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cuubism · 10 months

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I complained that Morpheus's season 2 cemetery fit wasn't tits-out, @magnusbae said "tits in outfits are so devastating because you know there's tits to be seen but they're in," I decided that's something Hob would say while drunk and that he should say it to Dream's face. And here we are.

“Listen,” Hob says, with the slurred, utter conviction of the very intoxicated, “listen. This’s. Important.”

“I am sure,” Dream agrees, sipping his wine. He himself is not drunk, but he’s gaining a surprising amount of amusement from watching Hob.

“You listening?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” Hob sighs, looking down into his glass. “You’re a good listener.”

Before Dream can respond to this, Hob shakes himself.

“But listen. S’such a tragedy you know?”

“What is?”

“Tits,” Hob says passionately, and Dream chokes on his wine.

“In,” he manages, once he’s swallowed and not asphyxiated, which felt dangerously possible despite his nonhuman form, “what way?”

“Always covered up,” Hob says mournfully, face crumbling. “Should be more societal—” he stumbles over the words, tongue heavy in his mouth, “socially acceptable to just. Be tits out. You know?”

Dream is not certain he himself has a strong opinion on the matter. He does not spend much time contemplating others’ breast tissue.

“Perhaps one day it will be,” he says, in an attempt to soothe Hob’s devastated expression.

“Can’t come soon enough,” Hob agrees, and raises his glass to Dream’s in a toast to the matter.

Dream obligingly clinks their glasses, and after Hob has drunk, swaps Hob’s glass of beer for a glass of water. Hob doesn’t seem to notice.

“Horrible to know that they’re there and you can’t even see them,” Hob continues.

“Torturous,” Dream agrees. “Unsurvivable.”

“Nah nah nah,” Hob counters, waving a hand. “Tits is a reason to survive.”

“I see,” Dream says, hiding a smile. He suspects Hob will be too hungover to even remember this in the morning. Probably it is for the best.

“Eleanor had great tits,” Hob sighs. “Among other things.”

For a moment Dream worries his cheerful drunkenness will tip over into melancholy, but then Hob adds, seemingly oblivious to how he’s blowing past his usual boundaries, “You know. I always thought—” he hiccups “—that you would have. Fuckin’. Bangin’ tits.”

Dream drops his wine glass.

It shatters against the table, but he pays it no mind as he stares at Hob, who’s looking off into the middle distance, lost in a memory.

“Dunno why,” he says. “You’re always so. Covered up. But I know there’s something there. You’re beautiful, you’re…” he trails off.

Dream does not know what to say to this, to the revelation that Hob is thinking of him in such a way. It strikes him more strongly than even hearing the word tits applied to his person, which is its own hard shock indeed.

Perhaps he is more drunk than he’d thought, for the first response that does come to his mind is would you like to see them?

This is undoubtedly a cue to end the evening.

“I think perhaps you should have some water and sleep now, Hob,” he says. “Your body will not thank you tomorrow.”

“Mmm,” Hob says, not really listening to him. “Yeah…”

Dream takes him by the arm and pulls him up from the table, manages to maneuver a stumbling Hob to the stairs at the back of the inn, to his bedroom, where he lays Hob down on the bed, pulling off his shoes. Hob reaches for him, and for a moment Dream is afraid Hob is going to grab at his chest, but he doesn’t, just lightly touches Dream’s cheek.

“You’re beautiful,” he says, the words all blurred together, and something in Dream’s chest tightens.

“Sleep now, Hob.” He brushes a hand over Hob’s forehead, and Hob falls asleep instantly, relaxing into the pillow.

Dream lays a blanket over him, leaves water and aspirin on the nightstand. Stands, observing Hob, for longer than is proper or necessary. And then takes his leave to the Dreaming, where Hob’s words, drunken ramblings though they were, circle him for hours afterwards.

The fact of the matter is. Dream wants Hob. And has for some time. He does not know when exactly it struck him, only that he has increasingly become fixated on Hob’s hands, on the breadth of his shoulders, the warmth of his eyes. He has not known how to broach the topic. He has never had a lover who was a friend before.

Nor had he known whether Hob would be receptive to such a thing.

He supposes he has that answer now.

Hob has also handed him, though he probably did not realize it, an easy way to convey his interest. It will also, Dream thinks with a little smile, be somewhat… amusing to surprise Hob with the reality of his desire. Likely he never thought that would be the outcome of ranting to Dream about his breasts, such as they are.

I will visit him tits out, he resolves. Tomorrow, when he wakes.

Dream is no stranger to more revealing attire, though he has not cared to wear it since his captivity. This, he thinks, is worthy of making the change. He garbs himself in normal slacks and boots, his usual long coat open and unbuttoned— but under it is a sheer, long sleeved shirt, ruffled collar, cut out over the chest precisely as Hob had requested, drunk though he was. Truly, Dream thinks, observing the look in the mirror he has manifested in his chambers, the fashion of this decade is interesting indeed.

Thus clothed to the requirements, Dream commands his sand to take him to Hob’s flat, now that he can feel Hob has woken. He stands in Hob’s living room, and he waits.

Hob comes into the living room at the sound of his arrival, rubbing his eyes, still sleepy and hungover. He’s still in pajamas, and clearly has not been awake long. “Listen, Dream, I’m so fucking sorry, I should not have said— oh holy fuck.”

“I thought this would appeal,” Dream says, and watches Hob reel, eyes wide.

“Appeal. Appeal? Appeal to what, my fucking dick? Oh Jesus Mary and God-fucking-dammit, I’m making it worse—”

Dream is feeling very validated in his choice now. He smirks, taking a step closer. “You were very passionate last night. I thought perhaps. You would like to test your theory.”

Hob’s eyes are still huge. He swallows, throat bobbing, gaze bouncing between Dream’s eyes and his lips and his bare chest.

“My theory,” Hob says faintly. “Are you coming onto me? Please tell me you’re coming onto me and not just trying to break me. Because you broke me, I’m broken.”

“Until you spoke last night I… did not know that you thought of me like that,” Dream admits.

“Didn’t know? And here I thought I was the most obvious—” he bites the sentence off. “Doesn’t matter. I’m not dreaming, am I? I guess it could still be you…”

“You are not dreaming,” Dream confirms.

Hob steps closer to him, then, as if hypnotized. Strokes a thumb lightly over one of Dream’s bare nipples, and Dream shivers at the touch. Then Hob presses his hands flat to Dream’s chest, cups what little flesh is there in his palms. Dream does not have a particularly substantial chest but Hob seems compelled anyway.

“Are my ‘tits,’” Dream asks, quoting Hob from last night, “‘banging,’ Hob Gadling?”

Hob goes bright red, but doesn’t remove his hands. “Yeah, Dream,” he says, strangled, “you have the prettiest little titties I ever saw.”

This is not something Dream has ever cared about or even considered about himself, but he preens anyway.

“And if you’ve no objections I’d really like to get my mouth on them,” Hob continues. “You free now? Or did you come just to upend my world and run?”

“I am ‘free,’” Dream confirms. This is, in fact, his desired outcome. “Is that the only place you will put your mouth?”

“Fucking hell.” Hob kisses him then, rough and hot, hands going to Dream’s waist to pull him in so their bellies are touching. Dream hums in pleasure. And Hob pushes his coat off his shoulders. It falls to the floor, unheeded. “No, I want to fucking bite you. Kiss you everywhere. And I dunno what you have going on down there, but I’m going for that, too.”

Dream raises an eyebrow. “‘What I have going on down there?’”

Hob huffs. “Well I don’t know, you personification of insanity. What do you have going on down there?”

“What would you like me to have going on?”

“No,” Hob says, half a whine. “Don’t say shit like that, I’m not a strong man. Come on.”

He takes Dream by the hand, drags him towards his bedroom. And Dream smiles to himself. A desired outcome, indeed.

#this is the most ABSURD thing i ever wrote for this fandom but i make NO apologies #dreamling #dreamling fic #hob gadling #dream of the endless #my writing #magnusbae #tits0ut #never have a put such insane sentences in dream's mouth #the titlet

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ipostmysimpingstuffanonymously · 3 months

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can uwu pls draw shoko comforting gojo the morning after the night parade of 100 demons and after he killed geto ? 🥺

IM SORRY I FUCKED UP. I did the morning after the KFC Breakup CUZ I CANT READ AAAAAA Hope that's okay too 👉 👈

#there are many fics that i reference when i draw the aftermath of geto leaving #lilies by antioedipus #sorry about the blood in your mouth (i wish it was mine) by her_black_tights #Breathing Underwater by Shrimphony #just to name a few #like i just hate how we never got shokos view of the whole thing #sure we got the smoking scene but we never saw yaga tell her or gojo see her after he heard the news #even if she's an unbothered queen seeing gojo like this must have hurt #nay she must have hurt too #i need more development for her pls ppllllsssss #shoko ieiri #satoru gojo #jjk #fanart #jujutsu kaisen #IPMSSA_SatoSho!Fanart #IPMSSA_FoundFamily!Fanart

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pettyprocrastination · 1 year

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whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her.

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak.

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place.

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him.

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening.

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail.

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench.

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency.

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.”

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself.

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found.

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there.

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames.

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.”

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did.

He became a smuggler because of it.

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way.

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course.

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him.

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles

“You think she would have wanted this for you?”

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence.

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.”

All he can do is nod.

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit.

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live.

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago.

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo”

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them.

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands.

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face.

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity.

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?”

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be.

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.”

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again.

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.”

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples.

“One.”

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun.

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.”

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins.

“Four.”

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet.

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?”

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless.

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same.

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head.

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun.

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #i had an idea of something similar for tommy but on outbreak night he uh. abandons you instead of getting separated from you #because. angst :D #people say nice things #this was incredibly generous of you anon thank you so so much!#i may get myself a little starbucks drink this week now because I havent had starbucks since like january 1st lol #joel reeling from taking in all this information and also realizing he suckerpunched HIS OWN KID #id like to apologize for all the grammatical issues with this. this is just a bulletpoint word vomit to get my thoughts on the page before-#-beginning the actual fic. also I have to do a midterm tonight and this is my treat to myself hehe #but yes. joel getting separated from his wife on outbreak night and having to accept that shes probably dead #meanwhile youve lived this entire life without him because you think HES dead ad raising your boys all on your own #which just- further digs into his insecurities about failing in his role as a protector #he couldn't save sarah. he can't save ellie and he couldn't even save you #he thinks about you pregnant and alone. fending for yourself in a world full of infected and raiders and his chest grows tight again #this is all followed by Ellie going >:O 'you KNOW THIS PSYCHO?'and then joel immediately snapping at her to WATCH HER MOUTH #because that kid has no filter and he has to explain that youre his wife #anyways joels wife is a badass mfer who also maybe has a little garden and some chickens that you and your boys take care of <3 yeah .#reunion tag #ill be using that for this specific couple because I dont have a fic title yet but if anybody has suggestions!

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johnslittlespoon · 2 months

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"buck, can i climb up into your bunk to keep warm?" shut up.

#the gun is in my mouth #my finger is twitching #oh my fucking god my bunk sharing fic is canon #SHARING BEDS FOR WARMTH TRUTHERS RISE UP #this is the most john fucking thing ever i'm going insane #what am i supposed to do with this information #buck x bucky #buckbucky

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emlovessid · 3 months

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@jegulus-microfic february 16, tear, 186 words

One of these days, their bickering is going to get one or both of them fired, but James can’t help it; ever since their first day as interns almost a year ago, James and Regulus have been at each other’s throats. Eventually one of them is going to snap and press the other up against a wall somewhere; in a hallway, in a supply cupboard, in an on-call room. Personally, James can’t wait.

“Are you guys, like, together?” Charles says, eyes flicking between them from where he’s laying on the emergency room bed.

“No,” Regulus replies at the same time James says, “Not yet.”

James watches fondly as Regulus rolls his eyes, insisting once again, “No.”

As soon as Regulus turns away to pull up his chart on the computer, James meets Charles’ eye and nods, the pair of them both hiding their smiles when Regulus turns back around.

“Charles, it looks like you have a tear in your deltoid muscle, which explains – what are you both grinning at?” Regulus sighs.

“Nothing. Right, Charles?” James says with a wink.

“Yeah, nope. Nothing at all, Dr Black.”

#i just know that when they do eventually snap #they're not gonna be able to keeps their hands or mouths off each other #getting caught making out in every corner of the hospital #jegulus #jegulus fic #marauders #sometimes i write things

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guest-1-2-3 · 11 months

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Yk what blows my mind is when i’m reading something amazing right, i am so immersed in the story the writing is beautiful it’s making me feel more emotions than i’ve ever felt in all my years of living and then the end notes are just like. “uhhh hope u enjoyed ig? haha” or “idek what this is lol” like sir ma’am my guy your writing is the most gorgeous thing i have ever read. i cried and i laughed and i screamed and i did that thing where you roll around in bed and giggle like a child at 3am. if it was the zombie apocalypse and i could only take one story with me as i fought to survive it would be yours. “what even is this lmao” a masterpiece. a fucking masterpiece is what it is

#kissing writers on the mouth mwah mwah #i guarantee you the things you write will make at least one person so genuinely happy #u don’t understand that 20k friends to lovers fic u wrote filmed me with JOY with HAPPINESS i felt free #the angst fic made me ugly cry and it was the most beautiful kind of pain because your writing was so powerful that for a moment it was rea #i had a shit day and your self indulgent little throwaway fluffy oneshot made me smile and i felt a little better about the world #writers i FUCKING LOVE YOU #i LOVE YOU and i LOVE WHAT YOU CREATE #ao3 #fanfic #fanfic things #fandom things #fanfic writer appreciation #writeblr #writers #writing #fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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naffeclipse · 2 days

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I'm thinking of making Devil Eyes Officer Y/N a smoker, not like a chain smoker, but one who had previously smoked before joining the police academy and had quit, and then once inflicted with Eclipse's torment, turned back to smoking as an unhealthy coping mechanism (this would also include, of course, Eclipse's reaction to such a thing (he does not like it)), but, I'm afraid this will be a turnoff?? for readers?? so let me just ask

#it wouldn't be a regular thing just y/n needing a smoke break after dealing with eclipse and anxiety and terror for a whole evening #and they're not handling it well #and eclipse would quickly make it clear he doesn't want them smoking #he's taking the cigarette right out of their mouth #he's stealing their lighters and cigarette packs #he's very scary when he smells smoke on their clothes #so it would be a very brief thing in the fic because Eclipse essentially makes them quit #he's doing a helpful thing for a very bad reason #Vanessa would also notice because of how poorly they're hiding it and wonder why they're smoking when they were off the stuff #and she grows a lil suspicious #devil eyes #my polls

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stolenslumber · 6 months

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i wanna lock in your love (sjy)

PAIRING: sim jaeyun x gender neutral reader GENRE: best friends to lovers, newly established relationship, fluff WARNINGS: kissing, suggestive content WORD COUNT: 1.1k

“So… what do we do now?” Jake asks. His head tilts quizzically at you from where he hovers at the side of the bed— his own bed, so why does he feel so nervous?

Your hands smooth over his bedsheets robotically, just as nervous. It’s the end of your first date with Jake Sim, who has seen you in diapers and acne and graduation gowns alike; who knows you like a favorite song, played backwards and forwards and over and over again; who looks at you with such sweet adoration that your heart lurches and trembles whenever you catch him staring at you.

It’s the same look he’s been wearing proudly for the past week, ever since you’d finally gotten on the same page about the way you feel for each other. He’d wear this look for the rest of his life, if you let him.

And you would. You’d let him do anything he wants; but the words die in your throat, caught somewhere between aching familiarity and wobbly newness.

He’s the same Jake who raced you around the block under never-ending sunshine in those hazy elementary years, and he’s the same Jake who told you last week that the air you breathe— you, just you— is more precious than anything in the world.

(He had added that he could confirm this, thanks to everything he knows about the laws of physics, and you had poked his forehead and called him a nerd for that joke, so truly: he’s the same Jake as he has always been.)

But even after all this time, there are still parts of him that you never knew. Like how his mouth moves against yours like he was made for you; fluid, eager, earnest, forming words of devotion in Korean and English, haphazardly alternating between the two after you’d kissed him for the first time after that stupid joke. Like how his face shines in the glow of requited love, his half of which he had been holding tightly against his chest for so long as an unspeakable treasure. Like how his fingers dance across your skin as they did during today’s date, tracing mindless stars and hearts over your arms, raising goosebumps from you and chuckles from him.

So… what do we do now? There’s really only one answer you can give.

“Whatever you want,” you let out— finally, truthfully, and with a great whoosh of air that you’d been holding in for too long.

Suddenly, Jake laughs; that high-pitched giggle so dear to you that it automatically makes you smile.

“We’re being dumb,” he declares as he drops himself onto his bed, settling with his back against the headboard.

“Speak for yourself,” you retort, but there’s hardly any conviction to your voice, what with how distracted you’ve become by the way he has one arm tucked behind his head and his bottom lip caught under his teeth.

He laughs again, but now it’s breathless, because he’s tracking the rise of the flush from your chest to your cheeks. “C’mere, cutie.” He pats the spot next to him and hopes you don’t notice how his hand shakes.

Of course, that just makes you flush deeper, but you obediently scooch up until you’re hovering over him, up on your knees while he looks at you with that same adoration that scrambles your thoughts once again.

Slowly, he reaches out and unfurls your fingers from the unconscious fists they had formed. He takes your hands in his and squeezes, once, twice; right in time with your racing heart.

When he speaks, it’s hushed and sacrosanct. “Will you let me love you?”

“I always have,” you murmur. And it’s true. Now that you’ve seen it, you can’t unsee it: Jake has looked at you like this for a long, long time. Realizing it was like coming up for air when you hadn’t even known you were drowning.

He hugs you close, bringing you into his lap. “Then will you kiss me?”

And when he asks so sweetly, how could you ever say no?

You get lost in kissing him as heat rises all around you just as quickly as it had risen in your cheeks, until it’s almost unbearable and you’re whining something incomprehensible against his mouth.

He tears himself away from you with a gasp. His chest heaves, and his lips are so shiny and red that it makes you squirm in his lap. His hands tighten around your hips to still your movements even as he asks, “What do you want, angel? I’ll give you whatever you want.”

Your thoughts ricochet in every direction; there’s too much you want, and the strength of your want is dizzying. One thought bubbles up to the top: “Off. Please take this off.” Your fingers scratch against his stomach through the thin fabric of his white T-shirt.

He shudders underneath you, and he can’t stop himself from wrenching another whine from your throat when he kisses you again, so deeply that you almost miss it when he attempts to take his shirt off with one hand. Of course, you do notice when he fumbles and gets stuck in the shirt.

All of a sudden, the almost suffocating tension in the room pops, and you can’t stop laughing when a muffled, “Don’t look at me,” comes from inside his shirt. You’re still laughing when he finally untangles himself and gets out of it.

“What were you trying to do?” You ask, settling your hands on top of his shoulders.

“Some trick I learned from the older guys on the team. Heeseung, mostly,” he admits. His fingers fidget with the hem of your shirt.

“Heeseung can do that?”

Jake makes a face at you. “Yeah, so what? Are you impressed, or something?”

You burst out laughing again. “No, you idiot, I think you’re all very stupid.”

He nods as his hand splays against your back underneath your shirt, pressing you closer to him. “Okay, but you like me the most, right?”

You roll your eyes even as you lean into his chest. “Obviously. I love you, like, an embarrassing amount.”

He chokes on air. “Sorry, I’m still not used to hearing that. Feels like I’m dreaming, y’know?”

“Me, too. The best dream ever,” you sigh, settling your ear against the steady beat of his heart. The overwhelming heat from before simmers down to comfortable warmth; fervor slips into felicity.

Unexpectedly, you yawn. You’re halfway to apologizing when Jake shushes you with a kiss. “Sleep,” he urges. “I’ll be here when you wake up. We have all the time in the world, lover of mine. The rest of our lives.”

And you do. And you do.

#enhypen #jake sim #sim jaeyun #enhypen jake #enhypen fic #enhypen x reader #jake sim x reader #enhypen fluff #enhypen blurbs #jake sim fluff #jake sim blurbs #ik ppl are frothing at the mouth about the video of jake lifting his shirt up but me personally i saw that and laughed #bc his hand got stuck in his shirt the first time he tried it #so then i wrote this entire thing just to include a similar moment #it just occurred to me that i wrote a similar scene for one of my jay fics........... u can't say im not consistent #okay back to schoolwork i go!#ss.warmup

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astaraels · 28 days

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why do people think Yevgeny wasn't Mickey's son? in 3x06 there was clearly no condom used (not that Terry probably would have let Svetlana stop to get one), but there's no reason to think she wasn't using condoms with her regular clients. it's not Svetlana's fault that she was a tool used to rape Mickey—the sole blame for everything that happens in that entire situation belongs to Terry Milkovich and him alone—so why does it feel like it's just another way for people to shit on Svetlana for something that wasn't in her control? it's not as though she'd asked to get pregnant in the first place...

#stop giving svetlana shit just because terry was one of her clients—between him and sasha do you really think she had a chance to say no?#her attitude towards mickey is s4 is very easy to understand when you think about the fact that a) she's his age or maybe a year older #b) she is a person who knows she has to take what life gives her and make the best of bad situations #c) her entire future rests (so she thinks) on her and mickey making their marriage work and he was absorbed in ian (which the audience gets #but svet has no context for) and thus her feeling threatened is very understandable because mickey also won't stand up to his father #so yeah of course svet is gonna see terry as the one person who will put things the way they're supposed to be #but! it's after mickey comes out and he and ian fight everyone in the bar that she realizes mickey could be an ally to her #and she extends a hand in friendship because they're both stuck in this situation and yeah of course she wants him to stop being stupid #about yev—as she puts it “baby did not choose this either” which leads me to think she understands mickey's situation a little better now #but yev looks so much like mickey and has those big blue eyes of his (also evidence for baby mickey being blond)#I get that the whole child from rape thing isn't fun for mickey to have to deal with but women have to go through it all the time—like Svet #okay rant over I'm sorry I'm just...it puts a bad taste in my mouth whenever I see it in fic or meta that yev can't *possibly* be mickey's #mickey milkovich #svetlana yevgenivna #yevgeny milkovich #shameless

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wayward-sherlock · 5 months

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homesick.

chapter one.

chapter two.

chapter three.

chapter four.

Mike hates this time of year.

The leaves have all fallen, covering the ground like puzzle pieces in their rightful places, so the trees are bare, naked, and dead. It hasn’t yet snowed to round out the rugged edges of the town; there are still sharp edges everywhere Mike looks — and trust him, he looks — and it feels like the atmosphere is eternally toying with him by turning dark with rumbling clouds, only to dissipate within an hour. It also gets dark at four p.m. for no reason other than to piss him off.

The world is, Mike decides, no better now than it was when it was ending.

mike's been living in hawkins since the world stopped ending, even though his friends left him behind.

well, maybe living isn't the right word.

#ITS HERE ITS FINALLY FUCKING HERE #I WORKED SO HARD ON THIS PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE #btw if you catch all the song references in the fic i will kiss you on the mouth #homesick.#byler #wayli writes #stranger things #mike wheeler #will byers #byler fic #ao3 #🫧🪴#💛💙#Spotify

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kairenn-n · 10 months

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i wish merlin had killed even more people in canon. he deserved it. that scene where he kills agravaine and his men? the best thing in the show ever. he needed a scene where he killed someone with his bare hands 0 magic used. and a scene where he brought down a whole army like its nothing AS HIMSELF. and a scene where he cut someone's throat with a knife. and a scene where. sorry im getting carried away. im right tho

#the show needed more blood #(me about any show ever)#CAN U TELL REWATCHING BLACK SAILS IS DOING THINGS TO MY BRAIN #i didnt remember the scenes where flint killed the spanish sailors with a knife through their throats and a hand on their mouths.....#I WANT THAT FOR MY BOY #okay i need to write more fics where he kills people without magic. for . reasons #merlin #omfg WAIT STOP. imagine servant of two masters but he tries to kill arthur with his hands. im having thoughts (<- hannibal brainrot)#ok to reblog but only if you want merlin to kill more people

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 1 year

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Ok ok ok that last Angel/Devil Steve and Eddie oneshot was just *chefs kiss* perfect, but what if we take it to the beginning where reader just found out about Steve and Eddie and is refusing to masturbate or have sex cause she feels watched so their sexual tension just builds and they get sooo stressed and horny that Steve and Eddie are just like “yeah no this isn’t healthy for you let us take care of you” all flirty and hot and stuff.Also clearly this is smutty or just suggestive if not smut

A/N: omg please! i love that they just go yeah no, we quit! we can’t take it anymore! and then just takes matters into their own hands. also, i’m gonna finally use this idea, an image, that’s been floating around in my brain since the beginning of this au…

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“Told you this was what you needed, baby,” Eddie groaned harshly as he withdrew his hips, letting you finally suck in a gasp of air once more.

Bending down to cradle your dreamy face in his hands, his thumb brushed over your messy lips, “look at you,” you jolted in his grasp as Steve’s sharp thrusts rocked your entire body, “fucking putting your own needs aside,” he smeared your saliva into your skin, “basically hurting yourself, just because what, suddenly you can see us?” his mocking tone was accompanied with a playful slap to your cheek, making your eyes roll back.

“Did you really think you’d stay innocent when we now have the ability to touch you?” he straightened up once more, his throbbing cock already tightly wound in his fist, “we both know what a little slut you are,” he kept a hand rooted on the back of your head, as he stroked himself and sporadically tapped the heavy tip against your blushing face, “what a little whore you can be for us now that we have you…”

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