (he started keeping some with him after several phasing accidents) and you return to the Cullen household, where you mercilessly mock Emmett.

“How does it feel to lose to a wolf, cream puff?”

“(Y/n), I swear to God I’m gonna-”

You dash up the stairs, giggling wildly. Jasper follows behind slowly, tossing the bigger vampire a smug grin.

“Next time, you shouldn’t underestimate her.”

---

This idea came to me at like midnight and I wrote down the idea and I love it. I hope you guys enjoyed it too!

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

May I ask for a request of tangerine x reader who works with Tan and Lemon. Idiots in love type. And on a mission one takes a bullet for the other or does something stupid during a mission to keep the other safe? and then when they are in the clear they get into a big argument about how stupid the other was and like all the yelling and arguing leads to slipping out a love confession. You can choose who gets injured tan or reader.

Also, I could totally see Lemon in the back just watching them argue sipping on some water that isn’t poisoned.

hii sunshine! love love love it! thanks for requesting, hope you like it 💌 @thewinterv I combined this with your request, hope you don’t mind ��

HONESTY HOUR.

tangerine x implied fem!reader

word count. 792

warnings. couple blood mentions

Missions were always complicated with Tangerine. Not because he’s difficult to work with or unskilled, but instead it was your feelings towards him that made working with him so tricky. Confusing feelings pertaining to the unspoken, unacknowledged connection between you.

And because of that, you never knew where you stood with each other. You each knew there was something there, a spark as such, but neither of you would dare speak on it. These repressed emotions have been marinating for far too long, the approaching expiry date much like that of a ticking time bomb. 

Today's mission was particularly challenging: you and Tangerine were tasked to retrieve something —you still were unsure of what exactly— while Lemon retrieved the other. You’d all often split on missions, though today two diversions were needed, and without a moment to think on it, you found yourself following after Tangerine. 

In hindsight, it may have been stupid – the current bullet wound in your lower arm acting as a giant looming ‘I told you so.’ As soon as you and Tan were rushed into a trap —a setup— it all kind of went blank, and you fought on autopilot without a single comprehensive thought. 

You were hardly aware that you were hit until Tangerine noticed it – the trail of blood leaking from your arm and on the floor in an inconsistent pattern. 

“What the fuck have you done?” Tan yells, eyes widening as he rushes over to you – jumping over the small pile of dead bodies.

“I don’t know,” you shout back, looking down at your arm in panic. “I don’t know.”

“Oh fuckin’ hell,” he continues his yelling for some apparent reasoning. “God, this is a fuckin’ disaster,” he says, moving a hand to cover the wound in your arm, his palm firm over the small hole – trying to apply pressure. 

“It’s starting to hurt,” you wince, tugging your arm away. The adrenaline beginning to wear off.

He holds onto your elbow with his other hand, keeping you still and stopping you from pulling from his attempt of help.

“Keep bloody still, man,” he furrows, eyes narrowing at you for a brief moment. “Knew you should’ve gone with Lemon.”

“Well if I did, you’d be dead. So you’re welcome,” you retort, eyes squinting at him in that same frustrated way.

“Yeah, well too late for that now, ain’t it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you snark, snatching your arm away – holding over the wound in the same way he did. “Don’t have to be such a dick to me all the time, okay? I’m trying.”

“You never fuckin’ think. You always throw yourself in danger and I have to come and bail you out,” he scoffs, staring you down. 

“I never ask you to.”

He chuckles, the sound amused. “Oh, come off it.”

“I don’t need you to treat me like I’m a little princess,” you retort once more. “I don’t need your help, okay? I’m fine on my own.”

“Well maybe that’s our fuckin’ problem then,” he says, voice far calmer now. 

“What does that mean?” you ask, tone softening like his. “What do you mean?”

He shakes his head, exhaling heavily. “Forget it. I don’t care anymore,” he scoffs. “We gotta get back to Lem and get you sorted.”

And as he goes to leave, walking past you, you grab a hold of his arm to halt him. “What do you mean by that?” you question, eyes darting over his face.

“Nevermind.”

“No,” you tug his arm, extending your neck to meet his eyeline. “Tell me.”

He sighs, purposely avoiding your eyes. “I care about you, alright?” he confesses, speaking almost reluctantly. 

You move to stand in front of him, making him face you – forcing him to look at you. You smile faintly at him, the softness in your eyes silently prompting him to say what else he was thinking.

“I like you, okay? I don’t wanna see you hurt,” he admits. “Happy now?”

You nod sincerely, smiling at him. “That’s why I always go with you… sounds stupid, but I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“Yeah?” he says softly, a faint grin lining his lips. “So what’re you saying?” he chuckles, pushing you into a confession like you did him.

“I’m saying,” you pause. “I’m saying I like you.”

“You do?” he takes a step closer.

And before you have a moment to reply, you hear footsteps approach, the presence snapping you from this little honesty round with Tangerine. “Oi, there you fuckers are,” Lemon shouts, spotting you both. “Got shit to do, now chop chop.” And when he sees each of your faces, he can’t help but laugh. Both of you looked so guilty. “About to finally do it, weren’t you?”

I fear this may be total ass

[shirefantasies]

The Hobbits With a F!Human Crush

Definitely not the last of this concept you’ll see from me 😉 Tagging @possibly-in-wonderland along with my usual list @kilibaggins @fuckyoumakeart @lokilover476 | let me know if you wanna join!

Frodo

✧ You serve as a living, breathing symbol of his curiosity, his desire for knowledge and exploration, something new that he wants so badly it all but takes the breath from him.

✧ The way you fall in love with Bag End, unbothered, no, charmed, by the quaint yet elegant hobbit hole as your eyes light up has Frodo’s heart doing somersaults. “You like it?” “Like it? Why, Frodo, you are as lucky as anyone! I wish I lived here!” He’s a bit too shy to say it, but a little voice peeking from the corners of Frodo’s mind says that that could be arranged.

✧ You’ve been places he could only dream of, and he wants to hear every story, enraptured with a hand upon his chin and blue eyes wide at your every word.

✧ Whenever you bend down to whisper in his ear, his entire mind shuts down and a smile creeps across his lips like you’ve never seen before.

✧ Flushes brightly when you pull him protectively against your chest, but enjoys the dangerous race of his heart at your hand upon him more than he would have thought possible.

✧ And when you first kiss him, giving him that gentle but still quite strong tug up into your lips at his confession and tangling your fingers in his dark hair, it's like his chest is about to explode.

Sam

✧ A bit down on yourself thinking someone like you wouldn’t like someone like him, at least not like that.

✧ Regardless, it changes not his kindness and devotion towards you. Despite your size difference, Sam is the one to step forward between you and danger, throwing an arm across from you and not registering or sharing in your amusement until the threat is neutralized.

✧ His heart practically slammed out of his chest when he told you about all the rabbits in the Shire, including one couple he’d seen where the male was with a much larger female. “That’s so cute,” you’d remarked, a hand idly brushing his arm as it lowered, “I love that.” Sam could hardly speak for the next minute or so.

✧ You asked him once if people remind him of flowers or if that's just you, and without even thinking Sam said sunflowers. Not only because of their height, he replies with a blush after you tease him, but the way they bring joy to all who see them and everybody wants them around.

✧ Trips over his words when you focus your gaze down upon him, suddenly feeling warm beneath the intent stare.

✧ And when you take his hand, looking him right in the eyes again as you tell him just how much he means to you, why he snaps completely, pulling up to his full height to connect your lips.

Merry

✧ He takes you, quite frankly, as a challenge- not one given in scorn, but as the rush of the latest charge or act of mischief, the exhilaration of risking oneself for moments of the greatest good.

✧ Bold as he is, Merry isn't afraid to let you know how beautiful he thinks you are, calling you fair and strong and every compliment in the book to cheer you up and bolster your courage.

✧ Attempts to prove himself to you thrill him, too, the way you take him on as an equal to spar and spend your time teaching him. The way you let him overtake you, standing over you with triumph and giving a smirk that runs a shiver down his spine.

✧ He goes to you first for things; in his eyes you can do anything and he trusts you to take his concerns seriously. It could be something small like a question or repair or a a heavier matter like a deep discussion, but whatever it is it will be with you.

✧ Makes up the occasional tall tale about his prowess back home, making himself out to be quite the hero or his home a far more fantastical place. Just to see what you believe. Even though you giggle at his mock-heroic deeds and teasingly debunk his tales, you make it clear in your treatment of him that you do believe he can do anything.

✧ Shock blooms across your face and thrums in your heart at the wince cutting Merry’s face when he accidentally confesses his feelings to you, but it is quickly overtaken by a smile as you cup his face in your hands to return his affection and then some.

Pippin

✧ Nothing can tear him from your side, not a word of concern from others, not a single hardship- when his mind is made up, it is made and that is that.

✧ Enjoys climbing up on things or into trees to get to your eye level, leaning closer while he has the opportunity to all but brush noses.

✧ Makes jokes about you having a longer reach or about "back when you were my size", for he is well aware and comfortable with the height difference. Insurmountable as it could be to you, there is no point in denying it and having some fun with it. After all, as much as he is always trying to assist you, he can use your added height as an excuse to ask for help, too!

✧ Unabashedly checks you out, his eyes sliding to you in nearly any moment of idleness; sometimes they are glances of awe, others pure pleasure at your form.

✧ Tells you again and again all the places he’s going to take you: the Green Dragon, a run through Farmer Maggot’s fields, Sam’s garden if he lets you, all at such insistence that the Shire is the greatest place upon the earth that you cannot help believing him and longing for it almost as much as he.

✧ Knowing that he is lost, he is happy simply to love you no matter what, but few times in your life will you see Pippin’s face as alight as the moment between you returning his feelings and the deep first kiss you share.

Bilbo

✧ Now you, my dear, are an adventure. Nothing he ever planned for, imagined, expected, and yet here you are on his proverbial doorstep. With a gulp and a shy smile he takes you in, eyes sliding upward along your form.

✧ Never has he felt this way before and certainly never with a daughter of men, so you'll find his gaze upon you often, studying you almost.

✧ Definitely tries to wow you with his studies of the different cultures of men- with varying success depending on from which region you hail. You cannot help but be charmed at all of Bilbo’s attempts to make you feel at home even in the middle of nowhere.

✧ You will feel like you’ve seen Bag End and met all of Bilbo’s ridiculous relatives with all the stories he shares both silly and beautiful. “I can see why you wish to return,” you tell him, to which he just beams up at you, a new shine in his eyes.

✧ Gets flustered at the ways in which you move to his level, leaning slinkily against a large rock or down further still upon a log to look up at him and meet his gaze with a smile.

✧ All he asks is if you have any interest in settling down, but you cannot help risking things at the sight of Bilbo’s nerves, tentatively answering that you’d love to settle in the Shire and feeling your heart soar at his grin of relief. Unusual, certainly, but then again that is perfect for Bilbo Baggins, is it not?

[pedge-page]

Imagine baby Sarah getting paint all over the house and marker all over the walls and paint stains of her foot prints everywhere and reader gets emotional about the “art” and tries to convince Joel to keep the mess

Joel Dealing with Sarah - Art

- - - -

Joel never realized just how much damage and unsupervised 2 year old year old can do in 5 minutes. He was used to an immobile Sarah, whether that be needing carried everyone or just seeing how far she can crawl. But when she grew new able bodied lightening legs? It was a new level of parenting he didn’t fully think through.

 Art and colors were all the rage at this age. He has so many squiggly, scratched out, vomitous “art” pieces hanging on the fridge. And it didn’t matter what you wanted her to draw. her uncoordinated hands could only stab and streak across paper. And thus, Yellow streak was Spoon, blue streak was mom, and stabbed holes were Dad.

He had grabbed something very quickly in the kitchen before coming back to supervise the kid who was coloring with her fist and an upside down crayon on a very large sheet of paper. Only now, she was nowhere to be found. There were crayons and pencils and paper scattered all over the floor, but no baby. 

More horrifically, he did notice the box with all her art supplies was left opened, and the vacant spot that held her child-safe paint tubes were missing.

“Oh Shit.”

He’s checking behind the couch and then back into the kitchen in case he didn’t notice maybe she had followed her in there.

“Sarah,” he announces cautiously, but his voice echoes in the house.

He contines into the entry way when the first clue emerges: a bitty pink paint foot print.

“Oh Shit. Sarah!”

He runs up stairs, following the ever growing number of painted footprints left in her trail, and then splotches on the newly painted walls, fingers and smudged handprints like a multicolored serial killer following its injured victim up the stairs. 

“Shitshitshit,” he mumbles, putting his thumb to his tongue and trying to blotch it out quick. The paint was pretty damn un-eraseable with saliva alone.

“SARAH,” he booms more angrily. Nice daddy was on his way out, damned be your soft Mommy reaction.

The girl was getting spanked.

Finally rounding the corner to the master bedroom, he sees the little monster happily squiggling on his walls and she dances side to side. Her hair and face and clothes and skin were covered in paint, as if rolling her whole body along ever possible surface.

Hands on his hips, puffing steam through his ears, he opens his mouth.

The front door clicks open, and both Joel and Sarah’s ears perk up as your familiar footsteps enter the home.

“Oh my god!” You shout, undoubtedly noticing the horrendous streaks of paint all over your walls.

Sarah gets to her feet and barrels past Joel, hoping to see her Momma because FUCK this boring guy.

He smirks, knowing you’re gonna throw a fit. That THIS time Sarah and her behavior won’t slide, and you’ll take the fury out on her.

“Did you make art baby!” You shout excitedly as you finally see her waddle towards you. She coos giddily as you scoop her up. 

Joel frowns and makes his way to you. “Excuse me??”

“Oh hi Daddy.” You wave him off casually with a barely-kiss to the cheek. “Aww honey you got paint all over your hair little bean.” You kiss her forehead, all wrapped up in your arms and hanging off your hip. “Show momma what you made.”

You put her down and the two of you make your way past a very bewildered and near exploding Joel.

On your knees, Sarah directs you to her “artwork” all over the walls like an art gallery. She goes on with her gibberish words and you listen as intently as if it were English. 

He clears his throat. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m spanking her, right?”

You narrow your brows. “What?”

“Are you kidding me? What do you mean ‘what’.” He gestures to the destroyed walls. “I gotta repaint the whole house!”

“WHAT! Why would you do that???? We’re keeping it like this.”

He’s so ready to dunk you in time out too. 

“Joel its art—“

“This aint art—it’s a god damn mess! All over the walls? Baby, she can’t just do this.”

“But its her self expression, its probably one of the few ways we can try to understand her beauty— she could be a picasso when she grows up--"

“ITS SCRIBBLES. And she’s got it out for me,” he narrows his eyes to Sarah, scowling. “If you won’t let me discipline her—“

“She’s two--“

“Then at least let me make this house right.”

You cross your arms over your chest. Sarah looks up and does the same, minicking the disappointment on your face. 

“You never let us do anything fun,” you pout. “Always destroying things that make us happy.”

“Don’t you start on that,” he growls with a pointed finger. “She painted the walls, and she’s not allowed to do that.”

“If I painted the walls, would you tell me I can’t?”

He’s very tempted to say yes because you’d make a mess, but prevents the words from leaving his mouth. “No…”

Dignified, you announce: “Then I say my baby can paint the walls the way she wants.” 

He lets out a long, defeated sigh. “Staircase. Starcaise is only place she can have paint. I’m painting over everything else.”

You think it through, but nod. “Fine. And We will make it beautiful.”

He closes his eyes ask you and mini-boss version of you Sarah make your way, baby finger in your hand, out of the bedroom.

He lies down face forward in bed, and bites down on the pillow to muffle his shout.

-

The next day is Saturday. He had a project in the morning that helped distract him from the mess of his own home.

When he walks in, he’s immediately greeted with your bear hug.

He smiles and kisses your forehead. You’re covered in streaks of paint, some of which clearly wiped on your hair and lips without you realizing. 

“Keeping busy I see?” He chuckles.

“I think it’s coming along.”

True to your word, he’s impressed with the transformation. Once a plain beige, then a hodgepodge of paint, you had gone over and added creative detailing to the colors and mishap that Sarah had splotched over and made a unique design of flowers, suns, meadows and rivers, free flowing patterns and shapes that felt full of life and artistic workmanship, making the whole thing look intentional.

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and admires the work. “You really know how to save that kid, don’t you?”

You nuzzle your face into his sweaty chest.

‘Speaking of, where is…?”

You widen your eyes and look around, forgetting that Sarah had abandoned her post of watching you. 

“Oh SHIT!” You shout, running down towards the living room.

Sarah had somehow gotten a fresh coating of paint all over the new dress you bought, and her poor victim today was helpless Spoon, who stares at you remorsefully. She is sitting quite obediently as Sarah splotches her little pink handprints on the dog’s head and back.

“Ankles weights,” Joel says plainly, observing with a little nod at the scene as you go to yell at Sarah about painting the damn dog. “How about baby ankle weights?”

"Order them now," you seethe, grabbing her hand and Spoon's collar and stomping off the the bath tub to get them clean.

Joel rolls his lips in circle motion, trying not to smile to himself.

- - - -

Taglist

@harriedandharassed @lola8888673 @its-nebuleuse @zliteraturehoe @merz-8 @joeldjarin @pascalscoffin @pedroshotwifey @ghostslillady @innerpersonunknown @missladym1981 @mrsoharaxx @survivingandenduring @milla-frenchy @cockykookiee @fairytale07 @daddy-din @pedropascalsbbg @spookyxsam @somehopeatlast @millercontracting @pedrostories @mishala005 @theoraekenslover @animez96 @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @puduvallee @cassiecasluciluce @loohoop @himboelover @callsignwidow

[gabessquishytum]

Hob is hired to cook for a reclusive businessman he never sees. He was hired by his very organized but stressed PA, Lucienne, who tells him that unfortunately his new employer, M. Endless, keeps weird hours and has very strange taste in food.

But the pay is good and Hob doesn’t mind a weird client.

Hob does indeed have weird hours. Sometimes he isn’t needed for a couple of weeks and then suddenly he’ll be on call for a month, staying in a guest bedroom in case he’s texted an order for something random, like cherries jubilee at midnight.

And the house is huge, so he really never sees anyone there.

Until one night his mysterious employer throws a party. Hob has two weeks to prepare and he throws a gigantic feast. Lucienne brings in a ton of very well trained catering staff and at least 200 people dressed to the nines show up.

Hob stays on to cook and make sure everything goes as planned, but when he’s finally allowed a break, he takes it and grabs a cigarette in a corner of the garden.

There, he finds one of the party guests, also apparently avoiding the crowd.

They start talking. The guy is HOT. He looks like a runway model, introducing himself as Dream and hob definitely wouldn’t mind a quickie before his break is over.

Offhand, hob mentions that he works for the host and he’s never met him.

Dream quirks an eyebrow. “You don’t know what he looks like? Nor what he does?”

“No, but he’s a weird one, that’s for sure.”

Hob goes on, charming the man, he’s sure, until Dream finally kisses him (maybe just to shut him up).

Hob gets his quickie, coming with the man’s tongue buried so deep in his arse he could cry. And that’s when Lucienne interrupts.

Turns out hob just called his boss a weirdo, got off with him…oh and they’re out of the waygu sliders.

Alakdjfhshaja its giving great gatsby vibes <333 love it.

Lucienne coughs politely and tells Dream that he's wanted to give his speech to the guests - that's literally how Hob finds out that Dream is the host!! Then he's left to scramble back into the kitchen, furiously wash his hands, and try to make up for his missteps by whipping up a few of Dream’s favoured tidbits to send up for the buffet table. The whole time his knees are trembling and he just can't fucking believe that he had the boss's tongue shoved so far up his hole he was seeing stars.

He doesn't see Dream until its pretty much dawn the next morning. Hob stayed up supervising the cleanup, and he's still diligently wiping down counters when Dream appears in the doorway. He looks exhausted, but he smirks at Hob and beckons him to come closer. Hob goes willingly and drops to his knees, ready to apologise for not recognising Dream and calling him a weirdo. He also really, really just wants to suck Dream off - any excuse to be on eye-level with his cock, honestly.

From now on, Hob’s going to make sure that he delivers Dream’s meals personally - hell, he'll hand feed him if Dream allows it. And Dream (who has never had anyone take such good care of him before, except perhaps Lucienne in a professional capacity) can't help but fall in love with the himbo chef. The sloppy blowjob on the kitchen floor surely convinced him that he'd never be letting Hob find employment elsewhere. Even if he has to promote Hob to "boyfriend" sometime sooner rather than later <3

[wri0thesley]

cw: reader x nanami, not sfw, fantasising, kissing, horny. a companion piece to the first ever nanami fic i wrote! 949 words.

You feel better than he could ever have imagined.

Breathless nights on his own, one hand wrapped around his cock and one hand in front of his mouth to muffle the shame of whining and moaning the name of someone he wasn't officially attached to (and, in fact, whom he had tried in vain to not see in such a way) . . . they don't remotely compare to this.

Oh, some of his fantasies come back to him when he kisses you. He remembers how he imagined kissing you back then, and what you would taste like - this is a clumsier, a clash of tongue and teeth, you panting helplessly into his mouth - but this is far more true and raw and real. This is what it feels like to have been pining over someone for months and for the frenzy of sensation to finally come to a head - this, and the way your hands rake through his hair. The way that he can feel your heart beat so fiercely against his chest, and even more so when he trails his mouth over the cheeks he has imagined pinching and squeezing and having wrapped around his cock. Even more so when his teeth graze your neck, the fluttering pulse point, and you make a noise like a whine and he has never been more aware of just how intensely hard he is in his trousers.

"Kento--"

He remembers how you said his name in his daydreams and nighttime sins, but it is nothing compared to how it sounds when it comes out of you in a plea, when you take his big hands and you place them squarely upon the curve of your chest and encourage him to squeeze. You are so soft; even through the callouses on his palms from wielding his weapon and the layer of your clothing, Nanami knows you will feel like satin beneath his fingertips.

Your own fingers dance nervously at the collar of his shirt, tugging his tie off. He realises, as the tips of your nails graze the bob of his Adam's apple, that he outright growls at the contact -and your eyes go wide and blown, your mouth half-open.

"Can I?" You ask, your tone a little shy - and Nanami cannot bring himself to speak, not when his fantasies have been dropped into his lap even though he doesn't feel as though he deserves them, and all he can offer you is a nod and the feeling of his own fingers pulling none-too-gently at your shirt.

You laugh a huffing, breathless noise as one of your buttons pops off and flies somewhere across the room, probably never to be found again.

"I didn't think you'd be . . . this eager--" You say to him, sounding bashful. You look up at him all lovely, nervous and bold and alluring all at once, and Nanami cannot hold himself back.

"I've wanted to do this to you for months," he admits, in a strained voice. "You wouldn't get out of my head."

"Oh," you say, your fingers working at his collar - the buttons slipping through sweat-slick fingers, and finally his button holes. Your lashes flutter as you push the shoulders off of him, and his body is finally revealed to you; the broad shoulders, the scars, the sinewy muscle that he hides behind his clothes all day. You take a deep breath to steady yourself, as if you're about to make a confession. "Then . . . you won't feel that I'm being inappropriate when I tell you how many times I touched myself and thought of you?"

That pushes him over the edge.

Before he can think twice of it, he's guiding you to the bed, practically throwing you down upon it. You bounce on the mattress and pillows with another breathless laugh that goes straight to his cock, and he does not need to ask you to pull off the rest of your clothes. Your underwear is halfway down your thighs before he's managed to unbutton his own fly.

To think, all of those nights he has spent thinking about you - imagining the noises you would make if he eased himself inside of you, imagining the silky wet cling of your cunt on his cock, imagining your lips wrapped around his shaft and drool dripping down your chin as you looked up at him with adoration and worship in your eyes--

In another part of the city, you were doing the same thing.

In another bed, you had one hand between your thighs; your fingers stuffed inside of you in an echo of his cock, your hips shaking, your slick leaking out all over the bed as you rubbed and crooked and fucked yourself silly on your own digits wishing they were his.

Did you imagine him knelt between your legs like he was praying? His tongue, lashing your clit? Did you imagine his big fingers scissoring and and out of you? His voice, murmuring low praises about how good you were and how well you were taking him? His hips, pistoning in and out of you?

Did you imagine him filling you up with his come; wanting you so badly that he kept thrusting even after his release, your hole oozing a frothy mixture of his come and your own arousal, until you were both wet and messy and couldn't remember where he began and you ended?

It doesn't matter.

As Nanami bears down on you - as he kisses you again, as all of his fantasies come true at once and he is deliriously, impossibly happy - he knows that neither of you will ever need to fantasise about each other again.

Not when you have the real thing.

[momotonescreaming]

Night Light

Rating: G | WC: 1.2k | Evan Buckley/Tommy Kinard A mini Tommy Kinard character study [Read on AO3]

Tommy has an antique lamp in his entranceway and a child’s night light in the hall.

A small unassuming thing in a plastic white cover, subtly plugged into an outlet halfway down the hall to the master bedroom. Buck thought it was an air freshener at first, didn’t think much of it. Which was kind of the point. It wasn’t until he stayed the night that very first time when he noticed. Padding through Tommy’s house on unsure, socked feet, making his way through unfamiliar rooms. It was getting dark, Tommy’s house aglow in the lamplight, when he saw it projecting little golden stars up the wall.

Buck wondered if there was a story there. Of army flashbacks, and gifting yourself the childhood you never had. Of not holding yourself back, of letting go of the man people wanted you to be. Of loneliness.

He wondered if it was his place to know it just yet. Another piece of the Tommy-shaped puzzle, aglow with tiny stars. They had started touching at things like this, merely breaching the surface, hinting at the things below. The things that lurk in the dark. Quickly, swiftly, dropping hints and then diverting away. This felt like it might be one of those.

Tommy doesn’t have any kids, and from the hints Buck’s already gathered — he doesn’t have any kids in his life, period. No nieces and nephews. No kids of friends or co-workers.

So the night light can’t be for any of them. Those children that don’t exist. Buck thinks Tommy might have gotten it for himself. Buck kind of likes it. He doesn’t want to go too far down the rabbit hole, too far into research and facts and theories about why. Doesn’t want to dig this up and risk exposing something he shouldn’t. Not before either of them are ready. He wants Tommy to give it to him. Revealed in time.

So Buck walks past the night light, goes to the bathroom, and then walks straight back past them on his way back to Tommy. To the living room, where his boyfriend is waiting. Curled up on the couch, soft and inviting. Curtains half pulled shut and room lit by lamplight. As soon as it got dark, Buck Noticed, Tommy always leaned towards a lamp first. Not an overhead light.

None of the lamps have stars.

He thinks that might be an easier conversation. Might not poke what’s lurking beneath. But he likes it too. It feels very Tommy, his house. Warm. Cozy. Safe. Buck knows it wasn’t always that way. That Tommy’s house was a fixer-upper and was in a perpetual state of construction for years. That Tommy learned what he liked and built it himself. And it appears his boyfriend likes soft lighting.

Buck doesn’t say anything about the night light, but he swear he sees something flicker in Tommy’s expression. He stops thinking about the topic entirely when Tommy draws him into his arms and holds him close.

They spend more and more time together. Going on dates, getting to know one another. Spending time at each other’s places, slowly mapping out the shape of each other’ homes. They way they act in a place that’s theirs. When no one is around but the other.

A part of Buck will never understand why Tommy seemed so impressed with his loft — considering his house is so much cooler. A cozy renovated bungalow with a home gym and an extra large garage with a car lift. Lined with many a bookshelf, filled with romance novels and car manuals. Piles of DVD’s, a modest collection of vinyl and a CD collection he had been growing since he was a teen. All shelves dusted, in a very particular order. Tiny helicopters on display. Little figurines and models, breaking up the wall of things.

A large comfy couch in the middle of his living room, framed by a plush rug and draped in throw blankets. A lamp on the side table, and another in the corner. Some subtly queer artwork on the walls, if you know where and how to look. He’s not hiding who he is, but he’s not shouting it from the rooftop either. It’s nice. Homey. It suits Tommy.

Paint swatches on the wall of his dining room, and his kitchen, with the old wallpaper half peeling off. He hasn’t renovated that yet, Tommy tells him. Hasn’t found the time, he says with a smirk. As if it’s a hardship Tommy’s been spending time with him, going on dates, inviting him round — instead of ripping up and renovating his entire kitchen.

Next to one of his bookcases, is the night light. Halfway down the hall.

A part of Buck wondered if Tommy would hide it, after that first night when Buck saw it on his way to the bathroom. Would unplug it and squirrel it away where Buck couldn’t see. Until Tommy was ready to talk about it. But he didn’t, and yet Buck still didn’t say anything.

He finds out about the lamps, earlier. The collection of them scattered throughout his house — the antique one in the entranceway.

Tommy turns it on every time he leaves the house. It’s a part of his routine. Shut the windows, lock the doors, wallet, phone, keys, turn on the lamp. Says he likes the soft lighting better, as compared to the harsh lighting from the overheads. Makes it feel warmer, and enjoys the way it makes everything glow. Orange soft around the edges. He likes coming home to the light on, he says. Makes it feels less imposing, more inviting. Seeing the gold from the lamp light shining through the curtains. Distorted and hazy from the lampshade.

Buck’s getting better versed at Tommy-speak. He knows how to read between the lines on this one. It makes his house feel a little less empty. Makes him feel a little less alone.

The night light makes a little more sense then.

Tommy got the lamp at an estate sale, he says. Went sifting through for things to help fill his house with. He got the lamp, a table, and a large worn-in armchair with pride of place in his living room. Things to make his house seem a little more lived in, a little more homey, a little less empty.

Buck still doesn’t ask when he got the night light, but he thinks about it more now. He thinks about it when he gets off shift and heads straight to Tommy’s, seeing the lamp light shine through the window. He thinks about it when he gets up early to get ready for a shift, and sees the little golden stars glow as he makes his way down the hall to Tommy’s kitchen.

It makes him sort of sad, to picture it. Young Tommy, trying to figure out who he is, to unpluck threads while the pressure of the macho fire house presses down around him. And then turning around and coming home to an empty, pitch black house. Putting the lamp in the entranceway so it’s the first thing he sees when he gets home. Buying a little night light to lead his way down the hall.

When Buck was living in Abby’s apartment, way back when, he thinks maybe he should have bought himself a children’s night light with little golden stars.

[nobrashfestivity]

Happy Birthday Charles Mingus

by Guy Le Querrec 1972 Magnum Photos

but also

First, you must train your cat to use a home-made cardboard litter box, if you have not already done so. (If your box does not have a one-piece bottom, add a cardboard that fits inside, so you have a false bottom that is smooth and strong. This way the box will not become soggy and fall out at the bottom. The grocery store will have extra flat cardboards which you can cut down to fit exactly inside your box.)

Be sure to use torn up newspaper, not kitty litter. Stop using kitty litter. (When the time comes you cannot put sand in a toilet.)

Once your cat is trained to use a cardboard box, start moving the box around the room, towards the bathroom. If the box is in a corner, move it a few feet from the corner, but not very noticeably. If you move it too far, he may go to the bathroom in the original corner. Do it gradually. You've got to get him thinking. Then he will gradually follow the box as you move it to the bathroom. (Important: if you already have it there, move it out of the bathroom, around, and then back. He has to learn to follow it. If it is too close to the toilet, to begin with, he will not follow it up onto the toilet seat when you move it there.) A cat will look for his box. He smells it.

2

Now, as you move the box, also start cutting the brim of the box down, so the sides get lower. Do this gradually.

Finally, you reach the bathroom and, eventually, the toilet itself. Then, one day, prepare to put the box on top of the toilet. At each corner of the box, cut a little slash. You can run string around the box, through these slashes, and tie the box down to the toilet so it will not fall off. Your cat will see it there and jump up to the box, which is now sitting on top of the toilet (with the sides cut down to only an inch or so.)

Don't bug the cat now, don't rush him, because you might throw him off. Just let him relax and go there for awhile-maybe a week or two. Meanwhile, put less and less newspaper inside the box.

3

One day, cut a small hole in the very center of his box, less than an apple-about the size of a plum-and leave some paper in the box around the hole. Right away he will start aiming for the hole and possibly even try to make it bigger. Leave the paper for awhile to absorb the waste. When he jumps up he will not be afraid of the hole because he expects it. At this point you will realize that you have won. The most difficult part is over.

From now on, it is just a matter of time. In fact, once when I was cleaning the box and had removed it from the toilet, my cat jumped up anyway and almost fell in. To avoid this, have a temporary flat cardboard ready with a little hole, and slide it under the toilet lid so he can use it while you are cleaning, in case he wants to come and go, and so he will not fall in and be scared off completely. You might add some newspaper up there too, while you are cleaning, in case your cat is not as smart as Nightlife was.

4 Now cut the box down completely until there is no brim left. Put the flat cardboard, which is left, under the lid of the toilet seat, and pray. Leave a little newspaper, still. He will rake it into the hole anyway, after he goes to the bathroom. Eventually, you can simply get rid of the cardboard altogether. You will see when he has got his balance properly.

Don't be surprised if you hear the toilet flush in the middle of the night. A cat can learn how to do it, spurred on by his instinct to cover up. His main thing is to cover up. If he hits the flush knob accidentally and sees that it cleans the bowl inside, he may remember and do it intentionally.

Also, be sure to turn the toilet paper roll around so that it won't roll down easily if the cat paws it. The cat is apt to roll it into the toilet, again with the intention of covering up- the way he would if there were still kitty litter.

It took me about three or four weeks to toilet train my cat, Nightlife. Most of the time is spent moving the box very gradually to the bathroom. Do it very slowly and don't confuse him. And, remember, once the box is on the toilet, leave it a week or even two. The main thing to remember is not to rush or confuse him.

Good luck. Charles Mingus

[fandomobbsessedb]

Yandere!Wally Darling x Female Reader.

Summary: Reader goes for a stroll in the woods on the edge of The Neighborhood when it starts to feel like somethings wrong, when something tells them they’ve done all this before

AN- This is my first shot at a “Welcome Home” one-shot and I really hope that it turns out decent lol

Key: P/F= Preferred Flowers

TW: Manipulative behavior!!. Very descriptive setting/ other worldly feelings/ out of body feeling.

⚪️🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢🔵🟣🔴🟠🟡🟢⚫️

Breathing in the bittersweet and earthy tones of the hearty oak trees around you, your feet continue their walk on the colorfully (soft?) road. In your right arm a basket from Julie, you had been at her house to help her with a new garden set up and in return she gifted you a bouquet of (p/f)!

In your left hand you where periodically smelling the crazy rose you found growing alone a few feet away from all the other single colored roses, the outside petals where a beautiful royal blue and the inside was a dark hellish black. For some odd reason you saw it and just couldn’t stop thinking of the Darling, your darling, Wally Darling. You and Wally have been a thing for as long as you could remember. You’ve always lived in Home with him, you two are rarely apart, always attached at the hip.

You tried racking your brain as to how this crazy flower reminded you of him, maybe because it was so different, and to you Wally felt different. It would make sense you see him differently than the rest, he’s your love.

An odd feeling drew you from your thoughts, the pressure of a hard ground beneath your feet, and not the comfortable cradling one it was just in. Looking around you came to your senses and realized you where into the forest now, the colorful road long gone, you couldn’t even tell how far from it you where. Inspecting your surroundings it not only felt like you where looking around, but like something was watching you back, part of you wanted to believe it was watching you to keep you safe, but you knew it wasn’t real…..

You always asked Wally to go on pic-nic’s in the forest but he would steer you far far from the tall woods.

Thinking you could find your way back on your own you turned around and tried to go back the way you came. As you went on it felt like not only the ground was hard, but the sticks on the trees seemed harder than the soft squishy ones you would throw to Barnaby. Instead of the comfy rounded ends that would bump into you to make you aware of their presence, these sticks felt harsh and pokey, almost like they where grabbing at you with hands that belonged to the bodies the eyes inhabited and were pulling at your pretty mini rainbow dress that complimented your Wally.

Continuing your trek into the woods you started to realize little by little the odd changes. The air felt thick and muggy… you thought your eyes where tricking you, on the very edges of the trees and the bushes there was a darkness barley peeking it’s head out of hiding, just around your pupils… the sounds of the birds and bugs started to dull out into a sharp pitched sound, like when your dancing with Wally late into the night and your radio channel ends with a sharp sound that Wally quickly turns off, only exposing you for a spilt moment…

The basket in your arms feeling heavier then before, looking down to see the reason…. Your whole bouquet was wilted, all your pretty flowers you where going to show Wally… they where all dead, looking to the rose in your other hand the world around you started to spin, now instead of seeing it as your love, it made you feel sick, staring at the black center it consumed your eye sight, feeling like a black hole you where falling into.

You dropped the rose unable to move any other part of your body, the sharp brain warping sound filing your head, now not being able to feel anything, you slowly painfully lift your head to look around, there no more sounds, no more colors, no more dimension-

The trees are black lines filled in with a dark color that’s pulling you towards their gravity only for another to shove you in the opposite direction, the ground trips you even more off your trail as it looks like grey sand, slipping all over the floor. It doesn’t help when your already trying to get your way back. Everything started to move, the trees swayed almost animated… the bushes jumping up and down like an old cartoon, and then you, not even able to find a grip, because everything shocks you like static. A distorted voice coming from the trees breaks you out of your spin-

“Oh Mrs.Darling… My darling… haven’t we been through this already…. You can’t leave….. didn’t you learn that the first 3 times you tried this…..?”

Flashes of a bright white light blinding your vision and threw you in all sorts of directions, shapes and colors started to make pictures in your head.

A woman brushing a small girls hair into their favorite style

A bigger teenage boy throwing the smaller infant into the air and watching them giggle with joy…

A father and mother hugging the now ten year old child as a congratulations for making it to the next grade…

The older teenager who was once the child spending the day with their friends doing the things they all love…

The young adult once teenager hugging their parents in their soon to be filled apartment….

The grown woman sitting down after a long tiring day at their job, turning on the tv to watch a comforting show, the same, friendly, neighborly, bright colored show that kept them captive for hours.

a SNAP broke you from the visions and the warmth and comfort of your felt covered world came rushing back to you as you where almost blinded when the color seeped back into everything. Almost like time had been rewound to before you got lost from the road.

The stick that had just gave out beneath your foot being the only thing to assure you that what you had just been through was real. You took a step backward trying to catch your breath, feeling like something was gripping your lungs, the hands from the sticks grown into monstrously large and round hands squeezing every big of oxygen from squishy lungs, wringing them out like a water filled cloth. The ground giving out beneath you and throwing you back, almost like a million arms pushing you back towards your captivity.

Tumbling down the hill it’s impossible for you to hurt yourself, he made sure of that. Just the shock of everything that recently happened, you opened your mouth to scream but you weren’t even sure if anything came out…

You hit the bottom of the hill feeling your basket crush under your heavy body, the squished flowers ruining your dress, as you just lay there breathing, catching your breath, you hear light footsteps coming up to you. Pushing yourself up with all of your leftover strength your able to sit up, using your hips to cradle the rest of your upper anatomy you just look around.

W̵̫̼̲͉̼̭͓̽̃̀͒̈̇͗̌͂̀͠h̴̨̠̳̰̬̫̯̺̦̫͇̙͇̘͙̤̞̃̀̀̍͒͗̈́̋̕͝a̶̧̼͖͂͋͐̄͐̔̓̆͊̀̑͛̊̚t̵̢̠͙͈̣͙̠͈̏̈́͒̉ͅ ̴̟̘̯̘̠̝͇͓̟̣̤̋̅͒̂̓̾̊̅̇͊̕͜͜͠a̶̪̹̥̮̲͖͇̔̏̈͘ṛ̸̨̀͒́̅͑e̵̬̥̙͍̩̜̺͈͍̋́̒͋̽ ̷̡̛̯͎̖̼̔̋̔͆̎͗̔̎̓̓y̸̩͊̽̄̎̏͗̓́̀̊͘ǫ̷͎̟̟̤̳̃͗̾̚ű̷̧̨̺̤̙̜̠̰̺͊͋́͑̂̒̈́̃̍͌͜͝ͅ ̷̡̳͑̀͆͛̇̽̑͂͛͝ď̸̨̟̖̤͕̜͖͎̜͔͖̙̣̭͉̝͛͛͗ŏ̴̘͊̍̌̎̏̑̑͊͋͠į̸̨̱͙͈̳̻̖͚̱͇̘̹̼̓̾̓̎̑̊̾̌͌̌̆͊̕͠͝͝ͅn̷̡̢̫͈̲͈̬̹͙͈̭̗̠̬̘̺̣̽̆g̸̡̢̹͇̻̳̦̪̤̥̔̾̒̋͑ ̸̱̟̤̝͍̒͛̒̄̆͂̀̾̂h̴̙͉͇̭͍͉͙̰͗̋̀̓̆̍̒̊ë̵͇̦͈̙̥̲̥̝̖̩̯̲̥́̽̓̆̎͜ř̷̥̫̪̣͈͉͜ȩ̴̧̪̘̠̤̖̝̂͆̒̀̄̑͋̓̂͝

N̵̛̠̲̬͍̺̿̿͌͋͋̍̽̈́̽̓̌̑̐̃͂̒̓͛͊͒̽̃̂̌̂͌͊̏́̎̾̓̋̅͌͑̇͊͠͠͝͠ỡ̴̛̞̙̱͎͚̊̎̿̃̋̽̆͐͂̈́̈́̇͋͑̍͗̈́͑̍̀̒̋̈́́̀͐̀͂̋̆̓̉̈͒͘͘͝͠͝͠t̷͖͎̩͙̲̥̩̟̞͚͒̈̈́͆͗͌̏̉ ̵̯͍͓̺͎̻̙̗͙̟̞̜̝̣̯̳̭̻̩͎̤̝̯̹͇̺̭̝̞̳̯̳̹̦̩̗̠̟̫̏͌̀͛̒͛̓͗̈́̒͌̈́̂́̐͊̊̍̈́̂͌̆͗̒̈́́̚͜͜͝͝͝͠͠ͅͅf̸̢̢̢̧̢̧̛̪̺̝͕̺̝̞̺͈̫̩̣͚͎̞̘͙̦̙͎̜͓̞̘̺̩̼̝̬̫̯̼̖͈̾͒̐̑̋̍̉͌͐͆̊̿̏̐̕͝͝͝ͅơ̸̡̧̢̡̧̯͎̳̯͎͇̠̬͙̬̜̟͍̩͇̝͇̯̠̖͈̟̗͉͙̝̝̝̠̮̟̯͚͓̩̼̈͛͊̋̏͆́͂͛͜ͅͅŗ̸̛̛͉̫̹̮͍͕̖̗͍̭̠͈͔̭͖̩̝͚̻͖̳̲̩͔͕̜̼̦̪̻̳̦͛́̓͋̾̋͊̏̀̓̍̃̅̾͊̅̐̐͛̄̊͌̋̐̏̈́̉̀͐̅̃̂͌́̓͛̈̓͘̚̚͝ͅͅ ̸̟̳̔̇͊́y̴̢̡̢̧̛͚̫̣͉̻͚̗̹̬͈̝̭͙̤͕͓̱͕̯̦̻͇͖̠̹̬͖̰̻̰̼͍͖͎͚͚̭̆̐̌̄̊́́̃̋̾̑̂̑͑̏̌̋̑̄̂̉̕͘̕̕͘͠͝ͅǫ̸̨̨̨͖̣͉̬̠̩̬̞̤͈̺͌̀͒̆̊̂̄̚͝ữ̶̧̛̭̭̞̤̺͉͈̗̼̥̖̦̝̏̓͌̐̿͗̈́̄͊̔̀̊̀͋̐́͌̌̋̈̾̐̏̀̈́̐͌̽̕͘̚͝͠͠͝

A̸̢̡̢̧̧̨̢̡̧̧̨̢̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛͚̗̗̺̹̭̩̼̦̼̩̹̺̞̣̜͖͇̱̩̖̳̮̺̱̱̗̖̳̰͓̣̗̜͓̘͉̯̯̲̹͇̬̼̯̘̭̬̳͓̩͖͔̞͈̗̼͎̠̲̜͉̭̞͎̝̱̱̘̝͎͔̰̣͎̥͕͓̙̪̻̘͖͈̟̫̲̯̭̝̻̳͖̗̣̠̭̤̭̥̯̞̫̬̥̞̮̠̟̤̦̫͔̠̳̪͇̺̖̱͉̼͎̮͓͈͈̫͉͔̳͎̻̪̖̫̤̝̲̥͗͑̒̃̀̏̏̃́̇̐̈̈̾̄̋͋̔̒͊̋̈́̅͗̈̇́̀͒͐̂̂̅̇͒̅̆͐̂̂̇̐̐͒̂̓̓̋̈́͌̄͐͊̓͊̌̀̀̿̀̾̄́̎̈͆͆̐̒̾̀̍̉́̉̂́̀͒̇̉̏̉̌͑͂̈̿͂̓͗́̀͛̒͒̌͋̐̈́̇̔̌̀͗̆̀̇̔̅́̿̅̆̄̈́̂̒͛͌̆́̄͛̕͘͘̚̕̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅͅͅͅͅg̸̡̢̧̨̧̢̢̡̡̢̡̧̡̢̢̡̡̛̗̭̣̣̯̫͍̪̗̞̩͇͚͈̖̪͈̼̺̪̖͚͍̹͖̲̺̠̜̗̻̜̣̥̳̳͙͇̯͇͔̩͓̘̪̰̙̪̩̖̭̳͙͚͓͚͚̞͍̗͔̪̖̺̭͕̻̣͉͚̜̲̥͎̦͙̹̞̞̝̠̹̪͕̻̣͕͉̘͈̠̫̻̘̰̹͈͕̦̮̬̤͓̣͇̟͕͕̟͚̖̯̱̹̗̼̞̭̙͇̃͊͊͋̀͒̀͒̑̽͑̎̀͒́̀̈͌͐̿̀̆͗̉̆̃̋͂̃̈́͋̒̊̄̌̆̉̀́̿̂̅̄́̈͊̉͋̉̍̾͌͊́͂͋̾̒̓̆̈́̂̆̚͘͘̚͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅḫ̸̛̙̜̹̰̰̬̫̤̦̯̬̹̟͔͔̘̪̪͎͔͔̙̞̼͇̹̯̈́̽͒́̏͊̒̈͆̇͛̐͊́̏̋̽͆͐̈͌͆̈́̌͘̕̚͜͝͝h̸̢̧̡̛̛̛̛̛̛̥̣̭͉̻̙̰͓̘̰̙̺̞̺͎̮̖̭̩͙̖͕͓̮̜̘̻̳̊͒͋̉̈́́̋̄̔͊̓̂̒͂̀̽͒͗̐̅͆͑̀̔̍͊̋͒̉̅̏̀̒̍͂̿̎͐̌̒̈́͒͆̓̾͐̇̐̔̔̊̇̇̂̋̅͋̉̊̓̑̅̓̑͆̎̋̋̎́̐̀̄̃̿̽̀̓̇̂͐̽̈́̓̃̿͗̆̄͆͐̈́͐̀̿̈͐͂̀̿̍͌̓̈́̀̊͂̈̍̆̑̓͋͒̋̊̇̕͘̚̕̕͘͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͠͝h̵̢̡̘̜̺̹̮͓̟̖̟̮̮̳̯̩̯͉̝̥̜̭̤́͌̿̈́̈̐̈̅̀͂̇͒͛͋̓͐͘͝h̴̡̧̨̢̧̨̧̨̧̨̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̛̝̟̹̟̪̲̺̰̞͖͖͖̤͇̲̘̪̭̘̩̙̭̺̟̜̮̦̣͚̜͙̗̣͎̜͓͖̝̥̱̟̝̫̝̤̺̦̮̘͇̰̘̘͙̟̙̘̭͕̲̱̮̫͇̖̦̩͖̻̰͉̲̝̭͚̹̳͍͓͕͕̜͚̼̜̟̫̟̞̳̼̘͕̝̤̭͓͈̫̭̩̪̺̜̠̥͉̪̘̝̼̟̥͖̞̗̼̗̟̠͔̝̰̫̪͓̞͇̘̹̰̮̼͍̺͕͔̦̹̪͇̬̭̟̜̫̥̼͔̗͇̯̭͆͊̽͊͛̒̄̐̽͂̾͆̄̈́̽̌̆̅̍͂͊̿̓̂̈́́̈̆͑͊̀̈̃̃̊͛͌͐͒̂̿͂̈́̄̓̊͊̿͆̏͊̀͛̊͒̽͛̓͛́̔̊͛̄̑͗̂͆͒͋͌̎͆͌͗̈́̽͑̃͋̈́̓͂̉̽͂̆̓́͂̄͂̋̀̎̎̒̂̂̓͒̓͑̄̋̈͒͆̓̂̅̎̑̚̕̚̕̚͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅḩ̵̢̨̡̧̨̢̧̧̡̛̼͍̻̥̟͖̘̜͙͍̬̯̫͈̮͕͚̳͈̜̞̝̮̙̯̣̤̻̣̟͖͙͖͕͍̖̜̼̪̟̱͚̳̜̠͉̭̘̭̗͇̤̩̪͕͇͉̗̞̟̱̥̖̩̻͎̱̼̱̹͈͉̲̤͙̜͎̝̝͇͔̝̞̫̹̤̯̮̞̘̖̘̦̳͖̖͉̣̠̼̙̥͑́͐̅͐̔̑̂̌̈́́̓͂́̑̿̈́͊̈́͆͌̑̉͛͆̈́̀̋̅̿̄̓̈́͛͗͋̉̏͛̀̒̈́̄͘͜͜͝͝͠͠͝H̶̡̡̨̡̡̢̧̡̨̧̛̛̛̛̛̜͙̟͕͎̦̜̙̲̹̜̳̩͖̗͔̝̰̺̭͍̥͇̬̘̻̦̲̤͍̫͙̮̼͈̲͈͈͎̘̮̮̗͕͍̥̮̥̥̠̱̹̺̟̼̮̣̤̭̠͓͎̖̦͓̯͉̥͕̱͚͉̥̼̭̭̗͍̯̰̲̞̺̲̰̠̖̥͕̙̙̥͚̤̤̭͇̩̠̖͓̤̼̋͆̀̆̀͋̾͐̆͒̀̑̊͂̒̔̈̊͑̌̍͂̐̇͊͋̿̆̀̅̑̓̀̔͐̈́͛̋̾̽̔̈́́̓̄͐̍̄̔̍̉̓͐̎̓͐́̀̉̂̈́́͐̃̈̌̏̽̑͆͌̾̽̇͒́͌̔́̃̆̔̾̀͛̊́̊̐̌̾̂̔̀̄̿͌̈̈́̄̀̈́̈́̃̊̈́̀̔̀̐͒͒̅̓͌̽̀̂̕͘͘͘͘̕̕͜͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝ͅͅͅh̸̡̨̧̡̡̧̧̢̢̡̧̡̨̨̢̧̢̡̡̧̨̢̧̛̛̛̩̣̘̯̠̭͉̟̟̼͕̺̰̫͉̤͖̤̫̘͙̮͖͕̻̯͈͕͕̱̠̖͚͎͇̼͉͈̰͚̝̝̼̜̪̰̲͈̬̘̦͎̰̣̮͓̺̗͈͈̦̰̝̭̻̺͔͖̹̩̱̲͕̻͇̝̭̣̯̰͖̥̘͎̝̪͉̣̣̦̤̠̤̥͈̩͈̫̖̝̙̗̜̞͓͎̱̦̲̝̖͇̯̥̹͔͕͚̖̩̹̫̱̬̱͎̦͔̘̗̗̤̞͙̠̼̥͚͉̗͙̪̬͚̗̖͖̺̥̞̯̪̦̰̻͚͎̤̦͇̖̞͇̮̟͕̮̖͙̥̞͔̜̬̻̟̣͚̘͈͒͊̂̊̂̑̍͆̇͛͐̀̾̍̆̾̄̉̓̀̃̆̿̈̔̽͛̈̀͊͑͛̀̓̄̿̓̿̈́͋͋̄̃͗͒́̒̈́͐̐̓̈́͛͌͆́̾̆̐͒̆͑͊̎̑̀̈́̃̂̀̈́̔̅̉͗͂̍̈̄̎̀͐́́̀̿̏͗̄͋̍͑̋̍̀̓̽̈̕̕̕̚̕̕̕̕̚͜͜͜͜͜͝͝͝͠͠͝͝͝͠͠͝͠ͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅͅh̵̡̨̨̧̨̨̨̡̡̧̡̡̨̢̡̢̢̛̛̛̛̛̫͔̰̮̙̗̜͇͎̠̦̩͕̼̼͍͎͉̲̭͖̝̥̗̻͕͎̥̲̱̥̫̼̯̰̲̟̰̺̞̜͍͙̟̳͚͙͓̥̜̻̰͔̘̖̟̩̯̙͔̲̺̬̘͔̹̣̯̹͍̱̟̺͓̬̣̣̗̹͙͉͉͍̜̗̱͖͍̠̻̞̠̻̖̫͖͇͓͇̦͇̱̻̼͉̯͕͔̲͖̙͍̬͎̞̜̻̮̭̱͎̦̻͙͚̪͙̮̘̼̗̳͕̞̰̗̙̖̗̰̺̣̹̥͎͕͉̘̝̗̩̼͓̭̮͔͕̺̼̬̬̙̼̺̻̟̥̝̼̳͈͎̯͖̥̿̈́̊̆͛͂̀͆̉̎̈́̀̊̈́͌̏͒̑̎͛̔̄́̎̅͊̍́̽̎̌̽̉̎̉̀̊̃́͂͐̀̀̒͒̏̑̀̓̐̆̏̏̒̾̄̐̈͛̊͑̎̇͑́͋̊̎̎̈́̅̒̏͊̋͆̉̄̀̔̿̄͒̔̑̓͂̆̒̓̒̌̊̀̌̎̍̓̔̉̑̐́̎̈́͐̈́͆̆́̓͋̑́́͂̉̆̊̃̔̓̈́̄̽͌̈́̐̉́̀̋́͗͗̿̂̎͂͌̀̌̓̕̕͘͘͘̚͘͘̕͘̕̕̚͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝ͅḩ̸̛̛̛̛̗͇̮̏̍͗̓̊͋̋̄͆͋̃̈́͐̑̿̄̒̈̀̈́͑̎̀̋̀̂͊̆͌̏̏̂́̍͋̓̅̇̒͐̎͊̈̈́̉͂͆̓͆͑̆̈́̃̍̑̎̏̊̄̃̏͌̌̿̎̋̍̈́̈́͐̓̌̀͆͒̆̍̇͊͛͛́̂͗̎̀̽͗͌͑̾̏̌̀̄̒̀̅͌̂̎̋̔͑̇̒̆͊̎̀̈́͌́͐̓̏̌͋̾͆̽̀̊̾͂̈́̈́̌̈̓͒͊̒͗̆̌̉͆̈́̂͛̔̑̂̌̈́́̿͂̈́͋̍́̓͑́̎̐͊̒̀̿̓̈͌͊̑̄͑̊͗́̆͂̔͂͐̎͒̓̓̀͑̚̕̕͘̚̕̕̚̕̚̚͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ḫ̸̨̨̧̢̛̛̛̦̙̖̰̼̜̻̟̬̰̬͖͔͇͓̤̝̫̣͔̺͖͎̬̣̩̺̟̬͈͎̫̠͎̯͉̖̬̥͓̪̟͍͚̞̲͎̯̝̦̺͕̼̯͍͓̹͕̜̗̽̐͊̍̾̔́̿͑̐̔͋̑̓͊̈́̂̒͋̊̓́̔͂̎͂́̒́̃̂̈́̉̈́̌̊̈́̆̓̂̍͑́͋́̈̃͐̉̉͒͛̅́̏̀͐́̿͋͗͐͊̂͆̀̉̽̃̏̊̒̇̀̐͐̂̀͐̈́͗̆͑̈́̀̈́͋́͆̀̄́̇͑̐͊̀̍̈́̆͑̂̒͆̔̀̆̏̃̌̍̍̎̓̓̅̋̆̈́͊̈́͗̉͋̀̆̎́͋̓̃̂̒͐͋̀͂̀̕̚͘̕̚̕̕̚͜͝͠͝͠͝͝͝ͅͅḩ̵̢̨̛͚̟͖̼̳̭̝̟̼̱̲̠̮̯̩̦͚̹̯̘̘̟͙͇̘͙̞̥̹̺͍̇̍̔̽̐̆̽͒̇̍̒̈̽̃̅̾̿̋̅̌̐̃̐͋͘̚̕̚ͅͅḥ̷̡̨̨̧̡̨̨̡̡̧̧̢̡̧̢̡̧̡̛̛̠͚͎͙͙̬̩͍̰̲̭͉̘̗̮̞̠͕̮͔͙̭̺̪̜̞̟̜͇͙͖̫̯̳͖̦͍̳͉̩̰̱̺̪̟̜̭̰̠͇̼͎̹͔̫̤͙̥̘̱̪̟͓͚͕̪̣̣̠̹͇͓̤̟̦̠̯̟͉͉̳͕̫̙̘͎͍͙̞̠̙̙̦̱̜͍̯͈̤͎͚̮̥͖̯̥̯̲̯̦̟͇͚̤̹̣̤̱͎̀̂̀̔̌̂́͌͊̃̽͒̾̏̉͛̈́̏̄͊̾̈́̈́͗̎̐̿̂̒̀̾̃̓́͑͆̀̐̋̈́̈́̉̃̑̾̎̃͌̂͗̈́͒́̓̾̽͛̇̃̈̿͋̇̑̒̔͂͛̑̌͋͐̆̎̀̓͒͘̚͘̕̕̚̚͜͜͜͜͠͠͠͝͝͝͝͝͠͠

“Oh my- DARLING!! Oh, are you alright?” Wally scrambled over to you with concern.

You’re standing in front of a flower field, turning around to face him he gasped and paused where he was standing. “Oh love, what happened?” Words escaped your mouth before you could form them, you couldn’t speak- your dress was torn up, your pretty little flower basket crushed, your hair undone from the pretty braids Wally had done that morning.

“I….. I Uhm…… I don-“

What had happened….. did you pass out? Yeah… yeah that must be it, how else could you explain your state.

“I was helping Julie and I must’ve passed out on my way back to Home” placing your hand on your head wiping off……….. sand? You shook out your dress as best you could and as the dress seemed to get rid of the sand it was gone the minute your eyes met it.

“Oh Darling you where never at Julie’s house.” Wally said with that calming smile.

“I wasn’t?” Looking down to your dress you saw that it was torn up and soggy but no remnants of your ruined flowers.

“There was a huge rainstorm, you came out to collect your gardening tools so they wouldn’t get ruined, that was 15 minutes ago I’ve been frantic.” He stated with a downward worried gaze going to embrace you.

Placing your head to his chest feeling the soft comforting warmth you always have, feeling so tired from……….. the storm, your ready to give out.

“Oh Darling your dress is all ruined, and your face is all muddy, oh my poor love, let’s go inside and get you cleaned up so we can head to bed, don’t worry my darling I’ve got you………. I won’t let you go………”

A̵̤͍̽̓̓̅͗̐́͂̇̈́͆̕͘͝͝l̵̡͖͎̤̭̹̺̩̭̣̘̮͎̂̎̔͐̾͆̆̍̀̾̕l̵̳̪̟̭̮͇̭͓͉̬̟̒̆̅̆̿͒̓̍̈́ ̴̺̦̺̻̬̺̜̄ͅẙ̷̢͎̩̟̱̬̤̘̘̫͍͆̍õ̶̡ű̸̧͖̤͙̖͕̥̩̔̑͂̓̆͐̆̿̕̕̚ ̸̧̨͇̼͙͍̦̫͎͔̺̭͂͋͊̿̃̃͋͌̂̓c̷̛̱͓̲̥͍̦̫̆̊̈́̾́̊͒͗à̷̟̦͌͂͌̏̿͋͋̈̇n̶̬͆ ̵̰̭̻̪̰̔̀̊̀̃̐̀͌͐ḫ̵̡̰̯̜̥̲̝͖̙͗̑͆͒̔̾͌͐͋̀̎͒͘̕͝ę̸̧̝̠̞̳̫̙̜͉̲͓̥̹̩̻̋́̄͋̍̒̿̾̊̍͋̓̈́̕ą̷͔̱̖̱͈̫͖͋̅͂̓̃̽̋̒̅͝͝r̷̨͈͙͎̗̜̤͚̤͕̥͕̽̅͊̓̈́̎͑͜͠ ̵̼͉͕̲͙̟̲̝̞̲̍͆̒̀͑͌̈̉̈́̍̽̊͝ỉ̸̡̻̟̰̬̫͍̦̗̙͙̙̙̼̏̐͜ş̵̡̳̰̮̹͍̰̱̯͇̻͙͓̺͆́̽̉͂͗̌́̀̏̿̚̚̕͠ͅͅ ̸̥̀̍̓͂̍̽́̀͂̓͑̌̀͌̚ş̶̡̧̪̟͚͕̣͓̻͛̇̇̇̿̾̑͛̏́͗͛͂͗͋̓̅͜ͅt̷̛͚̮̙͚̾̊͊̎̇̏͑̕a̸̧̞͚͎͉̎̉̈́͌̌̈͘t̵̨͇͙͖̬͈̝̯̹̾ḯ̶͈̮̞͖̥̘̳̟͎̗̹̱͚͜ç̷̛̬̬̯͔͎̓̈́̍

n̶̹̝̰͈̪̪̟̻̓̽̂̿̽̑̋o̷̬̮̩̣̭̫͂̔͌̀̏̀̌̔̔̅̚ţ̸̙͇̤̻͉̖̖̜͇̫̩͉͎̮͒͑̑̄̃̾̓̅̆̀͘ͅh̸͓̰͕̙̖͚̩̦͐̅̽̄͗͑͂i̶̛̦̺̼̖̠͕̦͍̲͑͊̋̄̂̅͗͐͊̀̎͑̿͠ǹ̵̨̢̖͉̗̗͎̜̥̮͈̝̲͛̊̑̋̌̕͜͜g̴̲͚͉̱͍͍̰͓͖̝̩̠̩̔̅͋̌̐̒̂͌̏̀̔̈́̅͆̑ ̶͖̱̱̠̔̑̀̉̏̌̓̄͆̎͑̈̃͜i̵̖̬̻̦̤̗͎̙̅͜s̴̠͙̥͕̯̬͙̺̦̻̤̓̓̆͑̀̂̕̕̕͜͝ ̷̧̢͉͇̲̠̲̞͈͍̣͙͎͌͊̌͂̎̓̑͊̈́̈́͒̚̚m̴̢͕͈̿͗̌̈́̾̇͛͑̐͛̽́̕͝͠ö̵̧̧̡͇́v̸̨̞̱͖̪̳͓̭̮̥̲͎͓̀̉̽͘į̴̡̧̬̯͍͕̩̟̳͉̱̪̭̀̀́̌͂̐̃̒̌͜͝ṇ̵͍͖̼̳̪̏̽̋̾̀̍̈g̶̰̣͂͂́̍͊̂͆̎̏͠ͅ ̶̩̥͚̖̓̀̍̑͐̍͆̂͊̋̏̈́͊͝

Opening your eyes your now at your vanity in your room, Wally’s brushing out your hair. Your wearing your matching blue pajama set.

“There we go my beauty, all cleaned up” he placed his hands on your arms and laid his head atop yours.

“Look at my pretty darling, my beautiful darling.” He sighed out kissing the top of your head then turning you around so that he may hold you just as he did in your garden.

Letting him go you spin around happily and throw yourself onto his side of the bed, giggling you see Home wave the cupboard doors around and shiver the room a bit. Wally chuckles a bit and lies down with you, all three of you sighing out in content, Home simply expanding the room a bit almost in a relaxed state.

“Goodnight Wally”

“Goodnight my darling” as you lay together you gaze into his eyes, thinking about how beautiful the color of his eyes would be as a flower…

[boytumms]

Thinking about some sort of fucked up science experiment, a boy waking up in a set of clinically clean, impersonal, empty rooms, without any memory of how he ended up there. There's no windows to the room, and the door which most lead outside is locked fast and apparently soundproof, and there's security cameras in the corners of the ceiling. Someone must come and go while the boy is asleep, because food appears on the table in one room every time he sleeps, and his dirty clothes get taken away and clean clothes are brought in, but he never sees anyone, no one ever even leaves him a message.

He soon loses track of the days, monotonous as they are with nothing really ever changing in the rooms, abd no clocks or windows or any way to tell the passing time except for his body's need to eat and to sleep. But eventually, the boy begins to notice his body changing, his stomach getting rounder little by little... and after a while he understands he must be pregnant.

For the entire pregnancy, he's left alone, without really a way to tell time exactly enough to properly guess how much time he's got left. Maybe he doesn't know how fast his belly should grow, or how big it should get. Is he even carrying a human, or is it something else? Is it one or is it multiple? Who's to say, the boy sure as fuck won't know until he goes into labor.

He'd be so scared when he finally goes into labor, even when he does no one comes to his aid. Whatever's in his belly is enormous, and he has no idea how he's suppose to be able to give birth to such a large creature all by himself. The contractions are horrible, each one so powerful it feels like the air is being crushed from his lungs. He cries in pain, clutching his deformed belly as the huge creature writhes inside him. It's so big he can barely move anymore, and he finds himself stuck on the floor with nothing around to help him.

The pressure in his belly builds and builds until he feels like he's going to burst, when suddenly a loud pop erupts from inside him. He screams as he feels a rush of fluid burst from his hole, soaking his thighs and forming a puddle beneath him. Immediately his contractions double down, squeezing his tummy like a vice. He feels the creature drop in his belly, making it droop between his legs so far it almost covers his knees. He pants and moans in agony between contractions, writhing on the ground while he feels the head of the creature slowly move lower in his body.

Despite pushing with all his strength, it feels like the creature hardly budges. Each contraction has him screaming his lungs out, throwing his head back and forth as the huge mass threatens to tear his body apart. After what feels like hours, he finally feels the head reach his hole, beginning to stretch him painfully wide. Almost as if it could sense how close it was to freedom, the creature starts to wriggle and thrash inside his belly, making the boy shriek in pain and clutch at his tummy in a vain attempt to keep the monster still. His hips creak and groan as the body forces him open wide, so close to breaking from the intense pressure.

It takes the boy hours of torture just get the head out. It dangles between his legs, wriggling around and snapping its jaws as it struggles to pull itself further out. He's already so exhausted, he can barely muster up the strength to push anymore, and he still has the rest of the body to give birth to. Without him pushing, the creature is stuck, even with the contractions tearing through his swollen belly, it won't move another inch.

It takes him several more days of agonizing labor to finally give birth to the rest of the creature. After countless hours of alternating between pushing weakly and passing out from pain and exhaustion, the creature finally slips from his broken, ruined body.

At last his body allows him to black out, and when he comes to, he finds himself in bed, still in the strange lonely facility, but cleaned and stitched up. His belly is still puffy and tender from the birth, but nowhere near as large as it had been when he was pregnant. It takes several weeks for his body to recover from the violent birth.

After his body fully heals, he's able to walk again, still alone in the strange place. Only a few days after he's up and walking, he feels a sharp sting in his neck and instantly blacks out. When he wakes up, there's a strange feeling in his tummy, and a deep sense of horror building in his chest. He knows it's starting all over again

[satan-wishes-he-was-me]

ok guys wanna hear my ending for the second black phone movie? yes you do here you go.

close to the end of the movie. big plot already completed and yet finney is awake. he lays in his bed arms crossed over the blankets. he stares up at the ceiling looking older than his 15 years. then without warning or a building of music-because the music has faded to nothing and you only just noticed- he gets up. there’s no noise unless finney makes it. the scuff of him putting on his shoes and grabbing a flashlight. he walks about of his house quick and quiet.

he gets on his bike and while he hops on the screen flashes to bruce, wearing the same clothes and smile he was before the grabber got him, hopping on his own bike. the screen flashes back to finney. he starts biking, the sky dark and we cut to billy, his dog chasing him as he flings papers to darkened houses. back to finney. he finally stops his bike and lets it fall to the grass. he turns and we see where he stopped. the house. the grabbers house. not the one the living boys were kept. but the one where they were buried.

he tries to open the gate but finds it stuck so he goes to kick it open. we flash to vance doing the exact same. back to finney, the gate open. he walks inside and for a moment the framing seems very odd as finney is on the very far right of the screen his arm behind him oddly, with a bunch of open floor space behind him. we cut to the grabber in finneys place dragging griffins body behind him.

back to finney now walking down the basement stairs. he reaches the bottom and pauses, looking at the unearthed graves. then he beelines to one in the corner and we wonder, why that one? does he know who’s it is? he knees down and picks something up, brushing dirt off of it we see it’s a bandana, robins bandana. and again we wonder how did he know it was robins? did he? did the cops tell him? did he see the graves before? the screen cuts to the grabber knelt where finney currently is, shoving a kicking, screaming, fighting- alive, ALIVE- robin into the shallow grave. robin screams and yells and his voice is so loud because we’ve only had finneys very quiet footfalls up until now. robin has the bandana tied around his upper arm, stained with fresh blood. the grabber hits him with a crowbar and he collapses, limp, into the grave. dead or unconscious we can’t tell but either way it’s over as the grabber pushes dirt over him.

we cut back to finney who’s holding the bandana in his hand. he curls it into a fist and clenches his eyes shut. for a moment we think he’s going to cry. but he doesn’t. he opens his eyes and ties the bandana around his wrist and gets up, up the stairs and out of the house.

he crosses the street in the pitch black of what must be around 2 am. no street lights no house lights and certainly no flashlight lest someone see him.

he makes his way into the other house. His house. we see max’s cluttered notes and trash litter the living room as if he is still staying there. finney pays this no mind and walks until he finds the door. he pauses at the top of the stairs. hesitating. scared, perhaps. either way he pushes through and walks down. the basement is just as we left it last movie sans the grabber himself.

though as finney looks to the left we flash to finney strangling the grabber in the hole. cut back to the empty hole. finney drags his fingers along the walls until he stops, fingers finding the numbers griffin carved into the wall. he squats down to read them and we cut to griffin, fingernails bloody and cracked, carving the numbers in. back to finney. he looks over at the window and we see robin throwing everything he has at the window to break it. he fails.

then finney looks at the bed. we see vance fighting the grabber desperately as the grabber slides his hands everywhere and pulls off his belt. vance fades into billy who fades into bruce who fades into griffin who fades into robin who fades in to finney. they all fight the same way. their screams, similar to robins earlier, feel too loud for the theater. they make you uncomfortable. they should. finney looks away from the mattress.

finally, finally, he looks at the phone. the audience sighs in relief as he walks towards it, as he finally does the one thing we’ve wanted since he walked down those stairs. his hand hovers over the phone before picking it up. he frowns as he does and we wonder what? what it is? what’s wrong? he pops the lid of the receiver out and flips it upside down. nothing comes out. we all remember finney stuffing it with dirt and we are as confused as finney. maybe the cops empty it? maybe it fell out at some point? maybe… the cord finney cut last movie is connected as if nothing happened. finney wonders if he’s going crazy. finally he begins to lift the phone to his ear. his hands shake for the first time this whole sequence. he put the phone to his ear and with a voice small and shaking he asks, “hello?” the screen cuts to black. chaos. rioting in the streets. popcorn in thrown people are dying and the screen stays black just long enough to convince everyone it’s over but then, so quiet you almost can’t hear it, “hello?” the credits roll