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moonstruckme · 2 days

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Are you going to continue the roomate James series? I’m actually in love with it😍

Yes! Thank you for reading <3

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 804 words

“Honey, I’m home!”

A smile tugs at your lips, even as you roll your eyes to yourself. James has become more and more fond of these pet names, and of announcing his comings and goings like he’s worried you’ll miss him. (He’s never gone long enough for that, though you might actually miss him if he were.) If you don’t respond in some way or another, he’ll—

“Hey.” He pokes his head through your cracked door. “You alive in here?”

You pause in folding your laundry to give him a deadpan look. “I could have been in my underwear.”

He looks mildly horrified. “I’d hope if you were, you’d close the door all the way.”

“You know, I did manage to stay alive even before you moved in.”

James leans on your doorframe, giving you the sort of lazy grin you have to pretend doesn’t scare butterflies into flight in your stomach. You really hope that wears off soon. “See, but now I’m convinced if I don’t check on you, you really will die and it’ll be my fault.”

“How would it be your fault?”

“Classic case of roommate neglect. I smell the rotting coming from inside your room, the police come, they ask How did you not know your roommate was dead for a month? I reply, Well, officer, she said she could be galavanting in her underwear at any moment. They put me in handcuffs and I spend the next five to fifteen years having Sirius bring me cigarettes I don’t want so that I can trade them for ramen noodles in the yard.”

You scoff, fighting a smile. “As if you would ever eat ramen.”

“That’s what I’m saying, sweetheart. You’d be forcing me upon desperate times. But hey,” he raises his hands in a show of surrender, “I didn’t come in here to discuss prison currency. Would it be alright with you if I had friends over tonight?”

“Of course,” you say, looking back down to match a pair of socks. “You don’t need to ask every time, it’s always alright.”

“Thanks,” he says warmly, “but it makes me feel better to ask. What do you want on your pizza?”

You blink. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” He smiles. Butterflies all over again. “You don’t have to hang out with us to eat it—though we’d love to have you—but I’m not just going to order pizza to your own apartment without having any for you.”

“It’s your apartment, too,” you remind him. “That’d be a very normal thing to do.”

“Irregardless.” James waves you off. You wrinkle your nose at the word choice. “What do you want?”

You swallow a sigh. There are some things, you’ve found, James is nearly impossible to argue with about. If you really dig your heels in, sometimes you can make him move first, but you don’t feel like it right now.

You do the next best thing you can think of: choosing the least obtrusive option. “Cheese is good with me, thanks.”

His eyes narrow like he knows what you’re doing, but he says, “Got it. I’ll let you know when it’s here.”

“Thanks.” You turn your attention back to your laundry. James lingers in the doorway.

A month ago, you would have kept ignoring him, working on the (unfounded) hope that he’d go away. Now, you look up.

“Do you think you might come downstairs and hang out?” he asks. He has a strange look on his face, one you can’t quite decipher. “You know you’re always invited.”

You give James a terse sort of smile. He’s not stopped inviting you to do things since the day he moved in. Your open invitation has been made very clear, and you’ve been accepting it more often lately. James is someone who makes it easy to feel close to him. He tosses pet names at you like they’re nothing, comes to check on you when he gets home, pretends he needs to go grocery shopping just because you need a ride to the store. Last week, you’d sat down to watch a movie with him and woken up to a black screen, your cheek smushed into his shoulder and his head resting atop yours.

Somehow, you’ve let him spill into your life without meaning to, and now you have these childish, crush-like reactions whenever he smiles a certain way or calls you pet names with that familiar bent to his voice. You know you just need time to sort these feelings out. It’d probably be ideal to keep yourself from spilling into his life as much as possible in the meantime.

But it’s hard to deny James anything when he’s so sweet to you. And he’s nice. His friends seem nice.

“I might,” you say.

“I’ll take the win,” James replies, smiling. These butterflies are seriously inconvenient.

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lokisgoodgirl · 2 days

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A Royal Audience: The Rite

Chapter 1 Masterlist for The Rite is here A link to my full Masterlist is here Summary: (1) You, an Asgardian court nobody, fall asleep in the palace baths and have an unconventional introduction to the elusive Loki Odinson. (w/c 3.7k) Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Loki x female reader. Smut. Language. Voyeurism.

Water splashes and your legs fly up, floating out into the murk of torchlit water. Bracing against the stone edge, you glance over your shoulder with a blossoming horror. The curved arch reveals the glittering lights of Asgard below; mountains which had glowed with low-afternoon light when you’d settled in the palace baths now cloaked in darkness. Why did no one wake me? It's forbidden for anyone but the Royal family to be in the baths after sundown. And the penalties are severe.

Surely more of a guideline than a rule, you think optimistically as you get your bearings. Panic twists in your chest. Surely Odin can’t imprison every member of the court who dozes off in the hot springs.

Heaving yourself onto the side, you shiver in the immediate chill. The loss of warmth is like the absence of a lover’s touch; leaving their bed on a winter night. You’re surprised you can remember what that feels like. A breeze blows through the atrium as you grasp for the robe you discarded earlier. It sticks to clammy skin, thick droplets seeping though the fabric as you gaze longingly at the towels lined up at the side. No time. But as you flick soggy tendrils of hair from beneath the collar, your ears prick. No. Footsteps. There’s only one doorway to the baths. A security thing. One hallway – in and out. Your eyes dart frantically at limited options. Tall, imposing pillars encircle the room. One of them will have to do. All you can do is pray the guards just take a quick peek around the door. The squeak of your bare feet on the floor fades just as your wet skin meets marble. You cover your mouth, eyes screwing shut. The door swings open, creaking on ancient hinges. “Prepare the oils,” someone commands. A dark, enunciated order which seems to settle in the steam.

A shudder runs down your spine. That voice. Another one replies in hushed reverence, flopping sandals scooting over the marble floor while bottles rattle. “Haste,” the first growls.

You clutch the flimsy robe tighter to your chest. The first time, you might have been mistaken. But as the irritated syllables of that solitary word settle, there’s no mistaking it. Prince Loki. If you were asked to swear in front of the Norns that you’d never envisioned the dark prince as you touched yourself in the dead of night, thought of his forbidden curls twisting through your hair as you rode him, the timbre of his moans as you choked on his cock – you’d be a fucking liar. I mean, who hasn't? But this? This is beyond the pale. Even conjured from your sickest fantasies. This is wrong. This is...a death sentence.

And yet, you find yourself edging closer to the side of the pillar.

Should you announce yourself? Grovel? Retreat out the door with garbled apologies, bowing with your face lowered and begging for your life? Probably.

But it’s too late now. Far too late. And if you’re going to end up in the dungeons, as on some level you always suspected you would, at least this image will sustain you.

Loki Odinson stands all limbs and and length at the edge of the baths. From emerald-encrusted slippers to the crown of dark waves spilling over his shoulders – he’s perfect; unmistakeably royalty even in his lounge-wear. What little there is of it.

White steam rolls above the water, as sheer and flawless as the chiffon robe that moulds to his body. The faint hue of his skin shows through the forest-green material, fingers toying with the tie circling his hips as he casts a scathing glance to the servant whirling a phial of oil between his fingers. “Tis’ ready, my lord” the servant says. The prince grunts, letting the sash fall open.

You hold a breath as the garb falls down the sinewy bulge of his shoulders, deep carves of tricep muscle illuminated in torchlight. You’ve never seen him so close; never had time to admire the stark beauty emanating from every angled inch of him. Without the distracting glint of his armour it’s almost enough to make your eyes water. Glimpses of him had been in passing, a stolen gawk before you bowed you head and he moved quickly through the great hall past the other courtly nobodies.

The luxuriously weaved material slides over his skin, folding and rippling as it drips from his fingertips. It shimmers in low flamelight and he rolls his shoulders back as it drops, abdominals clenching. You clench along with them as the robe pools around his ankles. Your palms sweat against the pillar, fingers beginning to claw as Loki steps into the water. He rakes his hair back, tilting his chin to the ceiling as he puts one foot ceremonially in front of the other. Making an entrance, even without an audience. Or so he thinks.

The servant stands obediently by the bath’s edge, staring ahead as the prince’s thighs flex with each effortless step, liquid lapping around his knees.

As much as you try not to look, sort of, to preserve some sliver of dignity for the god, saliva wells under your tongue. His perfect cock bobs between his legs. It’s true what they say, you think in a daze. His pubic hair is an immaculate shadow. Even his balls are perfect.

Loki sinks down, dipping long hair back in the water before seating himself in the opposite spot you’d occupied minutes ago. Jet hair plasters to his skin like tar, droplets of water clinging to his torso. “Begin,” he mutters with an air of annoyance. The servant complies, pouring the rose-tinted phial into his hand and beginning to massage the god’s scalp.

You watch in utter beguilement as Loki’s head is nudged from side to side, indecent moans of pleasure snaking from his throat as the favoured servant carries out his work. Thin drips of oil roll down the prince’s brow, catching the light. He tips his head back, jawline pointed to the ceiling like the blade of an axe. He lets out a whimper of pleasure.

You press your lips together so hard it hurts as a crease appears in the god’s brow, his eyes shut as the man kneeling behind turns the attention to his shoulders. The oil spreads down the thick of his neck, to the crevices of his collarbone; glistening. “Oh-h, yes…there-” the god growls, a gnawing groan shaking the air. For the first time, you notice the unmistakable heat of arousal sliding between your thighs. Squirming, you think briefly about looking away. You decide against it. In the blink of an eye, Loki’s mood changes like a winter wind. He leans forward, an abrupt tsk punctuated by the wave of a hand. “Leave me,” he demands. The servant looks visibly confused, fingers poised in the air above tense muscle. Loki turns expectantly over his shoulder. “Need I say it again?” he purrs menacingly. It was quietly brutal. You smirk in spite of yourself. Classic Prince Loki, you muse. You never dreamed you’d get to see it in person.

The man shakes his head, shuffling to his feet. He shuffles out the room with little bows and letting the ancient latch clunk into place. Your breaths quicken and the sudden gravity of the situation settles like a boulder in your throat. Frozen, you watch Loki eye the door a moment longer before resting back against the stone with a lazy sigh.

Long fingers run through the slick of his hair while water slops around his nipples. Gods, how you want to pull one between your teeth as you pump his- “Aren’t you cold?” His voice was an arrow. Sharp, targeted, tipped with venom. It’s hit spreads through your body, white noise filling your brain, blood thundering in your ears.

“Aren’t you cold?” he repeats, sterner this time. You realise with horrifying clarity that Prince Loki of Asgard, as eusive and unknowable as faraway galaxies to a mouse, is talking to you. And he’s naked. And you’re definitely spending the next decade in the dungeons. If you’re lucky.

With shaking hands, you step out from behind the pillar. The game is up. But to your credit, you have closed your eyes, one palm shielding them in a last ditch attempt at salvation. “Your Majesty I apologise I...fell asleep in the water, and woke up after sundown- the laws, and you came in...I didn’t know where to go- what to do-please have mercy...” You squint between parted fingers to gauge his reaction, hoping that the last threads of your long-gone innocence are believable. The prince curls a finger to his lips, covering a smirk. “I did not look upon your majesty...” you lie. The god’s eyes run from your ankles to your face, a devious smile playing at one side of his mouth. His lips part, chin tilting upwards, tongue resting behind his upper teeth before the perfect enunciation of, “Liar.”

“I did not look upon-” you stammer, lowering your hand and staring at the floor.

“-Oh, stop it.” Loki says. It’s followed by a melodic chuckle ricocheting around the marble walls. You glance up. One elbow rests on the stone behind him, water rippling against his chest. He tilts his head, raising the other arm out the water. “Never let it be said the God of Mischief is not merciful,” he rumbles coyly. A solitary finger beckons. “You must be cold,” he repeats for the third time, softer. “I assure you the baths are warmer than the dungeon, if that was your intent for the remainder of the evening.”

Each step feels like an eternity as you let yourself be drawn forward by weak flesh. You can’t take your eyes off his, thundering silently into your soul like a sexual storm. “I am not to the dungeons, then?” you ask cautiously. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

He winks, a perfectly timed droplet of oil falling from his chin to the water below with a thick plop. It makes your stomach flip. He stiffens suddenly, raising his palm in a ‘stop’.

“You may leave now...if you wish,” he says. An aura of stiff formality settles on his expression.

This is the Loki you recognise from feast days and speeches which ring around the towering cloisters of the great hall. The palm held upright softens to gesture to the other side of the pool. “Or you may stay, if you wish. Either way, sending such a flower to the dungeons to wilt and wither would surely be a greater crime than the one you have committed.”

He pauses. There’s a flash of pink as his tongue runs over his lips. His gaze drops to your fingers fidgeting nervously with the sash of your robe, still stained with watermarks from its hasty assembly. “Curiosity is only natural, one supposes,” he says.

“I didn’t mean to do it,” you reply quietly.

Loki’s eyes meet yours, one eyebrow rising. “Ah, but you did.” His voice is deeper, wisps of intrigue catching in every syllable. “In my experience, the path paved with mistakes leads to better stories. Wouldn’t you agree?”

You bite your lip. “Your Majesty are you...sure? I’m-” you glance towards the door, hesitating before you met the prince’s waiting stare, “-naked, under this.” Loki’s long index finger dips teasingly into the water, feigned surprise making his brows rise as he watches it sink beneath the surface. The lip twitches again as his digit skims, slow ripples pulsing out from his body. “Egalitarian, wouldn’t you say? Considering your recent education on my own state of undress.” Heat rises in your cheeks, matching the inexplicable confidence beginning to blossom in your belly. Loki smiles expectantly, resting both elbows casually on the ledge.

His lips form a soft o as your robe falls around your feet. You feel his stare roaming your body as keenly as though its his hands. Can he see the translucent sheen of arousal smeared down your inner thighs as you step into the pool? Possibly. Probably.

It’s true what they say about his body, about his temper, about his cock, after all. Why not his powers of perception?

The water licks against your skin, the thrill of this forbidden meeting making every hair on your body stand to attention. Pores tingle against the embrace of heat as you sink beneath the surface, perching on the flat stone seat beneath. The curve of your mounds bob above gently lapping water.

The same spot you’d been in earlier. But now, the view is entirely different.

You imagine that the archway behind you is a beautiful scene. Asgard’s moons would be shining, their light halo’ing your wetted hair against a blanket of stars. And yet, Prince Loki’s eyes never leave yours.

Although ten meters stretch between you, the whisper of his breath seemed to curl against your ear. You widen your legs beneath the water, immediately squeezing them closed again. Your lips purse, stifling a whine. “Your first royal audience, I gather?” Loki asks politely. You nod. This is madness.

Slowly, he shifts. One arm slips beneath the water, then two. His chin dips, observing you seductively from half-lidded eyes. “Why have I never seen you before?” The question hangs amidst the steam rolling over soft ripples.

“I find myself new at court, your Majesty” you hear yourself answer. It isn’t true. But it's better than the embarrassing reality. You're an invisible cog. “Liar,” he murmurs seductively. The corners of his eyes crease with mirth, a wet curl falling down to the side of his cheek. Somehow, your fingers find their way to your clit; hidden beneath the sweet-smelling veil of the baths.

“How can I have overlooked such a jewel in the midst of this grey wasteland?” “Wasteland?!” you scoff. It's bold, a peal of laughter escaping in spite of yourself. “Hardly.” The god cocks an eyebrow. “Despite my hyperbole, the sentiment remains. How did I miss you?”

There’s a moment of silence; anticipation choking the air. A suspicious disturbance begins to swell at the water by Loki’s mid-section and a chill of desire makes you shiver despite the temperate water; imagining those long, elegant fingers wrapping around that long, elegant cock. You began to toy with yourself, sparks of pleasure thrumming through your veins. Your shoulders began to roll in time with the pressure of your fingers. Unmistakeable. Breaths rise and fall in your chest, breasts bouncing lightly at the surface.

He grits, throat working as the straight lower line of his perfectly white teeth flash into view. The swell of water above his groin crests to a flurry; his deep, filthy exhales wrapping around your inhibitions and choking them. All pretence gone, you release the moan you’ve been holding.

Loki breaths out hard, a low ragged breath that seemed to part the steam caressing the water’s surface. “Mmm,” he grunts, neck stiffening. A vein at his throat stands hard and thick, straining as water began to splash against him from his abuse beneath. This is a scandal. You are a scandal. If anyone finds out, you’re finished...and yet. As the prince’s chin points to his glistening chest, wet from the splashback from fucking himself beneath the surface, you find you care not one jot.

His eyes darken, long lashes curled up to knitted brows. Loki’s lips are parted, tongue hovering and forming senseless words between laboured breaths. His cheekbones flash in the low light, soaking hair strewn over his milky skin. And always, his gaze is on you. The lofty, untouchable, inscrutable god that you’ve fantasised about is looking at you as he pleasures himself. Thinking about you as he sits across the water tugging his flawless cock. And if this is the shining, glorious moment which would burn out in a blaze of reputation-ruining glory to ash then so be it. Worth it. His dulcet moans of onanism grow louder, timing with your own. Only once do you tip your head back as you feel climax rear, a growled command of ‘look at me,’ through gritted teeth snapping you forward again.

If you’re ever deigned worthy to feel the prince inside you, have his marble body flush to your own in the throes of passion, feel his lustful praise hot in your ear– just once – you would die happy. But this? This could be enough. “S-so dutiful,” the prince moans, his shoulders juddering as he strangled the words. “B-brave,” he gasps. His brow furrows deeper with one last longing stare at your glistening neck and shoulders as you cum hard, a quiet mewl of his name echoing around the baths. It’s all you can do not to scream. “G-gods,” Loki chokes. Every muscle you can see in his body seems to tense, a thundering roar like ripping leather cascading from his throat. His mouth hangs open, grimacing to the atrium above. In the death of his cry, there’s silence but for the splash of water as the two of you compose yourself. Still flushed from orgasm, you push your hair back. The prince raises the hand that had been pleasuring himself out the water, inspecting a thick, white string that clings to his fingertips. He turns his gaze to you as he sucks the cum from his digits. God he’s fucking filthy, you think. I knew it. It takes every piece of willpower not to wade across the baths and lick it from his mouth. You bite your lip, matching his sultry demeanour and the prince’s eyebrow twitches. Your reaction is clearly to his satisfaction. “This has been amusing.”

He stands abruptly, breath stealing from your lungs as his entire body comes into view again. You aren’t prepared. The god’s cock is still hard. Long and perfectly formed, it’s earlier fairness now replaced with the blush of his work. Above, his abdomen glistens; pearled droplets of oily water running leisurely over muscled ridges. You open your mouth and close it again. Loki smiles. He turns and the toned meat of his ass shifts on his ascent up the short steps out the baths. With a click of his fingers, the robe and slippers he’d discarded are upon him once more. Your stomach drops.

“I didn’t tell you my name,” you blurt as he approaches the door. Prince Loki’s profile slices into view, the perfect arc of his bone structure lined over one broad shoulder in dancing torchlight. His eyes cast down and move to yours with theatrical precision.

“Your name?!” he purrs incredulously. “We must keep some mystery, surely.” And with the swirl of his robe and a thud of the ancient latch, he’s gone.

Loki’s stomach churns, emerald slippers feeling heavier with every step. He feels along the wall, blinking away the dizziness growing behind his eyes. Risky. Even for me. He pauses at the end of the corridor, steadying his breaths. There was something about her. Something which shattered any semblance of decorum he usually clung to in the presence of the court, however strange the situation. Her audacity. Gods, the look in her eyes as she brought herself to climax; pinning him under her gaze like a starving wretch at a feast. He stares at his feet, jewels throwing prisms from torchlight. “Brother?” Loki looks up, immediately rolling his eyes. “Spying on me? Truly you need to find something more wholesome to occupy your time, brother.” “Of course not. I intended to join you.” Loki’s stomach lurches as he notes the robe hanging off his brother’s shoulders, the plush red towels stacked in his glowering manservant’s arms. “No,” he snaps as Thor attempts to pass. The hand pressing against his brother’s chest is still wet, and he has a sudden hope it’s only water. “The temperature is not pleasing tonight. Tepid, at best. Trust me, brother.” “Is that so?” Thor asks, eyebrow rising. If he finds her in there, she’ll be punished. He won’t think twice before running to father like a dog. The thought wouldn’t usually cause him alarm but there it was again, that niggling feeling that greater fates were at play. He studies Thor’s face. "Trust me," Loki says. His brother sighs. “I trust you with very few things, Loki, but the temperature of bathwater is verily one of them.” He waves a hand and the servant scuttles away into the gloom. “In truth, brother, I hoped to speak to you about the Rite.” A hiss blows between Loki’s teeth, eyes darting to the side. “In my own time.” “Your own time?!” Thor stomps forward, making the torches rattle. “You’ve had five hundred years to find someone, Loki. Nine moons; that’s all you have until you must wait another five centuries for the alignment. Don’t you want to secure yourself in the succession? What if something were to happen to father? To me? The people of Asgard must be assured of your suitability.” “The entire thing is a farce. The fact that you succeeded, proves it.” Thor’s face darkens. “Don't speak of our sacred traditions that way. You know they’re in place for a reason.” A snort steals from Loki’s nostrils. “I have no doubts of my skill, I know I could rule Asgard’s people selflessly and with great enthusiasm; why must it be paraded in an inane peacocking which will make the high-lords wilt with inferiority?”

Silence hangs thick in the narrow corridor.

“A fact which makes your refusal to participate even more perplexing," Thor says, narrowing his eyes and yanking the sash at his waist in a way Loki assumes he thinks to be dramatic. "Nine moons, brother.”

As Thor's footsteps die away; he listens for splashing, for movement, for sneaking. But there’s nothing. He steps out the emerald slippers and pads back to the door, turning the handle with a final, furtive glance behind him.

He expects to see you draped nude over the chaise in the corner, or perhaps spread for him at the edge of the baths with hungry longing in your sharp eyes...but you’re gone. Loki frowns and stalks to the pillar which concealed you before. “Borr’s blood,” he hisses under his breath, scanning the room.

And then he sees it; something silken and knotted loops around the balcony pillars, glimmering in moonlight. He realises suddenly that the draping which normally billows in the evening breeze is gone. Loki smirks as he paces to the balcony and casts a cursory look over the edge. The makeshift ladder hangs to the level below. The royal laundry, if he’s not mistaken; the same hot spring source. “Nine moons,” he repeats quietly to the silence, rapping his knuckles against the marble twice before turning away with a smile.

💖Thanks for joining me for this lil journey! 🕯️Tags in comments x Chapter Two will be online Wednesday 12 June.

#loki x reader #loki smut #the rite #loki fanfiction #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki odinson #loki odinson x reader #lokismut #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki x yn #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki imagine

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luvlyhee · 3 days

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“i don’t think i could stand to be — where you don’t see me”

pairing. hyung line x fem. reader

genre. fluff, est. relationship wc. 658 warnings. skinship + jealous enha + not proofread (don’t we love it)

— where they think not being your centre of attention is the worst feeling ever. so he goes to fix that. extra: i feel alpha after i write about jealous guys 🐺

LEE HEESEUNG would be annoyed to say the least. he wouldn’t hide the fact he was annoyed either. the moment he saw some guy trying to get all over you, he hurriedly rushed to take his spot right beside you, snaking an arm around your waist, squeezing it.

“hey baby, who’s this guy you’re talking to?” he asked, looking at the guy with a death glare though his tone sounded so friendly.

“oh nothing, he just wanted my number cause we’re in the same class,” you replied, looking up at him through your eyelashes.

“you still need her number pal?” heeseung would ask. the guy immediately shook his head and ran off in a fury, “good thing he knows his place hm?”

SIM JAEYUN would be trying his utmost best to steer your attention away from some unknown guy who didn’t even deserve an ounce of your attention. kissing your cheek while you were talking to the guy, mumbling sweet nothings into your ear; making you all flustered you couldn’t even hold a proper sentence. making sure that guy knew that you already had someone. aka him.

“you smell so sweet baby, like that rose i gotcha the other day,” he would murmur against your neck, his eyes glaring at the guy who was trying to hit you up.

immediately, the guy suddenly said he “had plans” and rushed off, leaving him alone with you.

“why’d you do that?” you chuckle and roll your eyes playfully, running your fingers through his locks.

“just doing what a boyfriend should do.”

PARK JONGSEONG hates it. he hates seeing another guy talk to you. that thought alone made him sick to his stomach. if he had a choice he’d go right up to the guy and give him a bruise; a warning.

he’s stand behind you like a guard dog protecting its owner— a bodyguard protecting his principal. his hand never leaves your waist, gripping it firmly to show who you were with but not too hard to hurt you. no he could never hurt an angel such as yourself.

you couldn’t see jay’s expression but it was one of annoyance and vex. can’t this guy just go away so jay could have you all to himself?

if knives could shoot out of eyes the guy would be dead by now. seeing how jay was so intimidatingly staring at the guy, he scurried away and left.

“why’d he leave so suddenly?” you ask as you tilted your head upwards to look at your boyfriend.

“mm not sure baby, you’re too cute for anyone to resist.”

PARK SUNGHOON would be the most petty guy in the world. the moment he saw another guy getting close to you, his blood boiled. why are you talking to another guy when you have him? the park sunghoon?

the moment you go up to him, he rolls his eyes at you and scoffs, his arms folding themselves in front of his chest.

“back from talking to your other boyfriend i see?” he remarks and turns his head to the right, looking away from you. you tilt your head, your brows furrowing as you try to get him to face you, “hoon, was it about that guy i was just talking to?”

he pauses for a moment before nodding his head and turning his head to face you, his arms unfolding themselves and going to cup your cheeks, “am i not enough for you pretty girl?”

you pout and rush forward to hide away your reddening face into his chest, the cool leather fabric rubbing against your skin—making you feel comforted since it belonged to your boyfriend.

“you know i’d never leave you for another, in fact i think you’ll be the one to leave me for someone else,” you chuckled before pulling your face away and resting your chin on his chest to look up at him.

and to sunghoon that was the only reassurance he needed.

luvlyhee 2024

#enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfiction #heeseung fanfic #heeseung fluff #heeseung drabbles #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake drabble #jay fluff #jay fanfic #jay drabbles #sunghoon drabbles #sunghoon fluff #sunghoon fanfic

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suoshis · 1 day

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˖ ݁𖥔 ݁ KABEDON W TOKYO REVENGERS

TOKREV BOYS CAGING YOU AGAINST A WALL. ft. izana kurokawa, takashi mitsuya, & shuji hanma x f!reader

sfw. 1K wc. i’ve been sooo excited to write for izana !! & my head’s been buzzing w so many ideas after seeing a bunch of maid-sama edits back on my fyp <3

IZANA KUROKAWA.

mild / soft jealousy & possessiveness, kisses

you wonder if izana can hear the rapid thumping of your heart as his arm comes to rest against the doorframe, his eyes looking intently into yours.

"who was that guy you were talking to?" his voice breaks the silence, tone laced with a hint of curiosity that sends a shiver down your spine.

you swallow hard, trying to compose yourself even though the proximity has heat rising all the way to the tips of your ears. "i don't know," you admit softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "he just asked for my number. and i said no."

there's a moment of silence as izana processes your words, his gaze never leaving yours. you hold your breath, waiting for his reaction, unsure if you should also add that you mentioned you have a boyfriend too.

"that's all?" izana finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but there's something in his eyes that betrays his calm exterior.

you nod. “that's all.”

he exhales deeply, a faint smile playing on his lips as he moves closer to you. his fingers brush against your cheek, lingering on your jaw for a brief moment before gently tilting your head to the side. “izana?”

"mhm," he hums softly, his breath warm against your skin as he presses gentle kisses along your collarbone, "that sounds right."

his lips move with a deliberate slowness to cover every inch of your skin, and you can’t help but melt into his touch as his lips ghost down your neck, leaving a trail of soft kisses along the skin. his arms wrap around you, pulling you closer to him, and you sigh in content. “that’s good,” he repeats to himself.

"don't pay them any attention," izana reminds you, his voice a soft murmur against your skin, "you're mine."

HANMA SHUJI.

recreation of that !! scene from maid sama (he gives u a hickey on your back), reader wearing a backless dress, ‘pretty thing,’ ‘princess’

“that’s a tiny dress you got on,” hanma muses, long arm resting just above your head as he cages you against the wall, his face coming to hover mere inches in front of yours.

“where’s a pretty thing like you headed tonight?”

“well, yeah,” you pout, adjusting the thin strap of your dress, “i’m going to my friend’s birthday party tonight.”

you struggle to read the expression on his face, amused eyes lingering on the simple design of your dress, ignoring the way you huff impatiently.

“backless?”

“yeah, backless. i’m leaving now.” with a quick tilt of your head, you try to gauge his reaction again, a part of you skeptical to whether or not he’s planning something this time.

he hums slowly, chuckling a bit when you rudely swat his arm off the wall, gaze following the natural sway of your hips as you mumble something in annoyance and walk away.

backless…he thinks.

that’s right— backless.

an idea pops into his head, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. without a second thought, he reaches out to roughly tug at one of your wrists, pulling you back towards him in one swift motion.

"the hell are you doing—" you snap, your voice trailing off into a sharp intake of breath when you feel his lips press against the middle of your back. “s-shuji!” you protest, heart racing as you feel the warmth of his lips against your bare skin.

there’s a pop when he pulls back slightly to look up at you, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

“oh? you’re going? with that hickey on your back?” his voice comes out low, tinged with too much amusement for your liking.

“hope you have fun, princess.”

TAKASHI MITSUYA.

he takes care of you when you’re feverish

“you shouldn’t be out of bed right now.” mitsuya’s voice breaks the silence, stopping you dead in your tracks.

there’s an exasperated groan from you, your hand coming to rub at your temples. of course he would be awake— you really thought you had waited long enough before trying to sneak downstairs.

“i want cake, mitsuya,” you whine, arms folding over your chest. ‘m not sick anymore. the fever’s gone down.”

"is that so?" mitsuya's tone is both amused and skeptical as he steps closer, watching the way you start to fidget with the sleeves of your shirt. you give him a quick and desperate nod to confirm, and it’s all a little too suspicious for his liking.

but before you can protest further, his arms come around you, caging you against the wall, and you suck in a sharp breath as he scans you up and down, his gaze focused and intentional.

"interesting," he whispers, his warm breath grazes your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "let me check."

“w-wait you shouldn’t—” your protests are halted as he leans even closer, until his face is just an inch in front of yours. he thinks it’s cute the way your eyes slam shut involuntarily, your heart pounding against your chest at the proximity. his forehead presses gently against yours, and you can feel the subtle warmth of his skin.

"liar," he murmurs softly, his lips brushing against yours in the most fleeting of touches. "you’re burning up.”

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cheeseburgersinparadise · 3 days

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Why is death feederism ok? It is objectively self harm, as one is doing something that will result in them hurting themselves and eventually dying (as fetishized). I just can’t understand it… I am someone in this space that likes being stuffed and full, and doesn’t mind a little biy of wg… but I just don’t understand why gaining until death is encouraged so much when it’s so extreme and life ruining.

Like if there was a feeder and feedee couple that were into it… what would happen if the feeder had issues and couldn’t help the feedee that is reliant on their feeder? What happens if they break up and the feedee is dependent enough where they need family or something to help?? I mean it’s just… they could literally die if they were so dependent and forced to live on their own.. encouraging people to ruin their lives because it makes their private part excited is encouraging self harm.

This is my opinion and I seriously want to know what you have to say… I brought this up to someone else and their response was to block me and say “I think death feeding women think more critically about the fetish🤔” without response. And just so you know this isn’t fatphobic, i never once said I find fat people gross or anything, I just find the idea of fetishizing self harm gross. It’s fetishizing being disabled and or dead.

TW for death feedism, kink talk, self harm/suicide

so general disclaimer - I am not a death feedist and so I don’t know that I’m a good representative to speak on this topic but I’ll share some brief thoughts.

I think it’s okay to look at extreme fetishes and feel uncomfortable with them, so I’m not going to try and tell you that you can’t feel the way you do. I was very critical of people who practiced this fetish in ways I personally didn’t like and this community helped me realize it’s not my business to do that. There is no moral superiority in kink.

The thing is though - in order to be sex positive and an ally to our fellow feedists (yes, even the ones we disagree with or don’t like how they practice the fetish) we have to respect their bodily autonomy and allow them to make whatever decisions they think is best for them. It’s not our job nor our place to tell folks what they can and can’t do.

I would maybe agree that it’s a slippery slope and in a very extreme case, you could argue that this line of thinking would allow us to excuse a suicide fetish, for example (unsure if that’s a real thing). But there ARE disability fetishes and a fetish isn’t inherently bad as long as there are informed consenting parties and you are practicing RACK.

I don’t know if that line of thinking is even worth arguing because it could only serve to slip the other way up the slope back to overt purity culture. I want to validate your thoughts and questions because its important to critically analyze things and i want to believe you are coming from a place of good faith (and I have it in me to try and discuss this).

Regarding the statement of “death feedists think more critically about the fetish” could be true, as realizing you’re a death feedist DOES require reflection and understanding of yourself and of fatphobia in general. I haven’t had at length discussions with folks about this but the death feedists on my dash that post about fat lib seem to know their shit.

At the end of the day, why death feedists enjoy that aspect of the fetish is not for me to debate with or without them present. It’s not for me to tell them what they can and can’t do with their bodies. That aspect of the fetish isn’t for me, but that doesn’t mean I have the right to tell others what they should get off to. I also think death feedists are a smaller portion of the community and it’s easy to block the tags they use if you don’t want to see their content. I know a few death feedists and I like them (at least their online persona) and they are probably more equipped to discuss this if they want to. So please feel free to add some comments if you’d like, death feedist friends.

My advice is practice radical acceptance. It feels uncomfortable but I think ultimately it makes you a better person when dealing with things you think are weird or gross or bad.

#chzburger answers #death feedism #death feedist #tw suicide

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queen-of-the-avengers · 1 day

Text

You Two Against The World

Pairing: Mafia!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.3k

Warnings: angst, geting cut and tortured by someone you trusted, minor fluff at the end

Summary: Bucky’s life is turned upside down when the love of his life is kidnapped and used to get to him. Bucky will burn the world down for you and it’s because he will do you finally realize where you’re meant to be is right next to him.

Between Love and Hate Masterlist

Squares Filled: Sam Wilson/Falcon (2023) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

Punch. Punch. Punch. Bucky focuses on the punching bag in front of him and tries to block out everything else from his life. He can’t think about how it’s been a month away from you. He can’t think about how he wishes you were in his bed instead of your own. He can’t think about how if he wants to see you, all he has to do is drive to your house. He can’t think about you or he will do what he can to get you back whether you want it or not.

Bucky hasn’t done anything but work out this past month more than usual. He has to get you out of his system and it’s going to take a lot more than drowning his sorrows in alcohol to do it. Bucky punches the bag hard enough to make Sam sway in his stance.

“Okay, break time. Go cool off, man.”

Bucky steps back from the punching bag and yanks his water from the bench. Sam watches him stalk out of the home gym and to the showers. Bucky hasn’t left his house since you left. He cancels every meeting he has and for the ones that are too important to skip, he does them over Zoom in his office. Bucky may not express his feelings well but Sam can tell he's heartbroken. He can’t change this part of his life no matter how hard he wants to for you. Either you accept him for who he is or you don’t. If you don’t, he hopes you stay the hell away from here. Bucky will be okay… eventually.

After Bucky takes a shower, he walks to his office to see what kind of work he’s missed over the past month. He stops by your room which has been emptied since you left. He made good on his promise and has Steve bring you everything that you had in here, but he can’t help but picture it filled with your things still. The room still smells like you. He’s told housekeeping not to touch or clean this room for fear your smell will be replaced with cleaning products.

Is he being crazy? You made your feelings about him clear. Why the hell can’t he let you go? You are by far the best thing that has ever happened to him. Ever since you ran into that restaurant dripping wet from the rain, you haven’t left his mind. He thinks about your parting words. Can he give up this life? He has enemies all over the world who would jump at the chance to hurt him if they found out he wanted to get out of this life.

No, he’s stuck in it for life.

He can still picture the curtains open in the dead of night and you standing in front of it wearing nothing but high heels. He fucked you against that window knowing his men were down below watching. In the corner, you used to keep rings of fabric that you’d play with when you couldn’t sleep, and he’d sit on the bed and watch you for hours.

The only reason Bucky hasn’t checked up on you since is because you clearly want space from him. He sent you a car but he doesn’t think you use it. He leans on the wall with a sigh. He misses you so fucking much. Yes, what he does is dangerous but he’d never put you in danger. He’d give you the world if you asked for it.

He has to leave this room or else he’ll give into his temptation to find you. He closes the door and heads to his office to get back to work. The reason why he doesn’t want anyone in here but selective personnel is because this room is filled with intel, guns, and everything that gives light into his world. No one is allowed in here except for Steve and Sam.

Bucky boots up his computer to check his emails when Sam walks in with a worried look on his face.

“Boss, this came for you.”

Sam holds out a single flashdrive which makes the hairs on Bucky’s neck stand to attention.

“What is with people leaving anonymous gifts? I thought I upped security,” Bucky snaps and takes the flash drive.

“This was given at the gate.”

“By who?”

“He didn’t leave a name.”

Bucky takes out a personal laptop he bought a few years ago that has nothing to do with him and his life. This is the laptop he uses for things like this--something that can’t be traced back to him. It doesn’t have anything incriminating on here just in case it gets stolen. Plus, he doesn’t want a virus on his server if this is devious malware.

Sam walks around the desk so he can see what’s on the flash drive. Bucky plugs it in and sees a single video file on it. A video that is exactly fifteen minutes long. Nothing could have prepared Bucky for what is on the video. The video is of someone sitting on a chair in the middle of a dark and dirty room. It looks like the place is abandoned but he’s not focused on that. The person sitting on the chair is tied to it to prevent an escape, the person has a gag in their mouth, and the person has cuts and bruises all over their body.

That person is you.

Someone walks into the frame and Bucky leans back in shock to see it’s Gio. You trusted this man. You made a dress with him in class. What the hell are you doing tied and gagged in the middle of the room? Gio bends slightly and checks that the camera is recording and zooms in a bit more to get a better shot of you.

“She passed out after the first cut,” Gio grins. “Some girl got you here, Barnes. Not even a fighter. I swear your taste in women is almost as bad as the way you do business.”

Bucky immediately sees red and doesn’t have to look at Sam to know he is pissed, too.

“Get Tony in here now.”

Sam immedatelty leaves to grab the man dedicated to IT support. He has helped Bucky hack into things plenty of times. He an easily find someone based on a five minute video. Bucky can’t look away even though it breaks his heart to see such pain litter your body. Gio walks away from the camera but still stays in frame.

“I bet you don’t know who I am. You might know my dad. Antonio Salvatore. I’m Giovanni Salvatore, his son and heir to the Italian Mafia.”

Bucky understands it now. Antonio made that crude comment about you in his meeting. You watched him put a bullet in his head. This is what he meant about having enemies everywhere.

“You murdered him in cold blood for what? You took the only parent I had left so now I’m going to take someone important from you.” Gio laughs at a memory he got. “You should have seen her cry over you like you’re some fucking big deal. Poor Bucky. After today, you won’t even have a girl to bring home anymore.”

Gio turns to you and slaps you awake. You jerk from the impact and Gio yanks the gag off your mouth so you can speak. The desk cracks under the weight of how deadly Bucky’s grip is. You groan in pain and look up at man who you though was your friend with tears in your eyes.

“Say something to Bucky. He’s watching.”

You look at the camera and refuse to cry. Bucky thinks it’s because you don’t want to look scared in front of Gio.

“Don’t come here, Bucky. It’s a trap. He’s going to hurt you!”

“I’m going to do more than hurt him!” Gio yells, making you flinch.

“Please, don’t come here, Bucky.”

Gio grabs your hair and yanks your head back after standing behind you. He leans down so that his mouth is near your ear.

“Maybe I won’t hurt her. Maybe I’ll have a little fun with her first.”

The last thing Bucky sees is Gio’s malicious smirk and your fearful look. The video ends just as Tony walks into the room. The second Gio ended the video, he left the room. He’s been gone for an entire hour before returning with a knife.

“I trusted you,” you glare.

“Your mistake,” he laughs.

“Bucky won’t come.”

“Wanna bet? You’re the love of his life. He’s not going to let me harm a hair on your head.” He walks closer to you. “Guess what? He’s not here.”

He runs the blade of the knife across your cheek, drawing blood. You want to scream and cry but you’re not going to give him the satisfaction.

“What are you going to do with me?”

“I don’t know. Keep you prisoner?” He bends slightly and cuts your face a few more times. This time, you cry out in pain. You’re not as tough as you wish to be. “Make you my little fucking slave? You’d like that, wouldn’t you? A little cock slave just for me.”

“If you come near me with that microdick of yours, I’ll bite it off.”

Gio raises the knife to stab you with it when he hears loud commotion come from downstairs. Gunshots ring out below and you smirk knowing exactly who is here for you.

“You want to know something about Bucky?” Gio looks at you. “I am his and he is mine, and he doesn’t like it when someone touches what’s his.” The sound of gunshots gets closer to the room you’re in. “They don’t call him the Winter Soldier for nothing.”

Finally, the door to the room opens and Bucky is standing there with blood splattered over his skin and clothes. He doesn’t let Gio out of his sight as he walks into the room. Sam and Steve walk in after him with guns in their hands. The last few remaining gunshots sound off below but then it goes silent. All of Gio’s men are dead. Gio steps back from you with fear in his eyes. He knows better than to attack you with a knife when Bucky and his men have guns.

Bucky walks closer to you and only looks at you when he gets two feet from you. He kneels down and starts counting starting from one.

“What are you doing?”

“Counting how many times I cut open Mr. Salvatore.”

Gio tries to leave but Steve and Sam block him at the only exit and entrance into the room. The windows are boarded up to prevent people from jumping out of it. Bucky removes your binds on your wrists and ankles and takes off the gag from around your neck.

“I want you to go with Steve. He’ll take you to your place.”

“No. Home. I want to go home with you,” you whisper.

Bucky leans in and kisses your head gently before standing to his full height. Steve doesn’t wait for instructions. He slings the gun over his shoulder and picks you up bridal style. You rest your head on Steve’s chest and look away from Bucky who turns his attention to Gio.

"Bucky?" Steve stops and he looks at you over his shoulder. "Make it hurt."

Bucky steps around the chair and starts to walk slowly toward Gio like a predator does to its prey.

“Look, you started it! You killed my dad!”

"You want to know something about my girl? She hates violence yet she told me to make it hurt. Ironic, huh?"

Bucky hands his gun off to Sam and takes out his knife. He prefers this weapon because he can make it hurt for much longer. He twirls the knife in his hands a few times while walking closer to Gio. He goes to strike Gio when he shouts something

“I have information on that list you’re looking for.”

Bucky stops and stares. He doesn’t hesitate.

“You’re no longer leverage. You’re collateral damage.”

Bucky twirls the knife and hits Gio in the jaw with the handle of it. As soon as you got back to Bucky’s house, you took a shower to clean yourself of whatever Gio did to you. All of that violence took all of your energy so as soon as you go into his bed, you fell asleep. Bucky comes home late in the night with more blood soaking his clothes. The only indication that his shirt used to be white is the part by his neck that hadn’t been touched by red.

Bucky walks to his room and sheds his shirt so he doesn’t stain you with it. He sits on the edge of the bed and puts a hand to your shoulder. You jump awake out of fear that Gio is back to get you.

“Pisică, it’s me. You’re safe now.”

The weight of everything that had happened to you crashes into you, and you shove yourself into Bucky’s arms as the tears fall. He holds you close and rubs your back in comfort.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“This isn’t your fault. I’m sorry for not being what you need.”

You pull away from Bucky and shake your head.

“No, you’re everything I need. I am so in love with you. I did say it hurt to love you before but it hurts more to be away from you. I don’t want anyone else but you.”

“Even knowing what I do?”

You nod. “I don’t ever want to be apart from you. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Bucky pulls you on his lap and kisses you. This is where you belong, in his arms. Whatever problems that come up, you know you two can face together.

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst #marvel #marvel fic #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fluff #marvel angst

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cassandracain52 · 1 day

Note

You made me think about immunocompromised Tim so now you suffer the consequences (my thoughts) :D

Disclaimer: I haven't actually read that particular arc yet - I'll get around to it, I swear! But I do know roughly what happens.

With the whole spleentuation Tim turns the Red Robin costume into what basically amounts to a Hazmat suit. He doesn't actually change much - he goes for full face coverage and introduces some airtight seals. It makes upkeep slightly more laborious and makes him a lot scarier than he wants to be but it's this or risking getting benched for an infection for an unreasonably long time. Bruce returns and doesn't even question the look until he finds older Red Robin costume without the Hazmat qualities and in an attempt of casual bonding asks Tim why he changed it. You can imagine how the rest goes.

Second scenario:

Bruce vanishes before the pandemic, when he returns the family is very careful with like, disinfecting everything and they always have gloves and masks on their person. He writes it off as a side-effect on the pandemic until he realises how much more careful everyone is around Tim

Third scenario:

Tim uses his general lack of an immune system as a way to get out of things he doesn't want to do where there'll be a crowd. Mostly Gala's. Like:

Tim: I'm worried I'll get sick when I go to the opening of the Lexcorps factory we need to make An Appearance at.

Bruce: You went to ComicCon last week, you'll be fine.

Tim: 🥺

And like, what's Bruce going to do? Tim is right he SHOULD be a lot more careful. He SHOULDN'T go to the gala. So he folds like wet paper without fail every time. Tim cuts his public appearances down to an absolute minimum. Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.

Tims coup de resistance (is that the saying) is getting to attend a business meeting virtually because one of the three (3) people there was travelling two weeks ago

Bruce: Tim you should go to sleep staying up this long is not good for your health your immune system will thank you.

Tim: what immune system.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Tim *chuckles*: I'm in danger.

Bruce: What do you mean what immune system.

Damian sneezes once and refuses to take off his mask for six days straight on the off-chance he'll get Tim sick. He was literally digging through the dusty attic. He is not sick. Tim isn't even around half the time. You don't need to sleep in the mask Damian. DAMIAN.

”Jason is seen more often and he's supposed to be dead.” <<<asfghjkl XD this is taking me OUT😭 I never really thought of Tim using this as a “get out of jail free” card but he so would. But only for things he doesn’t want to do. That party of maybe 200 guests at most? Nope sorry can’t do it, too risky. That concert with 50,000+ people? Completely fine

All these scenarios were so fun!! I especially appreciated “What do you mean what immune system.” and Tim just immediately starts sweating bullets cause Oh Did He Forget To Mention That?

and Damian would so be super paranoid to accidentally get Tim sick but also would never admit that because Tim Must Never Know He Worries About Him

Damian wearing a full mask, gloves, and maintaining a ten ft distance at all times because Jon (who has seasonal allergies) sneezed kinda close to him: You’re a disgrace to this family Drake. Do us a favor and die

Tim not falling for this for a second: Uh-huh so can I just- [attempts to take approximately One Step Closer]

Damian rapidly scrambling back: nO I HATE YOU STAY AWAY-

Please feel free to share your thoughts again🤣

#these were so fun #thank you for your contribution #I love asks #ive only gotten two but they’re fun #batfam #tim drake #tims missing spleen #damian wayne #dc comics

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6esiree · 13 hours

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More Than Just A Sugar Baby Pt. 2

Summary: Imagine you’re Vox’s and Adam’s sugar baby and one of you start’s to develop feelings?

Warnings: NSFW, AFAB reader, penetration, rubbing, swearing, if you squint there’s a bit of angst in Adam’s part. Heaven bucks are void in Hell so he just protects you from the loan sharks. Sorry, I’m a sinner thru and thru. Anyway, MINORS DO NOT READ!!!

Vox:

A doll like you didn’t belong in the porn industry—that’s what Vox told you when you asked for Valentino. But he only offered you financial salvation to get back at the moth, tired of his on and off relationship with him. How could you not accept, though, especially when porn had been your last resort? When you took Vox’s hand, he never anticipated that your arrangement would turn into something more than a simple act of revenge, but that was entirely his fault.

“Always such a good girl for me—fuck, fuck, fuck.”

Vox had your legs folded against your chest, your eyes squeezed shut as he pounded into you at a ruthless pace, the room filled with the filthy sound of your squelching cunt. You let out a loud whine as his fingers found your swollen clit, trying to coax another orgasm out of you. One, two, three, four—you counted in your head, milking his cock for what might have been the fifth time that night, the man clearly pent up.

“Such a greedy little—” Vox said, his screen buffering, “—cunt.”

He was so, so close, his thrusts growing sloppier with every second. You reached out and grabbed Vox’s shoulders, bringing him in for a kiss, but then Valentino’s contact popped up on his screen. “Shit, Val’s calling…again,” You groaned, falling back onto the mattress in defeat. The moth had called Vox about, what, several times already? It was really starting to turn you off.

“Decline it, I’m—fuck!—about to finish,” Vox said, sighing in relief as you swiped your finger across his screen. “That’s better—don’t want to cum to that fucker’s contact.”

You understood his reaction, made aware of the pair’s history when Vox eventually opened up to you. But as far as you knew, whatever love they had for each other was dead. Well, at least on Vox’s end, because Valentino was still pestering him. “Yeah, I bet,” You said before interrupting yourself with a moan, the head of his cock hitting into that velvety spot inside of you.

“Val found out about you,” Vox suddenly said, catching you off guard. “He pissed me off, so I told him that I didn’t need him anymore because I had you.”

You blinked, clearly confused. Why would Valentino care if Vox had a sugar baby? Relationships like that were purely transactional, a mutual agreement with no feelings involved. Unless Vox was suggesting that he told him that you two were a thing—no, that couldn’t be. You were a nobody compared to the man on top of you, so why would Valentino care?

“I don’t get it,” You started, your brows knitted together. “Why would Val care about me when I’m just…you know, nothing serious?”

Throughout the whole time, Vox never let up on fucking you, but he did slow down his pace and abandon your clit with your question. A funny feeling stirred in your chest as he peered down at you with an unreadable expression, seemingly debating his response. But then Vox released your legs, your throat bobbing in anticipation as he grabbed ahold of your jaw, making you look at him.

“Come on, sweetheart, you seriously can’t be that dull,” Vox said, your cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

“I just didn’t want to assume, that’s all,” You stammered, looking everywhere but at him. “So, uh, are you going to want me to pretend as if we’re a thing from now on?”

“Pretend?” Vox grunted, burying his cock deep inside of your cunt as he leaned into you. “Wouldn’t it be better if it were real?”

The man was a powerful and influential overlord, so you would be set for eternity, but you also came to know him more intimately as the time passed by. He treated you pretty great with your arrangement, so surely he’d be better as a partner, right? “I—yes?” You said, your eyes fluttering shut when he rolled his hips, feeling rewarded for your response. “That’s my girl,” Vox said, his cock pulsating inside of your cunt.

“Your girl,” You repeated, unable to believe the turn of events, but you weren’t complaining.

Vox hummed, leaning down to give you that kiss you had tried to give him earlier, his hand relaxing against your jaw. “How about we take a shower after this, hm?” He spoke against your lips, his eyes flitting down to see your cunt swallowing his cock, your juices dripping down your thigh. “You won’t electrocute me?” You joked. It was funny until Vox pulled out of you dragged you off the bed by your ankles, telling you “Why don’t we find out, sweetheart?” as he picked you up and took you to the bathroom.

Adam:

For an Angel, you found Adam to be pretty selfish and egotistical, saving you from the loan sharks pursuing you during the extermination in exchange for the ‘privilege of getting fucked by the first man alive.’ You only agreed because you needed an easy way out of your situation. When you nodded your head, he shoved his tongue down your throat, one hand on your breast while the other slithered past the waistband of your panties, whatever happened afterwards lost within a random sinner’s apartment.

“Fuck, babe. I just got here and you’re already so wet.”

Your face was pushed into your pillow, Adam’s chest slack against your back while he entered you from behind, your cunt eagerly swallowing every inch of his cock. He groaned into your shoulder, the edge of his mask digging into your skin, but the way he slowly massaged your clit as he bottomed out compensated for the slight discomfort it caused you.

Adam wasn’t usually this…attentive, his movements quick and sloppy as he tried to make the most out of your little meetings. But tonight, he was being gentle with you, seemingly focused on your pleasure by the way he slowly started to thrust into you, his free hand toying with your nipple. Your cunt fluttered around him, overwhelmed by all the different sensations.

“You like that?” Adam rasped into your ear, goosebumps littering your skin at the sound of his voice. “What about this, huh?” He continued, rolling the hardened bud in between his fingers.

You tried to answer him, you really did, but you were only able to muster a moan as he pulled out of you completely, the head of his cock pushing past your slick folds and back into your hole with a slow, hard thrust. “Shit, well, I guess that’s good enough,” Adam chuckled, your face flushing in embarrassment. “Shut up,” You said, but then he squeezed your nipple, making you yelp.

“Don’t tell me to shut up, bitch,” Adam grunted, lifting himself from your back, a whine escaping your throat as his hands moved to your hips.

“Call me a bitch one more time and the deal is over,” You said, glaring at him from over your shoulder, but you didn’t actually mean it.

“I don’t think that’s in your best interest, babe,” Adam said, picking up the pace and finally fucking you properly. “I’m the one who’s keeping you alive with every extermination—isn’t that just fucking ironic?”

The sound of skin slapping against skin enveloped your room, including your cries and his groans of pleasure. You constantly thanked Charlie for making the walls thick, Adam driven by the fact that he was doing something so…forbidden. But that wasn’t the only thing—he had developed a soft spot for you, feeling a distant ache in his chest whenever he heard the clock tower ring, his cue to leave.

“I can—ah, fuck, right there!—take care of myself just fine,” You said, his thrusts growing more unforgiving. “Sinners can’t truly kill each other anyway.”

“Yeah, but you can still feel pain,” Adam said, pulling out of you completely, leaving your cunt clenching around nothing.

Before you could think about asking him why he had stopped, Adam flipped you onto your back, your eyes widening as you stared back into his face, his mask nowhere to be seen. He rarely ever took it off, so of course you were surprised. “Come on, baby, I can take care of you better,” Adam said, the head of his cock brushing against your clit as he leaned in to kiss you—now that was a first, but you accepted it anyway.

Your eyes fluttered shut as his lips glided against yours, the stubble on his chin scratching at your skin, but you couldn’t care less. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling your bodies together by grabbing onto where his wings connected to his back, swallowing the yelp that escaped his throat. Apparently, they were sensitive, because he suddenly plunged his cock back into you.

“Adam! Fuck, slow down!” You cried out, your grip on his wings tightening.

“You’re so lucky I can’t impregnate you,” Adam panted, putting his forehead against yours. “Fuck, why do you have to be a stupid fucking sinner?” He added, sounding disappointed. “You don’t belong here—you should be up in Heaven, with me.”

“You don’t—what?” You said, slightly taken aback. You thought Adam had told you that he could take better care of you just to continue your arrangement, but no, there was more to it. “You don’t actually mean that, Adam.”

“Is it really hard to believe that someone like me wants more than just a simple fuck?” Adam said, sounding pained, but he still reached down to massage your clit to help you finish alongside him. “I guess that’s my fault, huh?”

“I’m sorry,” You said, and you would have offered him more words if your orgasm hadn’t hit you. “Fuck—‘m so sorry.”

Adam thrusted into you one last time, his hips stilling as he emptied himself deep inside of your fluttering cunt with a heavy sigh, his fingers withdrawing from you. “Don’t be, babe,” he said before capturing your lips with another kiss. As much as you enjoyed it, you couldn’t help but wonder where you stood with Adam—until he told you that he’d figure out a way to see you more often, and not just for sex.

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writingwithfolklore · 2 days

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Character Deaths

I believe a lot of thought and care should go into killing off characters. I tend to not care as much about books and characters where death is treated like not that big of a deal—where characters die off easily and without much pomp and circumstance. Generally, the more (important) characters you kill off, the less meaning the subsequent deaths will have. With that in mind, let’s get to a few considerations when thinking of killing off a character.

1. Does it make sense in your world/story?

If I open a book about a highschool friendship drama, I’m really not expecting anyone to be in mortal danger, whereas something like Game of Thrones or books that center around dangerous worlds, wars, or people, I’d expect death a lot more.

If a death is too shocking or out of place in the world and story you’ve created, it’s going to do the opposite of what you want and be silly rather than surprising, or feel unnecessary rather than providing an interesting twist.

2. Are there unintentional politics?

This one is big. The very first post I made was about how all writing is political, and this goes doubly for character deaths. For example, say you kill off a character who happens to be the only gay person in the story—or the killer happens to be a minority often stereotyped as aggressive. If your death plays into harmful stereotypes or tropes, consider finding a way to rework the plot to avoid it.

3. Does it have meaning?

Killing off characters for the sake of shock value or because you’re not sure what else to do with them is a surefire way to frustrate and annoy readers, ultimately losing their trust in you as a writer. I have actually put down books that killed off characters I liked because there wasn’t much meaning, consequences, or impact from their death.

Unless you have a specific world that intentionally makes death meaningless, it’s an event that’s going to dramatically and drastically change the people involved, the plot’s progression, and other environmental factors. If you’re not willing to have the impact of the death follow the characters all the way to the end, it might not have enough meaning to carry itself.

4. No one has died unless there’s a body

This is a rule often heard in filmmaking, but I believe applies to any media. Given characters who “die” off-screen tend to show back up later (especially if they’re the antagonist), readers may not buy your well thought out character death if there’s no confirmation of a body.

While showing or having an actual body might be impossible or unlikely in your story, a proper funeral or even credible character confirming the death will stand in here (“he’s dead, Jim.”) Beware relying on dialogue like, “I can’t believe they’re gone,” because characters tend to say this when the person is definitely not gone!

Anything else I missed?

#tw: death #tw: corpse #writing #creative writing #writing community #writers #screenwriting #writing inspiration #books #filmmaking #film #writing advice #killing characters #character death #major character death

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nataliescatorccioapologist · 12 hours

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They really put Travis through the wringer on this show, like put yourself in his shoes for a moment. You’re a teenage boy who’s dragged along by his shitty, neglectful father to a soccer tournament you really don’t even want to be at. The plane crashes on the way there and you have to watch your father’s bloody, mangled corpse fall from a tree.

Now you’re stranded in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenage girls, a one-legged gay gay who’s slowly going insane, and your little brother who you now have to take care of. You lash out because you’re deeply grieving and traumatized and don’t know how to show it because your brain is filled with 90s era gender roles. Now you have to dig up your father’s corpse to get a ring for Javi to make it up to him. Then you start a thing with a pretty grunge girl but you’re too insecure and not ready and don’t know how to express that because, once again, 90s gender roles.

Then you go to a party in the woods, get drugged with shrooms, lose your virginity, and get sexually assaulted by like 10 girls who proceed to hunt you down, tie you to a tree, and try to kill you. Then your brother gets lost in the crossfire and you’re trying to find him all while still feeling the guilt of cheating on the girl you love and the shame of what all of those girls did to you. You spend months looking for your brother in the snow and you know he’s probably dead but you can’t bear the thought that you were supposed to protect him and failed so you live in denial. Then your girl fakes Javi’s death, you begin to properly grieve, and you cannibalize the girl you lost your virginity to all in the same day.

Then, just as you’re coming to terms with Javi’s death he comes back but he’s all fucked up and won’t talk to you and you realize your girl lied to you so now you’re more alone than ever. Now you’re all starving so you do a card draw to see who you’re all going to eat next but the girl you love draws the card and you try to save her by sending your brother out there to help her. She lives but your brother dies instead (and you know he would have lived if you hadn’t sent him out there) and you sob over his body until the girls take him away to cut him up. Then you have to eat your brother to survive. And the girl you love who let your little brother die in her place is being crowned queen and you’re going to have a lifelong, complicated, drug-filled, resentful relationship with her. When you’re rescued, you’re going to have to return home and tell your mother that her husband and son are dead but you can never tell her, or anyone, what really happened.

I’m going to cut him some slack, guys.

#Travis get behind me #he’s an asshole but I understand #yellowjackets #travis martinez #natalie scatorccio #javi martinez

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y0urm0mst0es · 2 days

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Don't Leave

Kurt Wagner x fem!reader

Summary: You and Kurt love each other very much. What will happen when one of you dies?

Kurt holds you in his arms while you die

TW: death, blood

Notes: for @wolfdiva3002 😋👍might not be canon compliant but I hope you like it

You and Kurt had been together for a couple years now. Since you live at the institute and he lives in Genosha, the two of you decided to visit one another for a couple days or weeks at a time.

This time, it was you visiting him. Genosha was throwing a banquet, and you and a few other X-Men were invited. During the party, he had taken you to the side to talk. You hadn’t thought anything about it strange until you heard his question.

“Y/N, I love you, more than anything. And, I would love to spend the rest of my life with you. So,” he pulled a ring from his pocket. “Will you marry me? I know this is kind of sudden but-” his sentence was cut short by you pulling him in for a kiss.

“Oh my God, Kurt. Of course I’ll marry you,” you said, smiling brightly. He gently took your left hand and slid the ring onto your finger. You held your hand up, admiring the ring.

As you were about to speak again, a loud crash interrupted you. You and Kurt turned your heads in the direction of the noise. It was a sentinel attack.

~*~

Smoke was the only thing that could be seen. The sentinels brutal attack on Genosha left miles of destruction. So many mutants dead or injured. Kurt was hurt, but the only thing on his mind was you.

Kurt hadn’t seen you since you guys split up to fight and protect the Genosha citizens. Worry filled his mind as he wondered where you were. Had something happened? Kurt knew you were powerful and capable of handling yourself but he couldn’t help but think the worst had happened.

“Kurt, get over here quick!” Rogue called. Almost immediately, Kurt teleported to Rogues side.

“What is it? Are you hurt?” he asked, concern laced in his voice. Kurt followed Rogues eyes to see where she was looking. Then he saw you. Your limp body was buried by fallen rocks and dirt. “Oh mein Gott..”

He rushed to your side, brushing the debris off your body and cradling your body in his arms. “Y/N, please wake up. Open your eyes,” Kurt whispered, moving strands of hair from your face. Groaning, you opened your eyes to look at him.

“Kurt, why do you look so sad?” you asked, bringing your hand to brush his cheek. He leaned into your touch, tears running down his face.

“You’re hurt, my love. Really bad,” he pressed his hand to your wound, trying to stop the bleeding, then looked at Rogue. “Did you see what happened?”

Rogue sighed and looked down. “She took a bad hit from the sentinel Gambit was fighting. She managed to get him out of the way but couldn’t move fast enough to avoid the shot. I’m so sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt looked back at you with a sorrowful expression. “How are you feeling, Y/N? Are you in pain?” he continued to hold you gently in his arms, wanting to make you as comfortable as possible. “Rogue, could you find a healer please?”

“Kurt, I don’t think-”

“Please, just-” his voice caught in his throat, unable to say another word. He buried his face in your chest, silently crying. Rogue understood that he wanted to be alone with you so she went to find a medic.

“Kurt, please don’t cry. You know I hate seeing you upset,” you said, your hand resting on the back of his head.

“I can’t lose you, Y/N. Please don’t leave me.” Tears started to form in the corners of your eyes.

“I’m sorry. I wish it wasn’t like this. I really wanted to marry you and spend the rest of our lives together.” You let out a choked sob, tears spilling from your eyes.

“I love you so much,” Kurt said, looking back to you and holding your hand. You squeezed it lightly.

“I love you too.” He leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. With the last bit of strength you had, you kissed him back. Kurt leaned back, looking at your resting face. You were gone.

#fanfic writing #fanfic readers #kurt wagner x reader #kurt wagner #x men 97 #xmen 97 #x men 97 spoilers #angst #tw death #engagement

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frostytherobot · 2 days

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Alright. Because I’m thinking about Creep as a film series because they just announced more Creep in the form of THE CREEP TAPES (I’VE BEEN WAITING FOR SO LONG… it’s not a movie but a TV SHOW!!!) I’m just gonna ramble a little bit about why those movies are so important to me.

First, though:

^ That’s my Creep tattoo. I got it over a year ago and show it off whenever I can.

So, onward.

I watched the first Creep movie for the first time during quarantine lockdown. It was like March of 2021? (Hold on, let me link the episode of my podcast for that.) (Yup. Don’t mind my pre-T voice.) That was like one of the loneliest times of my life. You know how it was, you were there, too. Fucking. Awful. I felt like there was just this bubble of sadness around me and nobody could get through to me. Sure, I had friends I could talk to over the internet, but that can only get you so far. Especially when they have their own lives and you can’t see them face to face.

One night, my two best college buddies and I decided we should watch it for our podcast. That was the one thing we could do that we could talk to each other consistently with, so we went for it. And, fuck. You can hear in that episode how freaked out that movie made us! We talk about human behaviors and the compulsion to kill and where that stems from, the relationship between politeness and gender roles, and lot of other related topics in that episode. It’s a smart film that knows how to suck you into the reality; you see these two men up close and personal, their odd behaviors, and the found footage formatting and intimate setting make you feel as though you are there witnessing all of this with them. As them. Those awkward moments make you cringe; watching Josef admit to stalking Aaron, catching Josef on the lies, tubby time. Oh, god, tubby time.

And then there was the ending. The moment where the camera is left in the car, you’re left in the car, and you just have to watch as Josef puts on the Peachfuzz wolf mask, flourishes his jacket, and buries that axe into Aaron’s head. The shot is static. It’s matter-of-fact, and that’s why it’s so horrifying. He’s dead. You followed this shy, awkward guy on his journey getting to know an oddball all the way to the lake, and he’s dead now. And then, the murderous oddball looks directly into the camera, and while he says Aaron’s name, he’s looking at you as he says, “That is why I love you. And that is why you will always be my favorite. Of them all.” Like he was thanking you for witnessing this event.

I felt like there was someone behind me for hours afterward. Josef had somehow gotten into my home. And that’s how it started.

Months later, we watched the second one. (Episode link here.) Of course we loved it. I loved it. It wasn’t as scary as the first one, but the intimacy and emotional connection was still there. That feeling of watching two people through their own eyes was still there. Only this time, they were trying to out-weird each other, or at least come together on a level they could both understand. The thing is, they were still misunderstanding each other. Sara is only comfortable with Josef’s Aaron’s freakiness because she thought he was lying to her when he wasn’t. The moment she starts to take it seriously is when she decides to leave, and that’s when Josef Aaron pulls out the lies and the deceit to bring her back in. And when she comes back in, that’s when she starts being genuine, letting her guard down, and that’s when she gets into trouble. She starts to believe in the watered-down version of Josef Aaron, seeing the front of softness as a vulnerability in him, and to a point, it is. But she totally disregards everything else that has happened during this day as some kind of ruse, when she should have kept those moments in mind. He’s still a killer, and dangerous, even if he plays it like he isn’t.

Sara ultimately pays the price for entertaining his whims. I guess Aaron did, too, but in a different way. While Aaron died and became a part of Josef, Sara now cannot get rid of him. He tries to kill her, and she runs, refusing his gift of death and absorption into himself, but now he follows her. She’s literally moved on, but like a ghost or a bad dog with attachment issues, he still follows her. He gave her his heart, after all.

And then I got to putting two and two together on why exactly all of this was appallingly appealing to me. I was alone. I was drifting further into this state of paradoxical nothing-pain. And suddenly, I was being welcomed into a dynamic in which I was wanted. It was an obsessive want, but I was wanted. He got me. They all did. Josef, Aaron, Sara. Suddenly I’m seeing aspects of my loneliness on screen. The slow reveal of the odd personality traits, the waiting to see the reaction. Pulling those traits back in when they’re not met with the tolerance I wish was there. The staying when I feel so uncomfortable because I want to understand. Upping the ante in an act of bonding. Feeling like I’ve found someone who’s on my wavelength, only to find they weren’t as okay with the whole me as I thought. The sudden urge to end it all. To kill the relationships. Move on, knowing they were dead, but I could still have the memories. They were getting distant. I could do it, you know. Just end it all right then.

Of course, I didn’t do that. But I felt it. I felt it a lot during that time.

I’ve not been super mentally healthy over my time being alive. I’ve been hospitalized for it. Not a fun experience, by the way. But that was another aspect that just drew me closer to Peachfuzz. He’s funny, and weird, and unstable. Always lying to appeal to the people around him because he wants them to stay, for sincere and sinister reasons. He’s terrible and lonely. I was terrible and lonely.

And there it was. Crystal clear. Los aguas milagros de corazón. I was taking comfort in a manifestation of something dark that I saw in myself. A mischievous, funny, isolated, totally fucked-in-the-head, murderous darkness. I wasn’t alone in that room anymore, and yeah, perhaps my company should’ve been something not so, well, creepy, but I thanked him for being there. I could put a face with the feeling, and the nothing-pain started going away.

He’s a friend of mine now. And I love him a lot.

#martyface #josef tag #creep 2014 #creep movie #creep 2

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cowpokeomens · 2 days

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I hope you're still taking Mayhew thoughts cos boy do I have em.

Picture this: Mr Dierkes has had an awful stressful day and all he wants is to go home and slump on the couch watching his favourite comfort film. Then YOU pop your wee head in. You see he's had a shitty day and go over to snuggle with him but then he starts getting handsy and says he just needs some stress relief. You're happy to oblige 😍

Hello again, cum goblins! I got carried away :-/

Yeah it was a rough day, they’re so close to leaving for tour and everyone is stressed out and your impending separation is looming right there on the horizon and maybe he’s dreading it okay, so it was just. Not a good day. And he wants to sit on the couch and watch dumb reality TV and not be a person for an hour or two, when you poke your little head in from the bedroom where you definitely weren’t taking a nap, and you can tell immediately that he’s just Not In The Mood. So you pad over to him, sitting on the couch a little ways away from him to give him his space, waiting for him to say the first thing. Eventually he sighs and pauses the TV and says “staring at me won’t help, baby.” And you blush because yeah you were definitely staring but :-( he’s upset and you wanna fix it :-( and you say “is there anything I can do to make you feel better?” And poor Matt :-/ just :-/ yeah he knows exactly what would make him feel better :-/ so he looks you dead in the eye and says “stuffing your pretty cunt full of my cock might help a bit.” And brrrrr there goes your brain functions! No thoughts here! And he knows it too he knows what it does to you when he says shit like that (that’s why he says it smh bastard) but still, seeing your eyes glaze over and your lips part just slightly makes him a little feral :-/ can’t let you know though, guides you so that you’re straddling his lap, moves your shorts to the side and dips two fingers in you and you’re already soaked in anticipation, says “Kept it nice and wet for me, huh?” And you shudder a bit as you nod at him and he doesn’t waste time with formalities, pulls his cock out and pumps it a few times to get it full, keeps your shorts pulled to the side as he slides in into you in one fluid motion and your jaw drops open at the feeling of it stretching you 😔 he lays back, slapping your ass as he goes, says “go on, make me feel better.” Only you find you cant move because you’re still adjusting to the stretch and your legs feel like jello so the best you can do is grind down and whimper and that’s just not good enough for your Matty :-/ he rolls his eyes, says “seriously? That’s the best you can do? I could have just used a toy if I wanted to do all the work.” And you have no words because yeah you’re kind of useless right now, pawing at his chest and grinding onto his cock pitifully. He sighs melodramatically and sits up, pulling you into his chest so that he has better leverage to pull out and fuck back into you, saying “I could make a toy out of you, I guess.” And you can’t help the whimper that comes out at his words when he thrusts into you again, still holding you against him tightly. “Poor dumb girl can’t even ride my cock after a long day. Pathetic.” He’s fucking you earnestly now, dragging against the walls of your pussy deliciously as he goes. Your mouth is suddenly too empty, unoccupied in a way that makes your chest hurt, so you latch onto his neck and suck deeply and you can feel the rumble of his groan in your mouth as his pace quickens and you don’t even realize you’re going to cum until you do :-/ and the way your walls are clenching around Matt has him pushing you down onto the couch, your mouth unlatching form him with a pop, his hand coming down to hold your throat as he fucks you into the cushions :-/ you’re aware you’re being loud and the couch is gonna have a gross cum stain on it but you find you don’t care as he squeezes your throat tightly and cums into you, groaning and rambling about how good you are, how pretty you look with his cock in you, how good you’re taking it :-/ definitely gives you head in the shower afterwards when you’re supposed to be cleaning up oops bye

#ramblin gal #matt dierkes fanfiction #matt dierkes x reader

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propertyofwhitney67 · 3 days

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haiii it’s the anon who forgot the prompts :3 let’s go with cages, comfort, and a smidge of angst. thank u!!!!!!

It's for your own safety

M!Kylar x Suicidal F!Reader

Closed Prompt Event: Caged, Comfort, & Angst

Words: 589

Tw: Suicidal reader, attempted suicide?, self-harm, knife, blood, angst, caged

Note: Of course!! I like exploring the more darker ones. I've been through some of this myself so I used that experience to write this :)

The thoughts got louder and louder as I laid there in bed with Kylar. Between the loud thoughts and his suffocating grip, I couldn't get comfortable let alone sleep. I stared up at the skylight, looking at the beautiful night sky with my mind going a mile a minute. Despite the beauty, it couldn’t distract me from my thoughts.

It was hard, but I eventually slipped out of Kylar’s grasp and sat at the edge of the bed, staring at his knife on the bedside table. He always kept it near, and it was sharp enough for what I wanted to do. My fingers twitched at the thought alone. It’s been a while, but I needed to scratch that itch.

Slipping off the bed, I grabbed the knife and took it to the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, not thinking to lock it. I leaned against the sink, staring at myself in the mirror with empty eyes. After a while I pulled away from the sink and sat on the toilet, staring at the knife in my hands. The light reflected off it and showed my reflection, a girl with dead eyes and nothing to live for.

I traced the knife against the skin of my left arm, thoughts getting louder and louder as I did. I teetered on the edge of hurting myself or going back to Kylar. Hurting myself gives me a few moments of euphoria, but Kylar holds me till the thoughts eventually pass. Impulsively I chose the former, putting pressure on the knife and cutting into my skin. I watched the blood run down my forearm and drip onto my bare thighs. Gripping the handle tighter, I prepared myself to cut deeper. The brief euphoria wasn’t enough, I needed more.

Before I could plunge the knife deeper into my arm, it was yanked from my hands and thrown across the bathroom. I started to yell angrily but looked up to find a distressed and crying Kylar. “M-My love…?” I didn’t answer and he reached out to hold my arm, inspecting the fresh cut. “I have to clean it…” He gently put my arm down, afraid to hurt me, and started digging under the sink for a first aid kit of some kind. I kept silent, numbly staring at the wall while Kylar frantically searched. My arms hung limp at my sides, blood dripping and staining the expensive tile beneath me.

He kneeled before me, equipped with a first aid kit. “This might sting.” He whispered and began to clean the cut as gently as possible, “I would have helped…I’m always here for you.” I stared past him, feeling numb to everything around me.

When he finished cleaning and bandaging my arm, he pulled me into his arms and held me close. “You can’t leave me, I’m nothing without you.” He cupped my face, “I love you, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I can’t lose you.”

Kylar scooped me up and carried me back into the bedroom, placing me on the floor beside a cage. I looked up at him in mild confusion. I knew he had a cage, but I’ve only been put in it a few times as punishment. “I can’t take the chance of losing you.” He opened the cage and shoved me inside, locking it behind me. He sat on the floor staring at me with tears in his eyes, as if this hurt him more than it hurt me. “It’s for your own safety.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

𝘒𝘰-𝘍𝘪

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bnpd · 2 days

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DID I SEE YOU SAY GHOSTFACE AU????? OMG???? you KNOW i'll be ready for that :333

YESSS AND YK i have to do yall good with the plot AND smut!! I'll give you a sneak peek fr ! it's still a super rough rough draft

SNEAK PEAK !

Ghostface Gojo AU! Coming fall (Halloween)

SYNOPSIS: Why can’t you shake off the thrill of his attention? You’re not scared of him. No. You’re afraid of what you feel for him: What you’ll turn into when you fall into him.

PROLOGUE.

They’d started again. The killings.

You hadn’t told anyone about them yet, but you knew the second the news began reporting a mysterious killer on the loose leaving white ghost masks at murder scenes that it was over for you. He was back. He was coming for you.

They were only getting closer. Each report left a location that began to close in on your area. The first one was hours away from you, the next thing you know it’s someone living a few blocks from you. But you were next, and you were sure of it.

It was getting closer to Halloween, and you feared the nail to your coffin would meet its end, the night of Halloween.

5 Years Ago.

The warning signals had begun during your birthday week, but the worst was yet to come. You were in your last year of high school when they first started. Things were great, but that never lasts in a town with a history like Woodsboro.

Your father was the chief of police, and well, good people always suffer. He had been in charge of conducting the investigation when Ghostface first began to target a girl by the name of Riko Amanai. She was killed by the original Ghostface, Toji Fushiguro. After your father put him in jail for the rest of his life, things went back to normal for a few months. Until someone else picked up the mask and began the killings, no—not the ‘killings’. The torture.

He was there every night, watching you from outside your window, condescendingly tilting his head every time you made eye contact with him. You gazed at him from the safety of your room. Noticing how his breathing would pick up every time you looked at him—looked into him—, especially when you walked closer to him. He was a big guy, standing taller than your doorframe.

He never did anything, but you knew he watched you sleep. He was always watching you. Even if you never saw him at school you still felt his burning gaze. The closest he ever got to you was when you left your window open and faked sleep.

A tight grip on your dad’s handgun tucked under your pillow, ready to shoot in case of anything.

That night you found out he was fascinated with you. He caressed your hair in your sleep, before softly cupping your cheek, soothing you with his thumb.

The tenseness in your shoulders never dissipated.

He left shortly after. You got up trembling that morning. You couldn’t shake the feeling that he was far more tame than the last Ghostface. The fact made it more terrifying. He was no less of a threat to you than anything.

Everything went back to normal after that. 'Normal' being, him standing outside your window, watching you. You never told anyone about the late-night visits. Doing so would make them even more real, and you feared what that could mean for your peace and sanity. Over time, you had begun to trust him.

That was your first mistake.

Birthdays tend to be quite unforgettable, and this one was at the top of your list. The night of your birthday had marked an irremovable scar.

Your boyfriend, at the time, lay dead with the knife piercing the back of his head straight through your birthday cake. A party hat was snugly secured on his head and a birthday card was strategically placed between his limp fingers.

You remember screaming that night, a soundless one and the rest was a complete blur, but one thing was for sure. This one wasn’t your Ghostface. Or maybe it was and he was finally showing his true colors. A shade of crimson red to be exact.

Your shaky hands picked up the birthday letter that night. A gasp of horror left your lips, as your knees gave out on you. Your body collapsed to the floor in a kneeling manner.

There it was, written with blood.

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distinctlywhumpthing · 2 days

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Unintentional 29

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We're finally on the way home kids...

CW: BBU-adjacent, institutionalized slavery. Beta-read by @alittlewhump <3

The clock on the dashboard of Delia’s Honda glows bright blue, digital colon blinking between the six and five every second like a heartbeat. Only seven more minutes until the CVS opens. Leo scans the parking lot for the dozenth time. It’s still nearly empty, unchanged since they pulled in ten minutes ago after a drive twice as long as it needed to be. The pharmacy is the only store with any lights on, the rest of the strip mall’s windows and signs are dark. Errant snowflakes flurry through the light cast by the street lamps, inconsistent and sparse, borrowed from a passing storm. It would be peaceful if it weren’t for the adrenaline still coursing through his veins.

Leo drags a hand over his face and takes a deep breath. He can’t even remember the last time he pulled an all-nighter. It must have been back when he was young enough for it not to feel like he’d been hit by a bus. Beside him, Aiden is still and quiet, save for the just-audible exhales he forces between pursed lips. Measured and even like he’s trying to stave off tears or panic or pain or some combination of all three. They hadn’t spoken on the ride over, both tensely checking the mirrors to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Not that there was anything to say.

…

He couldn’t even look at him.

If Aiden were a normal teenager—whatever that means—he’d be giving him hell. How could you be so impulsive? I already thought I lost you once today and now you’re jumping at the next chance? Do you have any idea what that would be like for me? Trying to get on with my life after they’d taken you back? Can’t you see how much I care about you?

But he couldn’t say any of that. Didn’t know what to say, so he couldn’t look at him right now. Aiden quietly resumed his charade. Sure, the raid wasn't over yet but Leo couldn’t help wondering if he was putting on an extra show of cooperation as a demonstration of goodwill.

Did he regret what he almost did? Or just the fact that he got caught?

When he was sure Aiden’s eyes were closed, Leo looked into his face. The ruse wasn’t at all convincing, Leo knew him too well. For starters, the overwrought way Aiden managed his breath was a dead giveaway. A far cry from the gentle, inherent rhythm of sleep even he managed. Leo had clocked more minutes than he was willing to admit frozen in the hallway, letting himself feel an undeserved modicum of relief when that smooth sound reached his ears.

Just as telling was the determination in the tension of his jaw, only a little diluted by the way he was holding the inside of his bottom lip between his teeth to keep it from trembling. He was braver than Leo could ever give him credit for. He barely understood the first thing about this kid, yet here he was, reading every twitch of his brows and hitch of his breath like he had the whole frame of reference.

Thankfully, this charade didn’t solely hinge on his or Aiden’s poor acting skills. The devil was in the details on this one. It was the set that truly sold it and revealed just how much practice Delia has had at this.

Greeting cards crowded the windowsill, all sure to have handwritten messages on the inside. Either abandoned and repurposed or manufactured for this explicitly. A handmade quilt was tucked over the foot of the bed, balloons filled one corner up to the ceiling, and fresh flowers sat on all three tables. A hand-painted ‘Keep Fighting’ sign stretched across the wall with messages and names written over handprints. He recognized Delia’s handwriting in one corner. There’s no way she had recruited so many sympathizers so at least half of those notes and wildly different signatures had to have been done by her hand. Again, he was unsure whether to be unnerved or impressed by the level of dedication. Which was about as terrifying as it was comforting because maybe it meant the agents really weren’t coming back.

And that was about all the time he could spend distracting himself from what the fuck was going on and where the hell was that damn sister of his.

It was all he could do not to compulsively check his phone every second. Was it on? Was it even still in his pocket? What if he didn’t get service in this corner of the hospital?

By the time there was a knock on the door, he had wound himself up so much that he jumped to his feet. In his flat-out panic, he forgot any recognition of the cadence of knocks and was certain they were caught but he was just pinned to the spot like an idiot. When the curtains parted, of course it was only Noah and he knew that, but he had passed the useful kind of adrenaline-fueled exhaustion about five hours ago.

“They’ve given the all clear. Everything good here?” Leo’s obvious lack of composure earned raised eyebrows from Noah.

He cleared his throat and straightened, his lower back tight after trying to conform to the chair. “As far as I know…they came in but a nurse made them leave before—” He resisted the impulse to look at Aiden who hadn’t moved, save opening his eyes to watch them. A deer frozen on the edge of the yard, afraid bolting would mean certain death. Ironic. “Where’s Delia?”

Now Noah looked caught out. “She’s, uh, she’s got her hands full with a…patient…”

Leo struggled to keep his voice even. “What? Did they find something?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s…look it’s better if you don’t know the details. I’m sure you want to get out of here anyway.” He cast a meaningful glance at Aiden. “Here are some notes for the prescriptions. They’re ready to fill at the pharmacy, antibiotics and—”

“Wait a second.” He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “How deep into this shit are you two? I’m grateful for what you did for us but this doesn’t seem like something you should be making a habit of.”

Noah had the gall to chuckle—little shit—but when he saw Leo’s expression he quickly swallowed it. “Hey, man, I get it. There’s a reason I don’t tell my family. But I’m sure you know Delia well enough to know she’s not a ‘follower’.” He even used air quotes around the word. “We’re not even in the same unit. We didn’t realize we were both doing this independently until one of our shelter contacts introduced us.” Leo didn’t even try to mask his doubt so Noah continued, “For what it’s worth, it’s a lot safer for both of us having each other’s backs. But as you well know, the risks are never zero when you’re on this side of the law.”

On this side of the law.

The phrase twisted and turned in his head as Noah led them out through the labyrinth of back stairwells, quiet wards, and service elevators. It pressed against his thoughts as they huddled in a supply closet from a rush of doctors responding to a code blue. It loomed over him as he rested his hands on Aiden’s shoulders when he nearly jumped out of the wheelchair at the slam of a door. It echoed loudest when he was behind the wheel and it was on him to get them home safe. And figure everything else out.

…

“L-Leo?” Aiden ducks his chin when Leo looks over, like he didn’t intend to say his name out loud and isn’t sure what to do with his attention now that he has it. He picks at the cuticle of his right thumb, lips moving like he’s trying to shape his words just right before speaking. After a minute of that, he presses them together, flattens his hands on his thighs and meets Leo’s eyes. “Mmm’sorry…before…mmm…” His chin starts to tremble and it’s obvious he wants to look away but he forces himself to maintain eye contact. “I-I-I…mmm…mmm…”

“Alright, it’s okay.” Leo can’t bear the kid’s self-imposed confession. “I’m not mad. I can’t say I understand what might have possessed you but, anyway, we’re good. Water under the bridge.” It feels a little blunt and more than a little awkward but he adds, “You’re not in any trouble,” like Delia said dozens of times throughout the night.

“Mmm…but…I’mmm…I-I-I…” Aiden furrows his brow like he’s still trying to find a word, lips moving, but tears well in his eyes, threatening to spill the longer he searches.

“Don’t worry about it,” Leo repeats gently. “It’s all good.”

Aiden doesn’t look placated at all. He balks at Leo, visibly distressed, lips quivering as he pauses mid-silent-syllable.

Shit. That’ll encourage the kid to communicate more, just cut him off like an impatient ass. But if this is just some other backwards Companion obedience thing… Leo’s out of energy for trying to wade through how exactly to handle this. He has so much research to do. Is it even safe to do research?

“I’m sorry, hon. Look” Aiden flinches when Leo's hand meets his shoulder.

He grimaces at Leo apologetically, shaking his head at himself. He swipes at a tear with the back of his hand and shakes his head again, a ragged exhale escaping his lips.

“I know it’s not easy, we’ll figure it out together.”

Aiden looks up, biting his lips together as he tries to blink back the rest of his tears. It’s heartbreaking to watch. Leo hopes he doesn’t think there’s any problem with him crying when he needs to. At the same time, Leo can also understand why he wouldn’t want to always be breaking down.

“For now, let’s just focus on getting home, okay?”

Aiden nods, pulling his hands into his sleeves and wiping away the last of the tears. He puts on a brave face.

“Good boy.”

Aiden looks away shyly. Leo opens his mouth to take it back, to apologize for saying something so patronizing, so offensive. He meant it more as a ‘good sport’, ‘atta boy’. He—

There, behind the fist Aiden rests his cheek against as he pretends to look out the window, is a hint of a smile.

Only this kid can shatter his heart and melt it in the span of five minutes.

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