#i’ve just been having thoughts about the warehouse lately | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerxbunnie · 6 months

Note

Hiiii🤭 okay so I have a request for Matt. He’s usually the dominant one, but lately he’s been thinking about switching it up, so he wants you to be dominant and he’s all like a whimpering mess, and he got doe eyes cause he’s pleading….and uhh yeah WORK YOUR MAGIC CAUSE IK ITS BOUT TO EATTT. Get as crazy as you want 😏

In Charge

Matt x Fem reader

Warnings: SMUT. SMUTTTTTY SMUT. Sub!Matt, use of word mommy, etc

DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE NOT OKAY WITH SMUT OR ARE A MINOR!

Matt’s POV

I keep my eyes glued to Y/n as she clicks away at the camera, positioning it horizontally and vertically to catch as many angles as possible. Today we’re at the warehouse- she’s helping Chris with a photoshoot for the next collection for Fresh Love that’s dropping in a few weeks.

I sit on the couch at the back of the room and watch her work, moving ring lights to find the best lighting, switching lenses for different amounts of blur and focus, and a bunch of other things I’m not even going to pretend to understand.

Her tennis skirt is showing off her perfect legs as she maneuvers around the set, standing on her tiptoes to get upward angles every now and again. There is a sheen of sweat glistening on her face under the heat of the lights, her baby hairs a mess all over her forehead.

She bends down to unplug a camera charger and I can feel the blood immediately rush towards my dick as I catch a glimpse of her white lace panties. I have to adjust myself in my seat, my pants suddenly feeling tighter and constrictive. I can just imagine the way she tastes. I can see myself with my head buried between her legs. I can almost hear her whimpering my name and clawing at the sheets. I need to divert my thoughts towards something else.

“Alright Cooper, if you could grab the collar and pull it out… yeah like that! Keep the logo visible..” she trails off in a mumble as she stares into the viewfinder, biting her lip before clicking the capture button and bringing the camera back down.

“Chris, go sit beside him and let’s get a couple of you together,” she says as she brushes the hair off her face. “I’m gonna get some water right quick while you get settled.”

She sets the camera down carefully on a stool off to the side and turns towards me, a smile plastered on her face. She makes her way over and plops down beside me, reaching over me to grab the half full bottle of water I’ve been sipping on. I really hope she doesn’t feel the massive boner I’m trying to hide right now. Even just her elbow grazing against it is enough to make me sigh involuntarily.

“You tired baby? We’re almost done and then we can go home and take a nap,” she says while smiling innocently. She brings the bottle to her lips and takes a sip of water, and I watch as a singular drop spills over and glides down her chin. The aroused state of mind I’m in is planting so many filthy thoughts in my brain.

“Yeah, I am. But it’s nice getting to watch you work,” I say with a grin, putting my arm around her and pulling her in to plant a kiss on her temple.

“I’m glad you’re having fun. I swear Chris doesn’t know how to sit still or listen,” she giggles, “it’s pissing me off but I know how much this photoshoot means to him.”

We both look over as Chris goofs off and acts like he’s dribbling a ball before throwing a wadded up shirt through the hole of the ring light. It gets caught and doesn’t make it all the way through, sending the ring light crashing to the ground with a loud bang.

“Christopher! What the fuck?” Y/n tosses the water bottle onto my lap and quickly makes her way over to the mess on the ground, hands on her hips and staring Chris down. “I literally had just gotten the perfect angle for the lighting.”

“I’m sorryyy, at least it didn’t break..?” Chris laughs and gives a half ass apology, clearly thinking she wasn’t as mad as she actually was.

“What’s so funny? Get your ass over here and put the light back together.” Her tone becomes harsh and serious.

Chris just looks between the model sitting beside him and Y/n, obviously confused.

“Now.” She says, her annoyance growing by the second.

Damn, this bossy side of her is honestly really fucking hot. She’s usually super laid back and a go with the flow kind of girl. I’ve never been in a position where I had to watch her barking orders, but me and my little man downstairs are really enjoying this.

Chris huffs and walks over to the wreckage he had caused, getting down and screwing the ring light back onto the stand. Y/n stays standing, just glaring down at him and crossing her arms across her chest. Chris stands up and puts the ring light back on its feet, turning it toward the backdrop.

“Now go sit.” Y/n demands as she picks her camera back up and throws the strap around her neck.

Chris listens and goes to take his seat next to Cooper, his face red with embarrassment, but he quickly regains his composure and starts giggling and chatting loudly again as Y/n adjusts the lighting.

“Let’s get these last few shots and call it a day, alright? Chris, sit back kinda slumped and throw your arm over the arm of the couch… yeah tilt your head a little to the left,” Y/n says as she looks through the viewfinder, trying to recreate the vision she sees in her head. “And Cooper you cross your legs and act like you’re kinda mid-throwing your hood up…” she trails off, looking up from the camera at Chris who has already moved from his position.

She huffs and takes the camera back off, setting it down before stomping over to Chris. She doesn’t say anything, she just leans over and grabs his arm, placing it where she wants it. I can see up her skirt as she bends over and places her right arm on the back of the couch, her left hand grabbing his face and roughly tilting it to the angle she asked for.

Why am I wishing that was me? What the fuck is going on? I stand up and walk to the bathroom, not being able to watch anymore of this without my cock jumping out of my pants.

Y/n’s POV

“Alright good job everyone! That should be a wrap!�� I say as I take the lens off my camera and put it in its case before turning around to stick it in Matt’s backpack. The black bag sits on the couch, but he’s gone. I make my way over and shove the camera case into the biggest pocket before zipping it shut.

“Hey, where’s Matt?” I call over to Chris.

“No clue. Think I saw him walk towards the bathroom. I’m gonna go play arcade gamessss!” Chris’s voice grows quiet as he strides in the opposite direction.

I walk towards the bathroom door and see it shut and locked, confirming Chris paid attention for once. I give it a soft knock and step back, watching the knob turn and Matt step out timidly.

“You ready to grab a bite to eat? I’m starving! We can come pick Chris up when we get back. He’s in the arcade so I doubt he’ll notice,” I giggle and grab his hand.

Next thing I know, Matt pushes past me and I’m getting pulled into the office across the hall, the door clicking shut quietly. He reaches around me and turns the lock before stepping back and raking his eyes over my body.

“I need you now, Y/n.” His tone is low and serious as his hand slides down his lower stomach before grabbing his hard on through his sweatpants.

I take a moment to process what’s going on before I flick my eyes back up to grin at him, stepping towards him and wrapping my arms around his neck.

“Did you get all worked up today, daddy?”

I watch his eyes shut as he steps towards me, his hands coming down to grip my waist. He opens them once again, but instead of his normal dark, lust filled eyes, I am met with the brightest doe eyed look on his face.

“As much as I love when you call me that, I need something else today..” he slowly blinks at me, hoping I catch the hint.

And I do, but why not play a little game and work him up a little bit more?

“What do you need, baby?” I ask in a loving voice, grabbing the hair at the nape of his neck and giving it the smallest tug.

His breath hitches and I feel his dick throb against my leg.

“I need you to b-boss me around.” he looks down at the ground, I’m guessing embarrassed because this is completely unlike him.

“Oh do you? You think you’d like that, pretty boy?” I grab his chin and tilt his face up to look me in the eyes, earning an eager nod from him.

“Tell me how much you’d like it.” I encourage him to be vocal, stroking the coarse stubble on his cheek with my thumb.

“I.. I would love to be on my knees for you, mommy. I want to make you feel good.” He removes a hand from my waist and puts it over my own on his cheek, leaning into my touch.

I’ve only ever been the submissive one in our relationship, so this is brand new to the both of us. But I can feel the heat between my legs growing stronger as he stares into my eyes, his lashes brushing his cheeks as he blinks slowly.

“I’ve always known you were a little slut,” I say with a chuckle, but the reaction it gets from him shows me he likes being called that degrading name. He lets out a small whimper and presses his erection into my stomach and it’s the hardest I’ve ever felt it, almost begging for release already.

I pull apart from him, stepping back and leaning my thighs against the desk in the center of the room. He’s standing there like a lost puppy, just frozen with wide eyes, waiting to be told what to do.

“Be a good boy and get on your knees then, Matty.” I say as I take off my crop top, watching his eyes lock onto my chest before he moves to stand in front of me.

He puts his hands on my waist and drops to his knees, his touch running down my thighs and stopping to grip the back of my calves. He looks up at me waiting for his next move.

“Take mommy’s skirt off baby,” I say as I reach down to run a hand over his hair.

His fingers slide back up my legs and hook into the band of my skirt, slowly pulling it down. I lift up off the desk and step out of the fabric, kicking it off to the side of the room.

He licks his lips as I spread my legs open revealing a wet patch on my panties, my arousal for him extremely obvious. I run my hand down my chest slowly, watching his eyes follow it like a laser as I bring it over my lower stomach and finally down to the white lace covering my pussy.

“P-please mommy, can I taste you?” He questions barely above a whisper, his hands coming back up to my thighs.

“Hands off.” I smack his knuckles with a loud pop.

He draws his hands away quickly, a blush spreading across his cheeks. He doesn’t remove his eyes from mine, just gulps and nods.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and watch mommy touch herself. Keep your hands in your lap.” I demand.

I sit up to pull my panties down and throw them on the ground beside him. His eyes flicker to them, almost as if he wants to reach out and grab them, but he doesn’t move a muscle.

“Look at you Matty, listening so well. Being such a good boy for me, hm?” I tease as I bring my fingers down to his mouth. “Suck on them baby.”

He opens his mouth and I slide my index and middle finger in, watching as he coats them in his saliva and swirls his tongue around them. I pull them out with a pop as he lets out a whimper, wishing for any sort of contact, even if just to have my fingers back in his mouth.

I bring my now soaked fingers to my clit, rubbing small circles and letting out a sigh. His eyes dart back and forth from my face to my dripping pussy, his mouth slightly parted in awe at the sight.

“Look at my little slut, you like it don’t you? You like watching mommy touch herself?” I moan out, bucking my hips against my own hand as I speed up my movements.

“Yes mommy, you look so pretty. I wanna taste you.. so bad, please..” he lets his head fall down in frustration, picking it back up to flash his doe eyes at me once again.

“Not now, baby. Keep being good and I’ll think about it.”

He whines and I see his hands press down into his lap, rubbing himself to relieve the ache, desperately needing any kind of friction.

I slip two fingers into my entrance, feeling myself throb as I take in the sight below me. Begging and desperate and ready to have his mouth put to use. I pump my fingers in and out, curling them and feeling my breathing pick up.

I remove my fingers and see them almost dripping with my arousal. Leaning forward, I swipe them across his bottom lip. He goes crazy over this, licking his lip and trying to taste every drop that he can get.

“Mommy you taste so good, please let me make you feel good, I promise I can make you feel good, please..” he almost has tears in his eyes as he lets out this string of whines.

I push myself up to sit on the desk. I part my legs and nod, signaling him to make his way to me, but he stays still.

“Get over here and make yourself useful, then.” I say harshly, and he immediately crawls towards me, sitting back up on his knees with his face inches away from my core.

“Crawling on your knees to taste some pussy, what a desperate whore.” I say before grabbing his hair and pulling him towards me, closing the distance between his tongue and my throbbing clit.

He immediately starts lapping and licking at my pussy, eyes wide open and looking up at me with need. He pulls back to see his spit mixed with my arousal dripping down my folds before coming right back to collect it with his tongue.

“Am I making you feel good, mommy?” He asks between licks, a completely pussy drunk look written across his face.

“So good, baby. Such a good boy, doing exactly as you’re told.” I praise as I begin circling my hips.

Whimpers and whines slip past his lips, his eyes shutting as he relishes in the moment. He flattens his tongue and drags it from the bottom of my entrance to the top of my clit, repeating this motion a few times before resuming his attention back to my sensitive bundle of nerves. He kisses it a few times before taking it between his lips and sucking.

I feel my stomach tightening and my skin feels fuzzy, my high quickly approaching as he continues sucking and licking at my pussy like a starved man. I pull his head back and he looks up with disappointment, his mouth falling open.

“You got mommy so close, Matty, but I need to cum on your cock.” I say as I stand up and help him to his feet.

“P-please, yes, I need to feel you..” he grabs at my breasts, squeezing them and sucking in a sharp breath.

I look around the room and spot a side chair catty cornered across the room, so I grab his hand and lead him that way before grabbing at his shirt. He takes the hint and pulls it over his head, revealing his skin that’s glistening with sweat. He unties the string of his sweatpants and removes them along with his boxers in one go. His dick springs up and splashes precum onto his happy trail.

“You’re so ready aren’t you baby?” I ask as I take a finger and collect the mess from his abdomen, sticking my finger in front of his lips.

I don’t have to say anything, he just takes my finger into his mouth and sucks away the mess he had made while nodding. I push him into the chair and climb onto his lap, my core sitting on top of his rock hard dick. I can feel the warm pulsing against my clit, causing me to grind myself against him in response.

“Fuck mommy, feels so good,” he throws his head back and snakes his hands around to grip my ass.

I smirk and grind down harder, a moan escaping his lips before he buries his head between my tits.

“Mm, such a slut letting me use you like this. And enjoying it too..” I tease, continuing to rub my clit back and forth across him.

His grip on my ass tightens and he bucks up against me, causing me to gasp at the added pressure. I decide I can’t continue teasing him any longer, so I sit up a bit and grab the base of his cock.

“Spit.” I demand, watching as he lets a string of saliva fall from his mouth onto his head.

I lower myself onto him slowly, digging my nails into his shoulders at the feeling of the fullness. I can’t help but moan as I sit fully down, his dick filling me up completely.

I grab his face and make him look into my eyes as I begin pushing myself up and down with my knees, taking him completely in and out of me in a steady rhythm.

He slides his hands to my hips and grips tightly, surely leaving marks. His mouth hangs open in pleasure, gorgeous panting and grunts escaping continuously. My thighs are burning and stiffening but I can’t stop, I love seeing him so needy and breathless underneath my touch.

“S-so close already mommy. Can I cum, please?” He pleads, looking into my eyes with his blown out pupils.

“No, I’m cumming first. You wait until I finish, got it?” I tighten my grip on his face.

“Fuck, I’m trying. I’m trying my best mommy, just feels too good,” he whines as his stomach tightens.

“I don’t care, hold it.” I bounce faster, releasing my grip on his face and gripping the sides of the chair for stability.

He takes my right nipple into his mouth, sucking and moaning as he drools down my chest. I can feel my stomach twisting into knots that are threatening to snap at any moment.

I drop down fully and stay there, grinding back and forth, feeling my clit rubbing against his pelvic bone. His head touches the deepest most sensitive parts of me, and this along with his tongue swirling around my nipple sends me over the edge.

I clench around his cock, rocking my hips as I ride out my high. He whimpers and tenses his body up, trying so hard not to let himself fall over the edge along with me. I take a few seconds to steady my breathing before bouncing gently again.

“Such a good boy for letting me use your cock. Felt so good Matty, so good for me,” I praise and watch him look up at me.

“P-please let me cum, please I can’t hold it anymore,” he begs, sweat dripping down his forehead as he struggles to hold back with everything he has.

“Go ahead baby, let it all out,” I coo, stroking the side of his face.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, he throws his head back and bucks up into me, pumping his load out as a string of curses leave his mouth. His stomach clenches and relaxes over and over, the orgasm taking complete control over his muscles.

He relaxes quickly after and throws his hands behind his head, his body hungry for air.

“Holy fuck, I’m dizzy..” he runs his fingers through his hair and takes a few deep breaths.

“Just breathe baby, it took a lot out of you,” I whisper before placing kisses across his collarbones, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

He stays silent as he slows his breathing, bringing his arms around me and pulling me against him in a sweaty embrace. We stay quiet and still for a few moments like this- naked, sticky bodies pressed against each other but feeling nothing but comfort.

“That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen, Y/n. Holy shit.” He chuckles, the laughter echoing in his chest and rumbling against my ear.

“I think I liked it a little too,” I joke, looking up at him and giving him a lazy smile.

“I might let you be in charge more often. Maybe.” He emphasizes the last word before adding, “Now let’s get cleaned up before anyone notices we’re missing.”

#sturniolo triplets #sturniolo #matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo imagine

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bleuu-moon · 3 months

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okay but about weirdo ghost pretending to be your bf after he kidnapped your actual bf????? Gurl sign me tf UP but what about ghost pretending to be ur bf while fucking you like the whole curtain/windows closed no light whatsoever and he has you on four like the whole nine yards tho like 🥴🥹😵‍💫😵 this concept really water my vahaha if u will (or anything ghost-related rlly) anw have a great day bby 💓💗💓💗💓💝💖💝💓💗💓💗💓💗💓💗💖💗💓💗💓💗💖

euurghhhh sorry anon this took so long ily but the way i’ve already thought about riding him in the pitch black whilst he’s doing everything in his power not to give himself away by biting his lip so he can muffle his own grunts 😩😩😩😩😩😩

it was never simon’s intention, to take advantage of you. no, he wanted to wait until you were his to indulge in you this way. so he didn’t have to hide in the shadows or the darkness of your bedroom anymore. but right now, you’re aching. you’re running on the pure desperation that fuelled you to carelessly lower yourself on him. he guesses it’s because you haven’t seen your boyfriend in so long with all of the late night shifts he’s been doing (chained to a radiator in one of simon’s storage warehouses). he couldn’t refuse you, especially not the way you lazily palmed his already semi hard cock, whining about how much you missed him. simon fell apart, how could he stop you from pulling down his joggers just enough so his cock was at your service?

you didn’t even desire any foreplay, you were soaked and ready for him by the time you positioned your pussy against his tip. he loved how eager you were for him, and he pushed the fact that it wasn’t really for him to the back of his mind, because tonight you were his — whether you were aware of it or not.

#we <3 weirdo ghost here #ask <3 #stalker!ghost

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thejujvtsupost · 3 months

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Collar Crimes -> Torn Knuckles

So we’re back with some more mob Geto, this was heavily requested but I never got around to adding more to the series. So to everyone who requested it: ta-da!

Notes: F!reader, yakuza!Geto, casual violence, blood, Geto has tattoos, fluffy, pet names - bunny, reader is a sleepy type of gf & soft girl- think Sanrio/hello kitty aesthetic? Wound care and first aid.

The sound of Geto’s fist connecting with its target echoed through the warehouse. “I don’t take half of anything, I take what belongs to me. This isn’t a negotiation.”

Hiro was a nuisance, interacting with him just wasn’t worth the trouble any longer. The fact that he was called to the warehouse in the first place had him pissed off. The exchange between Hiro and his men was supposed to be a smooth one, yet he was required to handle things himself. Apparently Hiro thought attempting to kill one of his men for leverage was a good idea.

“I’m just asking for 15%, no 20% and I’ll carry out the rest of the deal for you!” Suguru couldn’t deny that he had balls, Hiro was already beaten bloody, missing a few teeth and still trying to negotiate. Shouldn’t the broken ribs be enough to shut him up?

Suguru’s expression and tone screamed danger when he bent to Hiro’s level to get in his face. “You have three seconds to get out of my sight or I’ll kill you. Pull any funny shit again, if you even breathe wrong; I’ll kill you. Don’t mistake my mercy for weakness or tolerance.” His hand was starting to throb from where his fist made contact with the idiot’s face. He sighed and didn’t bother to hide his irritation.

Hiro let out a whimper and scurried away, leaving Geto with Yuta and Choso. “Clean up the blood, I’m going home.” He left no room to argue- not that they’d try.

You had just gotten in the warm tub when you heard Suguru call your name. College was taxing and today was especially rough with your double lecture. Soaking in the giant tub with a bath bomb and bubbles was a good way to relax.

“In here!”

Suguru entered and greeted you with a smile before leaning over to kiss you. “Hi bunny.”

You felt sad upon seeing his hand on the edge of the tub, “You’re hurt?”

“It’s nothin’ to worry about, got room for me in there?” He stripped his suit off and briefly washed his hands despite the sting against his wounds.

You hummed and slid forward to create space, “I’ll take a look at it once we’re done.” He kissed your nape and pulled you back against his chest when he was settled.

“How was my girl’s day? You seem stressed.” It’d be dumb to think he didn’t notice your mood right away. He paid genuine attention to you, your feelings and your needs. Suguru knew you better than anyone. Everyone.

You groaned and leaned your head back to rest on him, “I had my double biology lecture today with my professor that never takes late work. I submitted my paper a minute past midnight the other day and I swear he was glaring at me. It was ONE minute, what difference does it make? He already took five points off automatically for the late submission so why am I getting the stink eye? I’ve already been penalized! He’s a hard grader too, there’s stuff I thought I understood but got wrong on the midterm and now I’m not up to my standard grade.”

The temptation to take care of, in one way or another, the professor giving you trouble was strong, but his absence of teaching would probably stress you out more. “I’m sorry bun, only a few weeks left and you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” Strong arms wrapped around your shoulders for extra comfort.

“It just sucks, I hate being a disappointment.”

“You’re never a disappointment, never. The guy obviously has a stick up his ass and takes it out on his students. You’re such a smarty pants, your grades are excellent. One professor in the grand scheme of things won’t matter.”

You didn’t realize how tired and tense you were until he reassured you. “It’s hard to remember that sometimes, thank you.” You turned your head and kissed him softly.

“Did you eat dinner yet?”

You shook your head and he frowned, it was pretty late and you hadn’t eaten. “Was waiting for you, and I couldn’t decide. I wasn’t too hungry anyway.”

“How about we get something delivered? You need to eat whether I’m home or not, it’s important.”

You curled in on yourself the slightest bit, “I know… I just really miss you sometimes and I like when we eat together. Can we have curry?”

“Curry it is then. C’mon let me get out first.”

Suguru stood up, got out of the tub and dried off before he assisted you and toweled you off himself. Your soft and fluffy robe was held out for you, which he also took the liberty of tying.

“Let me see your hand, your knuckles are all torn up.” Your face clearly showed your concern. He loved that about you, how you had your heart on your sleeve.

It only took a few minutes, but you took care in applying ointment and wrapping his knuckles so they would heal. You finished your job with a kiss over his hand and he’d never admit it but the action made him blush. He had no choice but to hug you immediately in thanks so you wouldn’t notice.

(You noticed. You thought it was cute.)

“Thank you bunny, you’re always a great little nurse. So, curry?”

“Yes please.” You nodded your head and followed him into the living room.

He called you the nurse but in your eyes, he took care of you way better than you could take care of him.

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#collar crimes series #yakuza! Geto #reader insert #no use of y/n #f reader #jjk x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu geto #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen #geto x reader #geto x you #jjk fluff #mob Geto #jujustsu kaisen x reader #send an ask for requests

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dawnofh · 1 year

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Getting saved by 141 [Headcannon]

Price

Disappointment but not surprised, how hard was it to stay put and don’t get kidnapped?

Made an entire rescue mission just to get you back.

Was the first face you saw when he came to your aid.

“I’ve got you Son.” Reassured you that you were alright and in safe hands.

“I’m sorry Sir, I told them about the team’s whereabouts…” could care less that you gave them information, more about the fact you were tortured for it.

Shines a flashlight in your eyes and tells you to follow it just to make sure you’re still functioning.

Is angry but not at you, likely at himself for allowing one of his own to be taken.

Will offer to carry you on his back if you can’t walk.

Patches up your wounds by himself, warns you in advance when disinfecting the wounds, “This is going to hurt like a bitch so suck it up.”

10/10, give this man father of the year. Don’t expect candy from this man, he will offer you a cigar though.

You’re on probation. Don’t even try change Price’s mind. He’ll just give you a pat on the back and apologise, “It’s for your own good, Kid.”

Checks up on your mental state daily and recommends you a military councillor.

Ghost

Knight in military uniform.

Sneaks into the warehouse you’re being held captive in.

Stealthy asf, no one ever sees this man coming and if they do then it’s already too late.

Jumpscare.

If he isn’t opening fire then he’s probably throwing knives into necks.

Throws you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes if you’re injured, doesn’t matter what injury, he’s just not patient.

Stabs adrenaline into you to keep you alive.

“You breathing, Soldier?” Gently slaps your face to keep you awake.

Will undress you from your uniform without second thought to patch up a wound so you don’t bleed out.

Sits next to you on the plane ride back to monitor your state. If you were unconscious when he found you then he’d allow you to lay on his shoulder but if you’re conscious he’ll make sure you stay that away until you’ve received medical attention.

If you’re the former then he’s probably not the best face to wake up to.

“Holy shit, am I dead?” “You nearly were.” “Because I’m seeing a Ghost.” “I still don’t find you funny.”

He definitely killed everyone in that warehouse for harming one of his own but will never admit that to you and simply just tells you, “Everything is taken care of, Kid. Go rest up.”

Puts you on probation and during that probation he’ll teach you some moves so that he doesn’t have to save you again.

Soap

*Panicked Scottish noises*

Radios you over and over to try get your location, when he finds out you’ve been taken he goes into Captain Mactavish mode.

Doesn’t really make a plan, runs straight into danger. Definitely blows something up just to live up to the demolition expert title.

Would quite literally NOT tackle someone out of a window onto a car but simply will throw them out of one. That Captain Mactavish mode has its limits.

Rushes to your side and cuts off your restraints. Cups your face with his gloved hand and tilts your head back and forth to check for any head injuries. You could be staring him dead in his eyes and he’d still check your pulse.

Will fireman carry you if you can’t walk or you’re unconscious.

Clicks his fingers in your face and then asks you how many fingers he’s holding up. You look at him dumbfounded, “5…?” “Fuckin hell you need medical treatment…”

If you’re falling off to sleep then he’ll keep you awake by teaching you some Scottish slang. “So you’re telling me that Elizabeth or Lizzie is slang for…coffin dodger?” “Or old cunt.” “I will be sure to use that more often now.” “Aye but do be careful of who you’re saying it around. You know how Brits get.” “……”

Gets Price to put you on probation even if the injuries aren’t serious. He’s just not taking any chances.

Gaz

“You broken?”

Panic mechanic Gaz.

Acts on his knee jerker responses to which needs Price to hold him back and keep him in check.

Threw tear gas through the vents and came through the roof opening fire. Couple of knives went through eyes, one of them nearly hit you. So much for a rescue mission.

Gaz would probably stare at you if you’re unconscious to see if you’re breathing or not. Gets up real close to your face, “Okay good, you’re still alive.” He was just afraid to be the one to collect your dog tag so he didn’t want to check your pulse.

Doesn’t have enough muscle mass to pick you up so would either drag you out of danger or let you lean on his shoulder.

Gaz is definitely the type to over bandage you, “Can never be to safe than sorry.” You looked mummified after he’s done with you.

Will let you sleep on his lap if he found you unconscious, after every 5 minutes he put a finger below your nose to check if you’re still breathing.

If he found you awake he tries his best to keep you awake, “Hey buddy, keep your eyes open or else you’re going to die.”

Doesn’t sugarcoat, tells you exactly what injuries you have, “I think your knee is dislocated, do you want me to relocate it now?” “Sergeant, please don’t.” Will relocate it anyway.

Tells you about his life story and how he got recruited into 141, “I was born at a very young age.” He really tries to lighten the mood.

Threatens to shatter your kneecaps if you don’t take at least 5 weeks off.

#task force 141 #call of duty modern warfare 2 #call of duty #cod mw22 #cod headcanons #cod x male reader #cod x reader #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain price #captain price headcanons #gaz headcanons #ghost headcanons #soap headcanons

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goodstuffhappenedtoday · 1 year

Text

He inspired people to be stand-in parents at gay weddings. Now it’s his turn.

By Cathy Free

Sarah Declouette was crushed late last year to learn that her mom had decided not to attend her wedding to her girlfriend of two years, Lori Avitia. “I’ve been openly gay since I was 15, so it really hurt to find out she didn’t want to share this happy moment in my life,” said Declouette, 35, of Ventura, Calif. In the raw emotion of that moment, Declouette recorded her thoughts in a video, which she posted on TikTok. “My fiancée has like 100 people in her family that are going to be there — her dad and her mom and her stepmom — and like on my side, I’m not going to have anybody,” she said tearfully in the video. The video attracted nearly 2 million views, and more than 55,000 people left comments of encouragement and support. Daniel Blevins, founder of the support group Stand in Pride, saw the video and right away decided to offer himself up as a stand-in parent at the wedding. “I was really touched by her video, and Sarah and I quickly built a strong connection online and over the phone,” said Blevins, 46. “I knew that I wanted to be there for her on her wedding day.” “For every unsupportive person, there are hundreds of others with a lot of love to give,” Blevins said. Rob Brown, a father of four from the Nashville area, is among those who decided to become a stand-in parent after hearing about Blevins’s cause. Brown posted an introduction on the Stand in Pride Southeast Facebook page and offered to fill in as a dad to anyone who needed one for any reason, he said.

“I have a little catchphrase that I’ve used for years: ‘I don’t care who you are, I don’t care what you are, I don’t care why you are. I just care that you are,’” said Brown, a 48-year-old warehouse worker. “I’ve done free dad hugs at multiple Pride parades over the years, so this seemed like something I could do,” he added. “It’s incredibly sad to me that so many people in the queer community don’t have familial support.”

much more at the link

#lgbtq+#pride #good stuff #inspiration

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rosedominatesyou · 9 months

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Bedtime Stories w/ Rose

ੈ✩‧˚ In The Clouds ‧˚ੈ✩

(Bedtime Story #4)

Hello again my little pups. Mommy is here with another tale to help ease you to sleep. It isn’t as exciting as the last ones but maybe that’ll help make your eyes heavy anyway. Keep this in your likes until you’re cozy and ready for bed. 💗

Before reading: Although I wish I could tell you all the names of the beautiful places I went to in this story, I’ve withheld certain details out of respect for my own privacy.

Everyone in my life knows how much I love birds. That’s sorta my main personality trait. Their imagery is everywhere, and you’ll start to understand why when you look a little deeper. Here’s what’s been captivating my thoughts lately, besides all of you. I hope you enjoy.

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

Please make a queue of the following 2 songs: “Fill Into Me” by Anju, and “Slow Dancing - Hazel Remix” by Aly & Aj.

Both therapists I’ve ever had at some point said to me, “It sounds like you know what all your problems are.”

As the person experiencing them/inflicting them upon myself, yeah, I knew exactly what was happening to me, but isn’t the point of sharing your feelings and negative actions with someone else supposed to make you want to be a better person? To let you hear those things out loud so that you’d want to change?

I didn’t think I was going to, and after talking to professional help, even they seemed conflicted if maybe I was just making it all up for the drama. Maybe I really was the cause of my own misery.

I was tired of it all, even if at the time I couldn’t stop myself. There was a person in my life that I’m not ready to talk about that really fucked me over and changed the way I think. It was 2020, and with everything going on in the world, all I wanted was to hang on to a friend. They left. And they were the only friend I had.

It was late into the evening at my current job, but back then I used to work nights. I was walking through the part of the warehouse that has all of our truck receiving docks when I heard a familiar sound, the little chirps of baby birds.

They had built the nest years ago inside one of the truck docks, and year after year they came back and rebuild it in the same spot. If you roll up the doors to let a truck driver in, the birds would get scared and fly deep into the warehouse, typically not finding their way out.

I stood there, alone late one night, staring up at the little nest that was caked to the side of the cement wall. I have no idea what kind of bird that is, I remember thinking to myself. I knew what a dove was, they used to nest every year at my childhood home, but these little birds were something totally different. I realized at that moment that I didn’t know jack-shit about birds, and they are everywhere. It sorta hit me harder than I thought it was going to.

If you can’t tell by my lead-up to this story, I was looking for something to captivate my thoughts - something to make me stop thinking about that friend that left me hurt and used.

Asking myself about the little birds that evening made me go to a book store on my next day off and buy a pocket field guide to the birds in my area. I read the whole thing cover to cover. I hadn’t absorbed a book like that in a long time. So many amazing variations with such unique range maps, plumage, and living habits.

If you were curious (and my hint about the description of their nest didn’t give it away), the birds that I see at my work are Barn Swallows.

I was hooked. I purchased some more detailed field guides and started joining groups online that were into birdwatching. “Birders” as they call themselves, people in my own town were posting the most beautiful pictures I’d ever seen, with captions that described the exact species down to the Latin name and seasonal variety.

I wasn’t even planning on going out the day that I did. I wanted to try to take some pictures like I had been seeing in my group. I had a camera, but nothing like what some of the people were sporting. I also had no clue where to go; sure you can just go walk around anywhere, but where was I likely to see the most? Basically at random with no input from my group, I picked a local reservoir to drive out to.

I was shaking as I got out of the car at the first ever ‘birding’ location i’d go to, feeling nauseous as I set up my camera. “This is stupid this is stupid you look like a creep this is so stupid,” I couldn’t help repeating to myself out loud as I began down the first walking path I saw.

My own words work, making me turn around suddenly and go back to the car. There’s barely anyone around but the 2 or 3 people who glance across to me is too much to bear. My hands could hardly put the lens cap back on because of how much I was trembling.

You drove all the way here, I try to encourage myself as I conceal my body behind the open trunk, other people do it. Just go walk around.

I stop putting everything away and just stand there for a second, breathing and feeling.

You wanted this.

I get my dslr back out, the lens attached to it being the biggest one I owned: 200mm. I had gotten it as a present many years ago, and loved taking pictures around my house, but had never taken my camera with me out in public. Something about walking around with it in my hands made me feel so out of place, but I tried to just push past that and start walking again.

Unknown to me back then, the location and time of year I picked were both rather dismal. The lake was desolate of animal life. If there aren’t any fish, rodents, or trees to perch on, birds won’t be attracted. It was also summer, and though that may seem like a good time of year for a person, the best time to witness a large variety of birds is during their two migrations each year: spring and fall. Most birds, besides natives that stay year round, have already settled into their northern territories for the Summer. I live in California, and while we are blessed with an insane number of species, we are also basically just a giant highway for birds traveling between their summer territories in Canada/Alaska, and their wintering nesting sites in Mexico/South America.

When I got home from my first outing and took a look at my pictures, I was very disappointed. Most were too dark, too far away, or way too blurry to make anything out. The only birds I managed a decent photo of were a Western Bluebird pair, but even then I was not happy with what I had taken. I was being too hard on myself, expecting a lot out of a person who was just starting out something new.

Two days later I went to a local camera store and bought a 300mm lens. Not a huge difference, but my confidence became more noticeable in the shots I took the next few outings.

The songs I had you add to a queue are just a couple that I would listen to when out birding. Calming, peaceful songs, i naturally always hear birds chirping and grasses swaying in the wind overlapping with the music while I listen now.

The feeling of discovering birds was overwhelming. I’d see something new and my heart would race so fast. It felt like falling in love. My feet would start to run without looking down as my eyes remained glued on the bird in my vision.

One time my partner Jamie and I were out at a wildlife reserve when we saw what we thought was a Golden Eagle. The massive raptor was dark overall and was calling loudly as it soared above us. We ran down the winding paths, loosing sight of it and only being able to follow the bird by the shrill call it made overhead.

Finally we found it again, perched on a tree that hung sideways over a cliff. The sun was shinning right on its face and I started snapping away, taking shot after shot of the magnificent bird. It didn’t like how long we were watching it, and took off while I continued to take pictures.

Ecstatic with what we had seen, I quickly uploaded the photos to the group I’m in asking if I was correct with what I thought.

Many people chimed in right away to let me know that, even though they were great pictures, the bird in the photos was actually just a Red-Tailed Hawk.

RTH’s, as their name is abbreviated, are the most abundant hawks in North America, and are also the most easily mistaken for another raptor. The specific bird I had seen was a large, dark-morph female, meaning her plumage was a much darker brown than most buteo’s.

The thrill of going out birding was something my heart craved so heavily the more and more I did it. I’d get so excited to come home and look through my pictures, trying to see if I caught any new species and if I could figure out what its name was. It felt a lot like Pokémon and filling up my Pokédex. ☺️

The field guides weren’t enough, I wanted to know more. I now had a better understanding of the seasons, and knew I had to wait out the summer until I’d see the next migration. I bought two books off of Amazon: a cute little yellow book called “Birdpedia” that has hundreds of quick facts about all things avian lore, and a novel/memoir called “H is for Hawk” by Helen Macdonald.

Helen’s book would launch me into a reading craze like I’ve never felt before, buying bird book after bird book, reading them within a few weeks and moving on to another. I had never been one to read very much (not unless you count manga), so to feel myself still craving more words was a very new feeling. Here’s a list of a few more books I’d recommend if you’re interested, they’re my favorites:

‘Bird Brother’ by Rodney Stotts. Very relatable slice of life from a person who never thought he’d write a book, or own raptors.

‘The Falcon Thief’ by Joshua Hammer. True crime novel meets bird study in this gripping story about a detective who’s after a man wanted for stealing endangered eggs.

‘Red-Tails in Love’ by Marie Winn. You gotta really like birds and reading to get through this one; a woman’s true account of her observations in New York’s Central Park, along with the other birders who accompany her.

Including all of my field guides (mostly local but I have one about Japan!), I’ve read 16 books that have something to do with falconry. My brain is truly stuffed with bird lore. Upon making the poll about this bedtime story, two of you asked me to tell you a bird fact. 🤭 Here’s what I told them, my go-to bird fact:

All avian species had many goals during their evolutionary periods, but nothing like their need to be more aerodynamic. Their quest to be lighter led them to lose a few organs over time that mammals couldn’t imagine living without, including the bladder! That is why it seems like birds poop completely at random, it is truly because they have no way to hold it.

Second special fun fact, people always ask me, “What’s your favorite kind of bird?!” and that’s a hard one because I love all of them so much, but I like to say it’s the Blue-Gray Gnatcatcher since I can almost perfectly mimic their mating call. 😋

Over several months, I added more equipment to my build. I got a Sigma AF 600mm lens, as well as a teleconverter, a small attachment that goes between the camera and the lens to double the distance of whatever you’re shooting. Now I was able shoot 1200mm! I could see the blood on the beak of a hawk from half a mile away.

Birding trips would take me and Jamie all across California, going to every state park and wildlife reserve we could to see what kinds of birds were there. We’d bring picnic lunches and listen to music before starting our hikes. Eventually I bought a second Nikon off of some lady that I met up with in a Five Bellow parking lot, wanting to have a second camera for landscape shots.

I still love going out and taking pictures, though the newbie excitement I used to feel has since died down. The joy of closing your eyes and taking a deep breath of fresh air as you listen to all the birds around you is a peace I would want anyone to feel. It’s my favorite way to exist.

I know this one was a bit of a boring read this time, so as a reward for getting through it, here’s some of the pictures that I’m most proud of 🥰 Please note, they all have been cropped to remove my artist’s signature:

The photo of the Western Bluebird pair from my first ever outing.

2. Red-winged Blackbird. Proof that the 200mm lens can absolutely get you a good shot if the subject is close enough. This guy landed on a branch less than 10 feet away from me.

3. Cedar Waxwings. If you’re familiar with these regal-looking birds, then you can probably hear how loud this photo is 🤭

4. White-faced Ibis. One of the first shots I had taken with my 300mm lens.

5. Red-shouldered Hawk. A sub-species of the RTH, this RSH is seen covered in dew on a cold, early January morning. 600mm.

6. And finally, my favorite picture that I’ve ever taken, this is a first summer Pygmy Nuthatch, seen here with a beak full of grubs that it was bringing back to it’s siblings in the nest. 1200mm.

That’s the end of our story. Thank you so much for reading ❤️ Please let Momma about what you think of the story and the pictures. 🤭

Sweet dreams 💋 xoxo

~'*•.¸♡¸.•*'.・。゜✭・.・✫・。.'*•.¸♡¸.•*'~

#rosebtstory #enjoy my puppies 💋

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exceptional-z · 8 days

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zed necrodopolis x reader

this is an au where zombies were never allowed to go to human high school. so zed is aged up (though age is never mentioned so you can imagine whatever) but has never been on the other side of the barrier. i attempted not to use gendered language but i tend to write with fem!reader in mind.

also please ignore any inconsistent verb tenses. english is not my first language and verb tenses are literally the bane of my existence. + i wrote this in like an hour

your family didn’t have much money growing up, hence why you lived so close to the gate. real estate was cheap since no one wanted to live near the zombies. but it also meant you learnt how to save money in as many ways as you could.

seabrook was all about perfection. if a mattress was two years old, it was time to throw it out and buy a new one. if a bike had a single scratch, it was thrown into the dumpster. all of the old items deemed as ‘garbage’ were brought to a warehouse that was emptied around every two weeks. and this was your favourite place to be.

you sneak into the warehouse. it’s late at night and there’s never any security around. you’re immediately greeted with piles of furniture and clothing and trinkets that are too unique to fit into the seabrook aesthetic.

you start to rummage through with the plastic gloves you always wear just in case any bugs or mice decide that this is a perfect place to burrow. lost in thought, you don’t hear the creaky door open, but you do hear the sudden shout that erupted from behind you.

your heart nearly stops beating at the sudden noise and your head swivels around. the lighting isn’t great, and you can only make out the vague shape of the person blocking your only exit. he looks fairly lanky, and if you squint you could make out some of his features. he doesn’t look much older than you and he certainly doesn’t scream “imposing”. he’s taller than you, but maybe if you caught him off guard you could knock him out with one of the many heavy objects splayed around you.

“i was told no one ever came in here,” the boy says. fuck, his voice is attractive.

“they don’t. in the three years i’ve been doing this i’ve never run into anyone else.” you answer, obviously suspicious.

“i’m uh- i’m just looking for a gift for my little sister,” he explains, “it’s her birthday soon and she said she wanted a new bike but we can’t really afford it.”

you relax a little at his explanation, sharing that you’d gotten into the habit of coming here to rummage for things since your family also doesn’t have much money. “i could help you look if you’d like? and even if we can’t find a bike, there’s a ton of cool stuff you can find if you’re willing to dig.” you offer.

you can’t be sure, but you think he smiles as he answers. “i’ll take any help i can get. my friend eliza told me to try coming here to look, but honestly, i’m a bit overwhelmed.”

you talk and laugh together for what must be at least two hours. you don’t end up finding a bike, but you find an old cheerleader outfit that looks to be in perfect condition. you can’t imagine why anyone would throw it out unless it just didn’t fit anymore. the boy -who still doesn’t have a name- literally jumped up in joy when he saw you holding the skirt from the set, doing a little celebratory dance that should have been embarrassing but was somehow endearing. (that’s how you figured out his little sister was obsessed with cheer).

eventually you have to part ways; it’s getting into the early hours of the morning and you both need to be getting home. he’s halfway down the street when you realise you never shared names and you yell out, “wait!”

he stops and turns around, and you jog to catch up to him.

“what’s your name, stranger?” you ask, “just in case we run into each other again.”

he tells you his name is zed, and you tell him your name in return. for a few seconds the both of you just stand in the street, memorising each other’s faces until you look away, shaking off the thoughts of how attractive he is under the starlight.

(bonus: when zed gets home, all he can think about is you. he wonders if eliza would recognise your name, or if he would possibly run into you if he chose to go to school for once instead of always skipping. he wonders where you live in zombietown, since he doesn’t recognise you and is sure he would remember seeing someone as gorgeous are you. he spends the next few days wondering, and then is in for the shock of his life when he sees you through the fence that blocks off zombietown from seabrook and learns that you’re human.)

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thetriplets3 · 1 year

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hello, my friend. from the prompts list, may i please request "tell me about your day" where the reader asks Matt about his day?

or, maybe Matt makes a gluten-free pizza for the reader 😉 tysm ♡

how about both? this makes my little celiac heart happy. thank you for the request <3

ease my mind

Chaotic. That’s one way to describe the day I’ve had at work. People demanding more that one person can do at a time, getting berated for doing my job, being pulled in every direction I feel myself slowly falling apart. As soon as I shut my car door, my head meets the headrest as I let out a loud groan, before heading home.

I’m used to driving the same route home everyday. It's automatic for me at this point. Tonight however my overwhelmed brain has led me to your house. I stood aimlessly at your front door for a few minutes debating if I should just go, considering it is pretty late and you yourself have been busy lately. Before I can let myself think any longer I press your contact, calling you, not wanting to wake anyone else up.

“Hi honey what’s up?” You pick up at the first ring.

“Hi, could you please unlock the door for me?” I weakly say, not having much energy to talk.

“Of course I’ll be right there” you say. I can hear you rushing off your bed before hanging up.

Opening the door you immediately pull me into your arms, which is exactly what I needed. The smell of freshly baked food fills my nose, comforting me.

“Smells great in here” I compliment.

“I made pizza from scratch, it took a while” you chuckled.

Unconsciously let out a sigh and frown, homemade pizza and I can’t have any. Things got so crazy at work I haven’t had a chance to stop and eat anything since 11am. It’s hitting me now smelling this pizza just how hungry I am.

Since being diagnosed celiac, you’ve been more aware of how difficult it is for me to find food I can eat while we’re out, having to check every label and how much I hate not being able to just eat what everyone else does. You’ve started carrying snacks for me in your bag so I always have something to eat. I love how thoughtful you are. It makes me feel like a burden having to ask places to take extra precautions when preparing my food and limiting the amount of places we can eat.

“I made it just for you, it’s gluten free. It took a while because I wanted to make sure everything was safe and cleaned properly before making it. I double checked everything and even made Nick and Chris check too” you said proudly.

“Matt” my lips form a pout. “You did all that for me? Oh thank you my love, you didn’t have to” I gush, my heart doubling in size.

“Of course I did. I know how much you despise baking so you won’t make any gluten free stuff for yourself so I thought I would try. I tried a piece it’s pretty good. I was gonna bring it to you tomorrow but since you’re here now let’s eat” you say.

Each grabbing a few slices of pizza we made our way to your room getting comfy in bed. “How was work tonight?’ You ask.

“Wasn’t a good night. I’d rather not talk about it” I sigh, not wanting to remember the events. “Tell me about your day” I ask, wanting to be distracted and hearing you talk puts me at ease.

“I’m sorry honey, but hey look on the bright side you have the next 2 days off and you’ll be spending it with me, taking it easy because you deserve it” you softly say. “My day, hmm. I didn’t do much. I went to the store to get all the stuff to make the pizza which took up a good portion of the day because I’m not used to baking. Oh and I got some of your favorite snacks to keep over here so you have food when you stay over. Other than that we spent a few hours at the warehouse planning out some video ideas” You tell me, while your thumb rubs soothingly over the back of my hand.

“I can’t thank you enough for everything you do for me. You know how much I love that you carry snacks around for me but let me pay you back. I feel bad, gluten free food is pricey, I can’t let you spend your money on that for me” I plead.

“Oh zip it I don’t mind buying you things. I don’t want you to have to buy or pack food for when you come to stay over. I should have things you can eat here. I love having you here and being able to take care of you. I love you sweetheart” you say.

“I love you more. You made my day so much better. Can you keep talking, I don’t care what it’s about. I just wanna listen to you talk, you put my mind at ease” I ask, moving my now empty plate to the bedside table and get myself comfy in your arms.

“I’ll do anything for you honey” you promise me.

Taglist:

@d0wnt0wnstu4n1ol0 @im-a-matt-girl @iluvmatt @stxrniqlo @antisocialties

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #unedited

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itsdeathofabachelor · 3 months

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I really like the dynamic I’ve created for Jotaro and Kakyoin in a modern day setting.

Like, Jotaro got an after school gig and instead of going to college he’s took a gap year off the funds of said job, which is like some sort of warehouse or labourer thing because he can dead-lift three hundred pounds.

(The fact that he can deadlift three hundred pounds is also why his manager lets him smoke and drink outside on his breaks as long as nobody else sees him and it doesn’t affect his work, which is doesn’t because a can of beer isn’t going to knock him on his ass being 6’5 and like two hundred pounds himself*)

And Kakyoin is in college for some sort of business something because he also doesn’t know what to do but his very traditional Japanese parents overseas refuse to raise a NEET so he picked whatever had the highest graduate rate and games alone in his apartment after classes.

They’re roommates now but had been friends since they were kids and had reconnected literally by chance, as Jotaro had been working at said labourering gig at that time to pay for his Mom’s medical bills.

Side note: in this au Holly’s sick but more chronic illness sick, and after Sadao realized she wasn’t getting better and, in fact, it was a lifelong illness, he told her to leave. As the Japanese High End music industry is extremely judgmental and he was advised by several of his coworkers (and mistresses) that it would ruin his image if he was branded as a nurse and homebody taking care of Holly while Jotaro was at school.

With that in mind, Jotaro and Holly moved to America to live with Holly’s father, Joseph. Who is considerably more racist and far less charming for people to over look said racism. Suzy Q, his late ex wife and Holly’s bio-mom, noticed that after he gained a few pounds and suddenly didn’t have pretty privilege anymore.

She still barges into Joseph’s house to visit Holly and Jotaro, much to Joseph’s dismay. Jotaro likes her but finds her pushy and touchy without asking for permission first.

Jotaro worked at the same job he does now immediately after school to avoid the jokes and pokes at his father and about his race from Joseph, and seeing his mother try to walk again and cry when she can’t— Lining up perfectly one day when Kakyoin was walking (having just recently moved from overseas into the area of Jotaro’s job site) back from a later class.

Looking up from his phone he saw Jotaro, who was looking right at him from across the road, past the wire fencing set up to stop anyone from getting into the site and messing with the machines.

Kakyoin didn’t recognize Jotaro nearly as quickly as Jotaro recognized him. So as Jotaro long-jumped over the fencing and came barrelling into the street to the sidewalk where he stood, there was a split second where he thought he was going to die by the hands of a two hundred and fifty pound silverback gorilla. Like in the bootleg movie he had just watched the night before. And he wondered if this was the digital pirating god finally taking his dues.

Quickly, I should note, I remember seeing a post somewhere about how Jotaro’s love language is soft but he’d never let you get that close to him (the post included a picture of a teddy bear in a steel cage to represent this) and I think that fits very well with my own fanon interpretation of Jotaro’s character.

However, I do also think after so much time spent trying to help his mother, dealing with the weight of having to be the only reliable shoulder for her to cry on (because we all know THIS Joseph doesn’t have a emotionally intelligent bone in his body) and also the crushing feeling of grinding your body into a pulp for both school and some labouring job you hate— after about the year or so he had been there— would have had him clinging to those hinges by his fingernails.

So, bam! The last comfort of his childhood that hadn’t been ripped away, standing awkwardly at the crosswalk because he wasn’t sure if he should jaywalk because there were no cars coming, or if he should wait because the statistics of automobile casualties due to the average pedestrian’s immortality complex when it comes to giant metal machines are flicking behind his eyelids— obviously, Jotaro loses his mind.

Imagine a black bear. Giant. Huge, okay? Got that?

That’s what Kakyoin was suffocating into as Jotaro hugged him so hard his pre-mature stand popped out a little from his back.

This Kakyoin, having no fighting instincts what-so-ever, kind of just goes limp. And Jotaro, so happy he’s really really upset, shakily puts him back down.

And then there’s a moment like, wait wait wait wait. . . I know that mean mug— and then Kakyoin sort of connects the dots because Jotaro had always been a lot taller than him and also he literally was the only person Kakyoin had ever known that had let him blow out his birthday candles at his seventh birthday party when he found out Kakyoin’s parents didn’t ’believe in birthdays’ other than ‘milestone birthdays’.

And Jotaro had also treated him with basic human decency, considering he could have very easily bullied him.

So his face was burned into his memory for years now, whenever he tried to socialize and said the wrong thing, or if he saw a friend group doing friend group activities and suddenly he felt very very lonely. He actually really missed his and Jotaro’s friendship.

So they became best friends again like immediately.

It turns out in their time apart, Kakyoin had gotten an Autism diagnosis, which explained his unusual speech pacing and all the other things leading to ruthless bullying in middle school.

When he told him this on the floor of Kakyoin’s apartment— both of them doing a Pokémon themed puzzle together even though Jotaro had trouble picking the pieces off the floor— Jotaro could not have given less of a shit, but instead asked if that’s why, when the were kids, Kakyoin had always asked him for ‘pressure’ (AKA, Jotaro being taller than Kakyoin made it so he could give him a hug or lay on top of him in order to provide a good sensory feeling, or what Kakyoin had called ‘Pressure’).

And Kakyoin’s like, ‘Yeah.’

And Jotaro’s like, ‘Do you need some now?’ And mutters something about not wanting him to freak because he’s over whelmed or anything but really he wants a hug and doesn’t want to be the one to ask.

And Kakyoin’s like, ‘Sure. That’d be nice because I couldn’t enjoy the other hug properly when thinking you were a stranger trying to kill me’.

And now they’re roommates and Kakyoin streams his gaming seshes after he realized his parent’s monthly payments towards his rent were giving them ammo for guilt-trips and that he could make money off of games.

Weirdly enough, the same speech abnormalities he got bullied for actually helped him get his streaming platform, as it became his ‘brand’ in a way. Same thing with his flat humour and ‘fun facts’. Also, because he talks so much, his streams are very long, and there’s a running joke in his audience to— when he’s saying he’s going to log off for the night— ask him questions and see how long they can keep him on stream.

He doesn’t have a face cam, and plans to remain faceless to his audience, so whenever he really needs to focus and Jotaro comes lumbering in from a hard day at work and kicks his shoes off, Kakyoin—laying on the couch—raises his arms with his controller clicking over his head, not looking away from the screen, and is like ‘Jotaro, pressure. Streaming.’

And Jotaro hears Ode To Joy playing in his head as he tosses his ballcap with the company’s logo somewhere behind the tv and falls facefirst onto Kakyoin, who, after getting the air pressed out of his lungs, wins his match and talks to the chat.

The chat, obviously, asks about Jotaro, and Kakyoin just says, ‘A good friend of mine gifts me plus five stamina.’ Or some nerd shit.

* I headcannon Jotaro as fucking huge btw but that’s because I love very large angry men who, when relaxed, melts into a puddle of goo because their muscles aren’t straining. Jotaro has that kind of physique. Suzie Q (being Italian) loves this as Jotaro burns more calories flexing all day because he’s so stressed and tensed about everything, than a two mile sprint. So he eats. A lot. He’s one of the only people who actually eats enough not to have left overs. It impresses Joseph more than he’d ever admit.

#jojo headcanons #jojo stardust crusaders #jotaro kujo #jjba #jojo #noriaki kakyoin #jjba kakyoin #jjba jotaro #jotakak #noritaro #I love them #I can’t think of anything else sorry #this is a long one #alternate universe

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pandulce135 · 11 months

Text

A Bonus Reward (Donatello x Reader)

Note: In my defense, I’m a sucker for this trope. And I wrote this imagining 2003 Donnie, I’ve been busy binging it and I haven’t consumed any other turtle media in a minute. I also feel, in the right circumstance, if he truly is comfy, he will shamelessly flirt with you.

Word Count: 1.4k (it didn’t feel like that much in my doc but apparently it is)

Warnings: kissing without really getting permission, lmk if there’s anything else I need to put here lol

~~~~~

It was an easy stealth mission. Well, it was supposed to be an easy stealth mission. Until it was no longer a stealth mission. You can thank Don and his big mouth for that. Which was weird considering he was usually good about being quiet on these types of missions.

The purple masked turtle continued to marvel at the technology that was littering the warehouse they were trying to navigate. He explained mental blueprints that he was formulating in his mind, going on and on. In his lab, it would be endearing and you would actually be paying attention, but now he blew your cover.

With his brothers, Donnie was always quite serious when it came to missions, not taking the chance to blow their cover- that was usually Mikey’s job. What was going on in his head that he didn’t want to be left in silent thoughts? You would have to bother him about that back at the lair.

Now, you were running from the Purple Dragons who had overheard Donnie’s vocal awing of the materials around the pair. Hun was in charge now, and he was willing to do anything to remain on top. He and his gang of goons were hot on your tails as you ran through the dark city.

“Full offense, nice going, Donnie.” You shouted to the turtle running beside you.

“Sorry,” he apologized, sheepish. “Everything was just so fascinating!”

Staring ahead, a few meters in the distance, there was a group of people standing around. None of them seemed to have noticed the commotion and you reached for the clasp around your neck that kept the dark stiff cloak you wore on your person.

“Don,” you held your arm out to him, handing the cloak. His wide eyes remained on the group though. “Don, take this. Put it on,” you instructed, which finally caught his attention. With a hesitant hand, he grabbed your cloak and threw it around his shoulders. It was a bit short but it would do enough of a job to keep him hidden with the hood up. He had grabbed it just in time for it not to get blasted to bits by one of Hun’s men. The firing squad got the order.

You spared a quick glance behind you, eyeing a person a bit too close for comfort and quickly unsheathed your tanto. You spared a few seconds to send your short blade slicing through the metal of the gun he held and kicked him back, which gave you enough momentum to catch up to Donnie again.

“Where’d you learn to do that?” He asked when you reached his side. His white eyes on you as you put the tanto back in its sheath. The dark cloak waved behind him as you neared the group of people.

“I like to think I’m observant and a quick learner.” You let out a breathless laugh. “I keep an eye on you and your brothers during missions and training.” You sent a wink his way, making his eyes widen slightly. You noticed how he tripped on himself for a second but caught himself before he face planted in front of you and the Purple Dragons. Maybe flirting on the run wasn’t the best move on your part.

Your one liner flirts happened pretty often, if you were being honest. Somehow, he always had a quip at the ready that made you laugh and you both would move on for the time being. You would never say anything like that in front of his brothers though. The fear of being the targets of endless teasing made both you and Don stop yourselves.

Suddenly, you were before the large group of people. What they were doing out this late in the middle of the city was beyond you. There was so much violent activity going on in the area lately. They were bold, that’s for sure.

“Y/N, are you sure about this?” Donnie asked before you grabbed onto his three fingered hand.

“Please trust me.” You tugged on his large hand, helping to guide him through the large crowd that were now beginning to disperse in a panic. All of that confidence was gone at the first sight of Hun’s men and their guns. You took advantage of the chaos. Weaving throughout the crowd, you eventually made it to an alleyway and guided Donnie to the other side of a dumpster. With a hefty tug, you had his shell against the brick and pinned him to the wall.

“Woah, Y/N, I didn’t know you were that strong-“ You cut Donnie off with a shush. With narrow eyes, you remained observant as you eyed the entrance of the alleyway. That’s when you heard an order.

“Check the alleys! You better come back with their corpses,” Hun’s voice echoed through the space between buildings, an extra bit finding its way to the alleyway you stood in, chest to chest with Don.

“Do you trust me?” You asked, quickly turning your head to face Donnie, rearranging your hair a bit to appear different.

He stared at you with wide eyes. “What kind of question is that? Of course I do.” He whispered and you grabbed onto either side of the hood he wore. There was enough fabric that with a good tug, it would cover his whole gorgeous green face. Only you would be able to see it.

You stared back into his eyes as footsteps neared where you stood. “Please go with it.”

Donnie was about to ask what you meant until you tugged on the hood and slammed your lips into his. He stood shocked for a second before his hands, covered by the fabric of the cloak, you noticed, made their way to your hips. Even with him being cold blooded, he was warm and you felt it through the layers of fabric between you and him.

You kept your eyes narrowly open to peak down the alleyway. At the end, stood a member of the Purple Dragons stunned, watching you two make out further into the alley. He was stiff, obviously uncomfortable with what he was seeing. Eventually, he simply shuffled away.

With one last kiss, you parted, panting slightly due to the lack of air and the length of the diversion. “We’re clear.”

Donnie’s hands remained on your hips, keeping you close. “How did you know that would work?” He asked, his gaze following yours to the end of the alleyway. His face was tinted a darker shade, obviously flustered by your kiss.

“I saw it on TV and read it in a few books. Plus, PDA just makes people really uncomfortable.” You dragged out the ‘really’ and looked back at him. “Sorry I didn’t tell you about my plan. I didn’t really have the time and I couldn’t risk them hearing it.”

“No! No, it was a good plan. A great plan even. I loved it,” the usually well spoken terrapin stammered. His brow seemed to furrow upwards, accentuated by his purple mask.

“Oh, yeah?” You asked with a grin.

“Yeah,” he echoed breathlessly. His lips formed a mirroring grin. He almost looked lovesick.

“You wouldn’t want to put it in action again, would you?” You reached up, your fingers making contact with his cheek to caress it slowly.

You were being bold. You usually stopped with just words, but you had already crossed the point of no return with your plan of kissing him. Not to mention, he had a very cute and kissable face.

Donnie sighed at the touch, a small smile making its way across his lips. You didn’t even notice how your foreheads were touching now. Your lips were only inches away from his. The small space between you and him was warm and you felt your cheeks heat up.

“Is that a promise?” He whispered, his lips now ghosting yours. As cute as he normally was, he was hot when he looked at you this way, eyes half lidded, glued to your lips.

You moved so your lips barely ghosted over his. “I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.” Your voice came out in the same whisper and his lips smashed against yours again. This time, his hands wrapped around your waist and you felt a brilliant warmth in your chest. Your arms moved up to wrap around his neck to hold him close.

All things considered, you got in, got the information that you needed and got out. It was a mission success, just with a bonus award.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt 2003 #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #one shot #donatello x y/n #donatello x reader #tmnt donatello #2003 donatello #donatello x you #donatello hamato #x reader #x y/n #I’m a simp

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cositapreciosa · 1 year

Note

I’ve just rewatched narcos Mexico I love Mayo so much😭 Can I request something about him comforting his wife about the drama going on with tj like maybe this is just after he’s picked a side and she’s scared and worry about what will happen to him. I don’t know I’m just interested in mayo comfort vibe cause feel like I haven’t seen that on here!. Thank you! Hope your good🫶🏼

Burning bridges

Ismael 'El Mayo' Zambada x gn!reader, 2121 words

a single use of Y/N, drinking alcohol, wanting to kill someone, the usual for the show

a/n : Hope you're good too!! Sorry it took so long, but it's finally here !! He is so husband material look at him <3

As always it's the fictional, not the real deal, enjoy xx

You have been waiting for hours. Pacing back and forth in the living room, running to the window every time you would see headlights coming in from the street, licking the wallpaper and out the way just as fast. It is still not him, not his car, not even his men coming to tell you that he would be late. Ismael was supposed to be here on time, as usual, as he does most nights, but tonight he isn’t and you can’t help this feeling of helplessness from taking over your mind. His dinner is getting cold on the dinner table, fork and knife perfectly placed around the ceramic plate, you even made sure to pour some wine into his cup.

You know he works hard to keep the business afloat, to give you this roof and this food to put on the table. You also know what the business is, even though he doesn’t like to tell you all about it. There are nights when he does, confiding in you when he needs your opinions. It is usually when you are sitting outside, enjoying the backward after a long day, he would light himself a cigar and offer you a glass of that expensive wine that you like. I want to know what you think about this, he always says, adding something about how it impacts you too, in a way.

You know that the police caught Miguel Angel, that his plazas aren’t holding up after his trial. You also know that your husband is thinking about joining forces for once and going around the Arellano’s back. You are pacing the kitchen, pouring some more wine into a glass. It is bitter when it goes down your throat, a reminder that this is not a normal night, that he would have at least called you if he planned on coming back late. Maybe you should wrap up his plate and put it in the fridge for him later, warm it up when he eventually arrives. He has to. There is no other option, no world where someone rings the bell at this hour to let you know he wouldn’t. Your husband has to come home.

The cat is slithering in between your feet, all purrs and soft fur against your ankles, but you don’t have the heart to pet him back. Your wedding ring feels heavy on your finger, thoughts are battling in your head, you haven’t been this anxious in months. You have met the Arellanos before, at the oldest daughter’s wedding, a beautiful reception where Ismael happily paraded you around. You could read them well, that night, see how squared they hold their shoulders, how political the whole thing was. If they wanted to kill your husband they could, they just had to ask.

'' Y/N? ''

You scream, glass falling from your hand, shattering at your feet. You feel the liquid between your toes, ear the cat’s claw on the hardwood floor as it runs away. Ismael is in front of you, standing at the door, hat pushed up.

'' Ay Dios mio, Ismael. When did you get in?! I didn't hear you, how- ''

'' Don't move, okay? You'll cut yourself. ''

He moves to you, boots covered in mud. He looks tired, you can tell, with his sleeves rolled up, damp hair, you know he must have had a hell of a day.

'' I tried calling the warehouse, they didn't know where you were- damn it. ''

You hiss, raising your hand to grab at his shoulder as he nears, boots crunching on the shards of glass. Your toe starts to bleed, mixing with the wine covering the floor. He barely acknowledges your remark, pushing your un-asked question to the side. His hand comes up to your waist, caressing your side as it moves up, lifting you by the rib. You step carefully on his work shoes, naked toes meeting the leather as he turns on his heels, bringing you away from the mess.

'' I came through the garage. Didn't I tell you to lock it behind you, hm? ''

He does, every day before he leaves for work, every night before bed. His fingers are warm between your ribs and you can see him for the first time tonight. His shirt is dirty, mud you know you will have to scrub hard and long to get off. He is already looking at you when you meet his eyes, they are soft, tired, the skin creasing in between his brows. Your hand moves to his chest, where his heart is, caressing the shirt over his skin with your thumb.

'' I was... ''

Scared? Would that even be the right word? You were scared for him, for what it would entail for you after if anything were to happen. Anxious that there was nothing you could do to prevent this, only being able to stay home, cook eggs in the morning, soak his dirty shirts, and pour him whiskey in a cold glass when he eventually comes back. He gives you a small smile, one that barely pulls at his lips, lifting only on one side. I know, he wants to say, and you don’t feel like you have to end your sentence anymore.

He kneels in front of you, pressing his warm hand behind your thigh and then to the joint of your knee to lift your foot off the ground. You can feel his breath on your leg, the tip of his hat tickling your thigh.

'' You don't have to do this. You'll get blood all over your shirt. ''

He scoffs at the irony, pulling a handkerchief from his back pocket and pressing it to your toe, holding your heel with a firm hand when you inevitably jerk away from the pain. The cut is minimal, nothing a good bandaid wouldn’t fix, but the blood still runs on the side of your foot, staining the tissue red.

He looks up to you once again, you notice a scratch on his face that wasn’t there this morning.

'' They burned the boats. All of them. ''

He doesn’t say more, he doesn’t need to. You know who he is talking about, what they are doing and why. You sigh softly, leaning back on the counter behind you. You did tell him that Chapo’s offer was a good deal, that he should consider it, and now you have to stand here and listen to the consequences of it. Ones that you felt couldn’t touch you, ones you felt he would be protected enough not to deal with. He wasn’t even in on the deal yet, but they already came at him like he was.

'' I'm sorry, cariño. ''

It is sincere, you mean it. You know how hard he works at the dock, how many can count on his fleet for a fair wage, hopefully living the normal life he didn’t choose for himself. Maybe you were wrong to tell him to listen to Chapo, maybe making friends and alliances wasn’t a good idea after all. Your hand reaches for his hat, taking it off and discarded on the counter just as fast. Your fingers come back down, moving untamed curls back and away from his forehead, he leans into your touch, pressing his cheek into your palm.

'' I made you dinner, but you weren't coming home. ''

'' I know. ''

He sighs, forehead falling on your thigh. His moustache scratches your skin, his thumb caressing your ankle as he talks.

'' I should have called you. It's just- Everything was on fire. Pinche Arellanos. ''

You are playing with his curls again, fingertips untangling hair at the nape of his neck. There is nothing you can do to tame his anger, nothing to convince him to take a step back and think about it. You know your husband in and out, you know what is coming and there is nothing you can do to stop this.

'' I'll take it. '' He says, '' I'll find Chapo and I'll take the deal. I'll kill them for this. ''

His fingers are shaking against your ankles as he unwraps the handkerchief from your toe. It has stopped bleeding now, leaving a red mess and a small gash in its place.

'' What if they kill you first? ''

You whisper it, in the space between you, with his warm hand still on your foot, his eyebrows frowning at the words. You don’t mean this as a jab at his strength, at what he is able to do. You believe him when he says he will kill them, you have watched him come home with blood on his shirt that he never cared to explain, taking out guns from hiding places you didn’t even know existed.

'' Do you think I would let this happen? '' He continues. '' I won't. ''

'' That is not what I'm saying, Ismael. I'm just- ''

Your voice breaks, you can’t hide it and you know he heard it. He raises up, pushing off his knees, his hand trailing your leg until he rests it on your waist. You can smell what is left of his perfume, see the speckles of green in his eyes. You know he is waiting for you to say more.

'' I worry. I worry so much for you. ''

He closes his eyes at that. You know he knows, that he can see you biting at the skin around your nails, that you never go to sleep if he is not in bed with you. He feels guilty, even when you tell him it’s fine, even on those nights when you actually mean it at times.

'' Every night your dinner gets cold, I always think- '' You sob, you can’t help it. Your throat is tight, you can’t breathe, '' This is it, and I'm just waiting and waiting and I- ''

'' Hey. Hey. '' His other hand is on your cheek now, pressing you to him, keeping you unbelievably closer. '' Respira hondo, amor. ''

He is shushing you, mouth in your hair, your nose in his neck. You can feel the metal of his wedding band, cold on your skin as his fingers wipe the tears off your cheek. You finally take a deep breath, for him, because he wants you to.

'' Please be careful, Ismael, I don't know what I would do if you don't come home. ''

It comes out fast, stumbling over words and shaky breaths. You are gripping at his shirt, creasing the fabric between your fingers. In a weird way, it feels like if you were to let him go, right now, tonight, he wouldn’t come back at all.

'' Don't say that, amor, '' His voice breaks on the last word and he brings you closer, breathing in your scent, hand cradling your cheeks, '' Don't say that. I fight every day to come back to you. I always do. ''

You know he is hiding in your hair so he doesn’t have to face you, tell you that even if he tries, faith is something he can’t control. No amount of soldiers or money could give him this power. You let him lull you, ease those thoughts in your head. Maybe they will be back tomorrow, during dinner when it once again inevitably goes cold on his side of the table, but you let him keep them at bay for now, tucked in his arms, lips moving against your hair, promises after promises.

En lo próspero y en lo adverso, en la salud y en la enfermedad.

Ismael holds you tighter that night. You know he is not sleeping and he probably knows that you aren’t either, but you enjoy it, his presence, his chest against your back. The feeling of his breath on your neck, his warm hands sprawled across your stomach. Your toe is still throbbing, a bitter reminder of what happened, of what is to come, because it will, and there is nothing you can do to stop this. He whispers in your ear.

'' I'll end this. '' Them, he actually means. '' Whatever happens, I'll come home. '' Whoever.

You can only believe him, believe that he would, and you do. Your fingers intertwine around his, pressing a gentle kiss on his knuckles, bruised and scared from all his hard work. I believe you, you tell him, I’ll be here when you come back. He smells like soap, an aftertaste of cigar, his fingers ghosting under your ribs.

For better or for worse, in sickness and in health.

#narcos imagine #ismael zambada x reader #ismael el mayo zambada x reader #narcos mexico imagines #ismael x reader #el mayo x reader

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set-phasers-to-whump · 7 months

Text

waiting again

prompt: "don't move"

whumpee: shawn spencer

fandom: psych

hi this one is a part two to my fic for day 10, wait and see. hope you like it!

Gus is getting worried. It’s been almost two hours since Shawn left for that sketchy abandoned warehouse, and he’d promised to be back by now.

Maybe he’s just running late, Gus thinks.

Or maybe he’s been captured by some kind of evil former forklift operator, or something.

He calls Shawn. C’mon, pick up, he pleads silently. Don’t make me have to come after you. I am not in the mood to face off against a crazy guy with a forklift certification.

But Shawn doesn’t pick up. Gus debates calling for backup in the form of Jules or possibly Lassiter, but, well. They’re both busy and they’re not even on a case right now and maybe he’s being a little paranoid. Maybe.

He goes alone.

The Blueberry screeches to a halt in the parking lot of a warehouse that is significantly flatter than Gus had thought it would be. It’s collapsed. Shawn hadn’t mentioned that particular detail before he’d left this morning.

Gus had already been anxious, but now that anxiety sharply rises. Maybe the warehouse hadn’t been collapsed before. Maybe Shawn had done something to make it collapse, maybe there had been a bomb hidden somewhere in the building, maybe an earthquake had hit this very spot, and nowhere else.

He very, very cautiously approaches the ruined building.

“Shawn?” he calls out, stepping over a large metal beam and wishing fervently that his friend had decided to do anything else today. “Are you here?”

“Gus!” Shawn’s voice comes from somewhere in front of him, loud and relieved. There’s the sound of rubble shifting, and then a very distinct “Ow!”

“Don’t move!” Gus shouts instinctively. “Just - give me a second, okay? Where are you?”

“I dunno, man, there’s…concrete and wood and stuff everywhere.”

Gus looks around and discovers that this descriptor also applies to his current location. Okay. Not helpful.

“Say something else,” he calls out. “So I can follow your voice.”

“Okay, uh, I’m really glad you’re here, I mean, I knew you’d come, but my phone broke when the building collapsed - it collapsed right on top of me, all on its own, I swear I didn’t even do anything - and where was I? Right. The building collapsed and my phone broke so I couldn’t call you and - did you bring anyone else with you? Cause I’m kinda stuck here.”

As soon as Shawn says stuck, Gus steps through a partially-collapsed doorway and is immediately made aware of the problem.

Shawn is lying there, covered in dust and bits of building material, and there’s a massive piece of concrete pinning his leg to the ground. There’s blood beneath it, and Gus steadfastly does not look at it.

“Good to see you,” Shawn says. His face is a little too pale and his hair is speckled white with plaster.

Gus crouches beside him, avoiding a large piece of rebar. He reaches into his pocket for his phone and calls Jules, holding up a finger of silence when Shawn opens his mouth to say something that is surely not going to be helpful.

“Jules, hi, I’ve, um, well…can you maybe send some help to -”

He looks over to Shawn. “What’s the address of this place?”

Shawn makes an I dunno sound.

“Okay, we don’t know the address, but it’s a creepy abandoned warehouse near a taco place that’s kind of also creepy and maybe abandoned.”

“Got it,” Jules says, almost immediately. “What happened?”

Gus tells her what he knows.

“Is he okay?”

He looks over at his friend, who gives him an only somewhat reassuring thumbs up.

“He’s alright. But he’s really stuck.”

“I’ll send the fire department. And an ambulance.”

Okay. Okay. Jules is sending real help, and everything is gonna be fine. Don’t think about the blood.

He goes back to Shawn, passes him the phone so he can talk to Jules. He’s smiling and chats with her almost normally. But Gus can see the pain on his face, the way his expression goes still and serious the second he hangs up.

Gus sits down beside Shawn, ignores the dust that gets on his pants, and puts his phone back into his pocket. He puts a hand onto Shawn’s shoulder and joins him in doing the only thing they can do.

They wait.

thanks for reading!!!

#whumptober2023 #no.21 #don't move #psych #fic #shawn spencer #trapped #pinned by debris #my writing #i say things #ough. got rained on today and wasn't expecting it. very cold.#alsoooo i wanna go out tonight but i have no one to go with :( and i am Not going out drinking on my own that's no fun #boooo #it's fine. but. annoyed.

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anneapocalypse · 2 years

Text

Raw as Hell Shit Felassan Says

Greatest hits from the second-best character in The Masked Empire.

(Spoilers. Page numbers are based on the paperback version.)

Felassan plucked off a bit of bark, popped it into his mouth, and chewed.

“What are you doing?”

“The Dalish know many medicinal remedies that the humans have forgotten,” Felassan said, chewing. “Certain types of bark can be chewed to ease headaches.” He paused. “Not this kind, though. Sadly, this is just bark.” (p. 73)

—

“How are the Dalish?” she asked. “You have not spoken of your people.”

Beneath his cloak, his face lit up with enthusiasm. “They have a wonderful new plan! It ends with the shemlen killing each other off, leaving the Dales free for the elves to rule.”

Briala raised an eyebrow. “How does it begin?”

“Riding around in wagons pulled by deer. They’re still working on the middle.” (p. 81)

—

“Do you ever tire of it, Briala?” he asked then. “Walking among the fools, bending them to your will with a word here and a gesture there?”

Briala started to answer, then stopped at Felassan’s stare. It was intent, almost angry, his eyes glittering inside the shadows of his cloak.

She thought of the chatelaine, the captain of the palace guard. She thought of the countless nobles who ignored her or called her “rabbit.”

She thought of Celene’s soft fingers trailing down her bare arm.

“I believe I am doing good work,” she finally said.

Felassan nodded and looked away. “Yes, that lasts for a while.” (p.82)

—

“It’s hard to impress someone with the absence of a negative,” Felassan said without looking over. “Look you say, did you notice how nobody came into your house and beat you to death for not bowing fast enough yesterday? You’re welcome!”

“It’s getting better.”

“Of course it is. I’m here.” As Briala chuckled, Felassan added, “And you’re doing good work. And the day when you can accept that they’ll never really understand, or appreciate it, or know just how much you did…”

“What?” Briala asked. “Is that the day it gets easier?”

“Mythal’s bosom, no!” Felassan chuckled. “Honestly, it makes your heart shrivel up and die inside you. Put it off as long as you can.” (p. 82-83)

—

“Have you ever wondered how hot someone’s fingernails have to get before they melt right onto their fingers?” Felassan asked as he leaned against the bar, pulling his hood back slightly. “Because it’s something I’ve been thinking about a lot lately.”

The barman looked at Felassan’s tattooed face and went pale. He lifted his hand back from the counter very slowly.

“Thank you.” Briala moved toward the table and caught a trace of a sour, acrid scent. She occasionally used poisons in her work, and she recognized the hint of deep mushroom that suggested choke powder.

She nodded at the barman, then at Felassan. “Come on.”

He nodded and led her outside. “Trap?”

“It looks that way. He was attacked by a group and then taken down with poison.”

“Poisons. Charming.” Felassan made a face.

“Yes, they’re so much less dignified than melting someone’s fingernails to their fingers.”

“Oh, don’t be silly,” Felassan said, waving her words away. “The fingernail just turns black and falls off, and usually the finger swells up and bursts long beforehand.”

“I’ll bear that in mind, hahren.” (p. 83-84)

—

Briala looked at the maze of crates, then scrambled up one makeshift wall. Moldy wood crumbled under her fingers, and the whole stack of crates swayed dangerously, but moments later she had reached high enough to look down upon the rest of the warehouse.

“I know you want to embrace your heritage,” Felassan called back to her as he darted into the maze, “but we don’t all climb trees. You’ve confused us with squirrels again.” (p. 86)

—

“I don’t answer to you, knife-ear,” Michel said, his stolen dagger clutched tightly in one hand, not yet raised. “If our mistress had questions, she would not send her handmaid to ask them.”

“No, you fool. She’d send her spy.” Briala turned to Felassan. “Knife-ear.”

Felassan stifled a yawn. “I was offended. Were you offended?”

“No. Because he has never called me that before, not when giving orders to the servants, not even when he was in a rush.” Briala smiled. “Which means he’s covering, trying to distract me. What is it, Michel? A scandal in your family history? No. Urgent news would not bring you away… Ah.” His face paled as she nodded in satisfaction. “Falsified family title. Comte Brevin must have seen something extraordinary in you.”

“Not his ability to hide his facial expressions, obviously,” Felassan said. (p. 89)

—

"You’ll never make it to Val Royeaux on your own,” he said. “This Gaspard fellow really wishes to find you.”

“I imagine he does.” Celene smiled. “But even if he does not, he will turn to Val Royeaux and claim it in my absence, at which point you will lose any chance you have of winning my favor.”

The Dalish elf grinned. “You wear stolen armor and a ride a stolen horse, shemlen. You have no empire at the moment, and your big offer is your favor?” He turned to Briala. “I like her.” (p. 179)

—

"I swore an oath.” Michel sighed. “I don’t expect you to understand.”

“Honor and duty? Of course not. I’m an elf, and honor and duty are concepts exclusive to heavily armored horsemen.” (p. 201)

—

"It's a bit hard to take in," Felassan said, "especially when almost every elf you've ever seen is a servant in secondhand clothes or a peasant in the slums." He shook his head. "We had an empire. It was… everything one thinks of when one hears such a word. Do you understand? Take the richest district of Val Royeaux. That was our people."

Briala smiled to think of it. "It must have been beautiful, if they had the power to craft a world between the eluvians."

"From what little survives among the Dalish, it was." Felassan sighed. "Take the richest district of Val Royeaux, and add the magic that was part of our everyday life. Every statue fountain could speak through the water that poured from her mouth. Every column glowed with runes that the fools in Tevinter copied by rote like children tracing letters. When night fell, the roads were lit by stones like these, bright enough to find your way safely, but soft enough that you could still see the stars."

"I can only imagine."

"Can you?" Felassan looked over sharply. "Can you, truly? Then tell me, da'len, who scrubbed the floors?"

She blinked. "I… if the stone is enchanted, then… perhaps it cleans itself. Or if our people had golems, like the dwarves…"

"We were an empire," Felassan said again, and this time she heard the anger in his voice. "It was not the Golden City. It was not the peaceful afterlife of this Maker the humans have made for themselves. Take the richest district of Val Royeaux, and tell me how many fools are scheming against each other at every ball? How many servants are flogged for improperly arranging the silverware?"

"We were the nobles." It hit Briala like a blow. She remembered a slow trickle of blood winding toward the spot where she had hidden in the reading room of Celene's childhood estate, where her parents had died on the orders of Lady Mantillon.

"We were everyone. There were no humans, no dwarves, no race but the elves. Every atrocity you seek to avenge for your broken people in the alienages, elven nobles committed upon elven servants."

Briala swallowed. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Your empress," he said. "You trust her. You believe she will free your people."

"I do," Briala said without hesitation.

"Then who's going to scrub the floors?" Felassan asked, and smiled.

"You distrust her because she is human."

"No." Felassan paused. "Well, all right, yes, but more than that, I distrust her because she has successfully ruled an empire. No one who does that cedes power. Even if they are wise. Even if it is for the best, in the long run. Even if failing to do so will destroy everything." (p. 283-284)

—

"In part,” he said. “But the faithful would also come here in supplication.”

“To what? Your heathen gods?” Remache asked, the scar as his cheek twisting as he sneered.

“Our elders, who had entered uthenara [sic].” If Felassan was offended by Remache’s interruption, he did not show it. “Supplicants would walk the labyrinth,” he said, gesturing at the twisting mass of runes, “and the songs say that if they were worthy, they would find the answers they sought in their dreams that night.”

“Walk the…” Remache stared at the runes encircling the pedestal. “Is there some pattern to that?”

“Oh, you cannot see it?” Felassan asked, and smiled. “Perhaps you are unworthy.” (p. 328-329)

#felassan #the masked empire #dragon age #briala #mentions of violence #i finished a re-read recently and i had to do a compilation

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bodybeyondstories · 10 months

Text

dicks keep growing around me - 1 (Myron)

(I couldn't get this phrase out of my head and I thought it was funny, so I'm seeing where it leads.)

Until recently, Myron was oblivious to the fact that dicks would get mysteriously bigger the longer someone hung out with him. He begins putting the pieces together as his boss, Miguel, starts going through all too familiar changes below the belt.

2 - Next

“Dicks keep growing around you?”

“Yes,” I said. “Or at least I think. It’s not exactly an airtight theory, but there are some examples.”

“And it just…happens,” responded my supervisor Miguel.

“Apparently.”

“And it’s happening to me?”

“Pretty sure.”

So I have a theory. Maybe just a hunch, I don’t know. And I’m not doing it on purpose, but I’m pretty sure I’m the cause. For lack of a better way of saying, dicks keep growing around me. And I don’t mean chubbing up, I mean literally growing. Like adding on real, tangible inches with no end in sight. It’s very slow, and I think it comes down to how often we’re in close proximity, but if you spend enough time around me, you may end up with more, sometimes much more, below the belt. I don’t have any idea how this works, but I wish I did. I’m still just piecing clues together.

So I guess Exhibit A would be my boss, Miguel. I do a lot of temporary contract work, which isn’t ideal, but allows me to string together rent while working on some of my own creative freelance stuff. I was hired onto this project six months ago to restructure the data management system of a small, local startup and they miscalculated the resultant shift in office space. After a series of awkward corners and at least one broom closet, they decided to just stick me in Miguel’s office. Miguel requested it actually. He figured I would be of more use working in tandem with him than I would blocking everyone’s path to the bathroom.

I was less than pleased to look like his makeshift corner secretary, and honestly I’ve dealt with much worse, but he didn’t mind. In fact, he seemed to welcome the company. Miguel kept a tight beard and even tighter fade, always perfectly put together in what looked like one-step-below-designer business casual, with the cherry on top being the neon purple and green barefoot shoes he tended to wear to work. I would’ve been annoyed if not for the fact that he was a genuinely nice, thoughtful guy, and more than just a captivating smile. Plus, I came around on his use of a balance ball chair once I was introduced to his tight butt clad in well fitting slacks. Not that I ever really thought about him that way.

So we shared a space and had a congenial enough dynamic. We both had similar tastes in some of the experimental music scene locally and would even go out to some shows together. Also he’s a self professed menswear expert and started systemically giving my wardrobe a much needed overhaul. So I found it odd when his usual form fitting, modern pants began to lose their flair.

At one point, he chalked it up to seasonal shifts, trying out some new, looser looks for the spring. Not to mention baggier, boxier styles had been taking the place of slim fit jeans and tight shirts, at least according to him. A few times he texted me in the morning, saying he was running late because of a ‘wardrobe malfunction,’ which I never thought much of. I had come to expect him cycling through three or four outfit changes before he finally made it out.

For a while it seemed like he might’ve just been getting the wrong fit, since he developed a habit of adjusting his crotch often, or even wincing slightly when he sat down too hard. And I had had multiple friends and partners with similar issues, so offered some tailoring tips, but he didn’t want to dwell on it.

I got a good idea why when we went to a show together one evening. A DJ we both liked was playing a set at a warehouse on a Thursday night, and we figured we had to go. We’d bring a change of clothes, work late on Thursday, then roll into the office late Friday morning. We could even call it a team meeting or professional development or something.

The show was euphoric. I felt like I was rising up and outside of myself as our bodies bounced on the packed dance floor, in so small part due to the haze of surprisingly strong drinks and party drugs. While Miguel seemed to be enjoying it, he was still preoccupied with the constant need to readjust his crotch. I had seen him in this pair of skinny leather pants–his ass alone was unforgettable–but they seemed especially constricting.

“Told you you’d look great in those pants,” came Miguel’s familiar voice in my ear. He never missed an opportunity to brag about being my personal stylist, but I had to admit I looked better than expected. However, I didn’t expect Miguel’s strong hands to linger on my hips, nor did I expect myself to close the rest of the gap between us. I’d been catching guys checking us out all night and I was feeling myself, so I thought Fuck it, as we began grinding to the rhythm. Maybe it was the fantasy of the moment or whatever I was on, but the bulge in Miguel’s pants felt major, and his crotch was radiating heat.

Suddenly, Miguel’s hands tensed up and he pulled away, his hand trailing against my lower back as he turned to leave. I asked if he was doing alright and he sputtered something about needing to piss, quickly disappearing into the crowd. I didn’t think much of it, and quickly got lost in the crush of moving bodies, and more than a few lingering caresses just below my hips. To say I was getting hot and bothered was an understatement and eventually I realized that I also needed to relieve myself, aiming in the vague direction of the bathroom but quickly getting lost in the crush of the crowd. Eventually I stumbled into a back alley, a rush of chill spring night air hitting my lungs as the party thumped through the wall behind me.

I turned my head at the sound of a deep sigh of visceral relief, looking to the left to see Miguel, eyes closed and head thrown back as he pissed loudly against the side of the wall. I wasn’t exactly in my right mind, and didn’t stop myself from glancing at his cock, which, semisoft, was hanging halfway down to his knees, jiggling comically as he shook off the last drops. It wasn’t just massive, it was beautiful, majestic under the streetlight, draped in shadow by Miguel’s outstretched arm, other hand bracing against the wall.

“Sorry,” he said, making me quickly realize that while my eyes were hyperfocused on his schlong, his were on me watching me hyperfocus on his schlong. “There was a line to the bathroom and it was about to be a photo finish,” a slight smile turning up his lips as he saw me finally draw my eyes away from his stunning dick.

“I, uh, was just about to join you,” I replied, deliberately keeping my eyes on his as he struggled to fit his prodigious cock back into his pants, by some miracle getting the zipper up after a few tries.

The awkwardness must’ve been my own anxious imagination, as the next day at work he actually seemed more relaxed than he had in a while, his bubble butt perched on his exercise ball chair as he sat with a leisurely spread, his bulge plainly visible. I guess the secret’s out, I thought. At least between us.

—

When the summer sun had come to stay, and my contract was wrapping up, he proposed an office hiking trip at one of his favorite trails, a moderately strenuous 3.5 mile track that led to an impressive waterfall tucked away just outside the city. I hadn’t been, but was familiar with it because my roommate, Ty, worked in the kitchen at a bar nearby that was kind of the post-hike spot. My apartment, according to Miguel, was “on the way” to the trailhead. I begged to differ, but he insisted on the kind gesture of giving me a lift, until we reached the compromise of me getting a ride home with Ty when their shift ended. So Miguel picked me up from my place, decked out in hiking boots, thick socks, a breezy short sleeve button down, and some five inch linen shorts with a sizable bulge. I had already caught a glimpse of his dick, so I wasn’t surprised by what looked like rolled up tube socks tucked into his crotch, but this looked bigger than I remembered.

And I don’t think I was the only one who noticed either. Miguel was certainly the center of attention when we met up with the others at the trailhead, albeit delightfully oblivious in his excitement to take us on this outing. And it looked like I may have missed the memo about the dress code. All the other guys were wearing similar short shorts, showing off their own respectable bulges–though not as impressive as Miguel’s.

As we set off down the trail, Miguel took an early lead, looking like he had no intention of slowing down. As we settled into a rhythm, I found myself consistently a few steps behind him–admiring more than the view of the scenery–with the rest of the group farther back but still within earshot. I began to think that Miguel should’ve stuck to the breezy bottoms he had fallen into wearing, because he was constantly adjusting the hem of his shorts as they dug into his meaty quads. At times, he seemed visibly uncomfortable.

As we reached a bend in the trail with a makeshift bench, we decided to take a breather and let the others catch up. Miguel’s shirt was glued to the middle of his back by a trail of sweat that ran down to his butt crack. I had trouble noticing anything else as he bent over and rested his hands on his knees, pushing his tight butt in my direction as he caught his breath.

From behind, the crotch of his pants looked overstuffed and straining at the seams. I thought it must have been my exhausted brain and overactive imagination until with a soft rip, the crotch of his shorts gave out, his dick gracefully bobbing two thirds of the way to his knees, definitely bigger than before and paired with some proportionately huge nuts. Miguel, his cock now freed of its constraints, let out a sigh of relief before apparently coming to the realization of the cool breeze on his oversized genitals.

Hearing the others approaching, I sprang into action, pushing him off the trail and just behind a stand of bushes, hoping passers by would assume he was relieving himself and keep moving.

“Sorry,” he said. “I brought up a backup pair just in case, give me one second.”

“A backup pair?” I asked, wanting to respect his privacy but also betraying my own fascination with this super dick that I had now been introduced to twice.

“Yeah, I thought I wouldn’t have an issue yet with these pants, but wanted to be careful.”

“What do you mean issue?” I asked. “And what do you mean yet?”

“I don’t know, I think I need to see somebody about this, it’s like–” he was cut off by one of their co-workers catching up to them on the trail. He quickly finished changing and stuffed his cock back in his shorts, shooting me a brief look of thanks.

—

Thankfully, the rest of the outing passed without incident. We actually had a great time, and Miguel was certainly correct about the waterfall being worth the aggravation. A few of the guys even waded in to cool off, inadvertently revealing some very heavy bulges through the thin, wet fabric of their shorts. Miguel hung back.

We got drinks afterward and it was obvious Miguel was a post-hike usual. As the afternoon wore on to evening, everyone fell away slowly, until it was just the two of us. He insisted on hanging around until Ty could take me home, and I would’ve staunchly refused if not for how much I enjoyed his company–and how he would’ve stayed against my wishes anyways.

He hadn’t really been drinking–concerned about everyone else having a good time, in typical Miguel fashion–but I had maybe had more than I should. During a lull in the conversation, he leaned in slightly and said “Thanks for the save back there. Would’ve never lived it down at work.”

“To be honest, I was not expecting all that,” I said, trying to be careful not to push boundaries too far too fast.

“Honestly, me neither,” Miguel responded, his eyes widening slightly as he glanced into the distance. “TMI, but I’ve been kind of having a late growth spurt the last six months. Or something.”

And well, this is when the pieces finally started to come together. I had had hunches and musings over the years about my propensity to meet some truly noteworthy cocks, but something deep in my brain felt compelled to ask “When did it start?”

With a thoughtful look in his eye, he glanced at me and said, “Around when you showed up. You might be my lucky charm.”

This is when it finally clicked.

#male tf #dick growth #bodybeyond

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cable-knit-sweater · 1 year

Text

I do.

a moodboard by cable-knit-sweater

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Word count: 884 words

Created for: @buckybarnesbingo card B101 | Adoptable: Diary, & @stuckybingo card R4005 | Square: G2 - “I read about you in a museum”

He keeps them like treasures, each and every single one of them. The ones from earlier, months ago, read like not more than the ramblings of a mad man, words scribbled over and over, sometimes with painstaking effort to hold a pen or pencil without his hand trembling, with seemingly no intent behind it except to get them out of his head and onto paper, like he’ll feel less haunted that way. He doesn’t, not really, but it helps, at least for a little while, and at this point, that’s all he can ask for.

They’re his most prized belongings, if you can call it that, traveling with him from city to city, abandoned apartment to warehouse to street corner, all packed safely into his backpack. They’re a part of him, his thoughts and fears, his every half formed thought, and even less than that, right there on paper. He wouldn’t want anyone to see them, thinks he’s an idiot sometimes, for putting it down like that for anyone to read, if they’d find him. His lips curl into what would count as a smile these days, thinking about him, him telling him something about taking all the stupid with him, in a different life.

It’s better now, than it had been. He has flashes of memories that he puts down immediately, afraid that they’ll slip out of his hands if he doesn’t. His mind feels less like he’s in a constant state of confusion, some sort of fog lifting, but some days he still wakes up with no recollection of where he is or how he got there, and writing down as much as he remembers lets him hold onto some semblance of control.

He wishes he could just stop. Stop running, stop looking over his shoulder. But it’ll be either them, or him that will catch up with him eventually. He’s not so sure which one of those is worse. That’s a lie. He is sure, although he tells himself he could fight them, and facing him…he’s not sure he can bear it. Not now, not like this.

It doesn’t end up mattering. He runs up to his apartment to pack up his stuff, his diaries, some cash, some weapons, to get the hell out before they find him. But it’s too late. He can hear cars hurrying up the street, and he doesn’t have to guess their destination. There’s someone in his apartment, he can hear the steady breathing and rustling around before he enters.

His heart beats out of his chest when he sees him. He knew, technically, that he’d recovered from what Bucky had done to him, but in his dreams sometimes…No matter. He’s there, and he looks calm, collected, but Bucky can hear more than just his own heart racing. In his hands is one of Bucky’s diaries. A recent one, the pages already worn by use, flipping to one page in particular, the worst one, the one page that shows too much, lays him bare.

“Do you know me?” he asks, but his voice doesn’t sound right, like the calm he’s trying to exude, affected.

Bucky can barely look at him, afraid to show too much, to give hope where he knows he can’t. He has nothing to offer, except lies. “You’re Steve,” he says, and it comes out more breathless than he’d hoped. God, this punk is going to see right through me, a voice in his head tells him. Please, please don’t. Please just let this go. “I read about you in a museum.” He has to look away at that, can’t bear the look that Steve must have on his face.

“I know you’re nervous, you got plenty of reason to be,” he says, voice rough, holding back an emotion Bucky can’t place. He used to know him, know all of him. He swallows heavily. “But you’re lying.”

He is. He is lying. I know you, I do, he wants to scream. I’ve known you my entire life. I just don’t know who I am, and I can’t…he can’t do that to him. Not to Steve. Steve, his Steve, who expects his Bucky. Steve deserves more than someone who forgot him long enough to beat him to a pulp. Someone who wakes up in the middle of the night, screaming. Who still doesn’t know who or what or where he is sometimes. It’s not safe. He can’t hurt him again, not ever.

He wishes he could tell him that, but his throat feels too tight, and he can hear heavy boots come up the stairs, and he feels trapped, every instinct telling him to run. Even when a little voice in his head tells him to stay, that Steve will figure it out, to let himself get a good look at him, now that he remembers enough, might remember this, one more good look at him, before it all goes to hell. Or whatever is past that. He thinks he’s been in hell, that tendrils of its flames are still wrapped around his wrists, trying to pull him back in.

He ignores the little voice. He runs. He takes one more glance at him, at Steve, and then he runs, his backpack strapped to him, all his memories inside. At least he has those.

#maya tries to write #bbb2022 #stuckybingo #stucky #stucky fic #moodboard #steve rogers #bucky barnes

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