#(romantic) film freak

[kuroppiii]

ㅤpictures of us ᵕ̈        timeskip!boyfie!suna rintarō x gn reader ˎˊ˗

⋮⋮ ˒ ₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ 𖥻 ⿻ : your boyfriend really ⋮⋮ wants to catch a new movie coming ⋮⋮ out . what must be so special about ⋮⋮ it , anyway ?

📋 content     ♡ # 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧 🐮     ♡ # 𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘵 🥛     ♡ # 1.2𝘬 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴

🎶 on shuffle " pictures of us " - beabadoobee

🧸 directory  ‹ ✩  like what you read ? check out more of my blog !  •ᴗ•

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ how many times have i teared up in my car to this song ? that ' s up to YOU 🫵 to decide ! ”

suna rintarō begs you to see an exclusive screening of an upcoming independent film at a small local movie house.

as pretentious as the idea first sounded, you of course oblige because how can you resist your one and only boyfriend? especially when he’s clinging to you and hanging off you as he so sweetly asks, sneaking kisses along the expanse of your neck and shoulder in between points of how, “it’s really about the experience. it’s what the director would have wanted.”

he really wanted to go.

so you go with him when the day comes, but for some reason suna takes longer than usual to get ready so you end up arriving at the movie house when the last of the previews are wrapping up. usually you and him go early to see those, where he says things like, “that looks like ass,” or, “we’re going to see that one, for sure,” and it never fails to make you snicker in your seat beside him.

you’re just a smidge late for all that this time.

“but that’s ok,” you reassure him, “the previews always drag on anyway. plus, you look really nice from getting ready for so long.”

you giggle and give him a quick kiss on his cheek and when you pull back, he looks at you with just the most lovestruck look ever.

“you’re the best, y’know that?” he says, in a tone strangely more lovey-dovey (especially given the fact you’re in public) than usual. it wasn't like you don't compliment him on a regular basis, either.

okayyy…?

“i know,” you quickly joke with a light laugh, trying to dodge the odd feeling that him looking at you like that gives you.

after suna pays for your tickets, he takes you by the hand to pick out some snacks. and in another odd turn of events, he lets you get all the snacks and popcorn you want.

“you’re seriously going to pay for all this?” you raise an eyebrow at him–already attempting to put some back because you were just teasing when you grabbed so many, like you usually do when the two of you see movies together.

the worker behind the counter politely butts in, “a-actually, today there's a special deal where snacks are free!"

"seriously?" you gawk in response. suna nods at the worker with a smile before he gathers all your said snacks and treats and gestures at you to start following him.

weird...

but free snacks? you weren't going to complain.

you two quietly slip into the dark theater and suna must have perfectly remembered the seat numbers on your tickets because he walks right up to a row in the dead center of the room. as he sets your belongings down, you quickly double-check the seats he so-confidently led you to, but he was right about them. you don't recall him glancing at your tickets for more than a second since you bought them, though.

what a good memory he has?

you settle into your seat next to him and start picking at your big tub of popcorn. it looks like you arrived just in time as the last preview is starting up.

the preview colorfully flashes up to a start in a way that imitates old film, as a soft tune starts to ring through the speakers. it's a bunch of artsy close-ups of clothes and belongings shrewd about a hardwood floor, beams of sunlight hitting them gorgeously.

... hey, you own a sweatshirt that looks like that.

and then you see it: it's you up there on the big screen.

captions start to appear as a reel of videos containing you start to play.

[ i thought for the longest time i was perfectly fine on my own ]

a clip of you as you and suna walk to class in inarizaki’s halls, in your old uniform and glancing back at him now and then. your smile is wide and if it weren’t for the music playing over the video, you could almost hear your own laugh at probably some dumb joke suna just told you behind the camera.

[ but for the longest time, i didn't have a fucking clue what "perfect" really meant. ]

your head tucked in your arms with your hood up, sleeping mid-study-session on a college library’s table scattered with open notes and dog-eared textbook pages. your eyes peek out from the material of your hoodie, the glint of a smile reaching what can be seen before you bashfully bury your head further back into your original position.

[ i was an idiot for thinking i did know what "perfect" was. ]

your hands clutching at his pro jersey you’re wearing as you stand in front of the stadium building, thousands of unheard fans on the inside waiting to see him play. undoubtedly when after that clip was recorded, you two went in, and it was still only you he really looked for wearing his jersey in the crowd whenever his team scored a point.

[ because then i met you. ]

all the times when you’ve turned to see his fond eyes peeking above the back of his phone—as he photographs you like a rare and beautiful sight that’s fleeting, one he absolutely needed to snapshot at those exact moments in order to keep for himself forever—got laid out before you.

now you’re seeing them from his point of view, and it captivates you like nothing else.

[ you are perfect. ]

the b-roll of moments you and suna have shared over the years fades out, and the preview's title card shows up in a pretty and elegant font: "will you marry me? (directed by: suna rintarō)"

you don't even realize your jaw is hanging wide open in shock when you turn to face present-day suna next to you, and there he was again, his phone in front of his face. but you catch in the glare of the silver screen you're sat in front of, the eyes that peek over the camera are crinkled up as they look at you with unbridled joy and radiates a love in its purest form.

"rin..." you can barely speak, both because you're touched but also because you're bewildered out of your mind.

with a chuckle he finally lets up on his recording, sticking his phone into his pocket. he stands up and moves in front of you, getting down on one knee. your heart skips a beat.

the lights suddenly turn on in the theater, and your first instinct once your eyes get readjusted to the brightness is to look around–because a room full of theater goers were are being subjected to whatever it is suna has orchestrated here.

but as you look around, the whole ordeal feels even more surreal, because it's all your loved ones filling up the rows of seats. they look back at where you're sitting, smiling and with some of them also recording on their phones now, too.

"so..." suna starts, redirecting your attention back to him. he pulls out a tiny box from his pocket, opening it to reveal a ring that shines divinely in the dim lighting of the room, "will you?"

his delight is evident as he fights back a grin and his face and ears are dusted an adorable shade of pink. you're arguably more delighted than him–over the moon, even–as you utter out your answer...

"yes, i'll marry you."

💬 kuroppiii ─ “ y ' all ever seen that viral video of the guy that reanimated sleeping beauty to propose to his girlfriend ? yeah ”

🗒⋆ *. ୨୧⋆｡ taglist : @chloiyoomi , @rinsoap , @twusizz ( saw your reply ! here it is ! )

[dedicatedfollower467]

okay maybe a hot take but like. people going "spirk is canon now omg!!!" after that short film that just dropped - you do realize that like. it's not any more canon than it has been for like, forever, right?

they held hands and watched the sunset together. big whoop.

yes vulcans have a whole hand-holding thing, but like. kirk and spock have held hands before, this is not? any different? than any of that???

like people are out here screaming "OMG SPIRK IS CANON AFTER 57 YEARS" guys if holding hands and staring into each other eyes while the music swells is good enough to call it "canon" then spirk has been canon since the motion picture came out in 1979.

[yellow-faerie]

Update on the Hiccstrid Accidental Marriage AU - we are 3.5k words in and I have decided that Gobber is an ~ambiguous parent figure~ for Hiccup, although that has yet to come to play in the fic yet.

(Also I have yet to get to Astrid's POV although I feel I must have an Astrid POV because I need to put her family into fic, and also she is Bad At Feelings and being romantic and I need to contrast Hiccup's current depressed thought spiral with something else)

I'm putting a little snippet beneath the cut:

Here’s something interesting to know about Tuffnut Thorston: When he was fourteen, he trained under the Berk village officiator. He had been going through something at the time and had been really, really insistent on finishing the course despite the poor guy’s attempts to get him to stop pestering him. Eventually, through perseverance and a stubbornness rivalled only by the fiercest Gronckle, Tuffnut had an official certificate with the signatures of the officiator, the chief and Gothi herself to say that yes, he could officiate Viking union ceremonies. Tuffnut had promptly forgotten about this, shoving the certificate into the depths of his chest, because the new dragon training class had begun and the thing that he’d been going through had kinda fizzled out until it was as forgotten as the qualification. Forgotten, that was, until today. “We’re what?” Astrid asks, already reaching for her axe as Tuffnut recalled that little slip of paper and the despair on Halbjorn’s face. “Yeah, it’s all coming back to me now,” he says, apparently unfussed about his imminent demise at the edge of Astrid’s axe. “Yeah we had lessons for months. Halbjorn was weirdly opposed – I think he jumped off a cliff at one point – but I got that certificate anyway!” “Chief said we had to give him a sheep in recompense,” Ruffnut adds, nodding along to her brother’s story. Hiccup can already feel the despair setting in as Snotlout starts to laugh uncontrollably. He and Astrid were, by the law of Vikings and of Valhalla, married.

[brujaluas]

How will your spouse see you after you start dating/get married with them?

(I have to say that I'm obsessed with the whole aesthetic of Nosferatu and The Phantom of the Opera, besides being completely fascinated by the films I've seen, I'm fascinated by the talent and beauty of the actresses, I want to live that lol)

pile 1

they will love your free and adventurous spirit, you are the same, but you are at different stages of life, one is more mature than the other, but the two of you will be a perfect match, it is as if your spouse were singing that song "Is somebody gonna match my freak?", and you answer "I definitely will", some of you here were more stuck in themselves, but you will give the person the opportunity to understand that they can also have fun, go to parties and things like that, you will become a very lively and friendly couple <3

pile 2

we have the obsessed ones in this pile, but not in a bad way, they will see you as the sky, the sun, the moon, the stars in their sky, they are very romantic and devoted to you, it reminds me of the song Religion by Lana del Rey, the moon can be important here, I don't know why, maybe they would ask the moon for giving somebody like you, and they got! they will want kiss your skin under the moonlight, as mentioned, they see you almost as a religion, and they are still very proud of you, that you may be younger than them or somehow have this more youthful air than them, and you will achieve so many things and they will be happy for you, it also reminds me of those old couples in love that we saw in funny cartoons.

pile 3

as the queen of their lives, regardless of gender, it is as if you rule their lives, some may idealize you too much in some way and put you on a pedestal. you are in the same moment in life, but you have different personalities and ways of dealing with things, and they like that, it is as if the difference that you have from each other made them more passionate and enchanted, sometimes, for the most part, differences drive people apart, but in this relationship it will only add up.

[the-crooked-library]

Nuance, Narratives, and Nosferatu

As of today, Robert Eggers' Nosferatu (2024) has only been in theatres for 4 full days; and, coincidentally, that is about as long as I am able to let my thoughts marinate before they demand to be communicated. Before going into any further detail, let it be known that this film was made by freaks for freaks; it exists for the goths, the gays, the monsterfuckers, the historians, and for all those who delight in moral and thematic complexity.

With that being said - spoilers under the cut!

There are two principal narratives running through the flesh of Nosferatu, both of them rooted heavily in the cultural and literary origins of the story. It is a nightmare; it is also an erotic fantasy. It is horrifying, and it is also achingly romantic. From what I've seen so far, the vast majority of discourse that has already emerged around the film is caused by people misunderstanding or deliberately ignoring the relationship between these different lines of analysis; so please trust me when I say, from the bottom of my heart, that this duality is the very lifeblood of the movie.

The reason for that is, quite simply, that Nosferatu is a gothic horror film, set in 1830s German Confederation; and its plot relies on the same (sometimes contradictory) complexities often displayed in Victorian gothic fiction.

From the beginning of the movie, we are given to understand that Ellen Hutter met Count Orlok - the eponymous nosferatu - psychically, when she was very young. They spoke, she pledged herself to him, and was horrified to realize what she had done when he revealed his true visage to her in their first visual (and sexual) encounter.

Here, under the lilacs, the paths diverge.

The first reading of the film is perhaps the more straightforward. A young girl is essentially catfished and groomed by a much older, dangerous man. When they meet for the first time, she is a teenager; the lilacs that bloom where it happens become a trigger. He is the source of her madness and "melancholy" (depression), she has nightmares about him regularly enough that her husband is aware of them, and it is implied that she has been institutionalized in the past. Thomas Hutter is the physical representation of her one desperate hope for a normal life - but as the story progresses, she finds herself being denied even that. Orlok's psychic connection with her verges on demonic possession; in chilling, The Exorcist-inspired sequences, she writhes and mutters, prophesying a city-wide reign of death and terror. In pursuit of his claim on Ellen, Orlok terrorizes her husband, murders her friends - and, eventually, she gives her life to take him with her to the grave, saving the city from the plague he caused.

That is the horror element of Nosferatu; it deals with an exploration of childhood trauma, of PTSD, of difficulties maintaining a social life after the fact. It is easy to understand even from a modern viewpoint, and it pushes the film to its conclusion with a bleak, heart-wrenching punch.

The horror is not the only element of Nosferatu.

To contextualize the alternate - though just as correct - reading of the film, it is essential to understand that Ellen’s society was extremely sexually repressed, especially in regards to female and queer sexuality.

Both were severely medicalized, demonized, and restricted; and as such, when these topics do make an appearance in contemporary fiction, they are often inextricable from disgust and fear.

Dedicated as always to historical accuracy, Eggers maintains the same setting-based narrative coding.

In anticipation of morality arguments vis à vis monstrosity, depiction, and modern purity culture, let me clarify: this is something that works within his chosen genre. Horror, and especially gothic horror, invites a deeper analysis in regard to morality and motivation, and in this case, Eggers' homage to the origins of that genre grounds the narrative in its time and location, as well as fleshing it out much further than a purely modern cultural lens would permit. In this context, the details of Ellen's connection with Orlok become paramount to the understanding of the film.

As bits and pieces of their background become revealed, the audience realizes that her psychic gift did not begin with him - and neither did her melancholy, or her isolation. She was born with her abilities, and throughout her childhood, she was a bit of a tomboy by her contemporary standards, running wild in the woods near her father's property; however, once she foretold her mother's death, and once she was too old to get away with eccentricities, her father became frightened of her abnormality. She was isolated, confined indoors, and that is when her melancholy had begun. Painfully lonely and aching for some form of companionship, she called out into the ether; and Orlok responded.

Over the course of their story, he becomes the physical manifestation of everything Ellen perceives as dark and sinful about herself.

He is psychic, he is vicious, possessive, and blatantly sexual; her sensual affection with Anna parallels the evident and physical attraction he displays towards Thomas; and the social power he so easily commands is the same that she lacks, being a woman in a rigidly patriarchal society.

In the end, the severely questionable age gap, the murders, the coercion, the betrayal - all of that comes down to respect. Throughout the film, that is the one thing that Ellen is consistently denied. She is young when she meets Orlok, yes; but she is aggressively infantilized by her surrounding society even when she is a grown, adult, married woman.

It starts from the beginning of the film, when the Hutters visit the Harding family. During those scenes, the men are shown talking business - while the women play with children in the parlour; and the same social framing persists into the body of the film. When Ellen is suffering from what appears to be some form of mental illness, she is referred to as a child by multiple different characters; and when the condition progresses, she is swiftly diagnosed with hysteria and drugged - thus being forcibly removed from the discussion of her own illness. The general reactions to that illness - which is, in fact, a display of her psychic abilities - range from annoyance to fear to curiosity; it is seen either as a disability or a curse, rather than anything entirely innate to who she is. Her fears are dismissed. Harding tells her to learn some deference. Even closer to the finale, when Von Franz admits that she could have been a great priestess in another age, he does so with pity rather than anything else; in their industrial era, he cannot help but see her only as a tragic sacrifice - horrible, but necessary to save the city from a plague. Brought in to heal her, he instead guides her to her death.

All these aspects of Ellen's circumstances find a direct opposite in her relationship with Orlok. Unlike all other characters in the film, he only ever sees her as his equal, which is made even more evident when his interactions with Thomas and Herr Knock are brought into consideration. With both men, Orlok insists on being addressed by his lordly title, "as his blood demands it"; and yet, Ellen never calls him by any title at all, be it "My Lord" or even a simple "Herr." She argues with him freely, and there is a familiarity between them that he is demonstrated to never tolerate from anyone else. Similarly, while he disguises the covenant he makes with Thomas, the terms of his covenant with Ellen are laid out clearly, in full. He does not hide from her; she already knows the worst of him, the same way he knows that she is intelligent, that she is powerful, and that she is not meant to be demure and deferring. Again and again, Orlok insists that Ellen is not meant for humanity - and the true horror, the horror she cannot bring herself to face, is that he is right.

In a sense, he is a mirror held up in front of her own face. Ellen is painfully aware that she does not fit in, and that she never has. The "normal" society, epitomized by the Hardings (wealthy husband, pretty blonde wife, 2.5 kids), has no place for her - and actively dislikes her.

The film makes this ostracism impossible for the viewer to ignore. As the story progresses, it becomes evident that the other human characters - even those that do sincerely care for Ellen - never truly know her. Anna loves her, but wishes she would not talk of dreadful things - and lashes out as a result of that discomfort, scolding her. Sievers finds himself bewildered by her; Knock sees her as an object to trade; Von Franz pities her, Harding hates her, and Thomas cannot truly satisfy her, even after being touched by the supernatural himself.

Seeing a flash of a monstrous face while they are together, he flings her away. To him, his experience with Orlok is merely traumatic, and he wishes for nothing more than to leave it behind. However, to her, it is something she cannot help but crave; and she continues to wear her lilac perfume.*

All that to say - Count Orlok is, simultaneously, everything Ellen wants and everything she is terrified of being.

That specific dichotomy reaches its climax during their mutual finale. As it is to be expected from a vampire wedding night, they rejoin in a sequence of sex, blood, and renewed vows - and what is particularly notable is that (unlike Murnau) Eggers makes it clear that this Orlok never intended to kill his Ellen, despite his inability to resist her blood. Though he drinks from her through the night, he stops at cock-crow; and she guides his head back down herself, distracting him long enough for the sun to rise. It is a duet of accident and intention. He drains her; and she holds him as the sun drains him. They cling together as they end - on a bed that serves their wedding and their death.

It is romantic. it is unquestionably romantic. However, that does not mean that the horror isn't also present; Ellen's consent, under these circumstances, is highly debatable, and Orlok is cruel, amoral, and murderously possessive. At the same time, the characters are also acting out folkloric archetypes, with precious little adjustment to that framework - which further removes them from a modern understanding of morality. He is Death, a Koschei the Deathless, a monster; she is the Maiden, a Vasilisa, a damsel. I hesitate to liken them to the Beauty and the Beast, largely because in the original premise of that story, the Beauty falls in love with the kindness that the Beast consistently displays; and it is essential to stress that Orlok has none. He does care for Ellen, in his own way, but he admits to being incapable of love as she defines it in human terms;** and, curiously, that seems to be her primary concern when it comes to the idea of accepting his proposal - rather than all the blood and carnage.

What I'm trying to say, I suppose, is that there are multiple ways of following a story, and multiple different stories in a film as nuanced as Nosferatu. Yes, it is about grooming and trauma. Yes, it is about finding love outside of the cage that is "polite society." I'm sure that it is many other things besides, with as many meanings as there are people in the theatres; after all, I am only one person, and the film grossed something over $40M in its first three days. The point is, really, that this is a story in which a rotting vampire is woken from centuries of deathlike slumber by a lonely voice asking him to be her friend; and whatever these two strange and aching souls do with that can go down any myriad of paths. The film trusts the viewer to interpret the narrative they choose.

* LILAC PERFUME - in fact, it is such a consistent favourite of Ellen's that Orlok smells it on her hair in the locket she sends with Thomas to the castle. Thomas never really learns the reason she likes that scent - even though he knows that preference well enough that he gifts her lilacs in the beginning of the film.

** ORLOK'S OBSESSION - this is a side note, but: the vampire wedding sequence reminds me strongly of the third season of NBC's Hannibal. I suppose that was to be expected, considering that Hannibal is also a Dracula offshoot, much like Orlok himself. When Ellen snaps at Orlok that he cannot love, he responds that "no; but only with you, I can be truly sated." Similarly - "Is Hannibal in love with me?" asks Will; and Bedelia responds - "Could he feel a daily stab of hunger for you, and find nourishment at the very sight of you?" I'd say if you liked that series, you should try and see the film. It works with a familiar blend of aesthetic horror.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Unauthorized Documentary 0.5

Summary: Matthew Gray Gubler is filming his untitled documentary, you hate it (not really).

Pairing: Matthew Gray Gubler x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: fake arguing, fake fighting, mean reader (it's fake)

Word count: 1.6k

a/n: i am rewatching the documentaries right now and i need this man so bad

main masterlist 1.0

“I am not Matthew’s girlfriend,” you sighed heavily, rolling your eyes in exasperation. “I have no idea why he keeps telling people that.”

The camera panned slightly, focusing on your expression as the cameraman shrugged nonchalantly. His lack of input only seemed to fuel your irritation.

Turning sharply to face the lens, you stared directly into it with a deadly serious expression. With an intense tone, you declared, “Let me make this absolutely clear for anyone dumb enough to be watching anything about Matthew Garbler — I have never, and will never, date that pathetic freak.”

The silence that followed hung in the air, your words ringing with unapologetic finality.

The camera pulled back slightly, catching more of the chaotic surroundings: a cluttered dressing room filled with mismatched furniture, half-empty coffee cups, and a life-size cardboard cutout of Matthew Gray Gubler in a pirate hat.

From behind the camera, a voice asked, dripping with sarcasm, “So you’re saying there’s no chance for a romantic subplot?”

You groaned, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Romantic subplot? This isn’t some trashy rom-com. This is real life! And in real life, I wouldn’t date Matthew if he was the last human being on this planet. I’d rather marry the cardboard cutout.” You gestured dramatically at the pirate Matthew, who seemed to smirk mockingly at you.

The cameraman snorted. “Right. But you’re still his assistant?”

“I’m his manager,” you snapped, your eyes narrowing. “And don’t you dare forget it. I keep that lunatic’s life from imploding every single day. And what do I get in return? A stupid title on this dumb documentary and people thinking I’m his girlfriend? Unbelievable.”

—

Later, the camera turns on Matthew, his brow furrowed and his expression caught somewhere between confusion and mild panic. “She said what?” he asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

From behind the camera, a voice awkwardly clarified, “Uh, she said she’s not your girlfriend.”

Matthew’s eyes widened for a moment before narrowing slightly. He made a quick hand motion, his tone turning sharp. “Show me the footage.”

The screen jumps back to Matthew as he watches the clip. He forces an uncomfortable laugh, scratching the back of his neck. “She’s so funny,” he says, his voice cracking slightly. “That’s just how Y/N is… she likes to joke around like that.”

The camera slowly pans away, catching you in the background, deep in conversation with one of the producers. Your body language is animated, your irritation still evident as you gestured emphatically.

“Fuck,” Matthew mutters under his breath, the nervousness in his voice escalating. He whirls around, shouting over his shoulder, “Cut that, cut all that!”

Before anyone can respond, he bolts from the set, his hurried footsteps fading as the shot lingers awkwardly on the empty doorway he’s just fled through.

—

While you were giving another uncomfortable interview for the cameraman, the door burst open, and Matthew himself waltzed in, juggling three cups of coffee. “Guess what, everyone! I’ve decided to legally change my name to ‘Gublé,’ like the singer, but with pizzazz. Thoughts? Be honest but supportive.”

You turned to the camera, your mouth slightly agape as if asking the audience for strength. “This is my life.”

“Wait,” Matthew cut in, setting the coffee cups precariously on a stack of scripts. “Did you tell them about us?” His eyes sparkled mischievously.

You rolled your eyes so hard it was a miracle they didn’t fall out of your head. “For the hundredth time, there is no ‘us.’ There never was and never will be!”

“Ah, denial,” Matthew said wistfully, draping himself across the nearest chair like a Victorian maiden. “It’s the first stage of acceptance, you know.”

The cameraman’s voice chimed in again, amused. “That’s grief.”

“Well, I’m grieving her lack of enthusiasm for our undeniable chemistry!” Matthew quipped, pointing dramatically at you before turning to the camera. “Did you catch that? That’s good TV, folks. Make sure you zoom in on her frustration—it’s practically Shakespearean.”

You threw up your hands in defeat. “I’m quitting,” you declared, marching toward the door. “I’m leaving, and I’m never coming back.”

“Wait!” Matthew leaped up, his tin foil cape trailing behind him. “Before you go, do you want one of these coffees? I got your favorite!”

You stopped, turning slowly. “No.”

—

You stormed into Matthew’s trailer, not bothering to knock. He was sitting on the edge of a couch, exaggeratedly flipping through a script as he was recorded, but the moment he saw your expression, his face fell.

“Stop,” you said sharply, pointing a finger at him. “Stop telling people I’m your girlfriend. It’s weird as fuck, Matthew.”

He blinked, momentarily stunned, before awkwardly laughing and setting the script aside. “Oh, come on, Y/N. It’s just for the bit—it makes the show more, you know, engaging.”

You crossed your arms, glaring at him. “Engaging for who? Because I don’t think the fake audience gives a shit about your fake relationship narrative. And I’m certainly not here for it.”

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, avoiding your gaze. “I mean, technically, it’s not really fake—”

Your jaw dropped. “Excuse me?”

“Well,” he stammered, rubbing the back of his neck, “we’ve spent a lot of time together. People see that and, you know, assume things. I just… lean into it.”

“You lean into it?” you repeated incredulously. “Matthew, no one is assuming anything. You’re making it up and then selling it like a damn tabloid story!”

He held up his hands defensively. “Okay, okay, you’re right. I’ll stop. I swear. I’ll—” He paused, his eyes darting to the camera peeking through the crack in the door. “Is this… are we filming right now?”

You turned your head sharply to catch the lens disappearing behind the door frame. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Matthew grimaced. “It’s for the show?”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “Matthew. Fix it. Now.”

“I will!” he promised, scrambling to his feet. “I’ll tell them it was all a misunderstanding. Like, tomorrow. Maybe.”

“Today,” you snapped, pointing at him one last time before turning on your heel to leave. “Or I’m moving to another continent, got it?”

Matthew sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Okay, okay. I’ll stop. I promise. No more telling people we’re together.”

You stared at him for a long moment, your arms still crossed. “You’d better,” you said firmly. “Because if I hear one more person ask me what our anniversary is or how you proposed, I’m going to lose it.”

“Got it,” he said quickly, nodding like a chastised child. “No more fake girlfriend stories. Swear on my vintage ghost-hunting equipment.”

“Good,” you said, heading for the door. But just as you reached for the handle, you turned back one last time. “And for the record? If you ever pull this stunt again, I’ll leak the footage of you crying at craft services over them being out of grape soda.”

Matthew gasped, clutching his chest in mock horror. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me,” you deadpanned before slamming the door behind you.

Inside the trailer, Matthew let out a long, defeated sigh before muttering under his breath, “She totally loves me.”

—

After the cameras had been packed up for the day and the set was finally quiet, you made your way to Matthew’s trailer. The door was slightly ajar, and you knocked softly before stepping inside. He was mid-way through changing out of his Spencer Reid clothes, tugging off the familiar cardigan with his back turned to you.

“Hey,” you greeted, a playful grin tugging at your lips.

Matthew spun around quickly, his face lighting up with a matching smile the moment he saw you. “Hi, love,” he said warmly, walking over to you without hesitation. His hands found your waist as he pulled you closer. His expression softened as he asked, “Are we okay?” There was a hint of hesitation in his voice, like he was bracing for a blow.

You tilted your head, confusion flickering across your face. “Of course, baby,” you replied, your hand instinctively reaching up to cup his cheek. Your thumb brushed against the slight stubble there as you searched his eyes. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Matthew let out an awkward laugh, his grip tightening slightly as if to ground himself. “You were just... really convincing today,” he admitted, his words tumbling out with a sheepish smile.

“Oh, that?” you chuckled softly, rolling your eyes. “Matthew, you know I have to sell it, or the bit doesn’t land. That’s the whole point, right? It’s supposed to be funny.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, though the nervous edge in his laugh hadn’t quite disappeared. “But for a second there, I thought you actually hated me.”

Your expression softened at his words, and you leaned in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I could never hate you,” you murmured against his mouth. “You’re ridiculous, sure. Annoying sometimes? Definitely. But I love you, even when you make up insane fake-girlfriend narratives.”

A relieved grin spread across his face as he leaned his forehead against yours. “Good,” he said softly. “Because I really don’t want to get in trouble with my real girlfriend.”

You laughed, your fingers threading through his hair. “Well, you’re not off the hook just yet,” you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye. “You owe me dinner for all the grief you caused today.”

“Done,” Matthew replied instantly, his smile turning playful. “But only if you promise not to leak that grape soda footage. My reputation depends on it.”

“Depends on how good the dinner is,” you shot back with a smirk.

“Challenge accepted,” he said, his lips capturing yours again in a kiss that promised he’d make it up to you.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry @ill-be-okay-soon-enough @criminal-spence @navs-bhat @taygrls @person-005 @asobeeee

[monstersholygrail]

I have an idea but can’t put it to words please help me.

Skeleton bf X Human reader

You sit on the couch, back straight as a rod, and on your third official date with your hopefully soon-to-be Skeleton bf. You had been set up by a mutual friend who thought you two would be absolutely perfect together. You trusted your friend and you were coming to trust the man next to you. Enough so that you felt comfortable going over to his place to have dinner and watch a romantic movie.

Skeleton Suitor was fascinated by humans and what they could do. He doesn’t remember much of his own time as a human and now as an Eldritch Linch his life is obviously very different. You actually thought it was quite sweet, to see him experience casual human interactions for the first time again.

Kind of like now, for instance. You can see Skeleton Suitor’s eyes boring into the television as you watch the film. Usually, you’d probably be a little freaked out if a guy was watching a make-out scene so intensely. But with him you simply found it endearing. His yearning was plain to see and it made your heart race a little.

“W-what does it feel like? This human form of connection?” He suddenly asks and you jump in your skin as his voice breaks through the quiet atmosphere.

Your cheeks tinge pink as you try and explain. Mouth parting and closing, sputtering to attempt putting it into words. No one had ever really asked you that. What it felt like to be kissed by someone you liked. Your cheeks grow hotter as an idea crosses your mind.

“Would you like to find out? With me that is,” you quickly offer in a bashful manner.

Skeleton Suitor’s head whirls around to look at you, jaw dropping a little. His glowing eyes glimmer a little more brightly and your smile widens, realizing just how much you truly want to kiss him.

“Yes, I believe I’d like that very much. With you,” he responds, so formally you almost question if he actually does. But then he moves.

His tentacles reach you before his hands do. You jump a little, gaze darting to them. Their smooth slick texture wraps around your arms and your full waist and he pulls you to him with ease. A short gasp leaves you as you’re drawn along the sofa, your hands landing on his surprisingly firm chest as you reach him.

“Are you sure you would like to kiss me?” He asks in a nervous whisper. Your eyes flicker between his and his mouth, nodding eagerly.

His hands rattle, revealing how bad he’s shaking. Yet as his hands come up to cup your cheeks they grow more sturdy. You melt into his touch, conveniently leaning closer to him as well. Skelton Suitor inhales shakily.

He glances at the tv once more as if checking with himself how it’s meant to be done. Then his attention is on you and you know you’re currently occupying every single one of his thoughts. Both of you lean in slowly, the tension growing and simmering more the less distance is between you.

Just as your lips reach his smooth mouth, a tentacle that acts as his tongue reaches out and swipes along your bottom lip. You inhale sharply, your belly bubbling with arousal. He takes the chance as your lips part and slips his tongue inside your hot mouth. Your hands tighten on his shirt, a soft moan leaving you as you meet his passionate kiss.

You easily get swept up into the kiss, not expecting a kiss with a Lich to be so fucking hot. But the way he expertly devours your mouth with his tongue has your toes curling and your holes clenching around nothing. You try and keep up, finding yourself not wanting to break away from the kiss even as you quickly run out of air. Fuck, you feel so hot. Your body burning for more of him.

Eventually you have to force yourself to rip your mouth off his and suck in harsh mouthfuls of air. Your body tingles with a heat you’ve never know and your mind screams at you, begging to pounce on him again. You look at him, eyes blazing with lust and they meet his to see mirroring expressions of need.

“Why does my body feel so hot?” You ask breathlessly, your skin itching and crawling to touch and touch and touch him all over.

“It’s my tentacle, of course. The one in my mouth is naturally covered in an aphrodisiac in order to enhance the sensation of a Lich’s partner.” He says like you’re already suppose to know all of this. When your eyes widen at his explanation his face drops. “Did you not know?”

No, no you did not. And it looks like you’ll be doing a lot more on this third date than you had planned for…

[libraryofgage]

Steddie brainrot continues to worsen to a concerning degree but here's a crack idea that is absolutely sending me:

Famous Spicy Six in which Jonathon is a director who decides to work on a passion project: a Scooby-Doo movie. His ideal cast is as follows:

Nancy Wheeler (investigative journalist with a few special appearances on crime dramas) as Daphne Blake

Argyle (an actor with a habit of playing small parts; he acts only because he thinks it's fun, so he's not concerned with significant roles) as Shaggy Rogers

Robin Buckley (a well-known voice actor who is more well-known for her social media posts and clap-backs) as Velma Dinkley

Steve Harrington (basketball star who is also more well-known for his social media clap-backs and for being Corroded Coffin's number one fan) as Fred Jones

Eddie Munson (frontman for Corroded Coffin, an insanely popular metal/punk/rock band and "infamous" for unashamedly posting Steve Harrington thirst tweets) as the voice of Scooby-Doo

Corroded Coffin is also creating an entirely new, original soundtrack for the movie

And because I think it's funnier this way, this is also an AU where the Upside Down still happened, so Jonathon just calls his friends up and is like "Okay, so hear me out"

The absolute insanity that breaks out when both the movie and cast are announced because nobody can figure out how Jonathon managed to convince all these powerhouses to join his movie.

The further screaming online after one of the movie promo interviews where a reporter asks how they all agreed to the movie and Nancy hits them with, "Well, Jonathon asked, and he never asks for anything."

Which leads to the discovery that they all knew each other in high school, and the reporter jokingly asks if that means they've all dated each other, too, which leads to Eddie jumping in with absolute delight like, "Well, that's a funny story, there. See, Stevie here dated Nancy, who then dated Jonathon when they broke up, who then dated Argyle after they broke up. And I thought Stevie and Robin were dating, so I was very confused when I saw Robin and Nancy kissing. But then I found out that Robin was a true-blue lesbian, which meant Stevie here was open for the taking, and we've been banging ever since."

and Steve is just sitting there, head in his hands while Robin cackles and decides to tell the reporter all about Steve's "fuck I have a crush on Eddie" crisis

This interview, of course, leads to even more freaking out online and comments like "I know I asked for poly Scooby gang, but this is ridiculous," and "I can't believe that in this, the year of our lord 20xx, ScoobyXFreddy became a canon ship," and "if I had a nickel for every romantic relationship the Scooby gang actors have had with each other, I'd have five nickels, which is way more than any of us fucking expected to have," and "suddenly Eddie Munson's thirst tweets make a lot more sense, but can we talk about Steve Harrington's CC tweets now," and "everyone say thank you to Eddie Munson for revealing that mess of a relationship map," and "finally, the canon lesbian velma and daphne we deserve"

The movie is a box office hit, btw, and bloopers from filming roll with the credits, among which is Eddie Munson making Steve Harrington lose his shit laughing on set while dressed in a Scooby Doo onesie and singing Corroded Coffin songs with his Scooby Voice

[muttsupreme]

drunk as hell but this Valentine’s Day I want Roman

I want Roman not even asking you to be his Valentine because it’s a bargain deal. He gets you as a life partner, his little fugglesnuggle, his freak, his partner in crime, so yeah, it should be obvious you’re his Valentine. But he sees some tweet about how guys should always ask, that it’s just so important, so — while you’re in the shower, he comes in. As he usually does. But with your favorite flowers (it doesn’t matter that they’re out-of-season). Oh, and outside he also has some huge box of assorted Ferrero Rocher chocolates he remembers you talking about? And those designer shoes, you know, the ones you saw in Saks Fifth? Yeah, you should wear them tonight.

It’s not really that, though, that makes you all feel-good. It’s more that he kisses your back and shoulders when you get ready. More, more of that — more of, “You’re soft. Do you drink virgin’s blood? Seriously? The lotion I get you cannot be that good.”

He takes you to your favorite cafe for brunch. It reminds you of Paris, with outdoor seating and a delicious toasted marshmallow latte, but today you get a matcha with strawberry cold foam. He makes fun of you, “You’re drinking grass. Grass drinker. It’s not even, like, uhh — a what, cleanser? Just straight urban hippie grass juice. With a little fruity fluff.”

Afterwards, you both attend a nice museum exhibit, which you both enjoy for the first thirty minutes until you realize you’re both self-assigned critics and need a day off. So, movies — which, with Roman’s background in the film industry, is debatably worse. But Annie Hall is playing in his private theater until the late afternoon. It’s nice, it’s sweet, you’re both entangled like one great, big knot.

For dinner, he takes you to an Italian restaurant. It’s one that was once way out of budget when you first started working with him, one that you were honestly scared of walking into when he first brought you after work. Now it’s a second home. He calls it ‘your place’, meaning the place you had your first official-unofficial date. He still gets whiny when you say you didn’t know it was actually a date. You were just under the impression that your boss was trying to be nice so you don’t tattle on him for every little perversion.

He acts like it’s nothing, “Whatever, fuck you, it’s Valentine’s Day. Was I supposed to let you sit all alone and vibrate yourself numb?” He doesn’t expect a ‘thank you’, doesn’t really expect anything. This is just what you do, right? Standard procedure. You’re supposed to at least get your…romantic person (he holds himself back from saying ‘wife’), some chocolate and candy and flowers, and a nice dinner.

You walk for a while after dinner; he likes walking sometimes, usually when he’s drunk or high or upset. He’ll tell his driver to follow, just sort of not stay too far away, for when they actually wanna get home. You buy him flowers on the way back; some street vendor has Osiria roses. Beautiful flowers with dark reds and soft whites striping through the petals. He was fucking humiliated, because what, you’re buying him flowers? Like he’s some flamboyant metrosexual? You can only laugh at how ironically accurate that is. Truth is, he really doesn’t mind. He actually fucking loves it. Can’t stop ‘subtly’ smelling them when you ‘aren’t looking’.

He leans all over you on you while walking to the car. He just drapes himself over you, clings to you. Opens the door to the car for you with a snarky, “M’lady, the penthouse princess.” He nuzzles your shoulder and neck the whole ride, like a stray you’ve just picked up. For just a moment, he picks up your hand and kisses the part where your thumb meets your pointer finger, and then acts like it didn’t happen at all.

He clumsily grabs his roses and — most importantly — your hand as you both walk inside. Nudges you, an excuse to rub up against you as you both step into the private elevator. He quickly gives in, leaning on you and then making some exaggerated snoring sound as if he’s fallen asleep on your shoulder. A moment passes.

“You full? Like it?” He sounds uncertain. It shows, now, as it always will eventually, that he especially wanted you to like it. Paid attention, thought it out.

“When don’t I?” It’s half a scoff and half a laugh. You really have no room to say you don’t like one of your favorite restaurants in Manhattan, if not the world. Especially when he gets you the same pasta you had on your first date, the same tiramisu, with a hazelnut latte. He scoffs in return, face scrunching up as if it’s physically painful for him to imagine that you’re just lying, going with the flow.

When you both get into the penthouse, it’s actually not very late. You’re both full, and he groans as he stretches like an old man. He’s getting stocky, because he actually eats with you around. You notice when he doesn’t.

“You…like, like me, right?” He’s changing when he asks the awkward question, one he feels like should be left unsaid, it should be kind of obvious; you live with him, you work with him, you’re his Valentine. Every time something goes wrong or you’re upset, you call him. Of course you like him, duh, but maybe you don’t, or maybe you’re just playing the game, getting inside his head.

“Rome, come on. It’s us,” your words are supposed to portray just how dumb it sounds to ask you, of all people, that question. You’ve seen this guy cry, sob, you’ve felt him sneak into your bed after a nightmare, he’s told you stories of his fucked-up childhood and you’ve seen him get hit so hard he’s lost a tooth. He has admitted to you, in the privacy of the dark, quiet penthouse, while in the same bed with him playing a game of ‘Truths’, that he pissed the bed as a teen. And you’re still here. You’re always there.

“Fuck you, I know. I know you like me. But, do you?”

“Yes! Jesus, honey, yes, I like you,” you say quickly. It doesn’t take long for you to grab and hold his cheeks, feeling the scruff on them, rubbing circles with your thumb. He leans into the touch, kisses your thumb. His eyes practically twinkle.

“Yeah. Yeah, you do,” his first ‘yeah’ sounded almost whispered, like it soothed some part of his soul, whereas the second ‘yeah’ immediately turned back into typical Roman. That faux suaveness never fails to make him look silly, all sweet and stupid.

“Bed now?”

“Bed now,” you agree. And it isn’t inherently sexual. You’re both tired, and he wants your skin on his. He lays the roses beside your flowers, assuming the maid will put them in water for him.

The two of you brush your teeth together in the en-suite. You do your skincare routine together (although his takes longer). And at the end of both, he comes over to where you sit on the edge of the sink and puckers his lips for you to kiss, and you hop off and head over to the bedroom to change.

He nearly never sleeps without a shirt. Whether he’s wearing an undershirt, or one of your tees, he’s almost always in some shirt and his briefs. He takes his shirt off tonight, and doesn’t put one back on in its place. He’s soft, shaven, and just a little pudgy. Little freckles and moles are dispersed sparsely around his pale skin that has very recently been seeing just a bit more sun from a recent vacation to Italy.

“You’re such a fuckin’ perv,” he comments awkwardly at your staring. It sounds confident, funny, but you can tell that he’s sucking in his tummy, flexing his biceps as if he’s some big, strong man.

“I appreciate beautiful things. Don’t you?”

“Oh — smooth, smooooth fucking operator, very nice. I mean, an art exhibit is one thing, but full-frontal is kinda different.”

“Mm,” you come up to him, kissing his back now, kissing his shoulders. “Not with you.” It has two meanings, a double-edged sword: he always finds such weird shit so artistic, and not even in a directly perverse way; he loves the movie Brown Bunny, and genuinely believes that the blowjob was crucial to the plot. On the other hand, he’s also just — different. Even if full-frontal, on average, may not be worthy of the Louvre, it’s Roman. He’s Venus as a boy. He’s something entirely different from the rest.

And he can’t handle that. His face scrunches up again, as if in pain, feels his eyes hot, wet. You’re kissing his back and saying he’s art.

With a quick whine, he’s turned around in your arms and facing you, kissing you the way you’d imagine a woman may kiss her husband after he returns home from The War. It’s silly, it’s almost like he thinks you’ll disappear if he stops, it feels like he’s a kid, like he’s a little kid again with a crush on Sally-May-what’s-her-name aka who-gives-a-fuck. Like he’s never kissed in his life, and he’s wearing noise-cancelling headphones and the only thing playing is how the fabric of your dress moves against his hand as he hold onto it like reigns, and the squeaky noises of lips on lips, and your soft little noise is surprise.

But you don’t push him away. You let him take his fill. And he does, and when he’s done, he licks his spit from your lips with such reverence that it’s hard not to laugh.

“W-fuck, what?”

“No! No, Roro, it’s fine, no, you’re just,” you chuckle breathlessly, partly because you’re trying to hold back a laugh at his actions, tongue slowly tickling and tracing your lips, and partly because you hardly have any breath left after that kiss. “Oh, Romeyrabbit. You’re just silly. Silly, silly boy.”

He’s about to retort, but your hands are in his hair and he allows it. He’s okay with being some fucking stupid ‘Romeyrabbit’ and ‘silly boy’ if you take off this dress. So he crumples, nuzzles into your touch, and tries tugging off your dress.

“Okay, okay,” you respond, paying no mind to his puppy dog eyes the moment you pull away to take off your dress. “You, too!” You demand, and he quickly obeys, unbuckling and unzipping, slacks on the floor in seconds, tugging his socks off along with them.

He watches while still standing. He knows he looks stupid, just standing there and gawking at you, but — Venus of Townley is in his bedroom tugging down her dress and slipping off her shoes.

Taking too-big, clumsy steps, he walks with his bare feet in only his navy blue Calvin Klein briefs to go behind you and take off your bra with clammy hands. He tugs it down your shoulders and lets it fall down your arms. It’s not sexual, it isn’t anything at all; it’s him, it’s you, it’s a quiet, cool bedroom on Valentine’s Day.

Panties are next and then it’s all off. He keeps his briefs on, usually does, though he may take them off at some point through the night. But this is enough. He leans into the crook of your neck from behind, his nose nudging at your ear.

“Mmbed,” he mumbles what seems like a childish demand. “Beddy-bye.”

You hold his hand where it’s wrapped around your tummy, draw it up to your lips, and kiss the back of it. He sways with you in his arms — well, less of swaying, more of yanking you side-to-side with a playful growl. You giggle, let out a ridiculous laugh. You can feel his grin on your skin.

In bed, it’s soft, and the sheets feel as expensive as they are. Your noses touch, and he nudges them together when you start to fall asleep during the ceremonial staring contest ritual that has apparently just begun. But soon, you drift off and he doesn’t nudge you, just lets you. You make little “mmn,” noises in your sleep and his lips quirk up at them. He stares. He watches you sleep, if only for a few minutes. It’s a weird thing to do as is. But he likes it, the two of you entangled and him being able to just love you, watch you, observe you as you are. It is Valentine’s Day, after all. It begs the question of what the whole fucking holiday is about if not just this.

Just this. You and him. How nice is that? How nice can life fucking get?

[nicksbestie]

Migraines - M. Sturniolo

Summary : Matt struggles with chronic migraines, and some days there isn't much that you can do, but that never means you don't try,

Warnings : mentions of vomiting and nausea, a small bit of crying

Word Count : 1313

Pairing : Matt Sturniolo/Reader (romantic)

A/N : i got inspo from this photo of matt <3

Living an entire two decades of life with chronic migraines was an absolutely miserable thing.

Matt was nearing his twenty-first birthday, and he was desperate to find something in his life that would help with these migraines. He had gone through prescription after prescription, doctor appointment after doctor appointment, specialist after specialist, and nothing had helped the splitting pain. He had a migraine tracker on his phone so that he could tell the percentage of how often he had migraines, and it was well over sixty percent of every month. It was quite depressing to look at, and even more depressing to live. It really affected Matt’s happiness and day to day life. 

All of their YouTube videos were filmed on Matt’s good days. They would change outfits so that they could film five to six videos in one day, gathering a lot of topics so that they would have tons to post when it came time to put them all up. Both of his brothers were incredibly caring and didn’t mind the way that they had to do things, and both wanted to do everything possible to make it easier for their middle sibling. They rode with Matt in an Uber every time his migraine was too bad for him to drive, so that he wouldn’t have to be alone, especially at a doctor’s office, a place he was already generally hesitant to be at. They truly were always by his side, arguing with doctors that told him it was anxiety based, or that he was exaggerating, when he didn’t have the energy to argue for himself.

Today was a bad day for him. Chris and Nick had left before Matt had woken up, so they had no idea that he was struggling, because the light from his phone, even at the lowest setting, wasn’t low enough to not send stabbing pains through his head, so he hadn’t texted. He hadn’t had the energy to call and speak to them either. All he had done was gotten up and shut the blinds, covering them up with blackout screens that he had bought a couple years back, because he needed all of the light out. They worked incredibly well, and he had cut off the dim lighting in his room that he’d slept with, needing complete darkness.

He had no idea how long he had laid there, he just knew he was in pain. Unbeknownst to him, when you noticed that he didn’t reply to your text, you were immediately concerned, and already on your way over. You’d seen that he’d read it, so you knew he was awake, and he hadn’t replied. He never left you on read, unless he couldn’t bear to look at his phone screen any longer, which meant he had a terrible migraine. You’d wasted no time getting ready, and due to the fact that Matt didn’t wake up until almost two in the afternoon, you didn’t get over there until almost four. You had your own key, both because of instances like these, and because of the fact that you had been together for almost two years now. Letting yourself in, you texted Chris and Nick, telling them that you were there as well.

You wasted no time in going upstairs, gently opening Matt’s door, and immediately closing it behind you, because while the light in the hallway wasn’t on, the daylight would filter in, and you knew it would aggravate his head. Seeing him face down on the bed, under covers and pillows, you gently whispered your greeting, telling him so he wouldn’t freak out, though you doubted he had the energy to freak out on you. You pressed a kiss to the back of his neck, rubbing his back and laying down next to him. He curled into your chest, and you could see the remnants of tear tracks on his face. You laid a kiss to his forehead, gently running your hand over it and through his hair. Your hands were a cooler temperature, and you could tell that it felt good and soothed his pain for a few seconds. You laid a palm on his forehead, wanting to help him feel better any way that you could. 

You laid with him for about an hour, helping hold the trash can at the side of his bed when the pain got to be so bad that it caused him to throw up, helping wipe his face off and get him laid back down, before realizing he hadn’t eaten anything all day, so it probably wouldn’t get much better. You laid there for a little while longer, thinking about what to do to help him, when you remembered a trick that had helped you when you had a terrible migraine one day. You softly untangled yourself from him, whispering that he could stay right there and you would be right back.

You went into the bathroom, turning a small, very dim, light on in the corner so you could see what was going on around you. You began running a warm bath, letting it run while you went to get Matt a small snack. You set it down on the edge of the bathtub, on the side touching the wall, and went to go get your boyfriend. You picked out some clean clothes for him, grabbed him the water bottle from his nightstand as well, and led him to the bathroom. He knew where it was, of course, but the thought of opening his eyes for the chance of any light just made the pain intensify, so he trusted you to guide him.

By this point, the tub was about three quarters of the way full, and you helped him get in. You knew he hadn’t showered that day, and the warm water on your legs and feet helped with your migraines, so you hoped it would help him as well. Judging by the way his face began to relax once he was in the tub, his back against your chest, you were glad it took away a little bit of his pain. You kept the temperature of the bathroom cooler so that he wouldn’t overheat, but not enough for him to get cold. His eyes stayed closed, but they were a calm closed, not a scrunched, wincing in pain, closed. He didn’t speak much, but he took the water and food that he was offered, and a gentle smile crossed his face the longer he sat in the tub.

The longer you stayed there with him, gently running your hands through his hair, the more his breathing evened out, and the deeper it got, and eventually, you realized he had fallen asleep. He had been so tired from being in pain, even though he had only been up for about four hours, that when the pain had lessened dramatically, his body was so exhausted that he just fell asleep in comfortable arms. You stayed there with him until the water went cold, and even longer after that, because you couldn’t bear to disturb him. After about half an hour, you softly shook him awake, gently helping him stand. By this point, you had both basically air dried, and Matt only pulled on boxers and loose shorts to sleep in. You tugged on one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers as well, going back to bed with him. 

As soon as he hit the bed, he was about to fall asleep again, and you pulled him back into your arms. You never minded taking care of him, knowing that he loved you more than words could say, and as he whispered a soft “I love you” into your chest, you knew you could do this for him for the rest of your life, and you could die happy.

“I love you more.”

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[tinfoil-jones]

Jerk Ford AU: And This is Jack*ss

Their high school science teacher said "A perpetual motion machine is only hypothetical, because it is impossible, since its existence would violate the first and second laws of thermodynamics."

And Jerk Ford in response said "Hold my beer."

[Art by: @tearosepedall]

While he was building that (and the school was investigating whether or not Ford was actually drinking underaged), Stan had another set of worries.

At this point the twins had both already talked about applying to Backupsmore together, and while Stan was still worried about a potential separation, this time it wasn't because he was afraid of being left behind.

This time he was freaking out because if he went to Backupsmore while his brother went to West Coast Tech, who was going to keep Ford reigned in??

If Stan wasn't there to minimize the damage, who's to say his fellow students and college administration wouldn't chase him out of the whole state with pitchforks and torches or something?!

Stan wasn't protective over Ford in this AU because he didn't need to be protected from anything except maybe himself. If anything, everything else needed to be protected from him.

---

In a random dimension at an undetermined time between the 1980s and 2012, Jerk Ford and one of the many variations of Rick Sanchez pass each other on the street.

"What a d**k." They both think at the same time, but say nothing.

---

This is the same man who, despite also being aromantic, spent an entire year pretending to court an all-seeing, two-dimensional, demon triangle.

Jerk Ford had romantic speeches, lovey-dovey praises, drew detailed, flattering sketches, and built a functioning interdimensional portal that he wasn't intending to use.

Just to say that he catfished a God.

The limit to his jackassery remains to be seen.

---

Most interactions with other people on an informal level (and also formal) are handled by Stan on Fords behalf, otherwise nothing would ever get done.

Stanley had to actually beg Fiddleford to help Stanford with the portal project. Fiddleford and Ford are friends, but Fiddleford can only handle Ford for so long before he's absolutely done.

As for the construction of the cabin... a paid job is a paid job, but anything that required direct interaction was solely taken care of by Stan, or Ford as long as Stan was close by to mediate. Because the one time Boyish Dan tried discussing plans with Ford alone, it ended with Boyish Dan agreeing with construction plans only if Ford agreed to take the farthest available plot of land.

---

Yes, I am familiar with Nine Lives Lee selling his own hate merch. But no, Jerk Ford does not make, distribute, or sell his own hate merch. He was never an enterprising spirit.

However, he does steal his own hate merch. He's done it the times he snuck into their club meetings. The shirt he wears under his hoodie is actually a Ford Hate Club shirt; it's a long sleeved black shirt with this logo on the front:

That is The (Jerk) Ford Hate Club official logo, because they don't hate all Stanford Pines across that multiverse, just that guy in particular.

---

Jerk Ford's antics are often compared to skits from the tv and film series "Jackass", in fact the name of his dimension "PJC311" is derived from the host Johnny Knoxville, whose real name is Philip John Clapp, and whose birthday is 1971/03/11.

The funny, ironic thing, is that this is what older Knoxville looks like:

Considering that Jerk Ford is thin compared to Canon Ford...

Yeah, that's Jerk Ford guys.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

Paint Me Red

Synopsis: You and Damian like horror movies for the same reason.

Pairing: Dark!Damian Wayne X Dark!AFAB!Gn!Reader

Tw: 18+ pwp; Kinda gore?; Cannibalism kink? Definitely hinted; Biting link; Blood kink; Fingering; Watching straight porn; Torture porn? It's all fake and no one’s suffering; Pain kink maybe; They are freaks and they are in love; Worshipping?; A hint of love-bombing? I repeat, they're freaks and they're in love, your honor; Mention of hipersexuality; Damian enjoys pain, gore and death, despite not killing anymore, Reader likes it too; Reader has long hair and is implied to be wearing a shirt or dress with straps and bare thighs; English isn't my first language.

Word count: 1,2k

Requested? No.

Extra notes: Inspired by the movie May and everyone who yaps about yandere!Damian being cannibal coded. I also love when someone writes Damian a little psycho, a little sadomasochist. And a Damian who worships his S/O is the best Damian!!! I recommend reading this while listening to Tear You Apart by She Wants Revenge. Not sure I like my writing here tho, especially the title, there were many good options that also seemed bad options

General masterlist

Damian was odd, you knew it from the start. Everyone who interacts with him knows it from the start.

That didn't stop you from being flustered when he confessed his — in his actual words — all consuming, undying love. You never thought anyone would actually use those words while declaring their feelings for someone, but as always with him, Damian was different.

And maybe you were different too.

You came back from your weekly date with him to the apartament you recently started sharing, despite being so young and having been dating for only a month when he asked. Your friends called it love-bombing. You had never heard of a more romantic term.

He took you to the bedroom as soon as you crossed the threshold, excited about a surprise he planned for you, but there was nothing different there, until he pulled his laptop out, fiddled with something, connected to the overhead projector you bought once on a whim, after watching a tiktok, only to realize it wasn't any better than just watching on your television or laptop. At least it wasn't as expensive as one would think.

Regardless, you still used it sometimes, even if for the sake of being spontaneous — and making your money worth it —, and your boyfriend was clearly looking for that.

You sat on the edge of the bed, and in less than a minute, Damian was sitting beside you, while a weird video started playing.

— I found it online, beloved. — Damian explained. — A short film, made by a group of independent artists, I think. — You nodded along, this level of cinephilia was not exactly your thing, but you did enjoy watching movies and leaving reviews on Letterboxd, if it caught Damian's interest, then it must be something.

— Yeah, very Texas Chainsaw Massacre. — You commented, not because it actually looked to be a horror movie, but more because of the quality of the camera, the eery atmosphere, and the scenario being filmed in the middle of nowhere. It seemed like an actually calm movie, but you knew something was up, there was only a young couple having a cute picnic.

Damian looked at you with wide, almost innocent eyes, boyish excitement coupled with some glint you couldn't identify.

— Exactly!

You felt some satisfaction and pride. You were the one who presented him with the classic slasher movies — one of your favorite genres — and were surprised by his eager acceptance of them, since a lot of them didn't have much quality. But he seemed interested in the death scenes and gore. Maybe it was the remnants of his childhood on him, but you didn't have that past and still related to him, much to his delight. He also commented about how unreal a lot of it was, from experience, no doubt.

It was almost cute. And hot.

Damian's hand laid on your thigh, while his thumb started rolling circles on your bare skin.

You let out a gasp when the girl in the movie, out of nowhere, bit hard on her boyfriend’s finger while he fed her a piece of pie with his hands. An exaggerated amount of blood started sliding down her lips and his hand, but he didn't scream, he just stared at her while she had mischief and desire in her eyes.

Damian's hand squeezed your flesh.

— How did you find this on YouTube? I'm pretty sure they wouldn't allow it there. — You wondered out loud, squeezing your thighs when the guy used his bloody hand to push the strap of her sundress down, revealing her supple breast. He leaned forward and peppered kisses down her chest, while pushing the other strap down, revealing her torso even more, until he bit her ribs’s flesh just as hard, face partially covered by her left tit.

Now, they were both smeared in lots of blood, from his hand travelling her body and the new wound.

— I did not mention YouTube. — He answered, and you hummed, paying extreme attention to the movie, intrigued, and half surprised to be turned on. But it was shallow, a thin layer of lust that went unnoticed by you, mistaken by intrigue and excitement.

You only noticed how hot you were, when Damian did the same thing to you. He slowly and deliberately got closer, pushed your hair back from your shoulder, and left wet, slow pecks down your neck, while pushing your straps down. You just stared at the images while he did his thing.

You were interrupted when he bit down on your shoulder, hard, leaving teeth marks, but not enough to bleed. You couldn't help the yelp of pain that escaped you by surprise, but didn't feel like reprimanding him when he soothed the feeling by still kissing you, and buried his hand between your legs, invading your underwear.

You opened your legs to give him more space, while your lips also parted to let out a deep breath, not out of nervousness, but anticipation. When you paid attention to the movie again, the guy was lying between the girl’s legs, leaving a nasty bite on her inner thigh. The blood dripped down and ruined her white underwear, but her boyfriend just started eating her out with the fabric still on the way.

Meanwhile, Damian played with your wet clit with his thumb while he inserted two fingers into your moist hole with ease, catching you both off guard with how wet you were with basically nothing. He had a hunch you would like his surprise, but not that much.

In need to let out some pent-up desire, he bit your flesh once more, this time above your breast. A low whimper of pain forced its way out of your throat. You looked down and noticed Damian's full-on boner.

You reached and pressed your hand against him, making him hiss and finally stop lapping at your skin, to look at you with desire. You kept eye-contact while rubbing him through his pants.

Damian pressed his lips to yours in haste, eager to taste your tongue while pumping his fingers faster and deeper against your walls, focused on abusing your sweet spot. The kiss was more sensual than ever, a dance which consisted in sharing heavy breaths, exchanged pecks, sucking lips and caressing tongues. While you both were like rabbits a third of the time, you being hipersexual and him being in love with you, the newfound shared taboo kink definitely turned things up a notch. And you expressed it by interrupting the kiss with a hard bite on his bottom lip.

Damian hissed like a cat until you let his lip go. When he glared at you, anyone would think he was livid like you just kicked his dog, but you knew him better than anyone. In fact, you were the only one to ever see him in the vulnerable side that came with intimacy, the only one he would ever want and trust to either lay beside his naked body, or willingly allow to leave a mark on his scarred flesh. Taste his muscles. Drink his blood.

He used his free hand to touch his lip, and found blood there. You licked your own, bright crimson and wet.

When he looked at you again, you wondered if you had finally ruined him for anyone else forever, and he made sure to paint both your faces red with a kiss, while he made you cum on his fingers.

Like, comment and reblog 🥰

[allthingsfangirl101]

Friendly Set-Up – Glen Powell

"Plleeeeeaaaassseeee?"

"Pass."

"Pretty please?"

"Nope."

"He's a great kisser!"

"How would you know?"

I smirked as Sarah's mouth opened and closed. "I've. . . heard from his. . . costars."

"All the more reason not to go out with him," I chuckled as I walked past her and into the kitchen.

"But Y/N," she whined as she followed me. "Just a coffee date. That's all I'm asking for. He was talking to me and the other girls about needing a woman in his life."

"Why would he. . . Actually, I don't care." I shook my head as I started making dinner.

"He told us that he missed taking care of a girl," she continued anyway. "He misses spoiling a girl, calling a girl during his lunch break, and picking up dinner on his way home to her."

"That's very sweet," I sighed, "but I'm not ready for another relationship."

"I know that Jason broke your heart," she said, running over to me. "But Glen is the exact opposite of him. He's just what you need! A pallet cleanser!"

"Sarah, stop!" I snapped a little too harshly at her. "I don't want to go on a date with the actor you put makeup on every morning, okay? I just want to be left alone so I can forget about Jason."

I didn't care that the ingredients were all over the counter. I turned and walked away, grabbed my keys, and got in my car. I didn't have to think about where I wanted to go.

I walked into the bar, sat down at my usual spot, and ordered my usual drink. I ran my fingers through my hair and cursed the tears that begged to fall.

Jason and I dated for almost two years. Over the years, he's gotten a lot less romantic. Finally, I made the mistake of making a small comment about marriage and he freaked out. He left and I got a text the next day saying that we should take a break.

As that bartender put my drink in front of me, I thought about how Sarah described Glen. He wanted a girl in his life. He wanted someone he could spoil. I smiled sadly when I realized it had been a long time since I felt like I was being spoiled by someone.

I shook my head, forcing myself to stop thinking about "what if". Jason broke up with me a week and a half ago. I needed more time to get over it.

"Son of a. . ." I grumbled when I saw my friends running into the bar. "Hi, girls."

"Hi, Y/N," Angela said a little too sweetly.

"I don't want to. . ."

"Would you please go out with him?" Sarah cut me off.

"Girls," I sighed.

"Come on, Y/N," she whined. "He's funny. He's attractive. He's successful. He's the total package."

"If he's the total package, why is he still single?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"He's an actor," Angela shrugged.

"And he can get any girl he wants," I sighed, "so why would he want to go out with me?"

"Oh sweetie," Kelly sighed. "You're amazing. We all instantly thought of you when Glen told us about how he wanted a new girl in his life."

"Why wouldn't he like you?" Sarah asked.

"He'd be lucky to have you," Angela added.

"You're too good for him," Maggie chuckled.

"Look," I cut the girls off, "I just broke up with Jason. I need some time before jumping into a new relationship. Thank you for thinking I'm good enough for a famous actor, but I'm gonna pass."

* * * * *

After A LOT of badgering from the girls, I finally agreed to meet Glen. I told them not to get their hopes up. I was only going and having coffee with the guy to get them to stop begging me. After trying not to overthink my sundress, I headed to the coffee shop that was close to my work and the office building where his current movie was filming.

I gave myself a slight pep talk before getting out of my car. I walked into the coffee shop, my nerves jumping all over. As I looked around the shop, I kept wondering why I agreed to meet a complete stranger. Suddenly, my eyes landed on a guy who looked exactly like my friends described. He noticed me and sent me a shy smile. I took a shaky breath before walking over to him.

"Are you Glen?" I asked.

"Yeah," he smiled. "Yeah, I am."

"I'm Y/N, Sarah, Maggie, Angela, and Kelly's friend," I introduced myself. I couldn't help but laugh when I saw him relax. "You don't have to look so relieved."

"Sorry," he chuckled. "Our friends talked you up so much that I wasn't sure if you were real."

"I'm very real," I shrugged with a small giggle. "They probably lied about me though."

"I doubt that," he said, slightly looking me up and down. He looked back up at me and smiled. "Can I buy you a cup of coffee?"

"I'd like that," I smiled.

He turned and gestured toward the counter. When I walked by him, he gently put his hand on my lower back. I tried to force the butterflies in my stomach to go away as we went and ordered our coffee.

"Oh my gosh," the seventeen-year-old barista giggled. "You're. . . You're Glen Powell!" 

Glen looked at me with a blush on his face and cleared his throat. The girl continued to fangirl, "I am such a huge fan. I love you."

"Thank you," he said politely. "That's very sweet of you."

An older man behind the counter cleared his throat, sending his employee a "manager glare".

"Sorry," she cleared her throat. "What can I get you?"

Glen looked at me and gestured for me to order first. I smiled before turning toward the still-excited teenager. "Can I get a caramel latte?"

"Of course," she smiled. Her face turned pink as she turned toward Glen. "And you?"

"Just an iced coffee for me," he nodded. I started to pull out my wallet but he quickly grabbed his wallet and handed his card to the barista. She giggled as she took his card.

She rang us up and handed Glen his card back. "We'll call your name when they're ready," she giggled. I saw the look on his face slightly shift as he looked around the coffee shop.

"Actually," I jumped in, "can you call my name? We're on a first date and don't want to draw too much attention."

"Of course," the girl said, putting her hand to her hard. "That's so sweet. What's your name?"

"Y/N."

"Great. They'll be right out."

I followed Glen to the corner table, out of sight of the windows and front counter. We sat down and there was an instant awkward tension between us.

"This is. . ." He said slowly.

"Awkward," I finished for him.

"Exactly," he chuckled. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," I waved off. "Going on a date that your friends bugged you until you said yes to go on is awkward."

"They bugged you?" He asked, his eyes slightly sinking.

"It's nothing against you," I said quickly. "I just. . . I wasn't sure I wanted to get back into dating."

"Back?" Glen asked.

"Coffees for Y/N?" The barista called. Glen looked at me and hesitated before getting up and getting our coffees. I pulled my hands into my lap and nervously played with my fingers.

"Here you go."

"Thank you," I said, my voice soft.

"Y/N," Glen said after a short beat of silence, "what did you mean earlier when you said you weren't sure if you wanted to get back into dating?"

"It's. . . not something I should bring up on our first date," I said.

"If you tell me yours, I'll tell you mine."

I looked up to see Glen smiling gently at me. "I just broke up with my boyfriend," I admitted.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking at me sadly.

"Well, technically," I cleared my throat, "he broke up with me. After two years. All because I made a small hypothetical about marriage."

"He what?" Glen asked, slightly surprised. "What an idiot. For what it's worth, you dodged a bullet. He's missing out on an amazing girl."

I smiled weakly at his comment. "You met me like five minutes ago," I chuckled.

"Doesn't matter," he shrugged. "I still think you're amazing."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around my coffee mainly to hide my blush.

"You told me yours," Glen said, making me look up at him. "It's only fair that I tell you my breakup story."

"You don't have to," I stuttered.

"It's only fair," he said with a small smirk. "I was dating an old costar. It got to the point where I was putting in more effort than her. We spent the entire last two months apart. Whenever I called, she didn't answer. And she never called."

"Did you break up with her?" I asked before I could think about it.

"I did," he nodded. He added, "After pictures from her movie leaked of her making out with her costar on the beach."

"I'm sorry," I said. "That's terrible. You didn't deserve her."

"You met me like five minutes ago," he said, instantly going back to his earlier self.

"Doesn't matter," I shrugged with a smile on my face.

For the next two hours, Glen and I sat and talked. We talked about our jobs, our family, our crazy friends. The more we talked, the more I started to fall for this guy. Sarah was right. He was extremely sweet. He maintained eye contact the entire conversation and seemed like he was hanging on my every word.

I was explaining my latest project at work when his phone started ringing. By the sigh that left his lips, I could tell that he had a theory for who was calling him and interrupting our date.

"I'm sorry," Glenn said, his smile sinking when he looked up from his phone. "It's my manager."

"Take it," I said. "I don't mind."

"But Y/N," he stuttered.

"It's okay," I said with a small laugh. "Answer your phone, Glen."

"I'm sorry," he whispered before answering his phone. "Hey, Mike."

I busied myself as he listened to his manager.

"What?" He asked, slightly turning away from me. I looked at my hands wrapped around my coffee. "Wait, right now? Mike, I'm kind of. . . I know that but. . . Fine. I'm on my way."

"You have to go?" I asked, unable to stop my voice from dropping.

"I'm really sorry, Y/N," he said, instantly turning back to me. "I completely forgot I have an interview in two hours."

"I'm going to have to get used to sharing you with the rest of the world, aren't I?" I fake pouted, making him laugh.

"Oh, please," he smirked. "My girl never has to share me."

As we stood up, Glen grabbed my hand and pulled me into his chest. "I really enjoyed getting to know you, Y/N."

"I really enjoyed getting to know you, Glen," I smiled. My breath got caught in my throat when Glen's eyes dropped to my lips. Before I could wonder whether or not he was going to go for it, he went for it.

Glen leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I gently grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer. When we broke the kiss, we both had matching smiles.

"Does this mean you'd accept the offer to a second date if I asked?" His voice soft.

"If you asked."

* * * * *

After our date, each of the girls called and begged me to go to brunch so I could tell them all about it. I fixed my dress as I got out of my car and headed into the restaurant. The second I walked to our table, my friends all jumped up and started bombarding me with questions.

"How was it?"

"Did he buy your coffee?"

"Did he pull out your chair?"

"Did he hold your hand?"

"Did you guys talk for hours?"

"Did he ask you out again?"

"Did he kiss you?"

"Why aren't you answering our questions?"

"Because neither one of you has stopped to breathe," I chuckled.

"Okay," Sarah said in her bossy tone. "Enough questions. Just tell us how it went."

"It was fine," I shrugged.

"Fine?!" They all screamed in sync.

"Just fine?"

"Come on."

"You gotta give us more than that."

"Sorry," I said, standing up, catching all of them off-guard.

"Where are you going?" Sarah pouted.

"Hey, gorgeous."

The girls gasped as Glen walked up, wrapped his arm around my waist, and kissed my cheek. "You ready for lunch?"

"Absolutely," I smiled at him. I looked back at my friends and saw all of them smiling like crazy people.

"You girls don't mind me stealing Y/N away from you, do you?" Glen asked the girls.

"Of course not!" Sarah said loudly. "Take her for the rest of the day."

"Subtle," I scoffed as I rolled my eyes. Glen just laughed as he led us out of the restaurant. When we got to his car, he stopped and pulled me into his chest.

"You know," he whispered, "when I first told the girls I wanted a new girl in my life, I never thought I'd actually meet a girl I could see spending the rest of my life with."

"The rest of your. . ."

"I know this is crazy fast," he said quickly, "especially since we've only been on one date. . ."

"We texted until like 2 am," I said quickly trying to reassure him.

"True," he smiled. "As I was saying, I really like you, Y/N. And I think that we have something here."

"I think so, too," I whispered. With a smile on his face, he leaned in and pressed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck as our lips moved in sync.

We didn't care that our friends were watching us from the restaurant window with proud smirks on their faces. Glen broke the kiss but didn't let me go.

"Y/N," he whispered. "I know you're still getting over Jason. But I'd like to help you with that."

"I don't want to use you."

"You wouldn't be using me," he said, shaking his head. "I'd just be helping you through the breakup."

I bit my lip, debating if I really wanted to go for it. "Fine," I gave in. I quickly added, "But only if you allow me to help you through your breakup."

"It's a deal."

[harrysfolklore]

buzzcut - blurb

this kinda sucks but it was on my drafts sooo why not, hope you enjoy !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

//

"I wonder how would I look with my head shaved." Harry randomly said one night both of you were cuddled up in bed.

"Where is that coming from, lovie?" You looked up at him, curious by his sudden statement.

"Dunno, I've never in my almost 30 years of age had a buzzcut," he shrugged, "I feel like It's part of manhood to shave your head at least once."

"Your manhood is just fine," you rolled your eyes with affection and pecked his chin, "But if you want to know how you'd look with no hair, you can always look for those AI pictures your fans have been making lately."

Harry laughed and kissed the crown of your head, leaving the conversation at that and focusing on the romantic comedy movie you picked for the night.

Days passed by and you soon forgot about your conversation and Harry didn't bring up his desire to shave his head again, so when he mentioned that he wanted to get a haircut you assumed that he was getting his usual trim.

Oh boy, were you wrong.

"I want to chop my hair a bit before we head to Vegas." He said a week before your trip, Jeff kept insisting that you needed to see the show he had been working on at the Sphere and you finally agreed.

"That's fine, just don't do anything extreme you know I love the curls." You replied, unaware of what he had up in his sleeve.

"Nothing to worry about, baby." You failed to notice the devilish smile on his face that gave away that he was planning something else.

The following day Harry told you that he was going to Ayae's place to get his haircut, which was weird to you because his hairdresser always came to your house to cut his hair, but you still didn't overthink it too much.

Until you got a text from her that read "Don't kill me or your boyfriend for what he made me do."

Just a minute after you got the text you heard the front door open and your name being called from downstairs.

"H are you home? Ayae texted me but I don't know what she means." You said as you made your way to him, he was standing in your living room, his hair being covered by the hood of his hoodie.

"I cut my hair," he said and a confused frown made its way to your face, "And I'm going to show it to you, but you need to promise me you won't freak."

"Why would I freak? Why are you acting so weird about it?"

Harry only smiled and pulled the hood from his head, revealing that his brand new buzzcut.

You stood in your place for a few minutes before reacting, "Is this some kind of joke?"

"It's not love! I shaved it," he got closer to you, a big smile on his face, “Do you like it?”

“Oh my god! Your hair is really gone! What the fuck, Harry.” You laughed in disbelief, grabbing his face to get a better look at him.

“I told you I wanted to give it a try before my twenties ended, remember?”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think you’d actually do it,” you shook your head, “This is crazy! Does Jeff know? Forget about him does your mom know? Oh my god we need to facetime her right now.”

Harry laughed at your rant, “Jeff knows love, he wants to shave his too, and we’ll facetime mum later,” he pecked your lips quickly, “Now wipe that look off your face! You’re looking at me like I’m an alien!”

“This is just so weird, but also such a you thing to do,” you pecked his lips back, “Your fans are going to be absolutely nuts about this.”

“Lord, that’s what i’m dreading the most.”

A week later you and Harry were standing in the crowd of U2's concert at the Las Vegas Sphere, surrounded by friends and other concertgoers.

Somehow Harry's new look gave him a little more privacy, since the world didn't know that his signature brown curls were gone and he could go unnoticed sometimes.

"You've been busted." You said as you noticed a phone camera filming the both of you, Harry was standing behind you with his hand protectively gripping your neck.

"What, love?" He asked, making you discretely point at the person with the camera.

"Well, I guess the madness stars now."

A day later, pictures and videos of Harry's new haircut flooded the internet, making his fans go crazy once again.

taglist: @lightsoutstyles @willowpains @straightontilmornin n @sleutherclaw @gimsaysay @hazzassmirk @platinumbarbie143 @musicforcinemas @celesteblack08 @scntfrhs @eleanordaisy @lomlolivia a @iceebabies @iloveshawn @be-with-me-so-happily @watermelonsugacry @rayisthehoe @drewrry

[ughdontbeboring]

Tulum

Heyyyyy buzz cut daddy!

Austin Butler x WoC Reader (but no discerption)

you both are reunited in Tulum and it’s your first time seeing Austin’s buzz cut….

warnings: AUSTINS BUZZ CUT 😮‍💨 and obviously smut

note: im not well so yea I wrote this after seeing Austin buzz cut at 1am on tumblr and everyone freaking out. Some loved it some hated it and I am here for it! I don’t know any man who can pull off long and short AND bald I just don’t. So this is my very horny response to the buzz. I didn’t edit this so oh well. this is not the work I should be working on but i could not control myself after what i seen last night.

Do not give permission for my work to be used anywhere.

if you like it love it fucks with it like, reblog, comment all that good shit! keeps a girl motivated

Also credit to whoever photo this is. I found it without it being credit.

x

Maybe if you were a different kind of women you would feel bad or maybe if you weren’t so absolutely in love and crazy about the man currently rearranging your guts you’d feel something other then what your currently feeling but you couldn’t force yourself to feel bad or ashamed of the completely pornographic sounds spilling from you both. Anyone outside this bed may not even understand how it could be possible for such sounds to be made outside of a porn shoot let alone be real.

Yet here you both were rivaling the best porn scene audio with your shared sounds of pleasure and desire joining the liveliness of the peaceful Mexican jungle at twilight. All it did was turn you on more knowing that people could hear and knowing some guest knew exactly who was staying in this room.

You had only arrived to Mexico a few hours ago. Austin had offered to meet you at the airport so you wouldn’t have to take the hour and half drive alone down to Tulum to meet him but you suggested that he didn’t. You didn’t know how’d you react seeing him at the airport and knowing you’d have to wait over a hour and that’s if traffic was kind to touch him if he was in the car with you. Austin had reluctantly agreed but had used the time wisely to set up the room, give the jungle villa an even more romantic feel with flowers and candles burning. 

Once you entered the villa Austin was on you before you had a moment to register it. His mouth dominating yours and his tongue demanding entrance as his hands frantically felt your body, pulling you up and onto him as you automatically wrapped your legs around his waist, rutting against his growing need.

He wasn’t alone in his neediness. It had been a little over a month since you both seen eachother due to his filming Caught Stealing in NY and you needing to help a family member in another state. The moment Austin found out you were done with what you had to handle he extended his stay at the villa and had you come down not being able to wait another week to see you and knowing Tulum was one of your favorite places. Hence the current reunion even more special. 

Before you two could get far you asked him to take you to the bathroom, you needed a shower after such a long flight and his protest didn’t get far when you started to underdress him to join you.

That was some time ago before you both found yourselves stumbling to the bed after an unnecessary long shower and multiple orgasms in the open space concept, dampening the sheets with bodies that neither had the patience to dry.

The coolness of the shower didn’t last long either, not with the way you were at eachother in the Villa he was in for his stay. The AC could only do so much with the open concept, the quintessential humidity of Tulum seeping in the Villa somehow only escalated the intensity of fucking that was happening on the plush king size bed. The humidity causing both of your bodies to become damp with sweat, another shower before dinner with the crew was going to be necessary especially with how well fucked you know you both looked. Austin’s skin hot and flushed under your touch. 

You just hoped his outfit for the night wouldn’t show the marks you left on his chest. The thought making you smirk, his fans would have a field day. Some loved you and some hated you but none of the hate mattered to you, especially when this was your life and it was with him. 

Austin’s forehead laid on yours after a passionate kiss, his nose nuzzling yours as you both breathed heavily. Your lips still touching.

“Please please miss you so much” you cried out against his swollen full lips. You dont understand how your both not passed out on the floor because you haven’t stopped kissing eachother since you walked in the door. 

“Fuck baby I missed you too” he grunts as he drives his large cock into you harder while kissing all over your face softly. The difference in the tenderness and harshness sending you spiraling. 

“Yea daddy? Fuck you missed me?” You manage to get out. Your brain starting to go empty with anything other then the sound of Austins voice and the feel of him deep inside you. 

“Yea” he says with a little breathless chuckle. “Missed your pretty smile, your cute laugh and miss holding you” he says as he watches your face closely. 

“Fuuuuuckkk” you moan out completely overwhelmed by him and his words in this moment when you’re getting fucked within an inch of your life. How he can think straight is beyond you. 

“Miss how you cry when I’m fucking this tight little pussy just right” he says as his voice deepens along with the deep push of his thick cock that has somehow started to hit a new angle. 

“Oh shit….please please missed your big cock so much!” You cry out loudly as your eyes start to water, you know your only moments away from them falling. 

When he pushes your legs further back you can’t help the scream that rips through you. You’re so gone to the drag of his large thick veiny cock digging you out you hadn’t even notice him put a pillow under you to help him hit deeper at a different angle that has you going blank.

“Yea baby? Missed my big cock huh?” He teases his bright blue eyes watching you as he bumps his nose with yours to try and get you to focus on him.

When your eyes finally open again you feel your breath hitch. You don’t know why just now but it’s like you’re finally noticing his buzz cut and your cunt clenches him in an even tighter vice grip that has his hips off rhythm for a moment.

“Shit” he curses under his breath at your wet grip. He’s always thrown by how it’s even possible for you to be any tighter around him even after all the times he’s fucked you completely open on his cock.

You can’t stop yourself when your hands let go of the pillows that were your poor choice of an anchor before your freshly done nails are running over and down the back of his freshly buzzed hair. 

When he played Feyd you guys had a go in his trailer and it was risky and quick which made you both cum even harder. Once you both realized the effect of the bald cap after he filmed his opening scene you had managed to make it to Budapest for just in time to watch. You both were in his trailer when he noticed that look in your eyes. You were bent over the make up vanity within moments. The door wasn’t even locked when he gripped your hair to steady you as his cock plunged into your warmth. You barely escaped his assistant catching you both. 

But this was real and you didn’t have to worry about running the bald cap. 

“Soooo fu-fucking handsome” you said as your nails continue their exploration of the new very real cut. 

The sensation of your nails over his sensitive scalp, along with your wet grip and that completely fucked, loved up look in your eyes sends him hurdling over the edge. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans loudly as his forehead drops closer to yours.

His buff body suffocating you in the best way with his warm weight pressing you further into the bed. You can’t take it and you want to cum with him so you tighten your legs around his waist. 

“I need it, please I need it so bad daddy, wanna be full of you” you beg as you watch his face overcome with pleasure. “Wanna be so full I’m dripping your cum down my thighs all night in front of everyone” 

Austin can’t hold back any longer especially when you say such nasty shit like that to him while he’s deep inside of you. You both have dinner plans with the crew in about an hour if he’s even guessing right and the thought of you being so full of him around everyone, just dripping his cum because your his completely sends him under a tidal wave of pleasure. He wants you to cum with him again even if he can’t remember at the moment how many he’s giving you since you walked in so he angles his hips just right so he’s pushing into you and rubbing against that pretty pearl of yours. 

He can feel himself let go inside of you and he can’t pull his eyes from your face. Your staring right back at him, he can tell when you feel him emptying inside of you. You get this look he knows well and then the look and shake of your body as you start to cum right in time to join him to ride it out. Your cunt fluttering around his length.

When he nears the end of his, his sweaty face drops into your shoulder as his hips continue short hard thrust into you to ride out the end of both of yours pleasure. He groans as he bites your neck, his large hands slipping under you and gripping the globes of your ass to get a better handle on just how deep he’s fucking into your warmth. The squeals and gasp coming from you after every punch into your cervix causes his own release to prolong until he’s completely spent and empty. 

It’s moments of just harsh breathing and the sound of the Tulum jungle coming more alive with the setting sun that can only be heard. 

With your hands still absentmindedly rubbing his head softly you feel his soft full lips trail up from your shoulder to your ear nipping softly before his face pulls back a bit to look at you look and smile lazily. 

You felt your heart skip a beat. You didn’t know anyone luckier than you. Here you were in the magical Mexican jungle of Tulum on the receiving end of such a beautiful and loved up smile paired with the most beautiful and soft blue eyes being warmed under the weight of such a perfect buff body with a cunt full of cock and leaking cum. Feeling completely satisfied and loved. 

your thumbs rub softly over the roundness of his flushed cheeks.

“Another shower?” he rasps deeply with a soft smile.

“Yea” you say breathlessly, “but just shower, I’m so sore and we’re gonna be late to meet the crew for the finale dinner” you say. You’re trying to be strong but when his cock is still inside of you even if it’s soften and he’s giving you that look you’re not sure if you have the strength to deny him. 

He smiles before pecking your lips and removing himself slowly from inside of you. You can’t stop the grabby hands that make him chuckle as he pulls away from you.

“Don’t worry baby let daddy do all the work this round” he says smugly before he winks at you. 

The prefect moment with the most perfect person.

X

X

I am completely unwell yall I need this man so bad

[too-damn-joji]

SKZ fake texts & story - 'We're not really dating'

Premise: Y/N and Han Jisung have been seeing each other for a couple months now, but you notice that he seems to be pulling away. Did you misjudge how everything was going? Or is something else going on?

Theme: Angst (of course)

It had been three months since Han Jisung had first asked if you wanted to have dinner. Thanks to some mutual friends, you two had met a few times before he asked, and though it had only been those few times, you were thrilled. At every one of those events, you'd found yourself drawn to Han.

He was able to make you laugh so easily and he always seemed interested in you and your life.

'What do you for work, y/n?' 'What music did you listen to growing up?' 'What's your family like?' 'How did you meet [y/f/n]?'

It would have been just casual chat if it weren't for how attractive you found him. Hair down over his forehead or pushed back with a cap. Baggy clothes or stage outfits. Whatever he wore or did, his whole image was magnetic to you.

In those three months since that first dinner, you two had been on numerous dates to go out and eat, see movies, visit attractions, meet his members, and of course, dates where you stayed in and acted like two total homebodies. Cuddled up, watching something or listening to music, talking about anything and everything.

You had even spent two nights away together while he filmed something for work. You couldn't hang out while he was on camera, but it was fun to be together at the fancy hotel, and to see him and the members in work mode.

That had been 2 weeks ago. From the moment you got home from the trip, it had been quiet. Normally, Han would call every couple of days, text every day, and send you updates from wherever he was working. He'd always ask how you were in a way that made you feel like he really cared.

That was the best part - you'd never felt that care from someone you were romantically involved with before. Han just always wanted to know about you.

And now he was barely responding to you, let alone calling. While you were away, you'd talked about meeting each other's families. Maybe it had freaked him out? Maybe he felt you were going too fast?

So you decided to try to play it cool, to not ask questions or try to call him. Maybe with a bit of breathing room, he'd realise you weren't trying to move super fast? That you just liked him and the bubble you guys had made. Or maybe it wasn't even you and he was just swamped with work and the responsibilites of his intense job.

But he wasn't even responding to your in-jokes any more.

It had been a long week and an even longer day at work when you texted him on a Friday, 2 weeks to the day from when you left for the trip. Stress and anxiety coursed through your whole body as you texted him, asking if he wanted to come over. He was usually free Friday nights - you'd been spending all of them together for the last few months. You didn't want him to have to fit you in to his busy schedule throughout the week or weekends.

Maybe you guys just needed to see each other in person and reset? The truth was that you were falling hard for Han. If you weren't, you probably would have just asked him outright if he was still interested or you might even just let him drift away. Dating in your 20s sucks, right? Everybody has stories about meeting someone and then it just ending. If only Han didn't make you feel excited and comfortable at the same time. If only he didn't make your heart ache while putting you at ease.

You had to try.

Three months of feeling so connected to someone... and it wasn't real.

You felt like an idiot. Tears streaming down your cheeks as you realised he hadn't viewed anything the two of you shared the same way you had. That all the times you'd talked so deeply or laughed hard together or met each others friends.... he was just killing time in between hooking up.

Why?