#to limit as much as possible HOW LONG the doors are open and how many times i have to open them total

[howlsofbloodhounds]

I just realized that you are my oldest mutual, interesting huh?

ANYWAY!

Do you think Nightmare has more psychological control over Killer than any other form? I think Killer can fight back (no thought if he would win or not) but the mental power that Nightmare has over him immobilizes him.

Maybe that's why Nightmare chose Killer: he had already been subjected to so much, controlled by someone as cruel and sadistic as Nightmare. It was too tempting to just ignore such a perfect pawn.

Yay I get to be the oldest mutual ✨ 🎉

And yes absolutely. I do think physical abuse is still very much a staple in their relationship (nightmare has canonically choked killer unconscious before and left him limp on the floor), but I do believe a lot of it was massively during the first few weeks of Killer’s captivity. Before he was ever sent out in the field—because Nightmare needed to get through Stage 3, to beat Killer into submission. Like..horrifically breaking in a horse.

However, I don’t think physical abuse really works much as a punishment or deterrent for Stage 2—he’s shown to be very much able to just uh..dissociate from any emotions attached to the memories of Stages 1 and 3. And he himself is very desensitized to violence, and enjoys pain, doesn’t seem to have any limits on what he enjoys.

So unless Nightmare can find a way to remove Stage 2’s framing of pain as “fun” and “enjoyable,” then he’s not going to get anywhere using that as a punishment.

It’ll be a mix of everything of course, and Killer is still being physically abused when in Stage 2 and threatened, but that’s only when Nightmare is annoyed and lashing out—trying to put Killer back in his place or to make him shut up, like a little stress doll he can use. It won’t work as an effective punishment when he’s like that.

It will, however, work on Stage 1. I’d imagine that any time Killer has another situation like in the Stage 4 comics—being triggered into Stage 1 and compromising Nightmare’s goals—then he will be brutally punished in any way that’s possible.

It’d depend on Nightmare’s preferred methods, but I still doubt he’d be anywhere near gentle even if the physical abuse isn’t the “worse” part of the punishment.

Stage 3, I feel, would physically fight for the longest—and anytime Killer’s overpowered or forced back into another Stage, he’d take to trying to run and hide away instead the next time he’s in stage 3.

I’d imagine that Nightmare doesn’t allow Killer to remain in Stage 3 around him for very long—and the more Killer starts falling back into submission or is beaten into it, flop response to wait until it’s over as soon as he’s triggered back into a lower Stage, the less Nightmare seems to have to “deal with” Stage 3–as Killer starts falling back into learned helplessness.

I’d imagine Nightmare has been bitten by Stage 3 many times before lmao.

And I’d imagine that Killer likely doesn’t know if those moments are real or not, and perhaps Nightmare thinks he doesn’t remember them very clearly until Stage 3 starts cropping back up, so it’s very easy to convince him he has no power or choice.

Leave a door open to his cage and he won’t leave because what if it’s a trap, what if it’s a test. What if something worse is out there. What if he’s caught. Stage 2 won’t even spare the door a second glance, but he would in Stage 1 —and he’d be held back by how helpless and trapped he feels to risk it.

[altruistic-meme]

im gonna need emotional support for this task ;;;

[eccentricallygothic]

When I want to read dark fics, your writing just hits. One of my guilty pleasures recently has been dark!winter soldier stuff and I was hoping you could write one.

If you can, can you make it where Bucky is still the Winter Soldier and finds himself completely enamored with the reader. He stalks her briefly and decides he has to have her. So where it gets dark is mean, brooding soldier kidnaps reader and makes her his housewife. (I’d like to think that some of Bucky’s 40ness is still there along with some good old fashion 50s idealization where he basically molds her into being his perfect little housewife.)

He can still be with hydra or not but this thought has been buzzing around in my head recently and I personally am not good at writing dark fics.

Um, hell yes I can! Also, not me having almost exactly the same idea (it was in my drafts and I totally merged it with yours). Sorry for being late uni kicks my butt hard TT. Also, please note that this is a headcanon kind of situation type deal but apparently there's a limit to how many bullets you can put per post so that's why it looks the way it does! Hope you like it still. Unedited ❤️

Warning(s): Dubcon (just to be safe), stalking, kidnapping, housewife kink, stockholm syndrome, spanking, misogyny, domestic discipline, breeding kink (dash), age gap (I mean, man is over a century old). Contains mature content. Browse at your own discretion. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! 

You are absolutely shit faced as you stumble out the backdoor of the club with two of your girlfriends tangled around each arm. 

You are all giggling, stumbling and slurring out curses, trying to shush each other as you trudge your forms to your apartment complex that is close by because driving is obviously out of question now. 

Were it not for your overly intoxicated state, you would have totally noticed the dark silhouette that stills in the dark alley facing the backdoor. 

The man masked in the darkness tilts his head to the side as he tries to read your party, having gotten caught off guard by the sudden bursting open of the door. 

One of your friends stagger in his direction and he moves back, his labored breaths warm in his mask, watching the girl as she retches her guts out.

Silence follows the wheezes and gags of the girl.

Then there is a sound– a melody in the air.

Soldat feels something stir within himself.

Something his masters did their best to suppress. 

Not that they would be doing any more of that. 

They needed to be alive to do something like that ever again.

His eyebrows furrow as he scans your group for the source of the sound; you. 

You are laughing.

At your friend that is throwing up.

Hands clutching your hurting sides, eyes scrunched, head thrown back, flushed and sweaty face vibrant under the bright moonlight as your hair frames it in the most perfect way possible. 

A shaky breath escapes the man covered in tears and blood of his captors and oppressors.  

His eyes scan your form. 

Beautiful. 

His metal hand clenches into a fist and he makes his resolve almost instantly;

Mine.

Soldat cannot recall much of his past except for a few things like his name.

But he knows that it has been a long, long time. 

And it's time to go home.

But a home is not walls and concrete. 

It is the people that live in it. 

His head is a mess as he scales a wall and follows you to your building, skipping from roof to roof effortlessly with a careful eye on your form.

James had finally broken free against hydra yesterday morning while they were experimenting something more brutal. 

And during the following hours, all various leaders that made the organization what it was were dead.

For what is a structure without its pillars?

He had plundered them single handedly. 

And now he was a slave no more.

James would live, and he would take.

Just as had been taken from him.

You woke up the next morning, sprawled across your bed.

As you winced and sat up, you could swear you had knocked out on the couch last night. 

But since you couldn't teleport, it was probably just a gap in your memory.

Right?

The second sign was the painkillers and water next to you on the bedside table.

The third was the window of your room that was open wide.

But you shook your head as you were behind on your schedule for the day and got on with your busy university student life. 

You should have taken notice of the signs. 

How things would always somehow work out when you were struggling with some sort of a problem. 

Regardless of whatever type of an issue it was. 

Your friends joked about it as Divine Providence. 

And Divine it was, you lived to learn. 

When it happened, it wasn't after a dramatic chase or anything. 

You had simply woken up in a room you had never seen before, tucked in the bed like it had been yours for ages.

What even happened? 

You had finished an assignment before heading to bed for an early class the next morning. 

But now you were timidly surveying the room, more and more panic filling you by the passing second. 

The house is beautiful and bright outside the dark room you had woken up in, big glass windows facing tall trees and various other type of greenery outside. 

A loud gasp escaped you when you were somewhere in the middle of the living room.

You turned around to find a huge and by that you mean, giant man standing a few steps away from you.

You could swear he wasn't there a minute ago.

But now he is towering over you, head tilted to the side as if interacting with something from an outer planet, eyes scanning your form slowly. 

As if he's savouring the sight of you in a…

Your blood runs cold as you look down to realize that you are dressed in a white sundress with yellow and red flowers printed on it.

Your eyes widen in horror.

Because you had been wearing your PJs last night–

Or, rather, the last time you were awake.

Before you can say anything, he extends a hand towards you invitingly, nodding sideways to what seems to be the kitchen. 

Something in his hand glints in the sunlight coming from the windows.

It is when your panicked vision realizes that the hand and the whole arm is made up of metal, your body backs away.

With your mouth agape, you demand shakily.

"Who the hell are you?" 

He sighs. 

"What the hell is this place? Why am I here? What the fuck is going on?!"

The man's features scrunch in disapproval. 

Your choice of words is much unappreciated.

"Good little wives don't ask questions." 

In his angry, fried and entitled delusional mind you are as much in love with him as he is.

Otherwise, why would you just accept all the favours he did for you during all these months he was building a perfect home for the both of you and your future children?

He takes a step in your direction and you leap back.

After a short game of cat and mouse, you are trapped against the glass window.

He is too close. 

There is a heavy looking vase on the table next to you.

The shock on his face is evident.

He hadn't expected you, his wife, such a small and innocent girl to disrespect her husband like this. 

You whimper in horror when he doesn't budge against the decoration piece exploding against his brow bone.

James' eyes narrow as he leans in, a thick stream of blood running down the hurt side of his face.

"Bad girl" and you take off without a second thought.

Thankfully, the door is straight ahead and surprisingly unlocked.

You run without looking back. 

The man is not chasing you like you expected. 

But you don't want to stick around and find out why. 

Though the reason is soon revealed when you race through the little garden and out of the fence door. 

You are looking behind you and at the house so it is not until you are a good distance away from it do you turn your head to look ahead. 

Icy horror pierces its way down your spine.

Sand and palm trees dominate your vision as far as you can see where you are and your right side.

A devastatingly vast ocean washes the shore you are running on from the left side.

That doesn't stop you until your body gives up after a few minutes. 

You ran into the jungle for some cover.

Sobs and tears burst out of you as you collapse on a blanket of leaves.

Your body is weak and confused. 

Many hours pass.

You wander and starve.

You hide and shake.

You tip toe and give up.

There are wild animals all around you.

You can hear them.

It's terrifying. 

So terrifying that when you hear the stranger's voice some time after dusk, you are almost glad.

Are you done? His bright blue eyes that you can make out even in the dim light ask you silently. 

"How'd you even find me?" You were sure you had run a good couple miles.

He refuses to respond until you place your shaking hand in his awaiting metal one. 

"I can smell you" his accent is almost foreign as he pulls you up, frowning at your hurt bare feet. 

It took you hours to get to where you were but it only takes James a few minutes to get you back home. 

"Before I clean you up, I need to punish you." You are baffled. "Good wives don't run away from their husbands." 

He doesn't listen to any of your protests and reason that day or ever.

"Little girls don't know what is right for them. Only their husbands can decide that." 

He thoroughly washes you that night after giving you the worst spanking, paying no mind to your begging and crying.

You are sniffling as you sit on the bathroom counter wrapped up in a towel an hour later, your sore ass buzzing under you.

Your captor is kneeling in front of you as he tends to your hurt feet. 

He tells you your rules as he does so.

"First, you are to always obey me no matter what. Second, your body belongs to me as I am your husband, so you should not try to deny me of it because it will never end well for you. Third, you will respect me or you will live to learn to do so. Four, you will do your chores like a good wife and fulfill your wifely responsibilities. Five, you are to always accept your punishments and thank me for disciplining you after I am through with you, should you choose to break a rule or misbehave. Six, you will not indulge in any activity that can potentially corrupt your little mind. Seven, you will speak with respect and never out of turn. Eight, you are to always greet me when you wake up or if I have been gone a while. Nine, you can try to run. I will never stop you. But when you return home after failing, you will take your punishment obediently. Ten, you must never touch yourself. You are mine and mine alone." 

Since the spanking is still fresh on your skin you panic a little and fear forgetting them.

But you find them pasted on the fridge the following morning because he knew you were too dumb to remember them.

A few days pass before you explode about not being his wife and call him crazy.

"You weren't saying that when I did you all those favours." 

Horror dawns upon you as you realize that it was him all along.

You don't give up easily, though.

You try to run more times than you can keep count.

Every direction, every plan and every map you make proves to be useless.

Because the last time you do so, you realize that you are on a fucking island.

And since there is a dock near the house with the pantry never running low on groceries, James has a means of transport hidden somewhere is no mystery. 

But you don't know when he does it. 

So far you haven't been able to figure out a pattern. 

Either he was right about you being dumb or your captor was really good at staying one step ahead of you.

Anyways, you have no choice but to return to him crushed and sobbing as always.

He is reading something when you collapse between his legs; ready to accept your punishment as you have learnt that hiding and denying only makes it worse. 

James isn't so bad if you follow his rules. 

He is just a kidnapper and a misogynist with dangerous reflexes. 

His face is smug as he puts the book away. You have noticed that he is not as stiff and troubled as he used to be when you first woke up here months ago at this point. 

"How was it, doll?" He loves to hear you talk about it as he bruises your ass. "Any luck?" 

Today, though, something different happens.

You don't know if it's resignation and surrender finally settling in or if you have actually started to like this life.

How James gives you a nod of approval and pats your head rewardingly whenever you follow all your rules without any trouble.

The way he lets you stay up past your bed time (yes you have one because good wives are healthy for their husbands) to read a book or watch a movie.

If you were extra good and talked to him (though he was a man of a few words) and helped him out with a little farming thing he had going on in the backyard/patio, he would even let you sleep in the following morning. 

No stress or pulling yourself through classes and tight budgets.

Just being what he considered good and then whatever you would mention briefly would be in the house within the next few days.

When he is done punishing you, you thank him and apologize according to routine. But then you hug him.

You tell yourself it is due to the sad reality that your torment is your comfort.

Has to be.

You have no choice.

And then something unexpected happens in the course of the next few days. 

While trying to make the best out of this situation, you start to notice the little things, quirks and rituals, habits and mannerisms of this man. 

How he doesn't say anything if he doesn't like a certain ingredient or condiment in something you cooked but pushes it aside to use as compost later.

The way he holds you extra tight some times when he mutters a foreign language in his sleep. 

How he stares at the scary metal arm after a long day while waiting for you to finish up dinner.

Or the way he struggles to hold himself back whenever you are in a close proximity to him because you cried once he crept his hand up your ass in a sexual way. 

You don't get him sometimes.

His morals are as mysterious as him. 

Because he kidnapped you and forced you to be his wife in a '40's way, strips you to spank and humiliate you during punishments, then bathes and comforts you in his own way of silently holding you against his chest in his arms until you calm down.

Your tears don't effect him. 

But then he refuses to touch you sexually after the one time he tried.

It takes you a while to make the most peace that you can with James, but it happens eventually because you don't have a choice.  

The loneliness starts to drive you mad otherwise.

You are helping him with his farming one day when you collapse.

James isn't happy to find out that you haven't had any of your daily water intake for the day. 

After he is sure you are hydrated, it is punishment time because caring for yourself is also a rule you are supposed to never break.

Your ass is red and seething by the time he's done. Everything is pretty much routine except that you don't sit up to apologize and maybe hug him like usual.

Not even when he pats your ass to signal that he's done.

"H- Hubby?" You sniffle as you use the endearment.

It had been a proud discovery of yours.

James always gave in a little whenever you used it.

"Yes, little mouse?" You bite your lips as your thighs tremble.

Fuck.

"Y- You say we are husband and wife…"

"What about it?"

You bite your lip as you push your ass out and towards him, letting your legs part.

"Then why don't we act like it?" James is good at concealing his emotions and showing restraint.

But he can't help the way his cock hardens at the sight your pretty red thighs reveal to him.

Your perfect pussy is glistening with your creamy arousal, the entrance of your vagina blinking to indicate its need to be filled.

Fuck. 

Though James starts off small and slow with his fingers rubbing your cunt, the night ends with him balls deep into your pussy with his length rearranging your organs.

Whatever was left of you to own for him, he does so after that night.

You cannot go on for long without having some sort of physical proximity to him.

The sex is wild and it's amazing with his stamina. 

It is also instrumental in bringing you two closer than ever. 

James opens up to you slowly, but only when you ask about it.

You had done so in the past as well. 

But since it's genuine curiosity now, he feels comfortable telling you all about it.

It is a lot for you to take in and you almost don't believe him until he shows you some of his belongings from his time.

Things drift on as smoothly for a while as the waves outside your house.

And then comes the ultimate test. 

Which decides the course of your future with him.

He is still asleep one morning when you wake up.

It isn't a usual occurrence. 

But you had introduced him to comics lately and he had been obsessed with them despite claiming that they were too childish and unrealistic. 

While he had a metal arm himself…

You adjust the quilt before getting ready for the day and heading out to make breakfast. 

It is when you realize in panic that there aren't any apples left even though James had asked you to make a grocery list (that started when he started trusting you more) and you had assured him that you had enough apples for a while.

"I am gonna get the hairbrush today, I swear to God!" You mutter to yourself as you rush through the house like a headless chicken. 

Thankfully, your garden had an apple tree so you could save yourself from a breakfast spanking at the very least.

But something standing next to the dock catches your attention before you can the apples you try to budge free from their branches.

A motorboat. 

Before you can decide what you think of it, you are standing next to it on the dock.

It has fuel and a map. The key is in the ignition.

You narrow your eyes and feel your head splitting. 

A lot goes through your mind.

Flashbacks play before your eyes.

It is almost a full circle moment. 

And then you are standing in front of James who is seated on a stool next to the kitchen counter you use for dining. 

His head is lowered as he sips on his coffee and stabs at the breakfast you prepared with a fork.

"Hubby?" Your captor freezes before he slowly looks up at you. 

The blue of his eyes is troubled. He is in disbelief. As though he wasn't expecting you to be standing here.

"There is a boat outside. Do you think someone could be–" 

"You didn't leave." His voice is heavy. 

"What kind of a wife leaves her home?"

You two just stare at each other for a while. 

No words exchanged.

Then, for the first time ever, James gets up and hurriedly closes the distance between you two, enveloping you in his arms before pushing you against the wall behind you.

"I felt so angry and wronged that I thought I could take anything because I deserved it after everything that happened to me but… I love you too much, mouse."

He has never spoken this earnestly before.

"I just realized that I do too."

James kisses you passionately before you wrap yourself around him and close your eyes blissfully. 

He tightens his own arms around you gladly.

He would have hated to end up back on square one with you had you chosen to try and escape. 

The boat would have blown up a small fuse that would have been loud enough for his enhanced hearing if someone– you, were to turn the keys in the ignition.

Yes, he wasn't expecting you to be back but only too soon.

It was a test and you passed. 

As always, James stuck to his ways and rewarded you for being such a good wife. 

By giving you a ring, a new wardrobe and a baby that was the first of many to come.

.

What do you think hAH-

[msnmnt]

Trouble

A/N: this was a request I got a little while ago which you can read here. Contains smut!

I hope you enjoy 🥰🤭

You fell back onto your bed, unable to stop yourself from smirking as you flicked through your photo gallery, favouriting your best snaps.

It had been a long couple of weeks with your boyfriend’s schedule busier than ever, leaving you craving his attention and most importantly, his hands all over you.

Mason was on his way back home after being away for a few nights, having had a game abroad and then staying on for a couple of days to train. He was finally coming home but with another match the following day, you knew sex was going to be off limits.

You admired Mason’s strict routine he had set for himself; his dedication to the gym, eating a healthy diet and always ensuring he got enough rest.

The one thing you didn’t admire, however, was his stance on sex the day before match days.

No matter how many times you had suggested it, he never caved. The closest he had came to giving in had been one night when you had got him all worked up, teasing him all evening under the table when you had been out with some of his friends. He was a wreck and later that night when you had him beneath you, your legs straddled either side of him, you thought he was finally going to break his own rule. A stupid rule, as far as you were concerned.

You had told him he could just lay there and rest his hands on your hips as he let you do all the work, and the way his eyes looked up to you with such desperation made you think he was going to give in, but he had managed to bring himself back down to earth and put an end to your advances.

Deep down and much to your dismay, you did understand. He had had far more injuries than he would’ve liked over the past couple of seasons, and he wanted to make sure he was feeling as fit as possible in order to have the energy he knew he needed to put in a good performance on the pitch.

But still, you were feeling particularly horny and you knew your own fingers weren’t going to get you anywhere near the bliss that Mason would always make you feel.

And so you had spent your evening getting yourself glammed up, doing your makeup nicely and curling your hair just how you knew Mason like it before trying on some of your prettiest lingerie.

Your tracking app told you he wasn’t too far away, close enough to get him a little worked up so by the time he got home he’d be as desperate for you as you were for him.

You smiled to yourself, always knowing he was going to pick the red. You padded over to your full length mirror, checking your makeup still looked okay and tousling your fingers through your hair. You slipped your robe off that you had put on after your picture session and you admired how your body looked in the lingerie, feeling pretty confident you were going to get what you wanted tonight.

You got yourself comfy on your shared bed just as you heard the door slam shut as quick as it had opened. You smiled to yourself at the sound of Mason’s footsteps as they got louder and louder till he burst into the room, quickly dropping his bag to the floor and shrugging off his jacket that he had clearly been in too much of a rush to take off downstairs.

He climbed onto the bed and on top of you, caging your body with his as he supported himself on his arms. His pupils were completely blown out, his cheeks a little flustered and his mouth parted slightly as his eyes took in your body, taking a good look up and down.

“Nice to see you too.” You giggled.

Mason was snapped out of his trance and bought his gaze up to look at you, his eyes softening at finally seeing you again.

He bought his lips to yours, capturing them in a short but hungry kiss before he pulled away, the biggest grin on his face as he tried to catch his breath.

“Mase did you run up here?” You giggled and he just nodded, tucking his face into your neck and beginning to pepper soft kisses to the skin.

“Those pictures made me so hard.” You hummed at his words, his hot breath on your skin making your body tingle. “Got me squirming in the back of the car, was worried the driver was going to ask me what was wrong.” He spoke before continuing his attack on your neck, his light kisses turning into open mouthed wet ones as you titled your head to the side, allowing him better access. “I meant it when I said you’re going to get me into so much trouble one day.”

“You liked the pictures that much, huh?” You asked with a little cockiness to your tone, attempting to take control of the situation.

“Got me so turned on, thinking about you here in our bed all by yourself in your sexy little lingerie.” He practically groaned as his eyes ran up and down your body, his tongue darting out to wetten his lips as he admitted the red lace on your body.

“Well I’m not on my own now.” You grinned up to him. “And you can have your way with me, Masey.” You bit down on your bottom lip, waiting for him to make his next move. Desperate for him to make his next move.

Mason looked down at you deep in thought and you could tell he was really contemplating saying fuck it to his rules and having his way with you like he so desperately wanted to. But something in his head was telling him it wasn’t worth it. He hadn’t long returned from another injury and he really wanted to try and impress when he was on the pitch, something he knew definitely wasn’t going to happen if he had his way with you.

Mason climbed off the bed, quickly stripping himself of his tshirt and jogging bottoms, leaving him in just his boxers. He looked at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes as he climbed back onto the bed, his body on top of yours as his arms came down either side of you once again. You squealed in surprise before relaxing back under him. You couldn’t help but grin, feeling smug with yourself that your advances had paid off.

He kissed you sweetly before licking at your bottom lip and you were quick to part your lips slightly to let him in. His tongue licked at yours and he moved the lower half of his body into yours, causing you to gasp at the feel of his hardened buldge pushing up against you, putting pressure where you needed him the most.

Mason pulled away, his expression matching yours which you couldn’t help but think was a little odd.

“Why’re you looking so smug, baby?”

“Because I knew I would get my way.” You replied confidently and a little egotistical, loving the fact you knew he just couldn’t deny you.

Mason huffed, looking down. “Not quite.” And with that he pulled himself from you, flopping himself down onto his side of the bed.

You furrowed your brows, quickly propping yourself up on your pillow to face him. “Huh?”

“I told you, as much as I would love to… I’m not going to fuck you tonight.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “So what was all this? You decided to just tease me to get me all hot and bothered and then leave me hanging?” You sulked, your bottom lip sticking out as you crossed your arms across your body.

“Well not exactly.” Mason scootched over closer to you, peeling your arms away from your body.

His eyes danced up and down your body once more, his tongue darting out to lick his lips as he thought of all the dirty things he wanted to do to you.

But he couldn’t. Not today.

Instead, he bought his head back down to your neck, hot breath fanning your ear as he spoke.“You’re going to touch yourself.” He backed away from you, settling himself back down onto the mattress and rubbing himself through his boxers. “And I’m going to enjoy myself watching you.”

You gulped. This wasn’t something you had done before, and whilst the idea made you excited, you couldn’t help but feel a little nervous.

“But Mase…” You begun to protest but Mason cut you off.

“You don’t want to?” He asked and you were shamelessly quick to nod, eager to see what he did when you weren’t around.

Mason gripped your wrist, bringing your hand to his mouth. He enjoyed a bit of spitting in the bedroom, and so you were taken by surprise when he popped your fingers straight into his mouth, swirling his tongue around your digits to get them wet. A pathetic whimper left your lips and you felt your core pulse at the sensation.

He released your fingers from his mouth, bringing them to rest at the bottom of your tummy.

“Gonna touch yourself for me, angel?” His eyes were all hazy as they looked into yours, and all you could do was nod, dipping your fingers into your panties.

You still looked at him a little unsure, but as you watched Mason rub himself over his boxers, that gave you the little bit of confidence you needed to continue.

You inhaled sharply as your fingers lightly touched your clit, slowly beginning to circle the sensitive nub.

“Good girl.” Mason praised, unable to wait any longer to pull his cock from his boxers. He slowly begun to work himself, pumping his hand up and down his length, the tip pink and leaking with pre come already.

Your fingers continued to draw perfect circles to your clit, moans leaving your lips as you basked in the pleasure. Your free hand came down to fist at the sheets beneath you as you looked over at Mason, his head thrown back against the headboard. His eyes fell shut and he tugged his bottom lip between his teeth as he fucked his fist faster than before, building up the perfect rhythm that he had become accustomed to on his trips away from you.

You admired the way his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his eyes opening to drag down your body; his favourite sight in the world. Wanting to put on a show for him, you traced your hand up your body till you reached your tummy, dragging it up to your chest. You lightly pinched your nipple through the red lace before moving across to the other one and giving it the same attention. Mason finally released his bottom lip when he begun to taste metallic from biting down so hard and he briefly relaxed his pace, his thumb brushing over his red tip before speeding up his movements again.

Breathy whimpers left his lips and you could tell he was trying to make himself last longer, till you had made yourself come, but you knew he was desperate for the release that he was teetering to.

You dipped your fingers to collect some of your wetness before continuing to draw circles to your clit, desperately wishing instead it was Mason’s working you towards your high.

“Mase-“ He briefly looked over to you but he had to close his eyes and take a deep breath at the sight of you playing with yourself. “Tell me what you want to do to me.”

“Oh.” Mason groaned, trying his absolute best to compose himself as he slightly slowed down the speed of his fist, now taking long, slow strokes. “Going to fuck you so good tomorrow baby, I swear to God. I’m going to pin you down to this mattress and have my way with you, going to make you come so many times baby. With my fingers, with my tongue, with my cock- oh.”

“Keep going.” You said, your hips involuntary raising from the mattress as you increased the pressure of your fingertips slightly. “Tell me what else you’re going to do to me, Masey.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna -“ He said before taking a deep breath, slowing the movements of his hand down for his own sake. “Gonna get you to sit on my face, you’re going to be a good girl and sit yourself on my face, gonna fuck you with my tongue till you’re tugging at my hair and all you can say is my name.” Mason couldn’t help himself, speeding up again as he thought to tomorrow when he’d be able to act out all the dirty scenarios going round in his head.

“Mase-“

“Then you’re going to bend over the end of the bed for me and I’m going to fuck you so good, not gonna stop till your legs are shaking and you’re coming all over my cock.”

His words were all too much and you came crashing down as your high completely consumed you, seeing stars as you rode out the feeling of pure euphoria.

Mason had been able to tell when you were about to reach your high and he finally let himself hit his release. He coated his hand and his stomach with his cum, fucking his cock into his hand until he was too sensitive, pulling it off. His head swimming in orgasm, heat and complete bliss.

You both took a few moments to settle back into reality, slowly regaining your breath as you looked over to him, giggling as you noticed the pink tint on your boyfriend’s face.

“Not quite what I had in mind but better than nothing I suppose.” You pretended to sulk but Mason couldn’t muster up a sarcastic reply in his post orgasm state, always feeling extra soppy and just wanting to be close to you.

He lifted his arm indicating he wanted you to snuggle up to him and you were glad to oblige, tucking yourself into his chest but being careful to keep your distance from the sticky mess on his tummy.

“I’m allowed a cuddle then, mhm?”

Mason chuckled. “A cuddle’s not going to stop me from having enough energy to run around for 90 minutes.” Mason replied sassily but his body language was completely different, his finger tips gently dragging up and down your bare arm as he held you close to him. Back where you belonged.

“Besides, I told you. I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.”

[stuckinapril]

how to feel like a person?

digital detox. if your phone was taken away, how much free time would you have? how empty would your day be? do you have things to do outside of scrolling endlessly on different apps? if you come to the realization that a lot of your time consists of being glued to your screen, you need to start considering incorporating no-phone time blocks into your day. a big part of our daily misery boils down to consuming so many things in 24 hours, to the point that we feel too burned out to do anything else that truly nourishes our body and soul.

establish a routine. discipline is so important for happiness. start out small—schedule your day, get consistent with your skincare routine, take daily walks—and then gradually add more and more things. don’t try to revamp your life all at once. that’s a surefire way to quit altogether. be realistic about your limits, but also push yourself where appropriate so you don’t stay static.

journal. mentalize your feelings. don’t suppress your emotions. be curious about your thought processes and what makes you tick. always be self-compassionate, but hold yourself accountable where it’s due.

start pursuing hobbies. make a list of all the things that interest you and try them out. there are so many things out out there; one of them is bound to stick. don’t go into it with the negative mindset that you know you wouldn’t like doing x and y. some things you might know in your heart are not for you, but don’t rule out possibilities you’re ambivalent about. be open-minded and see finding your interests not as a chore, but as an exciting prospect.

practice gratitude. this is such a popular advice bc it works. start off your day by listing 3 things you’re grateful for. it’s crazy how so many people don’t realize it’s a blessing to just be alive, when so many people get robbed of their lives so early on. i’m not saying to never shoot for more, but having a foundation of contentment goes a very long way.

have a solid set of friends, but march your own march. you don’t need anybody; you just want them. same thing with friends. friends are good for us because we are a social species, but if one person were to leave your life, it’s not the end of the world. your life is already colorful, filled with so many things you’re doing for yourself—furthering your career, improving on your skills, working on your fitness—that a person leaving shouldn’t be detrimental. never be so dependent on someone you can’t envision a life without them. you need to make your life exciting on your own; you can’t have someone else doing all the heavy lifting for you.

have an abundance mindset. if one thing fails, that just leaves room for something better to take its place. you are always bound to find better. there are 8 billion people in this world. there are countless different possibilities. failure or loss does not mean it’s game over for you.

see pain as a learning experience. true growth spurts do truly come from heartbreak or failure. it teaches us to pick ourselves back up and try again. always have a growth mindset. that relationship didn’t work out? now you know what to avoid for the next relationship. you’re single again? now you get to focus on and learn more about yourself. that friendship ended? at least you won’t waste any more time on someone who doesn’t value having you in their life. you didn’t get that job? that leaves the door open for other possibilities. you didn’t get the score you wanted? now you know what to work on to do better next time.

action-directed things to improve your self-esteem. you can sit in your room all day and tell yourself you’re the best thing since sliced bread and everyone’s obsessed with you, but truly building up your self-esteem comes not only from thinking positive things about yourself, but also acting on them. work on things you care about. work on yourself as a person. love who you are, but also strive for self-improvement. do things that can act as proof—to you—for why you’re worthy. it’s a game changer.

dispense of the victim-of-life mentality. it’s safe to dwell in your misery and keep blaming things on factors out of your control, but where would that get you? it’s just resulting in you expending your energy needlessly. stop seeing life as jumping from tragedy to tragedy. actively fight against your negativity bias. recognize that for every bad thing that happens, 100 good things happen, but we as humans have a tendency of focusing only on the negatives. sort through your emotions, make peace with what happened, but pick yourself up and move on. the most valuable thing we all have on this planet is time. it’s limited and it will come to an end eventually. you don’t want to look back and resent yourself for not simply letting go of things and appreciating what you have around you.

[di-writes-stuff]

loml

Greg House x Reader

A/N: So, I haven’t written anything in months. Whoopsies! (I have no excuse, I just didn’t want to.)

TW: It’s House. There’s your trigger warning. (Drugs.)

“Who’s gonna stop us from waltzing back into rekindled flames, if we know the steps anyway?”

This is a mistake.

That’s the only thought that runs through your head as you sit in the sterile examination room, the chair under you hard and entirely uncomfortable. It’s fitting, nothing about this will be pleasant, you knew it going in.

And yet you still did. You walked into this damn hospital, snuck around like some criminal, praying that you wouldn’t run into him before the time was right. If it ever is, it never really has been with you two. Maybe it never will be, maybe the world is trying to tell you something you’re just too stubborn to hear. How many times can you keep going back to the same broken thing?

Apparently you haven’t hit your limit yet, considering where you are.

It’s like every nerve in your body spurs to life as the door slides open and he walks in. Him, House. His eyes are glued to the chart in his hand, not really bothering to look at you. He’d treat his patients through the door if he could.

“What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a way that’s so typically him you almost roll your eyes. Abrasive, cold, these should be red flags. They are, you just don’t care.

Maybe he had a point with all the masochist jokes.

You quickly refocus, clearing your throat and waiting. For what, you’re not sure. Obviously he’ll look up, recognize you as, well, you. His ex, but that’s not even close to covering whatever twisted role it is you serve in his life. On and off for…how long? Years, you know that. Two, at least, maybe more. There’s always something wrong, something ruining your chances. The drugs, the painfully obvious emotional unavailability. The same one you ignored the existence of when you decided to come here.

Then there’s you. The constant desire you have for more. More devotion, more love, more than he’s willing to give.

Or more than he can, you refuse to explore that option.

You’re fucked, simply. There’s no possible way that you two work. It’s too much conflict, more than a mouthful of pills or some hate sex can solve.

His eyes flick up and widen as he freezes. Speechless. In another circumstance you’d be proud of this. It’s an achievement after all, he never does know when to shut his mouth.

He wasn’t expecting you, not for a second. Maybe he should’ve. You’ve always been stubborn, a trait you both share. It made for some agonizingly long arguments, and some wildly good make up.

That’s the issue with you two. You are eachother. It’s why you’re so chaotic together. It’s also why you can’t be with anybody else.

“Hey.” You say weakly, and the word feels stupid as it comes out of your mouth. You’re long past pleasantries, which is exactly why you receive silence in return.

You knew he’d be like this.

You feel your face heating in humiliation anyway. At the very least, you won’t cry, you won’t let yourself.

The stinging sensation in your nose is persistent as ever.

He slowly crosses the room, sitting down in the chair next to you, a small creaking noise filling the otherwise empty silence. A thick swallow from you, the awkward drumming of fingers from him. This is painful, and for a second you hope his pager will go off. He’d bolt with an excuse, you know he would. And because you’re the same, you would too. And then you’d be back, in a week, maybe a month, and it’d be even worse.

You’ve always had a knack for self-destruction.

You both know how it ended last time. All over a stupid bet. Cuddy thought he couldn’t make it a week without Vicodin, he thought he could. Back when he was still adamant about denying his addiction. Halfway through it might as well have been torture. Deep into detoxing, and still, he wouldn’t stop. Wouldn’t listen as you begged him to stop being so childish, so stubborn. He wouldn’t even let you come near him, let alone help. He said it’s cause he didn’t need your pity.

In reality, he just didn’t want you to see him like that. Nobody would. Every inch of his pale, shaking frame was covered in sweat, bags under his eyes and a bloodshot gaze had him looking damn near dead.

He was sick, and he hated having to face it more than anything. The Greg House being forced to admit he was wrong. Sometimes you wondered if he’d rather die than say it out loud.

Neither of you handled it well, you never do. He was too stupid to see the obvious, see that he needed help. Needed you. And you, you were too sensitive to let it go. Let him go. Give up on any hope that this could go anywhere.

You still are, and you feel it keenly as the two of you sit in silence. His eyes are trained on you, and if you didn’t know him any better, you’d think the look in his eyes was judgement. But no, it’s a myriad. Confusion, anger, guilt, longing. All things he’d never admit. That’d be far too human.

“Say something.” Your voice comes out pleading, a tone you loathe on yourself.

He turns to you, his eyes tracing over your every feature like he can’t decide which one to settle on. How many times has he seen you like this? Desperate, vulnerable, because of him. He loses count. He wants to forget it, but you have to go through the motions. Pretend you’ve worked through your issues so you can live in a momentary state of bliss. Maybe it’ll last a few months this time. Could be less, if he really screws it up.

He’ll take what he can get.

“What do you want me to say?” The words come out harsh, cold, and for a moment he expects you to turn away. You don’t. Of course you don’t.

You sigh heavily, you expected it, the ice you’d be met with. You know him intrinsically, predicting his moves like the plot twists of a movie you’ve watched one too many times.

“Something, anything.” This is sad, pathetic, even. You always do this. Go back to each other, pulling out a past that’s probably better off left in the dark closet it belongs to. Still, how can you just forget? The idea feels foreign after all this time weaving in and out of one another’s lives.

Still, this is familiar, comfortable, in a way. The feigned indifference, the cold tone, the need to pretend neither of you care nearly as much as you do. It would be easier, less painless, to just move on. Have lives separate from each other.

But he’s starting to think he lives off pain. Physical and mental. It’s all he’s known for years. Why change a routine that’s become so commonplace? And even with the pain, he’s never been happier than he was with you. You understand him, and the part of him that hates that kneels to the part that needs it.

The break ups, the separation, it’s all just a low between highs. Ones he finds far more addicting than the pills sitting in his pocket.

He begins tapping his cane on the floor, a restless rhythm. “I miss you.” His voice is deadpan as the words come out, and you know why. He’s being honest, his tone can’t betray how hard that really is for him. He leans his head back, letting it thud against the wall behind you in a way that makes you flinch.

For a moment, you wonder if he’s just saying what you want to hear.

You quickly remember who you’re talking to.

He lets his knee fall sideways, brushing against yours. It’s tiny, imperceivable, almost. If you weren’t so clued into everything he was doing, maybe you wouldn’t have noticed it. But you did, your eyes flicking down to the point of contact. It feels dangerous.

“I missed you too.” Your voice is shaky, quiet, pathetic. To you, at least. Most might see this as normal. A healthy display of vulnerability. You, though. This is hell. It is for him too. It’s also necessary. Maybe this is your twisted way of proving yourselves to each other, giving evidence to your devotion.

“This won’t end well.” He says, pragmatic as always. Cold, sensible. Too smart for hoping, waiting on change that’ll never come.

“I know.” And I’m here anyway. Words go unspoken, you’ve had enough honesty for today.

He sighs, and the noise is too tired. For a second fear settles in that you’re the one doing this to him. That trying to be decent. Trying to be suitable for a relationship is just too much for him to handle.

“Then why are you here?” He knows the answer, he’s not stupid. Maybe he just needs to hear it, and then he’ll get the common sense to tell you to leave. To give up on this, spare both of you the inevitable pain.

You sigh, the idea of having the explain worse than just letting the truth linger unspoken. “What if it works this time?” You know it’s stupid, and you know he’ll tell you just that. For a second you remember something your therapist told you. Insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different outcome. You’d rolled your eyes, told her this wasn’t anything like that. That people can change, you can change.

You stopped going to your appointments after that.

You just look at him, watch as he closes his eyes, running a hand over his face before looking to you. “For how long?” For a second, you think there’s hope in his voice, like he’s waiting for you to lie to him, say this can last forever. It probably will, you think. On and off for the rest of your lives, never stable.

“We can find out.” The words are an invitation, a reckless one. You’ll let him back in, and it’ll end poorly, and you won’t be able to be mad. You knew how this would go from the start, how can you blame him for the inevitable?

He looks to you, and you can tell he’s given up. It was always gonna happen, you wouldn’t stay away forever. No use in wasting time waiting.

“I hate you.” The words are empty. It’s his last ditch effort to push you away. He has to do it, he has to know he didn’t just let you in. Something in him has to hold onto the false belief that he doesn’t need this, that he’s indifferent. That he’s the same cold man he’s always been.

As he mutters the words he reaches out, his hand sliding over your jaw, pulling you in closer.

You smile weakly, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of the statement. You know him, you know when he’s lying, and he’s never done a worse job at it than he just did.

You’re hardly inches apart now, your lips nearly ghosting his own. Your voice is shaky as you speak, “Love you too.” As his lips brush yours, he just melts, leaning into you with a fervor he used to call lust. There’s no use pretending that’s all this is now.

The kiss ends all too soon as he pulls away, shallow breaths leaving both of you, filling the silence. You almost wonder if you should leave when his voice sounds, quiet, tentative, all things he’s normally not.

“I’m going to screw this up.” The look in his eyes is guilt for something he hasn’t even done. He will, but you ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head that says to run before he has the chance. Yes, he’s hurt you. It’s not as if you haven’t done the same to him. You know where to aim when you’re mad, and you’ve turned him to a dartboard more times than you can count.

“I’m okay with that.” For a second, as the words fall off your tongue so easily, almost instinctually, you wonder if your mother would be disappointed in you. This isn’t how she raised you. Offering some man a hundred second chances all because what, you love him? Because when it’s good, it really is so good?

Because at the end of the day, you don’t think you could do it. Leave him, live the rest of your life without him in it. You’d wonder, you’d always wonder what would’ve happened if you just gave him one more chance. And so you will, again, and again, and again.

Sometimes you wonder what your life would look like if you’d never met him. Maybe you’d be married, happy with some man who gave you far less trouble than House ever did. You curse the way you find the thought boring. He’s awful, but he’s thrilling. You might even have kids, or at least be ready for one.

You know deep down you could have a future like that, and still, all thoughts of it dissipate when he opens his mouth.

“I’m off at eight.” Self loathing drips from each word. He’s a selfish bastard, he’ll let you forgive him, and time and time again, he’ll know he doesn’t deserve it. Still, he can’t turn you down. He can’t leave. He can’t not have you. The one good thing that’s ever come out of his life. He just can’t. Not when you’re offering.

“I’ll be here.” The words are so horribly fitting. Won’t you always? Will there ever be a time he takes it too far? Or will you always go back to him? Will you always turn away from the better life, the happier life you could have without him?

Yes. It’s always yes, because deep down, you stopped wanting a life without him the second you experienced life with him. Everything else became boring, commonplace, once you’d had him. There’s nothing like House. Not a person, or drug, or liquor strong enough to come close to how he makes you feel. Nothing can make the memory fade, and nothing can replace it either.

There’s no good outcome, it’s either life alone or life with him. And so you let his fingers interlace with your own, let the sensation numb the thought that never left your head this whole time, the one that’ll haunt you on sleepless nights you spend in his bed, staring at the ceiling with his arms wrapped around you.

This is a mistake.

A/N: thank u to the taco bell fire sauce packet i quoted.

[ihavethedreamies]

Oh, Baby-Girl | Bang Chan

Bang Chan - Stray Kids

Rating: M (18+) MDNI

Word Count: ~5.5k

Pairing: Bang Chan x Tall!AFAB!Reader

Genre: Mafia AU!, Reader-Insert, Smut, Some Plot

!!This is smut…if that much isn't clear you should probably leave now!! MDNI!

Warnings: She/Her Pronouns used, Mentions of Guns (Mob/Mafia type stuff), Bodyguard! Chan, Mob Boss Daughter! Reader, Swearing, Kissing, Oral (F! & M! Receiving), Deepthroating, Face-Fucking, Spanking, Daddy Kink (it is Bang Chan after all), Unprotected Sex (Not Recommended), Big Dick! Chan

Author's Note: Oh no, what is this? I couldn't have possibly wrote this since I am working so diligently on packing. Well, as long as it's here…

There is just something about the choreography for Chk Chk Boom that did something to me, I'm sure many of you agree.

P.S. If you haven't read my stuff before, or much of it, you might not notice, but the rest of you have probably figured out I got a bit of a face-fucking fascination. Thanks for getting to know me.

I am cross-posting this on Archive and Wattpad. Please reblog! If you know anyone that would like this or future fics but they aren't on here my name and icon are exactly the same on the other sites. Happy reading!

Being a mob boss’s wife isn’t nearly as fun and glamorous as the movies and shows (and TikTok) make it out to be. However, being the mob boss's daughter? A bit of a different story. You were protected from the violence and crime, but still got to reap the rewards. Fancy clothes, expensive jewelry, a nice car, and a bodyguard as well. Despite never being able to see him, you knew you were well protected as you walked down the streets of New York, spending all of your papa's corrupt money. A few designer shopping bags hung in the crook of your elbow over your cropped jacket, fur lining the ends of the sleeves and lapels. Faux of course, you might be the daughter of a criminal, but you weren't a monster. The thin heels of your over-the-knee (also faux) leather boots clicked on the sidewalk as you tapped away on your phone with your thumb. People moved out of your way as you walked, you just had the aura of 'fuck around and find out'. The gum in your mouth smacked as you chewed, sneering at a child who didn't move out of the way fast enough. Your eye roll was hidden behind your Versace sunglasses, but your down-turned lip covered in dark red lipstick was still obvious. Your stiletto acrylic nails were the same dark red and clicked against your phone as you scrolled through your search results. Despite how you looked and dressed, you still preferred to shop sales. That gave you more bang for your buck, since your father did limit your money some. As you passed an overly full trash can, you plucked the gum from your mouth and onto the pile. It had lost all its flavor… Approaching the next store, you were about to enter when you suddenly felt something instinctual rise up in you. You halted, people scurrying around you still, and with your natural height paired with six-inch pumps, you still stood a head above a lot of the passersby. You felt vulnerable for some reason and huffed in frustration, shoving the door open to the boutique you had stopped in front of. It wasn't your original destination, but you instantly felt safer being inside. It wasn't anywhere close to the first time your ingrained sense of danger had kicked in, and it wouldn't be the last. You know there was at least one bodyguard tailing you even if you never saw him, but that didn't mean the shelter of a store wasn't welcome.

"Welcome." One of the employees calling out snapped you out of your trance, having been looking out the window at the street. You turned and gave her a forced smile and removed your sunglasses. Deciding to look around while you were in the shop, you admired some of the items, but none of them were up to your standard, but that lingering feeling…lingered. Picking up a pair of shoes to look over, you looked out the window more, trying to see if you could pick out anyone lurking outside. Nope. Pressing your lips together, you sighed and moved to leave. Stepping back onto the street, you looked around again, trying to be subtle, almost like you were looking for a cab. Still not seeing anything that stuck out, you moved on and toward your actual destination. You were hit with an even greater sense of doom as you heard the screech of car tires in the distance and you spun around to see a black SUV hurdling down the street, unusually empty for New York. Like it was in slow motion, as the vehicle approached, the window rolled down and a gloved hand stuck out, a Glock in his hand.

"Shit!" You moved to duck behind a parked sedan, and you yelped when your heel snapped as you dove for cover. Your ankle twisted and your tights ripped, but you got behind the vehicle as you heard the gunshots. People around you screamed, and you scrambled to hit the emergency button on your phone, but… It was shattered. It must have hit the sidewalk harder than you did.

"Fuck!" You shoved the device into your purse, and you watched as people ran and screamed. Getting up just enough to peer through the blown-out window of the car you hid behind, your ankle protested, and you fell back down, catching yourself with your hand.

"Did you get her?" You heard a gruff voice shout followed by, "No!" Then, through the running pedestrians, a huge man appeared, a gun in his hand. He was right down the sidewalk, and you were right in view. Before you even had the chance to pray, a figure stepped between you and the assailant. You couldn't see since he was in your way, but you heard his gun go off and watched the goon fall from between the legs of your savior. He had to have been the bodyguard that your father told you was constantly at your tail. The man groaned and cursed, the same SUV coming to help haul him away, clutching as his knee. Sirens grew closer and you tried to get up, pushing on your scraped hand. You winced again, at least three of your nails on that hand were broken, a fourth cracked, and your heel was ruined. It would have been way too awkward to try and stand with just one pump, so you took off your other one.

"Here." The man who saved you had an accent, you couldn't quite place it in the moment. His leather-gloved hands grabbed your forearms and he more or less yanked you up. When you stood before him, he was…short. About an inch or two shorter than you…with your heels off. He was also really fucking hot. It was clear he was a bit shocked at the height difference as well since he had never been so close to you. Was he the guy always guarding you? You guessed it didn't matter if he was shorter if he was protecting you from afar. He shoved his pistol in the back of his pants, and you watched his white t-shirt struggle across his muscular chest as he did so.

"You okay, love?" Australian, it was definitely an Australian accent. And it was also really fucking hot.

"Y-Yes." You finally answered and you jerked to grab your bags, but he was grabbing them along with your purse before you could get close.

"Can you walk?" He nodded at your bare feet, and you stood on one of them, rolling your twisted ankle to test it. Putting weight back on it, "I can manage." He then started to lead you into the nearest alley as the police cruisers grew closer. At least you had stockings on as you meandered through the not exactly clean back alleys, and he finally brought you to another big black SUV parked behind some bakery.

"Here." He opened the passenger door, and you climbed in as he threw your bags in the back. You sat, shaking still as he climbed into the driver's seat.

"Sh-should I be up front?" Your voice was also shaking still, and he started the vehicle.

"The windows are tinted, but we'll be quick."

"Quick? Where are we going?" Your father's building was a good twenty minutes away, let alone the house on the outskirts of the city.

"Closest place is mine."

"Y-you are my bodyguard, right?" You just realized that even though he saved you, that didn't mean it was his job. The man huffed and wrangled his leather jacket off, tossing it in the back as well. The clean lines of your father's crest were tattooed into his bicep, and you slumped in the seat.

"What's your name?"

"Chan."

"Just Chan?"

"Yep." It seemed he had been waiting for you to buckle up, because he reached around you to grab the still unfastened belt, doing it for you. He smelled really fucking good too and your head swam. The spike of adrenaline seemed to get all parts of your body worked up, but you forced the wave of arousal down. It was not the time nor place for any of that. The ride to his place was quiet, thankfully, because if he talked more, you would be a goner. Trying not to be obvious, you would look to the side to stare at him. His side profile was immaculate, strong nose and jaw line, full lips.

"So…are you…?" You didn't know how to word your question without sounding rude.

"Korean." He knew where you were going, and you let out a small 'ah' of understanding. Your father didn't get along with the Yakuza nor the Chinese mafia, so Korean made sense. Korean-Australian at that…right?

"Australia?" You wanted to make sure, not great at picking out the different British-origin accents.

"Yep."

"Am I annoying you?" He sagged at your question and shook his head.

"No, love, just trying to keep an eye out." He pointedly looked in the rear-view mirror and you let out a quiet apology. The silence made since then.

"Put your sunglasses on." Chan nodded at the item in your hand, and you did so, pointedly looking out the window as he pulled up to the security gate of his building's parking garage. Getting in without any comments from the guard, he parked in what you assumed was his designated spot. The guard got out and opened your door for you, giving you his hand for assistance. You grunted when you landed wrong on your still upset angle and he caught you, making your chest press to his.

"S-sorry." You flinched back, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he smiled gently.

"It's okay, Miss (Y/N)." Fuck, if you're already attracted to a guy with an accent, don't EVER let him say your name. As he was out of view to get your bags you mouthed an exaggerated 'oh my god' and quickly shut your mouth when he shut the back door. He led you toward the entrance door for the building, staying slow to accommodate your slight limp. Getting in the elevator, you still kept your sunglasses on just in case, though the building seemed pretty secure. That didn't mean the security watching the cameras were always completely trustworthy though. Enough money can convince most people of anything. You exhaled tiredly as you stopped by his door and Chan pressed the code into the number pad and it pinged. He held the front door open for you and you entered, hobbling down the entry hall. It was a nice place and you wondered how much your father paid him to watch you nearly 24/7. Or…

"So, are you my guard a lot?"

"During the day." So, yes.

"How long?"

"Hm…about three years."

"Ah." That was a pretty long time. So, he probably knew a lot about you, and you had never seen him before in your life.

"Oh! I need to call papa…" You rummaged through your purse that he had set on the coffee table. As you sat on the couch, you then remembered that your phone was broken.

"I'll handle it, love." Chan set your shopping bags and your shoes down as well and you had totally forgotten about your heels. When did he grab them too?

"I need to call a few others as well, if you want something to eat you can rummage through the kitchen." He nodded toward the other room behind where you sat and you nodded as he went down the other hallway, deeper into the apartment. You took the chance to look around and you wondered if he was ever there. Well, if he watched you all day for three years, he probably wasn't. The decoration was simple, almost like it was a hotel room rather than a living space, but it was nice. Maybe his bedroom was more personal? Hearing his muffled voice from further in, you stood and meandered to the kitchen like he suggested. Opening the fridge, there was more than you expected since the rest of the apartment was barren. Nothing stuck out though, but you noticed an object was in the oven despite it being off. You knew exactly what it was. Opening the oven, you grabbed the pizza box and opened it as your mouth watered. You weren't sure if the pizza was your favorite because you had it all the time (it was a front for your father's shenanigans) or if you genuinely liked it. Holding the day-old slice, you chewed absentmindedly, snooping through the rest of Chan's kitchen. He had a little wine display on the counter, and you pulled one of the bottles out to look at the label. You snorted, of course he had your family's vintage. Maybe he got a discount? At least you knew you liked it. Holding the slice in your mouth as you reached for a wine glass in the cupboard, you had to get on your tip toes to reach one. Could he normally reach them? There was dust on the glass, and you pondered if he ever used them.

"Sorry I don't use those glasses often." His voice startled you, but you kept a firm grip on the glass then set it down.

"That's fine… Do you just…drink from it?" You easily and expertly pulled the cork out with your bare hands since it was sticking out enough and he blinked at the ease with which you did so. Just because you were the daughter of a mob boss and didn't fight yourself, didn't mean you weren't strong. Your father made sure if it came to it, you could punch a guy's teeth out just as well as any bodyguard. That didn't help with guns, mind you.

"Uh, no," he huffed an airy laugh, it was actually kind of cute, "I just use a normal glass." He went to the cupboard next to the one you had been in and grabbed a square-shaped cup that looked like it was more for whiskey than wine.

"Are you doing okay, love?" He leaned against the counter as you poured yourself a glass after giving him some.

"I guess. My ankle kind of hurts still." You easily balanced on one leg, lifting the other foot to roll the joint around, testing its pain level.

"Just because I've never met you face to face doesn't mean I don't know you. Are you okay?" He pressed and you flinched to look at him. It wasn't…creepy perse, just, odd. You sighed, taking a sip, your hand still shaking a bit.

"Y-yeah. I mean, I've been around guns and stuff, but… I myself have never been shot at, you know?"

"I do, actually." He smiled cheekily and you sighed in mock annoyance.

"Well, it’s a little unfair that you seem to know me so well and I have no knowledge of you." You walked around the island and back toward the living room, sitting in relief on the couch. You crossed your leg over the other, injured ankle dangling in the air. Chan sat down next to you, leg up on the cushion so he could face you, toned arm resting on the back of the sofa. You felt his eyes linger on your tight-clad legs, your leather short-shorts showing most of your thighs. His gaze stopped at the tear in the supposedly tear-proof pantyhose, then snapped his head up like he just got startled awake. The man knew you knew he was ogling your legs and the tips of ears turned red as he cleared his throat. How was such a handsome man so cute?

"What do you want to know?"

"How did you get to be my bodyguard?"

"I had no mafia ties before. I guess that was a good thing. I was more or less scouted to be a bodyguard when I was a bouncer at some penthouse night club. It seems some of your dad's guys saw I was good, and I got offered way more money than any other job. They doubled it when I took the spot as your personal bodyguard."

"I see. Where did you learn to shoot so well?"

"I started at the shooting range when I was in college with my friends. I got better through work and your father made sure I was an expert before he put his baby girl's life in my hands."

"Hm, you obviously don't know me that well." You picked on a very small detail, wondering if he would know what it was.

"Hm, not his baby girl, his little kitten."

"Oh, maybe you do know me well then?"

"Quiz me, baby-girl." The way he said it was so different than two seconds prior. His tone deepened with it and a smug look settled casually on his face. You couldn't help but watch his throat move as he swallowed a sip of wine and you took a sip yourself, then set the glass down.

"What is my favorite color?"

"Red. Something else."

"Brand?"

"Prada. Something real (Y/N)." Chan leaned further into the cushion. You were right at eye level, and you wondered…

"Does it bother you I'm taller?" You changed the subject so fast he nearly got whiplash. You genuinely were curious. You were tall for a woman anyway, let alone when you did wear heels, and some guys didn't care for it.

"Height doesn't play into what matters, baby-girl." His slightly cryptic answer intrigued you, but you moved back to the previous topic.

"What's my favorite book and why?" He sighed, huffing a laugh at your shift back.

"You tell people it's 1984 because of the psychological implications behind it, but your favorite is actually Dragon Rider because it got you into fantasy. You read it eight times in elementary school, and you have a signed copy." Chan grinned at your bewildered expression. Once again, in any other situation that would be creepy as hell that he knew, but three years of observation would key him in.

"Okay, smart guy," you picked your glass back up, slinging your legs up under you on the couch, facing him.

"Why do I currently not have a boyfriend?" That was something you couldn't just say, it had to be observed.

"You hate romance. Flowers, chocolates, a fancy meal. You hate it, but because you like fancy clothes and jewelry, men think you lean that way. You'd prefer a movie date at home or going horseback riding." Shit, that was a little creepy. More so that he knew you so well, it was like he could see into your head, that kind of creepy. Not that he was a creep. Chan nearly cackled as he giggled at your bewildered expression, and you whined. Why was he that cute?

"Why are you that cute?" You accidentally spoke your thoughts aloud and you immediately froze, since he did too.

"I'm cute?" He managed to get out after you both sputtered for a few seconds.

"W-well, I mean-"

"I'm cute?" The simple inflection change completely shifted the meaning of his question.

"You think I'm cute?" You whispered and he set his own glass down, then took yours so he could do the same. He shifted down the cushion, so his knee touched yours. Chan leaned in and you clenched your jaw to remain strong. Don't kiss him, don't kiss him, don't kiss him.

"Baby-girl, if I didn't do you really think I would still be watching you ten hours a day, every day?" Oh. That was a good point. Chan crooked a brow, waiting for an answer or something, don't kiss him.

"You want to kiss me that bad?" he finally asked, and you jolted back, eyes leaving his mouth and shooting up to his eyes.

"What?! No?" Your voice cracked and he pressed his pretty lips together, so he didn't laugh at you.

"So, you don't want me to?"

"I never said that-" He caught you. Literally. You had tried to reel back so you could get off the couch, but his hand grabbed your wrist. It was gentle, but tight enough that he could yank you back to him, and he swallowed the squeak he pulled out of you. Your body melted, all the tension from the earlier attack as well as the sexual kind that had been quickly taking your body over, left. The kiss grew from a low heat to a full inferno rapidly. Your jacket was shed, then your necklaces and bracelets, and as his tongue crept into your mouth, you clawed at his shirt. Your fingers unevenly scratched at his skin through the fabric since about half of them were broken. You both panted when he pulled back. He slightly shoved you down so your back hit the cushion and he sat up more on his knees and you watched with glee as his shirt came off. Fucking hell, he was perfect.

"Oh my god." You gasped and his smug grin twitched briefly in bashfulness, but he composed himself.

"Let me see you, baby-girl." He easily held himself up over you as his body nestled above yours, his strong jean-clad thigh jammed between your mostly bare legs. He kissed you again as his fingers easily plucked the buttons of your shirt open and he pulled you up by the shirt. As you sat up, you yanked the shirt out of where it was tucked into your shorts and then tossed it away before falling back. The micro-fiber was a much nicer feeling than what could have been cold leather. You shivered when his calloused hands ran over the smooth and soft skin of your sides and tummy. His nose ran over your collar bone, and he nuzzled the swell of your breasts where they sat in your plain nude bra. If you knew you were going to get fucked that night, you would have worn something much sexier.

"Don't worry, it's coming off anyway." It was like he could read your mind and you yiped in shock as he unfastened the front latch so quickly it was like he did it telepathically.

"You wear them with a front latch because you can't reach around your back from when you hurt your shoulder in middle school." He really did know you well. You just blinked but then Chan forced a mewl from you as his strong thigh pressed hard into your covered mound.

"Focus, baby-girl." His voice had lowered even further, and it made you shiver. Strong hands gripped your ass over your shorts, pulling your hips to grind on his leg as his mouth met yours again. You whimpered through the kiss, goosebumps raising on your skin as the button of your shorts easily slipped open, the zipper was pulled down, and then your pants were soaring through the air somewhere you cared not.

"These are already torn…" He justified as he grabbed the hem of your pantyhose and easily ripped them to literal shreds. Chan let the remnants fall to the floor and you felt your slick through your panties against your bare thighs. At least your panties were a cute lacey purple and not just plain nude.

"You're absolutely stunning." He praised, hand running up your thigh so he could hitch it against his hip. Chan rolled his hips, and you squealed at the large bulge in his pants pressing to your barely covered cunt. If he felt that big through jeans, what the hell was he hiding? He chuckled where your hips jumped to get another brush of friction, reaching into his back pocket. As he pulled the foil package from his pants you snatched it from him.

"Planning this?" You tried to tease him, but his gaze darkened.

"Oh, baby-girl, I've wanted to fuck you for two years now." The man declared. You turned the packet over to look at the label, making a mental note at the size, then you looked at him coyly.

"You clean?"

"Yes?"

"Good." You tossed it behind your shoulder, then grabbed his belt loop, pulling him to you as you sat up. You smirked up at him, head tipped back so you could look him in the eye.

"Can you really feel me like you want through a rubber?" He swallowed hard, all that confidence from before seemingly to leave, then rushed back.

"Not even fucking close." He admitted, pushing you back down and starting to lay open mouth kisses against your neck. He sucked hard, his teeth nibbling the flesh and you shuddered with a delighted whine.

"We can put my pill to the test." You teased and he groaned, kissing down your chest. His mouth sealed over your nipple as he wrestled his jeans off and you exhaled in bliss as his fingers rubbed at your folds through the fabric still covering them.

"You care about these?" He snapped the hem of the undergarment. You did, but you really wanted to watch him tear them up more.

"Nope." You popped the 'p' and the lace ripped and joined your other items of clothing somewhere behind him. You yelped when his hands grabbed your waist and shoved you up the sectional, so he had room to lay on his stomach. Before you got the chance to prop yourself up on your elbows, his tongue ran up the folds of your pussy and his nose brushed your clit.

"Fuck!" You tossed your head back, body twitching as he decided to bury his tongue inside you. He groaned at your taste, hands roughly grabbing the backs of your thighs. He rolled you back, holding your legs apart and up as he mouthed at you like a man starved. Your little mewls and squeaks flew out between heaving breaths, and you felt his grip tighten, knowing he would leave bruises. When he let go of your left leg, he made sure you rested it on the back of the couch, and then his finger pressed into your twitching cunt.

"You’re drippin’." He chuckled, then added another finger and your whole body seized. Expertly, he crooked his fingers up, the ends pressing against your cervix and with a final lick to your clit, you came. He eagerly helped you ride out your high, then cleaned his fingers off with his tongue as you panted for air. Your forearm was slung over your eyes as you came back to earth, and you only moved your arm to watch as he removed his final garment. You hadn't even got a chance to look at him in just his boxers, but there he stood in absolute glory. His cock stood proud, arching up toward his toned stomach and you heaved yourself up so you could see him better.

"Oh~" You giggled, wrapping your fingers around his cock and he groaned at the feeling. You bit your lip, eyes meeting his giddily, then you swallowed the tip, whining at salt of his pre.

"(Y/N), baby-girl~" He tossed his head back as you took more of him into your mouth. He was thick, your jaw protesting a bit, and you still had a good few inches to go when the head hit the back of your throat. Your eyes flicked to his again, and you made sure to watch his face and you kept going, only gagging slightly as your nose pressed to his groin.

"Oh, fuck." He nearly whimpered, hands gripping your hair, then loosened his grip. He groaned as you bobbed your head, breath harshly moving through your nose as his cock filled and left your throat. His hips jumped and the sudden movement made you gag a bit harder, but it made your cunt clench as well.

"Shit, sorry!" He panicked, but you pulled off slowly, giving him your best boba eyes.

"Wanna keep going?" You hoped your intention was clear and he didn't even hesitate. The hands still in your hair pulled you back onto his cock and you sat like a good girl as the fat head of Chan's dick battered your throat. Your eyes rolled back, loving not just his rough movements, but the pretty noises leaving his mouth.

"Hm, you want me to cum down your throat, baby-girl?" Chan's hips jerked unevenly, and you could feel his dick pulse on your tongue. You hummed and nearly wiggled with glee as he pressed your nose hard against his lower stomach and painted your throat white. You eagerly swallowed each pump and drop, and he mumbled something about wondering why he waited so long to have you. Only half-softened, he pulled out of your mouth, and you licked the rest off his release of your lips. You didn't even get the chance to give him a smug grin before you were flipped over onto your stomach, and he heaved your hips up.

"Tell me if I do something wrong." His comment seemed odd, but it seemed he really did know you well. You gasped a moan as his hand smacked your ass, the skin stinging, and he could see your empty cunt clench around nothing.

"You want daddy's cock?" His thumb ran through the slick of your folds, and you trembled. There was a very specific reason you only called your father 'papa'. You only wished you had found Chan sooner to actually put it into practice.

"Fuck, yes, daddy!" You squealed in joy, hiccupping when his other hand slapped your other ass cheek.

"Get ready, then baby-girl." You were ready mentally, but your pussy wasn't. Your cunt burned as he buried his fat cock into you with one thrust. You reveled in the sting, craved it, and your already tight walls clenched around him hard. Even if he wasn't fucking you from behind, you were sure he was long enough to fill you completely, the tip nestled tight against your cervix.

"Fucking hell." You sighed, nails digging into the thick fabric of the couch. He let you get used to the stretch, but you just wanted him to move, you were even getting antsy.

"Move, please." Your wiggled were stopped with a hard spank. You yelped.

"Daddy, please." You corrected and he ran his thumb over the reddening skin.

"Sure thing, love." Your cunt tried desperately to keep his cock inside, and a few drops of your wet landed on the couch. Your breath left you when his hips snapped, fucking back into you hard and fast, his pace not letting you catch it back. He loved the little mewls and grunts he was literally fucking out of you. Your cheek was pressed to the cushion, drool already pooling from the corner of your mouth. He had waited too long to take you, he decided, and he was going to make up for the lost time.

"Ch-chan, fuck!" Your orgasm was cresting fast, a familiar burn rising with your orgasm. Spank!

"Fuck, daddy, I'm gonna-" Your breath shuddered as your orgasm hit and he slowed his pace some, grinding his cock into you as your pussy spasmed.

"Oh, baby-girl~!" He groaned as your cunt squirted even more slick onto his groin and balls, even both of your thighs. You slumped after what seemed like minutes and heaved for air, but he wasn't anywhere close to done. Your near scream as he started to pummel his hips against your ass again went straight to his head. He leaned over you, hands near your shoulders. Normally, he was used to leaning over a girl quite a bit, but his hands fell to the sides of your shoulders rather than your head, your body just as long as his, legs even longer. Despite the small height difference (in your favor), you felt small under him, he had broad shoulders and thick muscles, and an even thicker cock. The hard and deep thrusts turned shallow, his dick barely leaving your cunt but battering it at the same time, bringing you up to and over another orgasm fast.

"So deep, daddy~" You nearly cheered, and he found your weakness. He pressed his hips into yours, barely moving them and you gasped, a fourth orgasm already approaching. He felt your walls clench harder and you felt your pussy start to sting, but you needed to fall apart again. It was too much for him then, your raw heat and gummy walls begging him to pump you full.

"Gotta test that pill." He mumbled, then groaned as he finally fell over as well. The sticky heat of his cum filling you, so much it spurted out from around where your bodies met, pushed you over the edge as well. Your head swam from the force of your final orgasm, stars dotting your vision. As he panted for air over you, he watched your eyes flutter; you were wiped out.

"I'll let you sleep over, baby-girl. Gotta rest for when I fuck you stupid tomorrow morning."

Master-Master List

Stray Kids Master List

[meraki-sunset]

This is a long letter of gratitude. Embrace my endless words of pure gratefulness.

Dear Autor of the most amazing thing I've ever read.

I was writing this letter from the moment I reached the middle of your Crow Strider AU fanfiction. There is so many things I want to say and I'm so happy that I can say it to you all here without words limit. Forgive me for exuberance, I'm squeezing out all my abilities to express what I feel in this foreign language that's not of us first language.

Let me list all the things I'm grateful for, because I'm autistic and I love listing:

1. Crow Strider

The arc of Davesprite you created is masterpiece of writing. The process of deconstructing his personality, forgiving and letting his part behind as well as embracing his new identity and new body is written so thoughtfully with such a care of details. I love how you made him so different from Dave as well as still kept his Daveness in full glory of Striderness. You made him happy and more emotional available and open, at the same time it felt so natural for him to be that way because of the proper build up you gave him. Thank you so much for creating Crow Strider and letting us read his well written arc.

2. There's a Dave for everyone

THERE'S LITERALLY DAVE FOR EVERYONE. You have no idea what struggles I went through trying to understand what person Dave ended up with in canon, and then being sad of what happened in epilogues. I wanted Dave for Karkat. I wanted Dave for Jade. I wanted them to be happy. And you did it. You made it possible. You made them all happy. I love it so much. Thank you so much for making them happy. You even gave Teresi one Dave for her. I can't believe it. It's so beautiful it's unreal.

3. More Davepeta

This part is simple, I simply love Davepeta and you gave me a lot of good Davepeta content. Thank you for that.

4. You made me like characters I didn't like

I wasn't big fan of Tavros. I got tired of Vrisca by the end of Homestuck. I didn't really see Hal as an interesting character. I honestly hated Gamzee. And Jasprosesprite squared was so annoying for me

Well, not anymore! You somehow managed to write these characters more compelling for me than Hussie did. Now I love Tavros and Hal, I mean, cat Hal? Is there anything more cute and cool at the same time?

And NGL I genuinely wanted Gamzee to die and I can't believe that now I'm not, because I just read a very good redemption arc of this clown. I also love the way you dealt with Vrisca. Heck I love all characters written by you!

5. God tier Karkat

I've dreamt of seeing a good piece of god tier Karkat. I was so curious how does it even work to be Knight of Blood, we didn't see any version of Blood god tier in canon. I'm big fan of your version, it fits the character and the aspect so well, and the execution of his arc as he is chosen to open the door... Honestly? I prefer that over canon, though it wouldnt make as much sense as in your fanfiction. It just feels like you took a much better care of Karkat than official ending of Homestuck. Don't get me wrong, I love Homestuck an it's ending, your fanfiction wouldn't exist without it. I honestly think that Hussie didn't really have as much time and space to give his characters as extended arcs as you gave them without losing the dynamic of his story. But you could. And you did. Thank you so much.

6. So many people got better, more extended arcs

Like above. You made Jas much better. You gave Nanna much better, more compelling arc than she had in canon. You made Hal and Tavros much more relatable and gave them very well character development plot, even if short. You took your time to write very needed and wanted dialogues between characters than didn't have their time to interact in canon. Like Jake and Dirk (ESPECIALLY THEM OMG). Like Erisol and Feferi. Like Jas and Rose. And I didn't even know that I needed the last one. Thank you so much.

7. You made ships that I didn't know where even possible and I like them????

Seriously, Tavros and Jane?? Erisol and Arquius??? Josh and Dirk??? I love how your brain works

8. You absolutely nailed the delicate topic of transgender

I used to not be a big fan of June, because there were no realistic signs of John having any kind of thoughts or doubts about his gender in canon. You made a very much needed and really great thoughtfully written arc from June and Josh, even caring about the topic of transition and executing it really great. Thank you so much for yet again being so good at writing arcs.

9. Eridan and Sollux

I love them both and their weird toxic rivalty, and I absolutely love that you gave them some attention and let Eridan grow and try to redeem himself while also helping Sollux with hii2 p2iioniic problem2. I download almost every single frame of it.

10. YOUR ARTSTYLE

You're artstyle. I don't know where to begin with that. It's so amazing. Expressive, dynamic, cute, beautiful, colorful. I love every line of your comics. Your style is the way I always wanted to draw. It's just perfect. And also perfect for Homestuck fanfiction. It's just so similar, yet gives it a bit of softness as well as the kind of expressiveness I love, that makes every single shot more appealing. Warm scene are so warm, sad scene are so sad, dynamic scenes are so epic, it's like so delicious. Yes, I just ran out of words. Let me grab a dictionary...

Your style is outstanding. It gives me this feeling of familiarity, it's similar of Homestuck style, yet so different, its fresh and new while also feels like home.

I wish you have a printed version of your fanfiction (but I probably can't afford it sadly). There is something so soothing in this simple colors, it's not too loud, not too many colors, yet so many and smooth colorful lines. I will learn to draw like you, I'm sorry for adapting your style, but I really want to draw like that and you even posted some tutorials how to draw like you.

Thank you so so much that you put so much time and effort into making this wonderful comic and then share with all of us completely for free. You drew so many expressive pages, sometimes even 10 pages per static dialogue, which means you officially outbested the master of overdoing Andrew Hussie himself, that did maximum of 3 pages per 1 static dialogue scene. I noticed you slowed down a bit at the end and drew much more simplified panels as well as you started using same panels many times. Good. It's okay to go the easier way. No one wants you to overwork yourself and burnout. No one wants you to have trauma with drawing and not wanting to draw comic ever again. It's extremely generous of you that you posted for absolutely free such a wonderful and huge piece of art. I'm endlessly grateful.

11. The plot

I love how you started from one simple idea of giving Crow more arc, and then gradually extended it into a whole huge fixfiction. It went so smoothly it looked like really one different decision of one person can change the whole timeline. It went so naturally, it felt so realistic as if I read something that Andrew Hussie wrote as a coexisting canon.

I have to admit, the whole idea of not doomed and not canon timeline is pretty ridiculous, and I love every bit of it. Paradoxally, it sounds so much like something that could actually exist in Homestuck canon. I love it

A few little things I didn't like that much

I wouldnt be myself if I didn't comment on some stuff that wasn't perfect. I'll be bery brief with that, because these things didn't really bothered me that much, I just want to share a little bit of criticism I have.

I hope it won't sound rude when I say that I didn't really felt like you understand the character of Nepeta very well? She didn't felt that like Nepeta in your fanfiction, at least for me. I felt like some stuff were explained a bit too many times. I know that characters needed that, yet we as viewers already know some stuff and didn't need to read it again. Also, I really missed the type styles of characters. I know how hard it is to keep it through entire fanfiction, especially writing some of the characters with quite complicated type style. I just missed it a bit. On the other hand it made a few characters much more comprehensive.

I hope I didn't hurt you with this few words of critics. Now I want to share a few of my favorite pages, I hope you don't mind if I end this letter with fangirling over your drawings. I actually wanted to do a lot of comments during reading your fanfiction, but the website didn't let comments. Sadly. That's why I'm writing here. And now is time I will do what I wanted to do back then:

This scene, my fav scene in Homestuck, got so extended in your fanfiction, I felt so gifted and it wasn't even my birthday

I cried.

This. Made me laugh so hard. And it's even funnier without context.

I just reached photos limit. Sadly. I'm so grateful for your comic. I love it so much. Thank you again for making it. You're a wonderful person

Hey there! Thank you so much for the letter, and for taking your time translating it to English for me to understand. Since it’s in a list format, I guess I’ll answer as list as well! So:

Crow strider

It was challenging writing Crow because I needed to basically write Dave but with a twist in his personality due to living with the Harley-Egberts and their grandma, in a very cozy and caring environment.

Honestly I don’t think I managed to portray enough Daveness, his personality is very particular and difficult for me to replicate, but I did the best I could and my friend and editor will help me reach the right amount of striderness in the epilogue

2. A Dave for everyone

Indeed, there’s Dave for everyone. The homestuck epilogues made me realize how lonely Jade ended up, and I always loved Davesprite and jade, but with one being human and the other one a Sprite the relationship was bound to fail, and even tho I wasn’t fond of JadexDavepeta, still i would’ve prefered it to jade being all alone and Davepeta dying fighting Lord English. So now, not only Jade has Crow, and they’re happy, but the Karezi – davekat – daverezi mess all got fused into one, because I love them and their trip was a Little different from in canon. And also Davepeta is around, I don’t think they’ll end up with anyone, but they’ll vibe on EarthC.

3. More Davepeta

They’re alive, and I like showing the craziness that comes from them knowing all timelines but being above them and detached from them. 

4. The characters you didn’t use like

I like exploding underused characters. Because with them, you’ve only seen the Surface, but at the same time you have info about them that can be used to make them more profound. If Tavros got revived, why isn’t he mad at Vriska? What was he doing those 3 years in the bubbles? If Jasprose is a seer and has knowledge of all timelines due to being ultimate self, doesn’t that make her the ultimate clairvoyant? Doesn’t that mean she’s the key to winning? Does she miss the mother like rose does? If there’a already an Arquius, why make another? Why not have just Hal as a Sprite and have him figure out what being alive is actually like?. You get the Surface of the characters and knowing what you know about them, you dig deeper, until you find their humanity and write about it.

5. Godtier Karkat

I love Karkat on Homestuck, but I feel like the character lost weight towards the end of the story, he stopped being the leader and while everyone went and fought someone important like the Condesce, the jacks, the dogjack, or Lord English, he was just somewhere else doing whatever. I wanted to give him his hero moment that closes his development.

As for the door, I feel like in canon john was the right choice to open the door, he’s the hero and the leader, not to mention it’s a human session, it makes total sense and I wouldn’t change it

Every story has things that don’t get to be explored, because that would make them too long and cut the flow, making it unreadable. That why we love fan fictions and AUs so much, they take the pieces and reassemble them into something new, filling the empty spaces.

What makes the events on AUs fun is that they didn’t happen in canon. So if John opened the door in canon, and it was right, then Karkat can open this one, and it can be right on this specific timeline. He gets closure from the door he never got to open, and takes back his role as a leader, even if it’s just for a moment, since the battle is over by now. He’s the leader once again, but this time he understands the weight of it in a way he couldn’t grasp when he was 13, claimed he was in charge and let everyone down. He now understands it’s not just something you ask for, it’s something you earn, he’s now the Knight of blood, god of bonds, he took down the Condesce in the name of his species, and will open the door for his peers to enter the new universe they created together where they’ll create a free society, he became what the signless predicted, his rightful successor. His arc is completed.

6. Extended arcs

Jas was planned since the beginning to close crow’s arc about his rose and his regrets about leaving her behind. It’s only when he’s made peace with losing her, has left his old self behind and is ready to face the battle and his future, that he gets his reward. He gets her back, in the strangest way

With Nanna, i just though nobody ever focused that there was an actual adult around during the whole adventure, Nanna would’ve spent a lot of time around john and jade, them being each others remaining family. So I tried to give her the role of a guardian, breaking a Little with this “orphaned children on their own” that all characters have.

Honestly I tried to make it as interesting as I could, sometimes I would take characters that didn’t have any screen time and think, what can they do? What’s in their mind at this moment that they could tackle in conversation? And with whom? Who else needs screen time?. And that’s how you get, Jake and Tavros bonding, Nepeta, Fefeta, Davepeta and Feferi ship-chat, Arquius telling Terezi and Karkat about Erisol, Hal comforting Eridan, ect.

It’s actually a really cool writing exercise I do sometimes. I grab two characters that have nothing in common, and write a conversation between them. What’s the common ground? Are their stories alike in some way? Do they have a common hobby or worry? It’s really cool because you find stuff about the characters you never paid attention to before

7. Unlikely ships

Tavros and Jane came from me wanting Tavros to be more assertive. In canon Vriska instructed him to not interact with the Alpha kids during those 6 months, but since this Tavros doesn’t listen to her because he took self-esteem lessons from Rufioh, I felt like he probably spent that time actually being a guide to Jane and then becoming Friends while solving puzzles, Jane being a fan of mysteries and Tavros probably missing his flarp days. Also theres a funny thing about Tavros and Jane, and it’s Tavros is supposed to represent Peter pan, while Vriska is supposed to represent both Tinkerbell (she dressed up like a fairy for him and later became an actual fairy) being attracted to him but being short fused when rejected, and also represent Captain Hook, Peter pan’s enemy (with her flarp persona and her ancestor being a pirate), but she’s not Wendy in any way, and I feel like Jane is, she’s the homeschooled girl, with blue eyes who looked through her window waiting to be free because her father wouldn’t let her out (also Wendy’s brother was named john who used big glasses). She’s a normal girl coming in contact with this fairy boy from a world of only children. Idk, makes sense to me. (besides, Wendy darling’s daughter, who Peter pan later takes on adventures too was named Jane, who also has blue eyes)

Erisol and Arquius was a crack ship that suddenly made sense, because it’s one-sided, and I feel like arquius is a caring person, he just has a difficult time socializing like a normal person. He’s just really happy to be a sprite and is pissed by Erisol’s insistence on wanting to explode.

Also, Arquius promising Fefeta that he wouldn’t break Erisol’s neck unless he had a good reason ( he kinda wanted to) and eventually having to break his neck for the good reason of god tiering him (he now doesn't want to and feels bad about it) was something I planned for months

Josh and dirk, i think it’s funny. Dirk wouldn’t have dated jade because she’s a girl, but Josh is a boy so it’s good, AND, he’s like a more direct, version of Jake who takes no bullshit.

8. The topic of transgender

Originally the second spaceship post retcon was supposed to arrive empty, or with only Davesprite, but I saw an opportunity to solve a division in the audience. Some people were interested in John remaining as he was, while others wanted to see June. Since John never showed any doubts about his gender in canon, it wasn’t in my original plans for June to make an appearance during CSAU, because the comic only covered the same period of time as canon. But when it came time to write the retcon I realized I had an opportunity to make them both coexist, making a shift in the timeline, but said shift being there both since the beginning and for the purpose of surviving the recon. Making June and Josh a reality since the beginning, so the timeline would survive the consequences of the two Egberts crossing paths post retcon.

It’s nice to hear you liked it, I know not everyone did. I tried to be respectful but at the same time be true to the nonsensical nature of canon Homestuck that makes timelines twist and change to the story’s convenience, making the events real but chaotic. Also since i knew John’s dad wasn’t coming back and Jane’s dad wouldn’t make it, June would be the last remaining conection to John’s old home and so John would be June's, relying on eachother for comfort when it comes to the loss of their father and home.

9. Eridan and Sollux

I want to cover Eridan’s redemption in the epilogue, since all we know is he grew as a person during his time in the bubbles, leading to his change of heart interacting with Sollux and Kanaya

10. Art style

Thank you! I like to give the characters a full range of emotions and for the surroundings to accompany that

No need to be sorry for learning through my art, in the end my style, like everyone else’s, is bits and pieces from other artists we’ve seen, admired and/or learned from. Just make sure to add your personal touch to make your artstyle trully yours

It’s true that by the end I reused more static panels for dialogue, both because there was a lot for the characters to say, not that much action left, and my battery was running low haha

11. The plot

I tried my best for the story to be a big butterfly effect steaming from crow’s decision to ascend, working towards the most possible outcomes like Crow getting grimdarked by the Condesce too, the sprites surviving because of Nanna and so on

I wanted this timeline to coexist with canon because I don’t like the idea of overwriting it, canon happened and was important, CSAU just happened to be taking place close by

12. Things you didn’t like

I do in fact not understand the character of Nepeta very well, I reread Homestuck in order to get the original troll's personality better, but Nepeta is a character I don’t get. On top of that, she doesn’t appear much in CSAU so didn’t have much time to develop her.

I do struggle with over explaining, I think is stems from not wanting the reader to be confused (it has happened on discord that people come and ask me what was going on in the story when i thought I had written it in a way people could understand with no problems), which leads to me explaining everything too bluntly sometimes, so the characters sometimes ramble TOO much, and I wish I could go back and reduce the dialogs, but that would involve going back to the page’s codes to delete certain pages and replace others, and also changing the programming for the page’s backgrounds, not to mention my computer crashes when I try to modify pages too far back, since they’re 4000 of them. It’s one of those things I can only learn from and try to do better in the next project

The character’s typing was a core part of Homestuck because it was mostly portrayed as blocks of texts and the quirks made it easy to know who was talking even with people having the same typing color. The reason I didn’t use them it’s simply because I could barely write good enough in English, let alone add quirks. My friend offered me to add the quirks at some point when we were revising the dialogs, but I declined because some people found it easier to read without them and I didn’t want to add another step to the render of the pages.

13. Favorite pages

I also cried with that Gamzee panel, I planned it for months and i waited a long time to draw those last panels, I’m glad they made people laugh

Haha, also yeah, the Strider reunion got really extended with so many extra striders. Davepeta, Crow and Hal making the reunion complete

Thank you for this message! i'll do my best to write a good epilogue (which by now is actually a secuel) and i hope you have a great day🌻🌻🌻

[girlkisser13]

emily i’m sorry

"emily, forgive me, can we" "make it up as we go along?" "i'm twenty-seven and i don't know who i am" "but i know what i want"

pairings: emily prentiss x fem!reader

warnings/tags: angst with a bit of fluff at the end.

summary: you and emily find your way to each other.

returning to quantico was like stepping into a time capsule. the bau had always been a place of intensity, where minds were stretched to their limits and where you had once spent countless hours. but this time, walking through those familiar halls, you felt a different kind of pressure— the weight of seeing emily again after so many years apart.

the past had a way of creeping up on you, especially in a place like this, where every corner held memories. you had loved emily once, more than you thought possible. but in your pursuit of a career that demanded everything, you had made the impossible decision to walk away. it was mutual, or at least that’s what you both said at the time. there were no harsh words, no accusations— just two people who had to part ways for the sake of their futures.

yet standing here now, you couldn’t help but question that choice.

as you made your way into the bullpen, you were greeted by the team— a group of people you knew by reputation but had never worked with before. penelope garcia was the first to spot you, her eyes lighting up as she made her way over.

"you must be the new liaison!" she exclaimed, her voice as bright as her personality. "i’m penelope garcia, resident genius, and lover of all things tech."

you smiled, accepting the warm handshake. "y/n l/n, nice to meet you, garcia."

"please, call me penelope. we’re all friends here," she said with a wink before turning to the rest of the team. "everyone, meet our new liaison."

you exchanged handshakes and introductions with david rossi, spencer reid, aaron hotchner, and derek morgan. they were all friendly, professional, and welcoming. none of them knew your history with emily, and you weren’t sure if that made things easier or harder.

"prentiss is in her office," rossi mentioned, almost casually. "she’s probably buried in paperwork."

you nodded, trying to keep your expression neutral. "i’ll go introduce myself."

the walk to emily’s office felt longer than it should have, each step heavy with anticipation. you took a deep breath before knocking on the door, trying to steady your nerves.

"come in," came emily’s voice, slightly muffled by the door.

you pushed the door open and stepped inside, your heart skipping a beat as your eyes met hers. emily looked almost exactly as you remembered— poised, strong, with that keen, intelligent gaze that had always drawn you in. but when she saw you, her eyes widened in shock, and she froze, the file she was holding slipping from her fingers and landing on the desk.

"y/n?" her voice was soft, almost disbelieving.

"hey, emily," you said, your voice betraying a hint of the nervousness you felt. "it’s been a while."

she stared at you for a moment, as if trying to convince herself that you were really there. finally, she found her voice. "i didn’t know you were coming back."

"i’m the new liaison,” you explained, stepping further into the office. "i just met the team."

emily blinked, clearly trying to process this new information. "you’re taking jj’s position?"

"yeah," you confirmed. "it feels right. like coming home, in a way."

a long, tense silence stretched between you. the last time you had seen emily, you both had agreed to part ways. you needed to focus on your career, and she had understood. but standing here now, all those old feelings resurfaced, and you realized how much you had missed her.

"i didn’t think i’d see you again," emily finally said, her voice low and laced with emotion.

"neither did i," you admitted. "but life has a funny way of bringing you back to the things you thought you’d left behind."

emily studied you, her expression unreadable. "why did you come back?"

her question was simple, but it hit you like a ton of bricks. you had thought about this moment, about what you would say if you ever saw her again. now that it was here, the words felt heavy in your mouth.

"emily, i’m sorry," you began, your voice cracking slightly. "when we broke up, i thought i was doing the right thing. i thought i needed to focus on my career, and i convinced myself that it was for the best."

she listened, her eyes never leaving yours, but she didn’t say anything.

"i thought i was making the right choice," you continued, your voice filled with regret. "but after all this time, after everything i’ve done, i still don’t know who i am. the only thing i’m sure of is that i still love you. i never stopped."

emily looked down, her expression softening. "you left," she whispered, her voice carrying a weight of hurt. "you chose your career over us."

"i know," you replied, feeling a lump form in your throat. "and i'm sorry for that, more than you can imagine. i thought i was making the right choice, but i was wrong. i've spent all this time trying to figure out who i am, but the only thing i'm sure of is that i still love you."

her breath hitched slightly, and she finally looked up at you, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears. "you broke my heart, y/n," she said, her voice trembling.

"i know," you whispered, taking a cautious step closer. "and i’ll do whatever it takes to make it up to you, if you’ll let me."

for a long moment, emily just looked at you, as if weighing your words. then, slowly, she stepped forward and pulled you into a tight embrace. the warmth of her arms around you, the familiar scent of her hair, it all came rushing back, and you held her close, never wanting to let go.

"i missed you," she murmured against your shoulder, her voice thick with emotion.

"i missed you too," you whispered back, relief flooding through you. "i’m not going anywhere this time, emily. i promise."

she pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. there was a hint of a smile on her lips, a glimmer of hope in her gaze.

"maybe we could… start over?" she suggested tentatively.

you smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. "i’d like that."

as you stood there, holding each other, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. not just in the bau, but with emily, in her arms, where you’d always belonged.

and this time, you weren’t going to let her go.

[yandere-sins]

Crisis Averted - Part I [Genshin Spoilers 4.1.]

New Genshin Updates always make my thoughts go brrrr. So here's a little something (with modified happenings to fit the story lol) of Wriothesley after he survived the encounter with the Primordial Sea!

Fandom: Genshin Impact Pairings: Yandere!Wriothesley x GN!Reader   Warnings: Yandere, Topics of death (Fear of death, Near-death experiences, Fear of loved ones dying), Reader got locked into a closet, Forced Relationship, Dub-Con touches, Long post

Heavy were his steps as he finally made his way back to his office. 

The stairs seemed to drag on endlessly after exerting more energy in a matter of minutes than Wriothesley had done in months—actually, years. He couldn't even remember when he last needed to drain his vision for just one more blast of ice and then one more. Luckily, Clorinde was neither a talkative fellow nor in much better shape than he was after they both struggled to hold back the Primordial Sea from escaping. They were both tough and hard to take down in a fight, but even they had their bodily limits.

She left him on the floor beneath his office with a short nod, a few words exchanged out of courtesy and thankfulness. Then she was gone, and Wriothesley's heavy boots continued their ascend, disregarding any weariness in his bones and the burning of his muscles. In a way, the Primordial Water was a prisoner of this place, and Wriothesley chuckled at his own thoughts as he came to this conclusion, exhaustion making everything sound a bit more funny in his head. However, despite knowing that the crisis was averted and the seemingly inescapable destruction and ruin had been contained like an unwilling prisoner of the Fortress of Meropide, he didn't feel like he had succeeded in keeping death away from what he treasured.

Muffling the yawn ripping from his throat, how could he not be elated by the thought of returning to you, the feeling giving him back the pep in his step? Even after all that happened—and Wriothesley had thought of many, many ways this could have ended—you were both still here. Alive. 

Unless the ice had frozen you to the core by the time he reached you.

He skipped the last two steps with a jump to avoid this possibility, generating enough energy to jog from the staircase to the closet. Noticing the glistening ice still enveloping the doorknobs, Wriothesley let out a breath of relief before quickly grabbing them, unbothered by the frozen sting ramming into his hands. Not even his body heat would be enough to melt the ice, but he'd be damned if he let his own safety measures keep him from you. 

Bracing his body against one of the doors, Wriothesley made sure to keep the closet standing upright while he pried the other one open. More strength was needed to loosen the ice that had seeped into every crack, an airtight grave keeping him away from you. But even so, it would have been a better death than what the Primordial Sea would have done to you had they not been able to contain it. Wriothesley forced himself to avoid the thoughts of the pain and agony the water would have caused you, the idea of him suffering such a fate enough to rampage his skin with goosebumps. He had put you into an awful position, but at that moment, he had believed it to be more merciful than being dissolved and drowned in the water.

Jerking the door again, he could hear the ice cracking, more relief washing over him. Relief that it would have succeeded in protecting you until the worst was over, and even more relief that it was giving way now, returning you to him. Surely, you must have already been panicking with the cold raking at you and the slow loss of air. He'd have to apologize later for putting you into this position, wipe your tears if necessary, and get someone to smuggle some cake into the Fortress as a well-done treat. But all he wanted to do now was to have you back in his arms. Everything else was a worry for later, like the Primordial Sea threatening to destroy all life around Fontaine.

One more ice-breaking tug and the door finally gave away, revealing a trembling, miserable person. His trembling, miserable person. Your first instinct was to gasp for air, the few minutes locked away having taken its toll on you. You were coughing and gasping, clawing towards the light, more than ready to exit your makeshift coffin. Wriothesley caught you before you fell, your eyes unaccustomed to the brightness after spending so much time in the dark, and he sat you upright again, helping you out of the blanket he had wrapped around you in a hurry when the commotion started. 

More than any ice, your body had cooled down significantly, and other than when he touched the frozen doorknobs, Wriothesley noticed the temperature of your skin even through your clothes. It pained him, yet, it had been necessary. Pulling his trusty coat off his shoulders, he slung it around your violently shivering form, closing the front tightly so the fur collar would warm your cheeks and ears. There was no way he'd let you walk on legs that were fragile from the cold, and he never planned to let you go anywhere on your own in the first place. 

Strong arms wrapped around your body, now engulfed in his coat. His scent was so prevalent, even when it mixed with yours. Wriothesley appreciated how well they worked together. Had scent been enough to mark you as his, he might not have had to do so many things to keep you by his side. You two could have lived pretty normal lives if all it needed was him rubbing off on you, but alas, normalcy wasn't something he had ever been blessed with. Given that there was a very real chance of him dying from being submerged in Primordial Water, not even his death would be able to be claimed as normal. But neither would yours.

But not today. Neither of you died that day, and Wriothesley thanked whatever godly entity he had to thank for that. Even just having the chance to hold you once more was enough to convince him that everything would be okay. At least for now. For one more day. Lifting you out of the closet, he held you, unmoving. Your arms wormed out, desperately holding on to him as if for your dear life, his warmth seeping onto you. Wriothesley felt your nails rake over his chest, panic driving you closer to him. Every shiver, every squirm through the thick material of his coat, and every sob ripping out of your throat, broke his heart more than you'd ever know. 

"Why did you do that?" you asked, your voice so full of hurt and accusation, yet you pressed yourself harder against him, teeth chattering. For all you knew, you two had been drinking tea (albeit reluctantly on your part) when the alarms suddenly began to blare around you, and Wriothesley shoved you into the closet as if he was punishing you.

"I had to," he mumbled back, his words muffled by the fabric, his arms restricting tighter around your body.

"I could have died! It was so hard to breathe! And the cold… the cold…”

More sobs tore out of you, and Wriothesley closed his eyes, knowing he had to endure the blame your shaky, fragile voice rightfully accused him of. You were right, but would you understand? Could you understand that he'd rather allow you to die peacefully and whole than go through the same agony he'd be in at the same time? Wriothesley had laid awake countless nights thinking of the what ifs and what to do if push came to shove, only to still be unprepared and get run over by the events, wrapping you in a blanket and kissing your head before forcing you into a closet and sealing it shut. Your safety, or at least heightened chances of survival, were the only things he could think of at that moment, you being the only component in his plan that could make him panic.

But now you were crying in his arms, the fear of everything—the unknown, the darkness, death—spilling out of you. He wished he could have prevented it, but now he knew that the truth would only make it worse for you. If he told you what was happening, you'd react like most prisoners here would, and he couldn't guilt you. Not telling you and keeping you in the dark, doing whatever he had to do, regardless of the feelings, was the only way to keep you safe. Wriothesley was the only one to protect you from a fate much worse than what awaited him if he failed. But now that the danger had been averted, the least he could do was hold you.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, rubbing your back through the fabric, hoping to give you the comfort he needed almost as much himself. But other than you, he could only dream of being comforted by the person he loved. And even those dreams seemed unrealistic. Worse days awaited you two, your and his fate sealed together with that of the rest of Fontaine. But not now. Now wasn't the time for tears and worries, and if he hadn't been so damn exhausted—with you in his arms doubly, warm and soft—he would have celebrated your survival more. Soon, you'd come to your senses, fighting him again, and this time, he wouldn't stop you. He couldn't. 

So he'd use what little time he had to enjoy this moment. Walking over to his chair, you graciously let him carry you, allowing him this little, intimate gesture of holding you in his arms all throughout the short journey. Even though he sat down abruptly, knees giving out from under him, your body landed softly, enveloped in his while he let out a strained grunt. The feeling of gravity pressing you into him was one he would have liked to treasure for the next few days, and if it had been up to him, you two would have been cooped up for just as long. But beneath his calloused hands, he could feel your body warming up, your breath no longer icy when it brushed his neck and cheeks.

The fight hadn't taken too long, evident by you still being alive, and yet it felt like he'd been gone for weeks, maybe months. Years of absence that made him miss the feeling of your body and the sound of your voice. His mind should have been on the enemy he was fighting, and yet, his only concern had been you. Getting back to you and not dying without seeing you one more time was everything he thought of as he pushed another punch of eyes to that gate that kept the Primordial Sea contained. You gave him the strength to keep going, if only to give you a chance of survival and to not die in pain like anyone else who'd get into contact with the Primordial Sea. To not give up until Neuvillette showed up, releasing him from this duty to society so he could return to the duty of loving you. 

It had been a lot, but when he raised a tired hand to push some of the fur out of your face, witnessing the tears having stopped and the warmth returned to your cheek, it had all been worth it. Wriothesley had to make progress on the project he kept hidden from everyone to ensure that you'd be protected from all the dangers surrounding him. If anyone, then at least you. So even if he couldn't push this tired body of his to do it that day, he knew that from the moment he'd open his eyes after a nap, he'd be back to working on it tirelessly. 

"This face," he sighed, cupping your cheek and snorting softly at the pout crossing your features. Tracing the bridge of your nose, he hummed, satisfied that everything was still right where it belonged and had not fallen off from the cold. 

"These lips," he mused, brushing his thumb over the soft cushions he dreamed about kissing every night. 

"And these eyes." 

His words made your gaze rise to his, beautiful jewels in the moody, damp lighting of his office, glistening from the tears yet raging like the sea in a storm defying his adoring stare. He wouldn't have wanted it any other way. If you had to hate him, then hate him. Despise him, he'd deal with it. Wanted to hurt him, he'd let you. Love him… A man could dream. But seeing a storm of emotions was better than the faded light of death you had when he pulled you out of the closet. That was something he wished to never see again. That he'd fight and strife for to never appear on your face again.

"Don't," he chuckled, grin splitting his lips as he pinched your cheek in a loving reprimand after noticing how you wanted to start arguing. Wriothesley couldn't help but laugh out loud when you let out the most adorable grunt in annoyance, squirming on his lap until you could hide your cheeks into the fur again, away from his touch. He settled for the nape of your neck, holding you there gently and noticing in the back of his head how long your hair had grown since you came to the fortress as he brushed his hand through it.

You glared at him defiantly from the safety of his coat, and Wriothesley couldn't imagine a better place or better look for you. "That's what I'm fighting for," he mumbled, pushing his strained muscles to move so he could kiss your forehead. "It's all worth it as long as I can hold you like this. Just a little longer, alright? I'll get you something nice in return."

Wriothesley wasn't someone who begged, not even for your attention. He'd take it and have it as he pleased, but in that moment, he worried he'd lose you if he let you go—for real this time. The uncertainty and inability to tell you what was happening, left a cold, dark hole inside him, wrenching his gut and bursting his heart with regret. All he had to soothe the pain it caused him was to hold you and feel your soft heartbeat through the layers of clothes around you two. 

It relieved him to know you were safe. He was safe. You both were okay, but mostly you. He never told you that if there was a way to save your life in exchange for his, he'd do it, no question asked. But it was a weird topic to bring up, especially when you considered him to be a heartless, manipulative asshole who used his authority to take advantage of someone less fortunate. So he didn't. Like many things, he kept his thoughts to himself, hoping that, in some miraculous way, you'd come to understand one day. Maybe even like him. 

"I hate you," you reiterated, and Wriothesley managed another chuckle to hide how much that statement hurt him. He fully expected you to jump off his lap now, walk away from him and out of his office, choosing to spend your time wisely instead of indulging him. You were no longer shivering, your teeth calm, and your heartbeat even, and yet, you didn't budge. 

Turning your head to the side, you placed it on his chest, stilling on top of his heart, this small gesture enough to make it threaten to burst out of his ribcage. Maybe he underestimated you. Perhaps you did understand, at least vaguely, that whatever happened had been pretty bad for him. He'd take the pity if it came from you. Wriothesley could only hope you magically understood that whatever he did in his absence, he did it not to harm but to protect you. You never showed him any mercy with your opinions or actions, so this side of you could only be explained by assuming kindness and understanding from you. But whatever it was, he was grateful. So, so grateful. 

This was all he ever wanted: holding you, burying his face in your hair in a moment of vulnerability for him. Where he wasn't stronger, wasn't exuding authority over you. Forcing you to bend to his will. A moment where he could forget the world as all his senses tuned themselves on you. Everything was you, from the softness of your body to the smell surrounding him. Your heartbeat in his ears and his eyes closing as Wriothesley was comforted by your warmth. Even if you'd never appreciate what he was doing, this was enough reward for all the hardships he went through for you daily, but especially on this day. It reminded him of why he was working so hard, even though he never meant to fall in love with you this deeply. Your tiny bit of compliance would satisfy this overpowering need for you for a couple of days until he'd be back on his feet. 

Wriothesley wanted to say more. In fact, he wanted to tell you everything. But it wasn't the right time, nor did he have the strength. Your feelings changed nothing about his, every beat of his heart screaming, "I love you! I love you! I love you!"

He was a little glad you didn't hear it. That would have been embarrassing. 

Grinning to himself, he could feel his conscience being pulled out from under him. His breaths even, despite the extra weight on his chest that he clung to desperately, his chair never feeling more comfortable than in that moment. He wished to stay awake for a little longer, muse about the fact that you were the best blanket he could wish for, feeling just so right. Sleeping while holding you like this would definitely improve his nights, as he wouldn't have to worry about where you were and who you were with. If you were safe or in the process of trying to do something stupid. But he'd take what he could get, even if it was just this one time of you not trying to tear out of his arms and run from him.

After all, this day could have ended very differently. But it didn't. 

He got to hold you again, the crisis averted so he could return to you. He had to be thankful for that, as his life would be worth nothing without you. And even waking up with you gone would be more pleasant than any thought about you dying far away from him. So he'd take this time to rest like he always had wanted, his beloved in his arms, his thoughts and dreams filled with you.

Trying not to be too greedy, now that he knew what it felt like not to lose you.

[prongsfish]

@jegulus-microfic / feb 26 / bed / 576 words

“No fucking way.” 

It took James a few seconds to place the voice. He was barely awake, only just aware of the warm body flushed against his own, the eucalyptus scent his nose was buried in, and Barty Crouch Jr, who he thought was trying to whisper, but was really just hissing words louder than most peoples’ standard volume. He pushed his face deeper into soft hair, feeling Regulus pull James’ arms in closer to himself where he wrapped them around him. 

“Are you seeing this shit, Ev?” Barty continued, and James struggled to resist groaning. He wanted nothing more than to be left alone, basking in the blissful feeling of waking up next to Regulus for as long as physically possible, but he knew that his chances of being left alone would decrease greatly if he showed any sign of wanting it. He didn’t know Regulus’ friends very well, but you pick up a few things about people when obsessed with their best friend, and Barty and Evan seemed like the kind of guys who would cut their own arms off if they knew it’d so much as slightly inconvenience you. 

“I am,” Evan confirmed, mock horror blending with amusement.

“They’re shirtless.” He practically gasped, and James thought Barty sounded far too offended for someone he’d seen sticking his tongue down Evan’s throat many times over breakfast.

“I can’t wait to tell the girls about this.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Barty said, and the two lead into a long conversation about just how hilarious Dorcas and Pandora’s reactions would be. James was seconds away from cursing both of them into oblivion for disturbing his peace when Regulus shifted from in front of him. He let out a distressed noise, gripping tighter to stop him from getting out of bed, and Evan and Barty fell silent for the first time since waking, seeming to finally notice that the pair they were talking about were awake.

“Let go, James,” Regulus mumbled, voice still not fully recovered from sleep. James just whined again. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

James huffed, still not entirely happy to let Regulus leave, but loosened his grip nonetheless and felt as Regulus slowly got up.

“He’s never this bloody nice to us in bed.” Barty grumbled, quickly followed by a shout of “Ow, what the fuck!” and the sound of something being thrown across the dorm. 

“If you value your lives, you’ll leave. Now.”

Evan and Barty just snorted. “Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Evan laughed, and Barty called “See you at breakfast!” as the door opened and they clambered out. 

Regulus sighed as he stepped back closer to the bed again. “Sorry about them, they’re idiots.”

James finally opened his eyes to see Regulus looking down at him from above, light framing his head like a halo, as beautiful as ever. James, despite all his prior whingeing, couldn’t help but smile up at him. He could barely believe he was really here after so long of never letting himself imagine it, limiting the way his stomach would flip over the boy to impossible fantasies and daydreams, but there he was. The dungeons were much colder than the Gryffindor dorms, but James couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through him anyway. 

So, when Regulus sat down on the edge of the bed and James rose to lean into his side, he knew he was telling the truth when he said, “S’alright baby, just glad to be here.”

[merlinmarvelandother-oneshots]

Hey, I saw you had request open and I was hoping to put in one, IL keep it short, I just got out of a bad relationship and I'm healing and was hoping you could possibly write about how underTale, underFell, UnderSwap, and HorrorTale (dreamtale to if you are ok with that one) would act if there love or friend just got out of a bad relationship with their ex. Sorry if you don't do these, but I'm just throwing this out there. Please ignore if you aren't intrested and have a good day.

i hope you’re doing well anon <3

undertale, underfell, underswap amd horrortale skelebros (Ft. Dream!Sans) with a reader who’s just gotten out of a bad relationship

(a/n: had this one in the drafts for months and i just wanted to get it published so i skipped out on Nightmare. so sorry this took so long, i hope you’re doing well anon! anyway, im hoping to get back into the writing groove. we’ll see how this goes.)

undertale:

sans:

-“hey, i’m sorry… c’mere.”

-he would engulf you in a hug, if you’re okay with hugs

-while he’s happy you’ve gotten out of a bad relationship, he’s still sad with what you had to go through.

-he’ll make puns to cheer you up, however many it takes.

-he for sure takes you out to eat at grillby’s.

-he’s there to be a listener, a shoulder to cry on, and someone to go to whenever you’re feeling particularly down.

papyrus:

-“a BAD relationship? human, why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

-he’s so sad. his best friend? being in an unhappy relationship? WITHOUT telling him? he’s distraught.

-he cooks for you breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

-he does literally everything in his power to make you happy

-it doesn’t matter what time it is. you call him, he’ll come.

-he’d do anything to see you smile

Underfell

Sans:

-“about damn time you left that douche,” he grumbled.

-“Red, not the time.”

-he rolled his eyelights.

-“fine, fine. whatever.”

-his face turned a little softer.

-“anything i can do for ya?”

-he would do a lot. he’d complain about it the whole time, but if you asked, chances are he’d do it.

Papyrus:

-his eyes narrowed.

-“you say they mistreated you?”

-he sighs when you nod.

-“alright, come inside.”

-he moved out of the door frame so you can enter. he gestures towards his couch.

-“sit down. i’ll make you some tea.”

-he comes back a few minutes later with tea for you both. he seems slightly annoyed when you blow on it, despite it being scalding hot.

-he’d listen to anything you wanted to say to him about it.

-after that, you never see your ex again…. strange, they lived very close to you…

-oh, well.

Underswap

Sans:

-“a bad relationship, you say? why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

-he listens to you, anything you want to cent

-he gives his best advice on how to not end up in a situation like that again

Papyrus:

-“want me to beat ‘im up for ya?” he would jokingly ask.

-but he’d do it for real, if you wanted him to.

-he’d drag you onto his couch and watch all your favorite movies with you until you both fell asleep.

-he’ll provide you with all your favorite snacks.

-he’d stay up late with you while you cried, and do his best to comfort you.

-he has shockingly good advice.

Horrortale:

Sans:

-he seems taken aback.

-you weren’t happy in your relationship? this whole time?

-that hole in his head affected him more than he initially thought. he couldn’t even tell his best friend was struggling.

-he’d feel super guilty about that.

-you’d also have to hold him back by his good to keep him from charging after your ex.

-after he finally calmed from his anger, he’d be there, open arms and willing to help.

Papyrus:

-“i see. come inside.”

-definitely cooking all of your favorite foods for you, listening while you vent and cry.

-he doesn’t have much advice, but he does his best.

-offers for you to stay the night (or as long as you want).

-he does his best to cheer you up, even with his physical limitations.

Dreamtale:

Sans:

-he freezes.

-how had he never noticed?

-suddenly, everything clicked for him. the way he had been sensing more and more negativity from you since you and your ex had gotten together. how you always brushed the topic off, saying it was work or family matter.

-the way you had pushed him away.

-he snapped himself back to reality, offering for you to come inside.

-obviously it didn’t take him long to cheer you up. it took longer to heal, but he’ll make this right for you.

[mingtinysworld]

Hold me tight

Pairing: daddy!yunho x little!reader

Genre: DDLG, fluff, comfort, angst

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: Coming home from a very overwhelming day, your caretaker Yunho is there for you through the emotional turmoil

A/n: so delving into more ddlg type content has been on my mind for a really long time now. I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s really special to me and I hope that you can enjoy it. I think Yunho fits the role of a caretaker perfectly, and I can really imagine him being so sweet yet authoritative with his partner. Anyways, this was so sweet it gave me diabetes, so beware. I love youuu pls like, comment and reblog - J

Cutie divider credit to @bunnysrph

The tears are making your vision blurry as you force your way through the filled hallways. Desperately needing to reach your car, you start jogging. People around you are looking at you strangely, as if you’ve gone crazy. Being so out of it, you don’t even notice, your only train of thought being to get out of there.

Finally getting inside the car, you take in a shaky breath and keep clenching and unclenching your fists. You take a minute to calm down in order to be able to drive home safely. Turning the ignition, you take off in the opposite direction of the university. As you drive, sobs escape your body, and you can’t seem to be able to stop. You feel absolutely pathetic for letting the anxiety and stress get the best of you.

You step on the gas, wanting to get to Yunho as fast as possible. You desperately need his steady and comforting presence. You run through multiple red lights, surprised you haven’t been hit yet. As you pull into the driveway your breathing intensifies, feeling so close yet so far from comfort.

You run to the door, and open it with such an urgency that it startles Yunho, who is casually lounging on the couch. He sits up with alarm at your abrupt entrance and jumps to his feet. You run to him and throw your arms around his neck, putting your whole weight onto him. He reciprocates by holding your body and pulling your legs up around his waist.

“Shh I got you baby,” he speaks with a soft tone. He doesn’t question anything and just holds you so close. He sits back down on the couch bringing you along with him. You bury your head into his neck, crying softly, tears staining his shirt. He rubs your back soothingly, slowly bringing you down from your tangled emotions.

“Daddy why am I like this?” You ask with a hoarse whisper.

“Like what sweetheart?” Yunho questions.

You take a few seconds, collecting your thoughts. Yunho waits patiently, running a soft hand through your hair. You shakily breathe and lift your head up to make eye contact.

“I feel so pathetic. I feel like I can’t ever do anything right. Why do I feel overwhelmed by so many things? I get overwhelmed by work, by school, by my own friends. I can’t handle the loud noises and I feel like I fail at every task. It’s just…all too much.” A sob escapes you and Yunho looks at you with eyes that hold so many emotions. He would do absolutely anything for you, if only it meant it would guarantee your happiness.

“Oh sweetheart, you’re not pathetic. Not at all. Everyone has different capabilities and limits, and that’s ok. You have so many talents, so many amazing attributes. And you are so so beautiful. You’re my girl aren’t you?” He looks at you expectantly.

You look down shyly, not meeting his eyes. “Yes, yes I am.”

He beams with delight. “That’s right baby, you’re my girl, and always will be. I’m here to take care of you. I know the days are hard, but I will do whatever I can to make it easier on you. All I want you to do is turn off your pretty little brain and let me take care of you alright?”

Your heart aches from the care you’re being shown. You love Yunho so much. He is so much more than a partner. He’s your caretaker, your lifeline, your forever. You hold so much love and respect for him that you’re not sure how to even contain it. You just feel like exploding with affection.

“Now, I want you to eat something. I know you must’ve not eaten today, so that’s priority number one. I made some stir fry earlier, would you like some?” He asks.

“Daddyyy I don’t wanna eat. I’m not hungry.” You try your well known pout, not expecting it to work at all.

“Nuh uh, don’t give me that look. You’re eating, even if it’s a little bit.” He says in a mock stern voice.

He lifts you up with him and you head to the kitchen. You sit by the table, just watching him prepare plates. You swing your legs back and forth, already feeling so much better. He comes with the food and sits next to you. He tries to make you laugh constantly, and you giggle uncontrollably, almost having choked twice already.

“Here comes the airplaneee brrrrr” he flies the fork around, having the silliest look on his face.

You screech with laughter. “Yunho! I’m not a baby!”

“Oh? I thought you were? Huh, must have the wrong person.” He grabs his chin as if he’s in deep thought. You let out a snort at his antics and he raises a goofy eyebrow at you.

“Ah I see. You think this is funny.”

You shake your head quickly. “Nope! Not at all.” You purse your lips trying to keep in the laughter.

All of a sudden his lips attack your face in a bout of violent smooches. He kisses your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, any exposed skin he can find. You squeal as he holds you so tight.

“That’s for not taking me seriously.” He pretends as if he’s so offended. You let him get away with it and just laugh at him.

Finally, one more round of a kiss attack later, the food is finished and you’re feeling full yet completely exhausted. He leads you to the bedroom and changes you into your comfy pajamas. Then he sets you down onto the bathroom counter, brushing your teeth for you. You can’t keep your eyes open anymore, so you just let Yunho do all the work. He then gets into bed with you, making sure you’re all covered and snuggled underneath the layers.

“I love you sweet girl. I can’t even express fully just how much I love you truly. Even more than the whole universe, bigger than the biggest thing that ever exists. You are so worthy, you deserve happiness, and you are enough. I want you to know that it’s ok to have off days, and it’s ok to be overwhelmed. But I will be there every step of the way with you, I won’t ever abandon you. Daddy loves you so much, and wants the best for you.” He leaves a sweet kiss on your forehead as your lashes flutter.

You snuggle closer to his chest and let the tension escape your body. You let out a content sigh and let your mind go empty.

“I love you too daddy.”

[writingforstraykids]

I need a hug

Pairing: Chan x Minho | Minchan

Word Count: 914

Summary: Minho can't relax after their concert and searches for the comforting warmth of his only hyung late at night.

A/N: Pretty much pure fluff because I think these two are adorable

Chan looks up from his laptop at the timid knock against his door. “Come on in,” he calls out. Glancing at the time displayed on his laptop screen makes him frown. Who of the kids could possibly be still up at that time after their concert ended hours ago? Minho answers his question by quietly slipping inside his room and closing the door. His hair falls around his face, still damp from his shower before, his eyes glistening suspiciously. The soft lilac hue of Chan’s lights dances across his finest features, making Chan’s breath hitch at the sight. He stops in the middle of his room, freezing in place and contorts his face a little as if he’s debating to leave again. “Min?” Chan asks softly and turns toward him. “You’re okay?”

“I’m fine,” the younger one utters a response, fidgeting with the sleeves of a black sweater Chan recognizes as his own. 

He bites back a sigh and shakes his head. Minho hasn’t been fine in weeks. He’s been pushing himself beyond his limits for the group over and over again, staying late at the practice room, helping his members perfect their moves, and listening to their worries. “There’s no shame in admitting you’re not.”

Minho closes his eyes for a brief second as if he’s in pain. “But they need me to be okay.”

“How can I help?” he changes tactics, tilting his head at him. 

Minho shrugs his shoulder. “I tried everything, hyung,” he says barely audible. “I’m so tired, but I can’t get comfortable to find any rest. Everything hurts,” he explains, subconsciously taking a few steps forward. “I took a long bath, stole some of your ridiculously expensive shampoo, made some tea…I even stole your sweater because they’re warm and cozy.”

Chan reaches out for him, taking his hands and pulling him forward the last few steps separating them. “Nothing worked?”

“No…I-I guess I need a hug,” he whispers, and Chan’s heart melts right there. He knows how much it means for Minho to come here and ask for a simple gesture like a hug when he feels that vulnerable. “I know you’re working and everything-”

“No, no, none of that,” he says firmly but kindly. “If my hardworking Minnie needs a hug, that’s what he’ll get,” he announces and gently guides him into his lap. 

Minho buries his face in his neck with a soft sigh, inhaling Chan’s so familiar and soothing scent. He wraps his arms around his neck lazily, and tears shoot to his eyes as Chan wraps a fuzzy blanket around him, slipping his arms beneath it and wrapping them around him. Chan rubs his back, and after a minute of comfortable silence, he hesitantly slips his hand beneath his sweater. Minho tries his best not to let the soft sound lingering on his lips slip at that but subconsciously tightens his grip around him. Chan’s hand feels warm against his skin, giving comfort to his aching body. At first, it rests on his lower back, but then he starts moving, rubbing soothing circles up his back and pressing down gently between his shoulder blades and neck. It’s ridiculous how much such a simple touch means to him. He always admired his only hyung among the group for so many things. It didn’t help that to him, Chan was stunningly handsome and had a smile that brightened his darkest days.

Minho feels lonely so often in a world where he has to deliver and function to be accepted. He doubts himself more often than he’d like to admit and is almost envious of how easily Chan accepts that about himself, often showing it openly. It seems easier than eating it all up and pretending to be just fine. In all his worries and doubts, Chan became his safe place. The one he felt like he could be more open around, the one who held him without any judgment when things got rough. Shit, Minho loves his hyung.

Chan loves the feeling of being needed, and he loves Minho even more. The younger has been the rock keeping him from drowning more often than he could count. He loved giving him back part of what he did for him, so naturally, at all times. Chan cautiously threads his fingers through his hair, smiling softly as Minho melts into the touch, a soft sigh escaping him. “That’s okay?” he checks in, and Minho hums lowly. 

“Very,” he whispers, nuzzling his face deeper into Chan’s skin as the older starts massaging his scalp, easing all his worries for now.

Chan tenderly drops his head against Minho’s and allows himself to relax in the feeling of Minho clinging to him. “You did amazing today, you know that, right?”

“I did okay,” he hums, eyes fluttering close as Chan scratches his scalp.

“More than okay, Minnie,” he insisted. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he whispers touched, can’t helping the warmth spreading through him at his words. 

“Now try and get some sleep, I’ll be right there,” he promises, and Minho hums in agreement. As time passes, he grows heavier against Chan, grip around his neck loosening. Chan quietly hums along to the tune he’s been working on and listens to Minho’s breathing evening out. He glances down at him and dares to plant a tiny kiss on top of his hair. Minho hums in his sleep, burying himself deep into his arms. “God, you’re so cute,” he whispers fondly.

MASTERLISTS | PROMPT LIST | GUIDELINES

Taglist: (Please let me know if you want to be added to/removed from the taglist!)

@kai-lee08 @mal-lunar-28 @malfoygalaxies @soullostinspaceandtime @brownieloved @rebecca-johnson-28 @euphoric-univers @hyunniebunni @galaxycatdrawz @aaasia111 @channieaddict @kthstrawberryshortcake

[mysumeow]

ꗃ LYNEY NSFW ALPHABET 2/2

warnings: afab genitalia, gn pronouns.

a/n: i sat myself down in front of my puter and told myself: im not getting up until i finish this. thats the only way i can convince myself to stop postponing everything, including stuff i want to finish (like this one lkjhasdflkjhs)

PART ONE › MASTERLIST ‹

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

I can see this guy wanting kids. He wants to give them the childhood and lifestyle he wishes he had when he was one.

So, breeding is a given.

Aside from that, he shows affinity for harnesses, restraints of any kind, sensory deprivation in the form of blindfolding, and lingerie. He prefers you to be the one getting blindfolded and teased, but he’s not against the idea of being on the receiving end.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Given that he doesn’t want to cause any type of scandal, he prefers to play it safe and do it behind closed doors. The biggest risk he’s willing to handle is having you press against a window. Your front against the glass, while he pounds you from behind. Seeing your face reflected on the window until it fogs up from heavy breathing.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

The moment you show a sliver of thigh, the cogs in his mind are already turning. Otherwise, if you’re wearing fishnets, tights, high-knee socks, or just any type of leg accessory (yes, harnesses are included too), that also makes him ogle you when no one else is looking.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He’s willing to try anything if it has nothing to do with certain bodily wastes.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’d be embarrassed to be on the receiving end and probably cumming within the first few minutes, so he prefers to go down on you. Skill-wise, he has limited knowledge, but he takes his time with you to make sure you enjoy it.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

If the pace is all up to him, he prefers a more sensual way. It’s not difficult to ask him to go faster or rougher if you want, but he likes taking his time with you. Doing it slowly, caressing your body instead of grabbing it and jackhammering into you—he’s a romantic at heart, after all. His fingers touching and playing with your most sensitive parts. He can be quite unfair in this regard because he’s not above edging you in that way, just for the sake of making you as needy as possible.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are good if he’s in immediate need of having you and his schedule is tight. He understands there are days in which he won’t be able to spend as much time with you as he wishes he could, and therefore, quickies are an easy solution to that.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He’d rather play it safe. A scandal of public obscenity is something he’d prefer to avoid. If anything, he would trace his fingers against your thigh, or grip it, when you’re sitting down next to him having dinner at a restaurant. But that’s about it.  

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s a performer; he must have a nice amount of endurance for physical activity. He might do one long, consistent round or a multiple, reasonable number of rounds. It depends on his partner’s preference. He’s fine with either.

T = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

I do think he has at least one, but he sees little need to keep it after he’s with someone. He shows interest in stimulating your body with some handy toy, like a bullet vibrator or something of the like. Open to suggestions from your part if you want to try a toy on him, too.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If he’s feeling playful and teasing, he’s pretty unfair. He’ll keep tethering you to the edge of your orgasm, pulling away at the right time before working you up to that edge again. He doesn’t care if you’re obedient or not; if he wants to edge you for the next couple of minutes, he’ll do it.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Man tries so hard to keep his voice down. He can manage in the beginning, but the closer he is to his orgasm, the louder he gets. He whines and moans, even crying your name if he has been edged for a while. You may try covering his mouth with yours; he’s going to moan into the kiss, and his sounds of pleasure slip through. Can’t shut up for the life of him (affectionately).

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Every time you visit him backstage, he has fantasized about having a quickie with you there, just before a show. This fantasy is not viable, because that would mean Lynette could catch you both in the act, and that wouldn’t be a fun experience. The same applies to when he imagines you visiting him in the dressing room before a show.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Fairly high. Aside from the reason being his age, it’s also due to him being an energetic individual, and he has to release said energy in some way or another.  

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He’ll be awake if you talk to him, but the moment there’s some silence, he’s asleep.

[marie-swriting]

I'll Never Leave You - Dean Winchester

Masterlist

Summary : You thought your father, Dean Winchester, would always be by your side.

Warnings : Spoiler last episode of the show!, reader is Dean's daughter, no age mention but reader is a young adult, angst, character death, feeling of hopelessness, loss of a parent, bittersweet ending, maybe some grammatical mistakes as English isn't my first language, tell me if you see some or if I missed any warnings.

Word count : 4.6k

French version

Song inspiration : Marjorie by Taylor Swift

Laying on your bed, a book in hand and your dog Miracle at your feet, you patiently wait for your dad and your Uncle Sam to come home from the hunt. Since the apocalypses, the wars between Angels, Archangels and God have officially stopped, you took a step back from the hunting life. You still help them with the research but you don’t go on the field as much. You can finally have a normal - as normal as it can be when your last name is Winchester - and Dean supports your decision, glad to know your future is full of possibilities. 

You’re in the middle of a chapter when you hear the bunker’s door opening. Miracle raises his head while you put your book on the bed. You trot to the entrance where you only find Sam with an emotionless look on his face however you don’t notice it. 

“Was the hunt good? Where’s dad?” you question with a smile.

“Y/N, something happened.”

“What? Did you scratch Baby?” you laugh, yet your smile disappears as soon as you see his serious face.

“No, it’s Dean.”

“What is it? Uncle Sam, what happened? Is dad hurt? Where is he?”

“Y/N, wait,” Sam holds you back as you’re about to leave the room. “You should sit down.”

“I don’t want to sit down, I want to know where my dad is.”

“We found a vampire nest so we went there to kill them but Dean got hurt.”

“Is he okay, though, right?”

Sam stays silent for a long second before speaking again.

“One of the vampires pushed them against a beam and there was a spike. He got severely injured.”

“What do you mean, Sam? Tell me my dad is okay!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, Dean… he died during the hunt.”

Upon hearing this sentence, the floor crumbles underneath your feet. You can’t believe it. You stay speechless whilst Sam keeps talking.

“You dad wanted you to know he’s always been proud of you and he loves you. He also told me-”

“No…,” you interrupt him with watery eyes. “Wh-, How-, it can’t be.” you stutter, shaking your head. “He can’t die! He is Dean Winchester. He’s survived so many things. He can’t be dead!”

“Y/N/N, I’m terribly sorry.”

“No!” you scream when Sam is about to hug you. “I… I need…”

You don’t finish your sentence, too stunned to speak. You run to your room, tears rolling down your face, Miracle hot on your heels. You let the dog in the room before locking yourself in. Completely confused, you don’t know what to stare at. Your eyes look everywhere while Sam’s words are echoing in your head: ‘He died during the hunt.’ You choke whilst big tears stream down your cheeks. You fall to the ground as your heart bleeds. You can’t believe you’ve just lost your dad.

One could think it wouldn’t hurt as much after Dean cheated death so many times, however the pain is still unbearable - if not worse, this time. You grew up with only your dad and your Uncle Sam as your mom died in childbirth. Your family isn’t big but your love for them knows no limit. You had to overcome a lot of loss the past years, whether it was Bobby, Charlie, Castiel or other people, though the pain you felt at their death is nothing compared to what you’re feeling right now. You’re lost, begging in the empty for your dad to come back to you. Miracle has his head on your legs, trying to comfort you. You stare at him and you hurt a bit more.

Dean never wanted a dog, no matter how many times you asked him for one. He always used to say with your way of life, you couldn’t take care of one and above all, he’d say no dog would ever get in the Impala as long as he’s alive. However, the second your life went back to normal, he rescued Miracle. You secretly suspect he’s always wanted a dog and your whim was the perfect excuse to adopt one. When he brought Miracle home, you weren’t surprised to see he was the one he got. Miracle managed to find his way to Dean’s heart since they first met, though he would never admit it… would have never admitted it. 

Dean was finally having the life he’s always wanted, far away from the repeating apocalypses and it was taken from him as quickly as it came. It isn’t fair. You dad doesn’t deserve to die this young and you still need him. You’ll always need him.

You stay with your back against the door and Miracle in your arms for several hours. Actually, you don’t know how long you stayed in this position. You’re numb, time is standing still since your discussion with Sam. Maybe only two hours passed or a whole day, you have no idea and you don’t have the strength to check it on your phone. All you want is your dad. You don’t care what time it is or if you need to eat. You just want Dean and his comfort.

You think back to all the times you lost Dean and all the times he came back. There always was a solution. There must be one for this time, too. His time hasn’t come yet. You still can bring back your dad to life, no matter the sacrifice you have to make. You dry your cheeks and stand up. Determined, you leave your room and walk to the library, Miracle following you. You take several lore books you already know and others you’ve never read but could be useful. On the table, you have at least four piles of ten books, yet you’re still motivated. You could read thousands of books, as long as you find a solution, that’s all that matters. You take one and start reading it and taking notes with information that might be helpful.

You’ve just finished a whole stack when Sam’s voice snaps you out of your reading, startling you. Sam stares at you, worried while you don’t pay much attention to him before going back to your research. Sam sits in front of you yet, he stays silent. He watches you for a few minutes before speaking.

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

“Alright. I’m gonna give Dean a Hunter’s funeral tomorrow. If you wanna join me.”

“Don’t burn his body!” you exclaim following his information.

“I have to and you know it.”

“No! If you do it, it’ll be even harder to save him.”

“What exactly are you researching, Y/N?” Sam questions, fearing your answer.

“A way to resuscitate dad.”

“Y/N, we can’t do that.” He firmly says and you look at him sternly.

“Why? That didn’t stop you and dad from doing it numerous times before, why would it be any different now?”

“Because everytime we wanted to cheat death, it caused major issues, you know that damn well.”

“Nothing we can’t handle. Dad can’t be dead, not like this, not now that everything is starting to get better. I’m gonna bring him back, no matter the price.” you affirm, opening a new book.

“Even if you have to die?” Sam interrogated, surprised.

“As long as he’s alive, that’s all that matters.”

“Y/N, your dad wouldn’t want you to sacrifice your life for him. He’d want you to live it.”

“It means nothing if he isn’t there.” you say, your lip quivering. “I need him, Uncle Sam. I have to bring him back.”

“We can’t.”

“We damn well can! We can find a solution.” you argue before having an idea. “I’m even sure if we asked Jack, he’d do it. After all, the current God likes us more than the last one, we’re his family.”

“Y/N, we can’t save him, not this time.” Sam insists, making you angry.

“If you don’t want to save your big brother who sacrificed everything for you, that’s your problem, as for me, I’m gonna save him, so either you help me or you leave me alone.”

“It’s time he rests in peace, especially after everything he went through.”

“Because of everything he went through, he deserves to live without worrying about Lucifer, God or another Archangel.”

You look at Sam, sure of yourself. Sam doesn’t reply right away before weighing pros and cons and admitting to you: 

“Dean specifically asked to not be brought back to life because he knew too well the consequences so respect his wish.”

“He was dying, he didn’t know what he wanted. Now, leave me, I have lots of research to do.”

Defeated, Sam sighs before leaving the library. He sees how desperate and in denial you are. He just hopes you’ll realise very soon bringing Dean back is dangerous and useless. Though he fears you’ll realise it too late and you’ll suffer even more. Either way, he promised Dean to be there for you and that’s what he’s going to do. Whether you want it or not, Sam will stay by your side to comfort you the instant you’ll accept Dean’s death.

The following day, Sam gives Dean a Hunter’s funeral alone. He tried to convince you to come but you refused, preferring to lose yourself in your research. Sam wished he could have done the funeral later, fearing you might regret it later for missing this last goodbye to Dean, unfortunately, it had to be done as soon as possible. 

Sam worries more and more for you. You’ve completely shut yourself out. You only read books in the library and do more advanced research on the internet without sleeping or eating. He brings you food however you almost never eat and you pull all-nighter after the other, despite his disapproval. He doesn’t know what to do to help you. He knew you’d be devastated when he told you Dean’s death but he didn’t expect this reaction. 

A few weeks later, the situation hasn’t evolved, except that now you’re locked in your room and not in the library as a way to avoid Sam. You’re still mad at him for not wanting to help you save your father. You don’t understand how he can be this passive. Your father would have done everything to bring back Sam if the roles were reversed, you’re sure of it.

You finish reading the last book you took from the library when you have an idea. You think you know where to look, except you didn’t see the book when you rummage through all the shelves or you would have started with this one right away. Just in case, you go through the mess that is your room now before going to the library and checking everywhere four times. You try to remember where it might be when a memory comes into your mind. You saw it last in your dad’s bedroom a few weeks before his death. You haven’t stepped a foot there since Dean’s last hunt. You just can’t. You’d like to, though. Normally, whenever you’re feeling down, you go find your dad in his room so he can comfort you. However, if you went to his room now, you’d face a loud silence and you can’t face it.

Reluctantly, you end up walking slowly to Dean’s bedroom. You stay in front of the door for some time, pondering if you should go in or not. You don’t know if you’re ready to enter his room but on the other hand, you need this book, it might be the solution. You take a deep breath and open the door. The corridor light penetrates the room and you can see the bed which is made, his music collection and the book you’re looking for on the desk. You turn on the light and take big steps to his desk, wanting to leave the room as soon as possible. However, you don’t do it. On the desk chair, you find one of your dad’s shirts. You get teary eyes as you take it and bring the cloth to your nose. You smell the familiar scent and you burst into tears in one second. You wish Dean would come to his room and tell you not to steal one of his tapes like you usually do. Everytime he’d admonish you, he’d pretend it bothered him when in reality, he loved knowing he passed on his love for classic rock to you. His bedroom is now all that’s left of him and you don’t want to lose this place, even the most insignificant piece of scrap such as the menu from the burger place a few miles away is now of an inestimable value. Your eyes fall on a piece of paper lying in the middle of the desk. Carefully, you read it and find it’s an application to become a firefighter on which you can see his signature with his name on the bottom of the paper. You sob when you think back of the first time your dad confessed to you he would have loved to be one if he hadn’t been a hunter. 

***

It was a few years ago during a fall morning. Dean had woken you up early. Too early. At 4:00 P.M. to be specific. He had woken you up because he wanted to have a father-daughter day. This was how you found yourself in the Impala this early whilst you were still mentally sleeping and your dad was happy to spend the day with you.

“You know, a father-daughter day can start at 10:00 P.M.,” you complained, yawning.

“You’re not gonna regret waking up early, trust me. We’re almost there.”

“It better be amazing or during the next roadtrip I pick the music.”

“Hell no! You know the rules.” Dean refused.

“Yeah, driver picks the music, shotgun shuts his cakehole, whatever. I deserve some compensation!”

“I got you some donuts.” he exclaimed, showing the pink box at your feet.

“It’s a good start.”

A few minutes later, you arrived in front of a lake. Dean told you to get out of the car and to lean on the hood with the donuts in hand. Despite the morning breeze, you started eating while watching the sunrise. The sky was a beautiful amber colour and it was reflecting on the lake, making the scene even more stunning. It was peaceful, save for the birds which were waking up.

“So, wasn’t it worth it?” Dean asked with a smirk. 

“Ok, you were right and besides, the donuts are delicious. I didn’t think of you as a fan of watching the sunrise.”

“I can be interested in nature!”

“Stop it or next thing you know, you’re only gonna eat salad like Uncle Sam.” you answered with a fake fear expression on your face to which Dean rolled his eyes.

“The fact is we’re having a great time as a father and daughter, away from all the supernatural threats.” Dean said, holding you close to him.

“True.”

“And like this, I can make it up a little bit for the father I am.”

“You don’t have to make it up. You’re a great dad.”

“No children should grow up like you did, like I did. I always promised myself I wouldn't make the same mistakes as my father and here you are in the middle of all this crap between two High School periods.” He grumbled, avoiding your gaze.

“Do I have to remind you I started hunting because I followed you, not because you forced me to?”

“I’m still mad at you for that. You shouldn’t have followed us when you didn’t even know what you were fighting, it could have ended badly!”

“The fact is I saved your ass from some werewolves.” you retorted with a proud smile.

“You especially got lucky. I didn’t know what I would have done if you had gotten hurt.”

“I learned from the best, nothing can happen to me.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. With Sam, we always got ourselves out of those messes just on time. I don’t like knowing you’re part of the hunting life.” Dean confessed with sad eyes.

“I chose it. You always give me a way out and I never take it because I like to hunt.”

“Maybe, but I wish you had the opportunity to lead a normal life, you deserve it.”

“I might not hunt my whole life, I don’t know for sure. For now, it’s what I want to do, though. To be honest, I don’t even know what I’d do if I weren’t a hunter. Besides, you deserve a normal life, too, you know.” you affirmed, firmly.

“It’s too late for me. And I’m not made for the apple pie life but it can be different for you.”

Your heart broke in your chest upon hearing your dad saying this. You wish his life had been different, that his dad had given him the choice when he was younger. Dean might have kept everything buried inside yet, you could read him like an open book. No matter what he affirmed you, you knew your dad wished for a calmer life.

“What would you have done, if you hadn’t been a hunter?” you randomly asked.

“What do you mean?”

“If you had the apple pie life, what would be your job?”

“I don’t know.” he replied but you didn’t believe him.

“You’re telling me you never thought about it ? You’re lying. I can totally see you in a job where you help others.”

“I would have loved to be a firefighter.” Dean confessed after marking a pause.

“You would have been a good firefighter, I’m sure of it. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll have your chance?”

“I don’t think so. I made up my mind I’ll always be a hunter and besides without hunting, I would have never met your mother and you wouldn’t be here so I’m grateful for this life.” he affirmed with a genuine smile.

“You’ll always be here, right?”

“Always.” he promised.

You kept watching the sunrise while talking about more random topics, you particularly complained about some teachers and Dean shared his High School experiences - whilst leaving behind some details as to not be a bad influence. 

The rest of the day, Dean taught you how to drive Baby, something that didn’t happen often. You were so happy to see your dad trusting you this much. You carefully listened to Dean to avoid making any mistakes. Dean, as for him, loved sharing this knowledge with you, despite having some anxiety over Baby potentially being injured at any given moment. After that day, this place by the lake quickly became your father-daughter spot.

***

In hindsight, you realise to what extent Dean could have lived the life he wanted. He was probably going to go less and less on hunts so he could do the job he always loved and his chance at a normal life has been ripped away from him. After everything he went through, he deserved this chance. 

Furthermore, you become aware you’ll never have a father-daughter day again where Dean wakes you before the sun so you could enjoy every instant. Had you known, you would have made sure to memorise every second of your last day. All of these memories are part of the past and you can’t bear the idea of it. You can’t stay another day away from your dad, you’re desperate and you must save him. You keep the shirt in your hand while you close the door then, you pray to Jack, looking up

“Please, Jack, if you can hear me, you have to help me. I’ll bother you only this one time, I promise. I won’t ask for anything else. I just need my father, you have to bring him back. Please, help me.”

You keep begging as you close your eyes as if it gave more strength to your prayers. After a few minutes, Jack’s voice saying your name resonates in the room. You open your eyes and throw yourself in his arms. You missed him so much. You quickly considered Jack as your little brother after he was born so the second he took over Chuck, you heart broke. You’re glad to see Jack replied to your call, despite his responsibilities.

“I’m happy to see you, Y/N.”

“Me too, you have no idea.”

“You prayed so we could talk about Dean. Let me tell you, he is in Heaven. He deserves it after everything he’s done.” he informs you with a genuine smile.

“He particularly deserves to live. Jack, I know I’m asking for a lot but he can’t stay in Heaven, he has a life here, he has to live it.”

“I can’t do that and you know it.”

“You’re the new God, of course you can!” you exclaim, appalled.

“After everything he’s sacrificed, he can finally rest.”

“No, he can finally live! Jack, you have to save him.” you beg, tears in your eyes.

“I can’t break the new balance we just made and also, he doesn’t want to, Y/N, he knows the price to pay and he doesn’t want you and Sam to pay it, you in particular.” Jack says, calmly.

“You’re lying! My dad would never leave me. Please, Jack, I’m begging you to help me. Whether you do it or not, I’ll find a way but with your help, I’ll cause less damage.”

“My answer stays the same. I’m sorry.” he insists, making you mad.

“Leave. I’ll do it alone. I don’t need you! Leave!”

Disappointed, Jack disappears, leaving you alone in Dean’s room. You can’t understand why no one wants to help you. You’re not asking to bring back a monster, just your father so why is everyone letting you down? Your tears who had stopped rolling down earlier find their way back on your cheeks again in a second. You’re sick of everything. You’re sick of crying. You’re sick of no one helping you. And more specifically, you’re sick of not having your father.

Mentally tired, you end up laying down on Dean’s bed and you hold the shirt close to you, hoping it’ll bring you some sense of comfort. You keep crying until you finally fall asleep for the first time in weeks.

A light breeze going over your body wakes you up. You open your eyes, not understanding where it comes from and you find yourself on the backseat of Dean’s car. You just have the time to look up when you see the car door opened and your dad telling you to get out of the car. Surprised, you need a second before jumping into his arms. Dean hugs you back and strokes your back while you pay attention to his shoulders moving at the rhythm of his breath to make sure he’s alive. After a few minutes, you break the embrace and Dean drags you so you can lean against the hood of the Impala which is parked in front of the lake. Dean puts his arm around your shoulder whilst you put your head against his.

“Dad, is this a dream or real? I’m confused, I haven’t found a solution yet so how can you be here? And how did I get in the Impala?”

“Jack must have found a way for us to meet again.” Dean answers, giving you hope, in spite of himself. 

“So, is it all good? You’re safe?”

“No, sweetheart. Jack and Sam were right when they said I didn’t want to be brought back to life.”

“Why, though? You finally had everything you wanted!” you anger, taking a step back from Dean.

“I can’t keep on dying and coming back to life, I had to die for good one day.”

“Yeah, when you’d be old, very old, not now!”

“I wish it could have been later, too, but it is what it is, there’s nothing we can’t do. Y/N/N, I don’t want you to spend your life trying to find a way to bring me back, it always ends badly. I promise you, I regret nothing, I’m fine and I can finally rest. You have to keep living without worrying about me.” he tells you, calmly.

“But I need you, dad.” you retort, shaking your head. “There’s so much I don’t know, there’s so many questions I should have asked you about the supernatural, what I’m supposed to do, on how to be and even more questions I haven’t thought about yet. It’s too hard without you.” you say, your voice breaking.

“You’ll be okay, I know you will. You’re a fighter, a Winchester. I’m proud of you and the woman you became, I hope you know that.”

“Uncle Sam told me, yeah.”

“Don’t push him away. He tries his best to support you while respecting what I asked him.” Dean tenderly states.

“You told me you’d never leave me. You promised you’d always be here.”

“And I meant it. I’ll always be by your side even if you don’t see me. I’ll never leave you and when the moment comes, we’ll meet again.”

“I want us to meet again now.” you cry and Dean takes you in his arms.

“I wish we could but we can’t. I’m sorry we didn’t have much time together. I love you, sweetheart, never forget it.”

“I love you, too, dad.” you say before breaking the embrace. “I’ll apologise to Uncle Sam, I shouldn’t have yelled at him.”

“He isn’t mad at you, I’m sure of it. It’ll be okay, don’t worry.” he says, kissing your temple. “Come on, let’s enjoy this moment. Donuts?”

A small smile finds its way to your face as soon as he hands you a donut. You take it and eat it, enjoying this precious moment. Mentally, you thank Jack and apologise to him before focusing back on the lake illuminated by the sunrise until you slowly fall back asleep.

The second you wake up, you’re in Dean’s room again, his shirt next to yours. A single tear streams down your face yet, this time, this tear isn’t only for the pain of losing your dad. This tear is full of sadness, yes, but also of joy as you got one last goodbye. This tear rolls down because you know Dean’s death is still affecting you notwithstanding, he’s right, he can’t be brought back to life and you have to accept it. You know that despite everything, he’s still all around you.

You look at the clock on the nightstand and discover it’s still early and the sun is still rising in the sky. You take one of your dad’s jackets in his closet and leave the bunker with Miracle who woke up when he heard you. Outside, you admire the dawn, your heart pinching in your chest a little. No matter how many sunrises you’ll have to live without Dean, you promise yourself to have at least a day during the week where you’ll wake up early and think about your dad. You want to keep him alive in your head and for this, you want to keep the traditions you had when he was still there.

The day officially started, you grab Baby’s keys and drive downtown, more specifically to the Fire Academy. You enter the building and wait for your turn at the reception. As soon as it’s your turn, the woman tells you to come closer and asks what you need.

“I’d like to apply to be a firefighter, please.”

The woman gives you some information and papers to fill and when she’s done, you thank her and go back to the Impala. Sat on the driver seat, you look at the papers with a bittersweet smile. Though you don’t see Dean, you know he’s here, right next to you, happy to see you officially quit the hunting life and realise your dreams and his.

Masterlist