#I acknowledge this is rich as hell for me to say this because I have two ex boyfriends but

[kennyomegasweave]

I'm glad BL shows are actually acknowledging bisexuality now, in name and action (by not making it a big deal that they all have ex girlfriends), but it's weird as fuck to me that we're still not getting many straight up gays for whatever reason. Why do they all have ex girlfriends? We've finally progressed from the evil ex girlfriends to the cool ex-girlfriends but like. Can we get some straight up gay men? I'm just asking for a friend.

[zriasstuff]

True words—Mattheo Riddle x reader

Fluff drabble, how he would comfort you <3

The one thing Mattheo hated more than anything in the world was seeing the people he loved being hurt. And anytime someone mouthed off about either his brother, his friends, or you, he’d be the first to step in. You always had no doubts that he would defend you, no matter what. But this time may be different.

The person closest to him, his own brother Tom, had said something extremely hurtful to your face. It’s the way Tom is. He doesn’t acknowledge when he’s hurting others, most of the time at least. But even if he doesn’t care, you do. And what he said to you in class today cut too deep for you to brush off.

During him scolding you for not cutting things the right way, he told you that all you could ever achieve was to marry rich, since you have no other talents to show. So, basically he insulted you, and pointed out that you’d be more than lucky if Mattheo decided to marry you, since he’s rich.

At first you decided not to tell Mattheo, and tried to just forget it. But as time went on, and as you spent everyday with his friend group, which included Tom, it got too difficult to just brush off. His words kept bugging you everyday for no good reason. So, one night you decide to finally tell him.

It was already late at night, and you were both lying on his bed in his dorm. You try to find the right timing to address your issue, which is more difficult than you thought. But just as he was saying something about Tom being filterless you decide to spit it out.

“He certainly is to a lot of people”, you try to steer the conversation in a noticeably serious tone.

“Is something wrong?” Mattheo can always tell when there’s something on your mind, even if you don’t say it directly.

“Well it happened a few days ago, he probably already forgot, but he told me that I am talentless and can probably only rely on marrying rich”

You see the shocked expression on his face, immediately turning to worry and he tells you without hesitation that he hopes you know you’re so much more than that.

“So you don’t think so?” Perhaps it’s because you tend to be a little self conscious, but you can’t help but think that maybe, to some degree it’s true.

“Why in the hell would I think that?”. Behind his shock, he even sounds hurt because you believed that he thinks that little of you. Now, you definitely know that he doesn’t, but you just had a tiny bit of worry. And after all, it was what his own brother said.

“Listen darling, you always care for others. Sometimes even to the point where you tend to not take care of yourself. You never judge. You’re a great listener, and you’re funny, and you’re witty in your own way, and you’re just about the most lovely person I know. So why should you care what Tom thinks? He’s the dark cloud that hates everyone anyway”

And he’s right. Why should you care what Tom thinks? What your boyfriend just told you means the world to you. From now on you’d not let stuff like that bother you anymore.

As the sky turns darker, you eventually find yourself cuddling with Mattheo, falling asleep together on his bed, leaving behind all the worries you had.

[averycutesalamander]

thoughts about public woohoo with boothill? i feel like he'd be into it sometimes

public woohoo 😭😭😭 ur so funny omg

i think he matches your vibes on it? in the sense that when you're into it, he's SUPER into it, but when you're not, he's perfectly happy without it. he definitely doesn't shy away from risk, and he especially loves taking risks when you're involved.

i kinda think he's of two minds about it. on one hand, he absolutely has a possessive streak, so making everyone know you're "his" is super appealing to him. (on that note, pull out the ol' "i'm yours" on him, and he'll go crazy. like, hands and teeth and everything all over you kinda crazy.)

on the other hand, he's... well, pretty greedy about you. there's a line in DHCS that acknowledges this pretty directly...

He's nearly overwhelmed by the suffocating urge to kiss you; to bite marks into your delicate little throat; to bend you over this counter and have his way with you, onlookers be damned.

(Hm. Maybe not that last one – he’s far too greedy, far too possessive, to expose you to a room full of strangers. He’d much rather keep you all to himself; his to covet, his to adore, his to break.)

in regards to a scenario? well...

(read on ao3 if you'd prefer)

Boothill has decided that he absolutely hates this new contact.

First of all, she's cagey as fuck, and she constantly dances around the point. Secondly, she only ever communicates in the most obtuse code he's ever seen. Thirdly, she absolutely insists that, for his next lead, he has to find her at a masquerade to receive the information in person.

She's lucky that her intel is so damn valuable, or he'd have wrung her neck a hundred times over by now - and unloaded his revolver into her a few times for good measure.

He rants and raves to you for quite some time, venting his frustration as he swears up and down that he's never turning to her again once this whole affair is done. By the time he runs out of steam, he's slumped against your shoulder with his arms wrapped around you, utterly drained. You pet his hair soothingly, letting him cool off before quietly asking, "Is there anything I can do to help, honeybee?"

He's quiet for a long moment, before finally lifting his head to look at you, a peculiar look in his eye. "Well..." he's begins hesitantly, "would ya put me in an early grave if I asked ya to come with me, sweetpea?"

You laugh, shaking your head in open amusement. "I suppose I can spare you, just this once." You press a quick kiss to his forehead, your smile turning a bit mischievous. "Get me a dress and treat me to ice cream after, and I'll do whatever the hell you want."

The very next day, he brings you to a shop - pleasantly small with an obscenely well-crafted selection. You balk when you walk inside, immediately stunned by the space, because this isn't just for rich people, this is for rich people. The moment you turn to him to argue that this is way too nice, you find that he's already grinning and shaking his head.

"I don't give a hoot what ya say," he drawls, openly delighted. "What the fork else am I gonna burn all this IPC cash on, huh? Let me treat ya, sunshine."

And so, you end up getting the most extravagant article of clothing you've ever touched in your life, guided by an incredibly sweet attendant that doesn't even blink at your cluelessness. Boothill lingers in the dressing room, whistling obnoxiously every time you step out in a new dress; he practically faints (whether or not it's a joke is up for debate) when you walk out in a comfortably tight underbust corset, his eyes trailing lasciviously from the curve of your waist to the swell of your chest. (He thanks every higher power he can think of that his cock is kept in an internal compartment, because lord fucking knows he'd be so horny that he'd risk busting his jeans open.)

Once you settle on a dress and have it sent off to be tailored to your size, you keep him company while another attendant takes all of his measurements for a suit, fitting him into one to test how well the jacket hugs his waist. He grouches about how this doesn't fit his style at all, but shuts right up when he sees the look on your face. (Maybe wearing a suit won't be so bad if you keep staring at him like you want to eat him alive.)

In the following days, the date of the masquerade looms over you - and all the while, Boothill eyes you with a look you can't quite decipher.

Finally, it all comes to a head the day after you pick up your newly tailored outfits.

His eyes are dark when he holds up a remote-controlled vibrator - one that syncs to his neurochip, which lets him control it with a simple thought; there's an app as well, which would let you shut it off on your own if you ever got too overwhelmed. He tilts his head in question, and the gesture might've seemed innocent if not for the untamable hunger in his eyes.

If you decline, that's the end of it, and the entire masquerade passes without too much incident. Once business is done, you dance and chat, berating the event's selection of alcohol and quietly mocking the outfit choices of every aristocrat you see. If you accept, however...

The night of the masquerade arrives on your doorstep, heralded by the anticipation bubbling in your gut. The atmosphere is so taut that you both get ready in silence, but his hungry eyes tell you everything you need to know. He helps you into your dress, does your hair for you (he's shockingly good at it), and, if you'd like, paints your nails with his unfathomably steady hands. You help him with his tie, braid his hair neatly, and straighten out the relatively simple black, silver, and red mask on his face. And all the while, he stares at you like a wolf sizing up its prey - watching, prowling, waiting for the time to strike.

Finally, the time to leave arrives. You stare at each other for a long, tense moment before he finally rasps, "Back against the wall, doll. Spread your legs and lift your skirt for me, won't ya?"

Oh, you're already done for, and the night has only just begun.

He gets down on his knees in front of you, easing down your underwear with cold fingers. He's ready to prep you, but to his delight, you're already getting wet. He looks up at you with piercing eyes, grinning wickedly. "Filthy girl," he scolds without heat. "I haven't even touched ya, n' you're already soakin' your panties?"

You whimper when he grazes your folds with his fingers, openly admiring the way your slit trembles. "Can you blame me? You've been looking at me like you were gonna fuck me before we even left."

He laughs, dark and gritty. "Oh, you're barkin' up the wrong tree, cutie." Then, he lifts the toy, pressing it right against your entrance. "I'm gonna make you work for it first."

Without further preamble, he slowly, agonizingly eases it inside, and when it's fully seated, you have one end nestled right against your g-spot, and the other pressed tauntingly against your clit. For a moment, you think that's going to be the end of it for now - but then he eases it out ever-so-slightly, giving him just enough room to lap hungrily at your clit. You gasp and shake on your feet, clenching one hand in his hair so tight that he growls into your cunt. You throw your head back against the wall and moan all pretty for him, helpless as he circles your bud with his tongue.

He holds you there, just like that, subtly thrusting the toy against your g-spot, winding you tighter and tighter, and just when your breath hitches, just when your thighs start to tremble, just when you're about to tip over the edge-

He pulls away, sending you crashing back down to earth.

You whine in anguish as he settles the toy back inside you, sliding your panties back on like he'd never been there at all. He kisses your thigh tenderly in what might've seemed like sympathy if not for the devilish glint in his eye.

"Sorry, honey," he hums, not sorry at all, standing back up and licking your come from his lips. "Gonna have to wait."

(Oh, if only you knew.)

The ride over to the event is quiet and tense, but rather peaceful - until he starts testing out the vibrator, that is. He holds you in his lap and wraps his unrelenting arms around you, which might've looked sweet to the chauffeur, but you know better. You keep your jaw clenched tightly, trying to get yourself into the practice of stifling all of your noises and reactions - but he seems to take that as a challenge, because he hikes the intensity higher and higher until you're trembling like a leaf against him, your fingers wound in his suit jacket. And just when it nearly overwhelms you, just when you think you might reach your peak, he lowers it back down to a subtle hum.

And then you arrive to the masquerade, and the true depth of what you've signed yourself up for hits you full force.

He lingers with you for a time, keeping the vibrator rather low, even turning it off on occasion. He grants you the small mercy of adjusting to the crowd in relative peace, but you're already so wound up that it doesn't do that much good. Eventually, he kisses you sweetly on the lips and murmurs, "Gotta go take care of some business, sweetpea. You gonna be alright?"

It's a genuine question, so you answer genuinely. "As long as you don't torture me the whole time you're gone."

When he smiles, you feel like you've just stepped into a trap. "Of course, baby. I'll be back in a jiffy."

He's nice enough to let you get situated in a quiet corner with a drink before he starts fucking with you. To his credit, he sticks to his word...

But only to the letter, and not to the spirit.

He torments you for most of the time he's gone, but not quite all of it. For the most part, he sticks to the lower settings; you seek him out through the crowd, and he meets your gaze across the ballroom while he speaks to someone you don't recognize, his eyes glittering with promise. You thank every Aeon you can think of that no one tries to talk to you while he's gone, because he won't stop randomly spiking the intensity, higher and higher until your fingers are quivering around the stem of your glass - then he drops it right back down, leaving you stewing in a mix of grief and relief.

You completely lose track of time, your eyes going distant and hazy as you put all of your focus into keeping yourself together. He scares the hell out of you when he finally returns, looping one arm around your shoulders and leaning close to your ear, purring, "Hey there, sugar. Is somethin' wrong? You're lookin' a lil' faint."

The look you give him is positively murderous, but he just laughs right in your face. Then, with mischief in his eyes, he invites you to a dance - and how could you ever say no to a face like that?

He might find the music stale - nothing will ever beat the music from back home - but it's all worth it to watch you squirm. Just before the first song begins, he leans right next to your ear and whispers, "Count how many times ya come, and how many times I deny ya. You can do that, can't ya, princess?"

When you hesitantly nod, his smile turns lethal, sharp enough to cut both ways.

(What he doesn't tell you is that you aren't going to come at all. Only he gets to see you like that. Only he gets to feel you tremble. Only he gets to hear all of the pathetic little noises that spill from your lips.)

He edges you the entire fucking time, and he keeps you on that dance floor for as long as you can stand it. Again and again, he builds you up, then breaks you down, guiding you seamlessly every time you stumble or trip, the toy jostling against your g-spot with every step. If you ever get too quiet for his liking, he turns up the vibrator until you can't help yourself. The little noises you make are lost to the crowd and the music, but not to his enhanced hearing. Get too loud, and he turns it back down until you pull yourself together - over and over and over, until your brain feels like liquid in your skull. Before long, you're leaning into his shoulder, using his body to shield the way your jaw drops whenever he brings you to the edge again.

And every single time, you whimper that ever-increasing number in his ear, and every single time, he purrs in delight and croons, "Good girl."

He murmurs filth into your ear the whole time, his breath washing over you as he describes in ruinous detail all of the things he's going to do to you later, all of the ways he's going to break you.

Eventually, he leans close and murmurs, "How wet are you, doll?" The timbre of his voice so close has shivers skittering up your spine. "Bet you're soaked by now."

Just to fuck with you, he hikes up the intensity of the vibrations right when you open your mouth to reply. You trip over your own feet, but he sweeps you along without batting an eye, somehow making your slip-up look natural.

When he finally turns it back down and you compose yourself, you grit out, "I was soaked before we even got here, you fucking basta- oh!"

He smiles with the most unconvincing mask of innocence the world has ever seen as he raises the intensity again, your backtalk dying in your throat. Then, as he lowers it to a more reasonable level, he turns his head to press a kiss to your temple to hide his wicked grin from any onlookers. "Poor baby," he croons, so demeaning that it has your walls shivering around the toy. "You drippin' down your legs yet, sugar? Bet it's smearin' all over your thighs."

You answer him with a pretty little whimper, and he can't help but chuckle, low and husky in your ear.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. Once I'm through with you here, I'm gonna take ya somewhere nice n' quiet, and then I'll get down on my knees for ya," he rumbles. "I'll hold ya up against the wall and lick your thighs clean, 'til you're beggin' me to put my tongue in your pretty lil' hole, 'til you're beggin' me to suck on your clit."

On and on and on he goes, until you're so fucking drenched that the entirety of your inner thighs are slick with your wetness, until you're so desperate to come that you think you might fall to your knees and beg for it, audience be damned.

Just when you're about to tap out, right when you're about to cave and beg him for mercy, he sweeps you into a grand dip at the end of a song, and you're trying so hard to keep it together, and just when you think he's going to finally let you come-

The vibrator goes completely still.

When he finally pulls you up, he wraps a strong, possessive arm around your waist, guiding you off the dance floor with the poise and seriousness of a man on a mission. You're so out of it that you barely register when he sweeps you into a bathroom, but you certainly snap to attention when he wheels around and pins you flat to the door with his hands tight around your hips. The lighting casts his face so starkly in shadow that all you can see are the red pinpricks of his pupils.

Without saying a word, he cranks the vibrations to the maximum, and watches you fall apart.

You moan and whimper helplessly under his stare, and as your peak rapidly creeps up on you, you can't stop yourself from begging. You whine and beg and plead for him to let you come, completely shameless in your need.

"I've been good," you gasp, your throat closing as you race toward the edge yet again. "Please, please, please, bee. I've been good!"

He stares, utterly silent, pinning you with his unwavering gaze.

Your orgasm is so close you can fucking taste it, and your heart is pounding with anticipation, because you still don't know if he's going to let you come, if he's going to deny you again, if he's going to keep torturing you, if he's going to leave you stranded on this edge forever and ever and-

Oh- Oh, fuck, you can't take it- You can't-

You come so hard your vision goes white.

You can feel the pressure of his lips against yours, swallowing up the broken wail that escapes you, drinking it down, down, down as you spiral in the clutches of your orgasm. Your knees collapse from under you, but he supports your weight like it's nothing, keeping you pinned like a moth against the door. As you ride out the waves of your climax, your fingers wound tightly in his suit jacket, he gradually eases the vibrations lower and lower, coaxing you down; finally, you go completely boneless against him, fully trusting him to keep you upright, and he shuts off the toy entirely.

He holds you while you recover, petting your hip with his thumb, cradling you as you piece yourself back together.

"I think I just died," you mumble into his jacket, your mind still heavy with fog.

He chuckles softly, pressing his lips into your hair. "Well, I guess I'll have to revive ya," he murmurs as he pulls away, grasping you by the chin and forcing you to face him, and his voice is thick with gravel when he says, "because I'm not done yet."

You're not quite sure what expression crosses your face, but whatever it is, it makes him grin wickedly.

"How many times did I deny ya, princess?" he rumbles, as if he hadn't been counting alongside you the whole time.

You take a trembling breath, clearly needing a moment to piece your brain together. When you finally answer, your voice is as fragile as a breath of wind.

"Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Didn't realize I'd done so many," he lies blatantly, smiling in a way that might've seemed apologetic if he weren't grinning like the cat that caught the canary.

Then, his hands trail slowly downward, and he kneels on the tile in front of you, gradually raising the hem of your skirt higher and higher. You instinctually take it from him with shaking fingers, hiking it up to expose yourself to him. Sure enough, you've completely soaked through your panties, and drops of your slick trail obscenely down your legs. Ever-so-slowly, he eases your panties downward, licking his lips at the sight of you.

"Lemme make it up to ya, baby," he murmurs, his eyes fixed shamelessly on your cunt. Then, he looks back up at you, his eyes dark and all-consuming. "I'll make ya come once for every time I cut ya off. Ain't I generous?"

He's going to kill you. He's going to eat the fucking soul out of you. He's going to break you apart until your mind is ground into dust.

He eases the toy out of you, and a heavy stand of your come stretches and snaps as he pulls it away. Without a moment of hesitation, he laves his tongue across it, moaning obscenely at your taste. You watch with an intoxicating mixture of awe and arousal as he cleans the vibrator end-to-end, licking up every drop until nothing remains; then, he tucks it nonchalantly into his pocket, utterly unbothered.

"Don't forget to count, doll." He grins up at you with too many teeth, leaning closer to your pussy. "And... make some noise for the folks outside, won't ya?"

@opheliaflavoredinstantnoodles @ikeagroceries @shadowstadium @theswashbucklingspy @cosmo112 @fxngtasy

[bloodymiso]

★ dude, its just groceries — various x gn reader

how do they buy groceries? do they go to the convenience store every weekend and buy in small batches? or do they go to a big grocery like every 5 months and hoard?

notes: this has been in my drafts for a while lmao | mentions of food(duh), mention of a doctor’s appointment, one or two swears

— in small batches

convenience store lunches, little trips every saturday, small fridge in a small apartment—that was their life. coming home after a long day of work, popping by the tiny store outside your home to grab a sandwich or two and boom! dinner was that easy. living with a little store outside their home was literal heaven.

“awh shucks, we’re out of pudding..” they pout as they turn to you on the bed, upside down and legs on the headboard.

“do we even have anything for dinner?” you ask, turning your head to them as they shook their head. you both pause, a knowing look evident on both of your faces.

“convenience store dinner! last one there pays!” you say as both of you shot up, racing to get to the door as you fought to open it. they sneaked under your arms and through the door , once you got out, they were halfway to the elevator. (or to the store.)

“you little—augh!”

VENTI, ga ming, kazuha, kaveh, GOROU, hu tao, & heizou

— lmao what’s groceries?

uh..doing their own groceries? hell no! they usually just order online. if they’re rich enough, maybe their assistants will do it for them. either way, you have never seen this brat even hold a shopping bag.

“what the..oh my god we’re out of rice!” you said in shock, gawking at the empty cabinet in your kitchen you often held for rice.

“oh really?” they acknowledged before quickly calling someone on their phone. “hey man, could you get us some rice? we’re out lol.”

like..bitch what?

CHILDE, scaramouche, DILUC, furina, navia, AYATO & NINGGUANG

— they hoard

“hey, let’s go to the grocery.” and you end up coming home with 6 bags chock-full of food and supplies to last you pretty much half a year. they were always ready for something bad to happen, an apocalypse, or maybe a shortage in supplies and sure, that was a good thing, but not when they were so strict about it..

wanna get spinach for some lasagna? nope, but we have kale in the fridge! some spices for curry? nope, but we have pepper! it was frustrating, really.

eventually they gave up and joined you on small grocery trips here and there. they had to admit, it was nice only carrying one or two bags home.

“see? now whenever you’re craving something i can just make it.” “don’t mention my cravings.”

WRIOTHESLEY, arlecchino, arataki itto (hear me out), cyno & EULA

— in scheduled visits

“can we go to the grocery today?” you ask, bored out of your mind as you placed down your phone. “we aren’t scheduled for a visit till friday though..” they say, as if replying to a question about a doctor’s appointment.

you didn’t know if it was because of their almost insane sense of orderliness, or because it was how they went for groceries with their parents when they were younger, but god did they stick to their schedule. it was a good way to make sure you wouldn’t use too much money in a week but sometimes, boredom takes the best of both of you.

“fuck it let’s go to the grocery.” they say, standing up from their chair as you stopped tapping your finger on their desk. the shock on your face made it seem like you just figured out the answer to the bonus question on a math exam, but you shrugged it off and reluctantly joined.

ALHAITHAM, GANYU, keqing, kuki shinobu, and.. yeah

[thezombieprostitute]

Zombie, what would you do if you were stuck in a room with Ransom for 24 hours?

That entirely depends: do we know we're being let out after 24 hours?

If so, we'd probably do our best to ignore each other the whole time. Just stay in our respective corners and barely acknowledge each other.

But if we don't know? Hmm....

Warnings: Claustrophobic setting, Ransom being an asshole

Word Count: ~1.1k

The elevator lurches, making you and the only other passenger stumble. The lights flicker and you feel a lump in your throat, scared about what the flickering indicates. You know it's almost impossible to actually be killed in an elevator malfunction, but that lizard part of your brain won't listen.

"What the fuck is this?" The other passenger is quick to steady himself.

"Elevator trouble," you can't help but blurt out.

"Well thanks for stating the obvious!" He glares at you as he pulls out his cell phone. "Gotta call the fucking fire department. Gonna be fucking late to my appointment. Trapped in here with an idiot."

"Emergency phone," you quietly say while pointing to the standard, big, red 'Emergency' button.

He huffs as he puts his phone away and presses the button. He snipes at the operator for several minutes before finally giving in and admitting defeat. It's gonna be hours before help arrives.

You set down your cardigan and sit. Checking your phone you see that the signal is weak. Thankfully you've got some books downloaded.

The other passenger, however, starts pacing and seems to be working himself up more and more. You're not trying to listen in but he's not being very quiet. You just stick to your improvised seat and try to read.

Eventually the man practically flops onto the elevator floor. He looks at you, "so what's your deal?"

Startled out your reading you shake your head, "what?"

He sighs, "I said, what's. Your. Deal."

"Just, just trying to get to work."

"Let me guess, accountant? You're definitely too big to be a secretary. You don't dress poorly enough to be an IT person. But you're definitely boring enough to be a numbers person."

You raise an eyebrow, "you must be one of Mr. Barber's clients. He tends to represent rich assholes."

The man laughs at that, "you'd be right! So you work for Barber?"

"Paralegal for Mr. Barber, yes."

"Hugh Drysdale," he tells you.

You wrinkle your brow in confusion, "I know there's a Ransom Drysdale on the schedule. I guess I was right that it's a fake name."

"No," he chides. "Ransom is my middle name and it's what I usually go by. Except for the help." He gestures to you at the last word. "The help calls me Hugh, my first name."

You bite back a retort. He's one of your boss's clients. You have to at least pretend to be nice.

"How about you share some of your food? I missed breakfast and could use something to settle my stomach." You give him another confused look and he rolls his eyes. "You're on your way to work. Even if you didn't pack your own lunch, a girl your size definitely has food in her purse or something."

"I was running late and didn't have time to pack anything," you tell him. "I figured I could get a few things from the vending machine."

"You've gotta be shitting me," he whines. "Well, you're no good to me. Might as well go back to your book."

You nod and go back to reading. You've barely finished a paragraph when Drysdale starts talking to you again.

"What kind of crap are you reading, anyways?" You tell him the title and author and he scoffs. "Seriously, why the hell would you read that crap?"

"Because it's more entertaining than this conversation," you calmly tell him, trying to read.

"I call bullshit." He proceeds to go on a tangent about the decline of literary quality over the past decade. Sure, he makes a few good points, but you're really not interested in his better-than-you opinions.

Every time you try to go back to reading he starts talking again. It's like he can't handle not having attention and it's really grating on your nerves. Especially when he repeats his question about whether or not you have food. You really wish you did if only so it could occupy him for a minute or two.

But then you realize something. "Do you talk a lot when you're scared?"

He stops mid-sentence and glares. "What the hell makes you think I'm scared? I don't get scared!"

"So you're an attention whore? Because why else would you keep talking? It's either that you need the attention or that you're trying to keep yourself calm by talking about other things."

“Don't try to psychoanalyze me,” he scolds. “You don't get to tell me about me based on a few minutes.”

“It's been several hours by now,” you point out. “And you were trying to figure out 'my deal' based on my looks within the first few minutes.”

“Yes, but I'm the client, you're the help. I talk, you listen. I ask, you tell.”

“Aww, does baby need a nap?” You give him a fake pout. You're on your last nerve and this asshole isn't making it any better. He glares at you but you're not having it. “Listen, we're stuck here for who knows how long. Either we try to get along, or we ignore each other because being annoying won't help anyone.”

“We are getting along,” he counters. “Until you started being a bitch.”

“Since we've been trapped, you've made fun of my looks, my job, my reading interests and repeatedly told me my status is beneath you. How is that getting along?”

You see his angry arrogance drop for a moment when he says, “you were actually listening to me.” Before you can comment he shakes his head and the arrogance is back. “Look, I'm not having a good time, of course. Neither of us are, but I'm not scared and I'm NOT an attention whore.”

“Then you'll have no problem if I go back to reading.”

“Nope. You go ahead and I'll be quiet so you can have your precious reading time.”

“Thank you, Mr. Drysdale.”

You let yourself get back into your story. You're so enthralled you don't notice Drysdale's foot tapping incessantly. His nibbling at his fingers. His near constant glancing at the emergency phone.

“Okay, fine.” His voice cuts through and you stop your reading. “I'm...I'm scared. I know, statistically, chances of death or injury are very small. But I'm still...”

“Thank you for being honest,” you tell him. You put your phone in your pocket. “You mentioned that you arrived in a BMW? How do keep that car maintained? I imagine parts are difficult to come by.”

Drysdale perks up and starts talking a-mile-a-minute about the cost of his car but how and why it's worth all of it. The entire time he's talking, the tension in the elevator seems to lessen. You hope for rescue soon but at least being trapped is no longer a complete nightmare.

Tagging: @alicedopey; @delicatebarness; @icefrozendeadlyqueen; @ronearoundblindly

[1-jar-of-stars]

Eurovision (I thought y'all was boycotting that shit because of how it has spent YEARS siding with Azerbaijan and Israel, perpetuators of on-going genocide) and The Met Gala (a glorified fashion show that is genuinely just a display of celebrity from the upper class) are trending in the number 2 and 3 spots on Tumblr at the time of me typing this. Where is the fucking noise about Eurovision taking focus off of Palestine? Why are there people in the tags still watching that show?? And The Met Gala is trending, as it does every single year. But that's CERTAINLY not being called out for taking focus off of Palestine. I've seen bloggers talk about how the Met was their ''little treat'' to distract from the on-going horrors, but Kendrick murdering Aubrey (exposing him as a child predator who associates with documented sex offenders) is somehow '''taking focus away from Palestine'''? Why is it that you think this is different from the Met doing the same thing? And why are they not acknowledging the severity of what's being discussed here (which is why it took so many tracks to fully level the accusations) and instead treating it like some superficial cat fight between rich people. If anything should be treated like superficial celebrity nonsense, it's The Meta Gala.

One is honestly an unimportant showing, the other is a Pulitzer Prize holder exposing damning secrets and sickening allegations against someone with a track record of being inappropriate with women and minors. But as soon as the '''beef''' escaped containment on Black Tumblr, everybody and their colonizing mamas wanted to come out the woodwork and 1.) talk about shit they know nothing about because they don't fuck with black music and 2.) act like this ''beef'' is just ''millionaires angrily writing at each other'' and not someone FINALLY addressing the years of verifiable allegations of misconduct on someone who is a culture vulture imitating the worst parts of black american lifestyle. ''They Not Like Us''? More like ''This Shit's Not For You''. Not only are they talking out the side of their neck up and down the tags, they're being racist as hell about it. If you don't know enough to treat this shit with the gravity it deserves AS AN OUTSIDER LOOKING IN, you need to shut up and sit down. Too many people on the ''white fujoshi website'' have unacknowledged and unpacked racism that bleeds over into everything they interact with and it's SO damn tiring to see.

Either give the same grace to this as you're giving to the Met Gala and whatever week-long trends on Tumblr that have appeared over the past 8 months, or stay out of black business. Period. I'm ready to start biting fr

ANON YOURE SO REAL!!! ALL DAY PEOPLE HAVE BEEN SAYING KENDRICK IS A DISTRACTION JUST FOR THEM TO BAIL ON THE EUROVISION PLAN

AND IT’S DIFFERENT??? HOW???

[xtrashmammalstefx]

Hi Stef. Regarding your requests, I would love some Austin x Reader fics where he falls for a Latina who's liked him for a long time and finally acknowledges her after revealing to him that she hasn't dated anyone because she's afraid to be heart broken.

Ask and you shall recieve...

Fire On Fire (An Austin Butler x Latina!Reader Smut!)

Warning: SMUT, CUSSING, THE WHOLE SHEBANG!

Notes: I will include translations either near the Spanish text or at the bottom, so don't y'all worry about that. @12joeywheelerfangirl I hope you love it and sorry it took a while for me to post. I wasn't having luck coming up with ideas for this until I heard this song by Sam Smith and then it was just smutty fun from there.

I couldn’t fucking believe what I was hearing. “Wuh-what?”

“I said I like you,” Gavin said nervously. “And I wanna take you out sometime.” When I first met Gavin on Bumble I thought maybe, just maybe, I finally made another friend. Someone I could talk to, besides Austin. We’d hung out a couple times and things were going pretty well… then he dropped the ‘L’ word. I suddenly felt that all too familiar brick wall build up around me.

“Look you’re a great guy and all but…”

“But?”

“But I’m not looking for romance,” I said. At least not with you. I added silently. “I just wanted more friends to hang with, and talk to… I’m sorry if I made you think differently.”

He didn’t say anything for a while, but then he sighed and took out his phone.

“What’re you doing?” I asked.

“Texting my buddy, Rich, to let him know I owe him a hundred bucks,” he said.

“Wait you betted on me?”

“Rich said you look like a prude but I said I could bed you within three dates,” he confessed. “Now thanks to you I’m out a hundred bucks… unless you wanna keep it casual?” He ran his hand along my thigh. I threw it away instantly.

“Fuck off!” I snapped at him feeling like I was gonna throw up my lunch. “God I thought you were different. But you’re just a sleeze bag like all the rest.”

His hand went flying across my face. A hot sting radiated through my cheek. Gavin was glaring at me now, and was suddenly hovering over me. “Please you think anyone else is gonna want you? Huh?? You ugly ass bi―!”

He was cut off by someone yanking him off of me. Austin stood there looking like he was gonna kill a motherfucker. Austin then reached back and swung his fist towards Gavin’s face. Gavin fell back. “GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!”

“WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?!”

“Someone who’s willing to do anything to keep Y/N safe now back the fuck up and get out!” Gavin smirked standing up.

“I get it you just wanted someone to play with while you fucked this piece of―!” Austin then grabbed him by the neck and dragged him to the door.

“IF I CATCH YOU ANYWHERE NEAR Y/N I SWEAR IT’LL BE THE LAST FUCKING THING YOU DO!” Austin slammed the door and placed the locks in place. He then turned back to me and practically ran towards me. He sat down beside me on the sofa and wrapped his arms around me. “You okay baby?”

I nodded. “Estoy bien.”* Austin always had a way of making me comfortable enough to let my spanish out, even if he didn’t really understand me.

“The fuck was his problem anyway?” Austin asked drapping my legs over his lap.

“He asked me out,” I said. “And...and I said I didn’t want to…” Not with him. “Guess I dodged a bullet.”

“Yeah, yeah you did,” he said bringing his lips to my head. “You deserve better than that trash any day.”

“I’m not so sure about that,” I sighed.

“Y/N,” he got an all too familiar tone to his voice. One that let me know I fucked up, again. “I thought you were doing better with this...I can’t believe you’re still talking crap about yourself. It’s been years. We’re not in high school anymore… what other people say and think don’t mean shit...but what you say and think about yourself...it means everything.”

“You’re right Aus, but is it really such a crime that I don’t want to risk having my heart shattered? Is it that bad that I just wanna avoid getting hurt like that again and again?” Tears were bursting from my eyes then.

“You can’t possibly know that would happen,” Austin said.

“Yeah, yeah I do,” I sniffed. “Lo se porque niguno de ellos son tu!”* I cried. “No puedo enamorame con otro cuando estoy enamorada contigo, y nomas contigo!”*

“Y/N you’re rambling again,” Austin said cupping my face with his hands. “Breathe a bit and start over sugar.” I did. I swallowed deep breath after deep breath until my heart and lungs calmed down enough for me to think clearly about what I was gonna say. I never told Austin my feelings before, even though they’ve been there since ninth grade. I was always too afraid of screwing up what we have...and I was still afraid then, so I said nothing.

Instead I did something far far worse… I leaned in and crashed my lips onto his. Austin’s hands left my face and for a second I thought my worst fear had finally come. But...then I felt his arms wrap around my waist. He pulled me close against his body and deepened our kiss.

As Austin continued to meld our mouths together I suddenly found myself laying back on the sofa, pulling him on top of me. Austin pulled back and smiled at me. “By the way, I love you too, sugar.”

“You...you understood me?” He nodded. “Wha-? Since when?”

“I been teaching myself, and asking your family for help ever since tenth grade. After that son of a bitch Kent started showing interest in you.” He reached up and brushed my cheek with his fingers. “I remember I wanted to rip his head off. I was so irritated all the time whenever he came near you. When he asked you to winter formal...I knew… I knew why I couldn’t stand even the idea of you and him. So at your families Christmas party that year, I asked your dad if he could start teaching me spanish. He told your mom, and suddenly I was surrounded by teachers. Even now they test me to see if I remember.” Austin laughed.

“You learned spanish for me? And mami and papi never said…”

“I asked them not to ‘cause I wanted it to be surprise,” he said. “And I wanted to be able to surprise you with certain words.”

“What?”

“Te amo, Y/N,”* he whispered. “Y…”* He sighed. “Sorry if I butcher this a bit. I haven’t been practicing as often as I used to.” He said. “Uh… Quiero pasar mi vida contigo.”*

It wasn’t perfect spanish but it was perfect enough for me.I reached up and tangled my fingers with his hair as I brought his face down to mine. It was fire on fire after that.

Austin rut against me as his tongue tangled with mine. After a while he pulled back and attached his lips to my neck. A moan escaped my lips as he kissed and sucked at my flesh. The feeling reverberated through me leading my hands to the buttons on his shirt. As my fingers worked down the shirt one of his hand snaked up and gently squeezed at my breast. When the last button popped open my hand ran up the skin of his abs, over his chest, and up to his shoulders to push the fabric from him. He pulled back and shrugged it off, tossing it to the floor. I lifted my arms and let him lift my shirt over my head. Once it was gone I sat up and brought my lips to his chest.

As I kissed and licked at his pecks, giving extra love to the skin above his heart, he reached behind me and unclasped my bra. “So fucking beautiful,” Austin muttered lustfully. I smirked and continued laying a trail of kisses on his body, stopping at just above the waistband of his pants. I unbuckled his belt as my mouth began to water at thought of what it held. I popped the button and pulled down the zipper almost impatiently. Austin stood up and pulled his pants down taking his boxer briefs with it. All that rutting he did clearly worked it’s magic for he sprang out hard and thicker than I thought he would be, smacking his belly.

I reached out and wrapped my hand around his length. I tugged at him for a while before leaning in. I licked at the beads of precum on his tip and gave it a slight kiss before sliding him into my mouth. Austin trembled and let out a slight growled tangling his fingers in my hair while thrusting gently. As I sucked him off the most beautiful noises left his mouth, almost musical. I think he would’ve completely lost his mind had he not pushed me back.

“Your turn sugar,” he said huskily. He got down on his knees and reached to pulled my leggings down, taking my panties with them. He tossed them aside and brought my hips closer to the edge of the couch. He placed my legs over his shoulders, licked his already swelling lips, and leaned down.

A hiss left me as his lips connected with my core. In that moment as his tongue continued to lick and flick at my clit I couldn’t help but think: Is there anything he’s not mind-blowing at?! Moans escaped my lips that made Austin chuckle, his breath hitting me at my most sensative parts.

“Damn I fucking love those sounds you make,” he said. “Can’t wait to hear what comes when I’m inside you.”

He gave my clit one more kiss before he stood up. I readjusted, laying down once again. Austin laid down on top of me wrapping my legs around his waist. His tip ghosted at my entrance sending an ache through me. An ache that could only be cured one way.

As if reading my mind he reached down, placed his lip at my opening and slowly started to push in. As he stretched me bit by bit I clung to him, damn near digging my nails into his back. “Fuck!”

“You’re so tight baby,” he muttered. “Is… is this..?”

“Woulda thought that was obvious,” I said as he continued to push further in. “Never actually- gah fuck- dated anyone before this…”

He finally bottomed out then. “I’ll go slow for you. You just tell me when you want me to really get goin’.” I nodded and he started to thrust slowly and gently. It stung at first but as he continued to move inside me it started feel more and more remarkable. I started moaning again.

“Fuh-faster… I need you to go faster...and huh-harder.”

“Okay,” Austin kissed me once more. “Okay.”

He pulled back and slammed into me, a loud smack emanating from his balls hitting me. The feeling that replaced the sting only grew stronger...more fierce. “OH FUCK AUS!”

“You take me so well sugar,” he moaned taking my hand and placing it on my stomach. A bulge hit my palm repeatedly from inside. “See? I’m getting’ way in there.” He shifted slightly and hit me on a different spot, one that had me screaming. “Like it there? Like it when I fuck you right in that spot?”

“Y-YES, GOD, FUCK YES!” He continued to thrust into that spot which made the tension building in my middle grow more and more. My toes started to curl and my back started to arch. “God I’m gonna...I’m gonna.”

I let go not even a second later, covering him in my juices. Austin was more slippery now and was growing more erratic with his thrusting. “You came all over me darlin’,” he said. “Now I think it’s my turn to come all over you.”

He moaned louder and louder as he began shuttered on top of me.

“Oh fuck I’m gonna cum so hard,” he groaned before pulling out and exploding all over me, covering me in his seed. He continued to moan as he tugged every last drop out of his body. He collapsed on top of me and kissed my swollen lips. “I love you so much, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” I whispered, both of us completely breathless.

Our fire continued to burn after that, with constant repeats of that moment (except in a bed, and with Austin finishing in and on different places) and Austin continued his spanish lessons with my family. The latest phrase he learned? “Casate conmigo?”*

I smiled and nodded crazily. He slipped on his mom’s engagement ring and kissed me hard. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” I said before deciding to give him my own spanish lesson. “By the way,” I brought my lips to his ear. “Estoy embarazada.”*

“What’s that mean?” He asked looking at me confused.

“Why don’t you ask papi to translate that… I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love what it means.” He did and our fire burned on.

TRANSLATION: *I'm fine.

*I know because none of them are you!

*I can't fall in love with someone else when I'm in love with you, and only you!

*I love you.

*And...

*I want to spend my life with you.

*Marry me?

*I'm pregnant.

[pinkyjulien]

I did not expect hostility over my Flat Chest mod, so I'll half acknowledge it and kill some of the assumption before they take roots in other people's minds

No, I did not make this mod *because* I refuse to support Na's flat chest mod

Initial Mod idea was a working "binder" for Fem, something you'd equip to flatten the chest- like a real life binder, basically. It's part of my To-Do list of June, for Pride

The mod evolved as I got more ideas, I also started working on a body replacer, it's basically ready to ship as well, but I decided against it; not to step on toes and causing confusion with two "flat chest" body mods, knowing there is also another one in the work from a fellow modder

(the binders themselves will come much later, and will be available for both fem and masc body frames!)

Again, the mod started as a "binder"- I mentioned it multiple times, either in servers where I started sharing the idea, and in the tags of my mod post

"Binders" are not costumes. They are gender affirming aid, something a lot of person use; I've made a couple of "wearable" / "switchable" body parts mods in the past already, including a trans masc vagina, I really hope you don't see this as a costume as well?

In the universe of Cyberpunks, implants and synth skin are used by everyone, for all kind of purpose; GNC people, trans people and gender-fluid people would probably use implants and cyberware to sculpt themselves, feel comfortable in their body

Who's to say some rich citizen wouldn't have some fancy switchable body pieces- hell it's even canon in game, Mr.Stud and Mrs.Midnight? Switchable boobs are already a thing, I don't see what's wrong with switching up for a flatter chest

The survey's results aren't out yet, so I couldn't know. But that's beside the point, as my mod isn't a "bandaid" for any issue this fandom may have

If the name is causing trouble, I'm open to changing it; but the main goal, again, was to flatten the vanilla fem V chest, and I think "flat chest" is pretty straight forward for nexus users

Mmmh. Sorry but, no

Everyone is different and handle their own space differently, and I do not want to support people who did me, or my friends, any serious mental health damage. Be it from harassement, witch hunt and whatnot

I won't be dragging in there old drama from 2 years ago, but I simply won't support someone who tried to get a friend of mine fired from their work place, threatening to send a 30+ pages google doc to their leads and boss, and dragging all of their personal beefs to the public on multiple social medias. They ruined my friend's mental health, and I simply won't forgive nor forget.

That is my right. And I wish people would accept and respect that.

I won't tell anyone who to support or what mod to use/not use, NOBODY should tell you what to do, what to support, who to like or dislike; and nobody can control who I must support and what I must do. Simple as that

And I'm glad the flat chest body mod exist for people who wish to use it! I'm offering another option that I'm sure some people will find useful

Thank you :)

People already gave me trouble in the past for "doing work that already exist"

Those past few weeks has been eventful when it comes to "drama" especially involving Zwei, who's notorious for having a modding monopol and gatekeeping ideas in general

Let's not bring that same mindset here, yeah?

Everyone is free to mod what they want, whatever body they want, to refit what they want!

Again, just to point it out, mod isn't there to fix a problem, that's just a mod I wanted to make

It's a brand new mod, meaning it needs refiting; I did not test the flat chest bodymod, nor tried the already existing vanilla refit. And I won't, for the reasons I cited aboved a few lines before.

I'm glad you agree! Nobody has to do things they don't want to

You call it disingenuous, and I call it having principles/self respect; again, crazy how different people are from one another, and how we just can't assume everyone work and react the same as we do

I see, I see, the name is a big issue; I'm open to suggestion, feel free to leave a reply and I'll see what catches my eyes

Cause It's still my mod, so I get to decide

Anyway, hope this cleared up a few things, and sorry this made people upset!

For everyone else, thank you for the support 🧡

[fromthefirstmomentitouchedyou]

Soulmate au 3

They’ve been sequestered into a side room in Kensington Palace, Alex is fairly sure theres a guard on the opposite side of the door in case one of them decides to bolt. He thinks about texting Nora to see what the odds are because Henry hasn’t looked at him since they’d been shoved in here, he’s looked in Alex’s direction sure but Alex has had media training and he knows all the tricks Henry is employing.

It’s not like he’s not doing it as well.

He glances down at the book on his thighs-the Prince Henry fact sheet, Henry has an identical one in his lap.

“This is bullshit,” Alex says for the tenth time in a row.

“Yes, well if we have to pull off this soulmates thing we have to at least pretend to know each other,” Henry says bitingly.

Alex sets the fact sheet on the couch beside him. “We don’t have to pretend we are soulmates, you could just ask me questions that’s what usually happens in these cases.”

“Most people actually want to be soulmates,” Henry says archly.

The sarcastic lilt of Henry’s voice sets off something hard and unpleasant in Alex’s stomach, a cramp at the verbal acknowledgement of how much Henry doesn’t want him. And it shouldn’t bother him, he doesn’t want Henry right back but the bond between them doesn’t lie. His body doesn’t lie even if his brain does. Henry’s rejection stings.

“Look, man, just ask me questions like a normal person,” Alex says.

For the first time Henry does look at him and the wave of pure emotion that wells in Alex’s throat makes him feel parched. Well, now he knows why Henry wasn’t looking at him.

Fuck the soulmate bond.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

Alex blinks, he’d expected a soft ball question, maybe what’s your favourite colour or something. But as ever Henry cuts down to the very core of him and prods something painful.

“The Olympics,” Alex says, “I came up to you to introduce myself and you took one look at me and told Shaan to “get me out of here”

Henry has the grace to blanch at least. “I didn’t know you heard that.”

The heat in Alex’s belly turns into anger. “Yeah, that’s not really the point is it? The point is you were a dick”

Henry nods solemnly. “Yes, of course. It’s not an excuse but my father died a few months before and to be frank I was a dick to pretty much everyone all of the time back then.”

Oh.

Alex swallows. He should’ve just studied the fact sheet. Now he feels as if he’s peeled back a layer of Henry and glimpsed a person inside. His soulmate, not some rich stuck up cardboard character.

He feels an identical desire to peel back a layer. “I just….this shit is hard and I didn’t get a handbook and I wasn’t born to this like you were and it’s pretty hard when everyone compares me to you, who apparently can do all this in your sleep and it doesn’t matter how hard I work to everyone else I’m just a bad imitation of you.”

Henry’s eyes are wide and very blue and suddenly they are very close. The air feels charged somehow, a faint low hum starts in Alex’s ears and thrums through his blood and he knows on some molecular, cellular level Henry feels it too. The bond between them flaring to life and burning all of their good intentions to ash. Alex wants desperately to kiss Henry and he’s just working though gathering his courage when Henry leans forward and kisses him. Soft, sure and achingly sweet and the sore part of him he just revealed to Henry feels soothed, at least a little.

Henry pulls away and Alex finds himself tilting forward, eager to follow, to keep doing whatever they hell they were doing because suddenly feels as if he’s one half of a puzzle piece slotted into its mate and he wants to keep the feeling.

“I’m sorry,” Henry swallows painfully, cheeks reddening and in a moment the prince is up and out of the room.

[scekrex]

Hi! I just wanted to say I've been obsessed with your work as of late, especially all of your Adam works. And since your taking requests I was wondering if you'll be interested in doing this?

Bottom!Sinner!Adam x Top!Overlord!Male Reader

okay, so Reader is one the oldest residents of Hell maybe even older than Zestial. He has a reputation that precedes him. A myth/warning that parents tell their children to watch out for. But not many actually know him, just of him. He can be cruel/ruthless, but also merciful. Basically he's Hell's equivalent to Hades, lol.

BUT! What's a Hades without his Persephone?

Adam came back as a Sinner and instead of going to the Hotel(that would most definitely destroy his pride) he went to navigate becoming a Sinner himself, since this is kinda a opportunity for him, he can be himself without worrying about Heavens judgmental eyes on him all the time.

My headcanon about him is that he loves gardening, so he made his own Flower Shop in Hell with all the random/different flowers all around. Because I'll be damned if he doesn't at least have any powers that connects himself to the Earth/Nature, he's literally made from it, with some fucking dirt and pixie dust, lol

So Reader is hosting a small ball/banquet in a few weeks for the everybodies whose an anybody(rich and wealthy/the Sins/the Overlords) and he order some servants to make flower orders for the upcoming event, and who did they pick? None other than Adam's Flower Shop(that is not it's official name).

Readers hears his servants talk about the owner with soft and warm voices, which he admitted made him curious. So he made an excuse, and made his way to the shop himself. Once he met the owner he was already taken with his beauty(already whipped, lol). As well as Adam, he never met anyone that was taller than him. He never met anyone that so Domineering and he liked it, liked it a lot. He had Adam arranged a bouquet that would be ready in time for the ball/banquet.

On a wim, the Reader asked Adam out on a date for the next day, which he agreed to. After a few dates transpired, until it was the day before the ball/banquet. And Adam made the first move😳, until Reader took control of the situation, which had Adam a begging, moaning mess, asking for His Hades to go faster, while the Reader is praising His Persephone for being so good.

Sorry if this is so long😅

Never. I repeat never apologize for giving me such a beautiful, detailed prompt ever again. I ate it up and turned into whatever the fuck this is. I'm sorry this took me so long but I wanted to do justice to the long prompt you wrote. I hope ya like it

Part 2

Tell me lover, tell me where have you been

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, low-key slow burn

note: not beta read bc fuck you

The time had come sooner than you had expected it to, the ball that was traditionally hosted every two hundred years was your responsibility this year and you were quite grateful for that - you could only imagine the chaos a host such as the VEEs would have brought. It was not that you disliked them, they just had their own ways of doing things and those said ways felt disrespectful in many ways. So it was your pleasure to show them how a traditional ball such as this would be hosted so that they could take notes and inspiration - not that they were actually going to acknowledge the work you were putting into organizing this. They would probably even complain about the lack of something. But that was not your problem right now.

Your problem right now were the eager little imps running through your mansion in order to prepare it for the upcoming ball, that was unnecessary in your eyes, given that there was still so much time between today and the ball, but whatever that helped your little servants to sleep at night. If they were thinking of it as necessary, you were okay with it.

“Cree,” you called out for your personal assistant as you walked through the halls of your mansion, looking for your favorite Imp. Cree was taller than the other Imps that worked for you, if only by a little, for a male Imp his horns were surprisingly small and instead of black, they were white. Cree however, was an absolute sweetheart, despite his grumpy face. The Imp came running the moment he had heard you calling out for him, eager to fulfill whatever task you were about to give him, “How can I help you, Sir?” You smiled softly at the small creature - his head was just reaching the lower part of your hip bone - that was due to Cree being small and you being taller than the average resident of Hell. You kneeled next to the helpful Imp to decrease the height difference and talk to him in a more respectful way. “Thank you, my little friend,” you greeted the creature, “I need you to task Vere and Kian with organizing the most hellish looking flowers they can find.” The little Imp was about to run off to do as he was told, before he was able to do so you gently held him back to add, “Please do not only consider the ones we already know, I do not care whom the flowers are sold by, all that is important is for them to fit the theme.” Cree nodded firmly and once you let go of his arm, he was gone, informing Vere and Kian - two other Imps that were working for you.

-

“Oh and the way the aura changes when you enter his little store - he’s a normal sinner but the way he managed to do that feels magical,” you heard Vere speaking as the little Imp walked down the hallway, you had never heard him speaking with such a dreamy voice - that might have been because Vere was one to complain about everything, not always was it supposed to be taken serious, but the little Imp sure liked to complain about everything and everyone. So him talking so warm heartedly about the store made you peek up in curiosity. “Oh and the owner himself? Let me tell you, Cree, you will never meet a person quite like him,” Kian added to Vere’s dreamy sounding description of the place and its owner. That caused you to be even more interested in the topic. “Is that supposed to be a good-” Cree started to question but was quickly interrupted by an eagerly explaining Kian, “It fucking is - he is…” The Imp had trouble finding the correct word to describe the person he had met, because how were you supposed to describe the brunette without playing it down? “Divine,” Vere hummed, sounding like he had just met God himself and he had told the little Imp all about the beauties of life.

You were not able to hold back any longer, not when your usually judgmental staff was talking so positively about the person they had just met.

So you got up from your seat in your office, took a quick look at the receipt Cree had given to you before he had gone back to doing the tasks he had yet to fulfill. A mental note was all it took before you rushed out of your office, grabbed your coat on the way out and yelled a loud, “I’m out doing business, don’t expect me home any time soon,” through the hallways. The Imps turned around in confusion - especially Cree, who knew that you had nothing scheduled for today. But before your personal assistant was able to hold you back the door fell shut loudly, informing the entire manor that you had just left. The Imp sighed in frustration as he turned back around to face the other two Imps, “Looks like we have to reschedule some things with Sir gone.”

Hell’s streets were surprisingly empty, a thing you rarely got to experience due to the pride ring’s overpopulation, but it was nice to not walk through thousands of sinners. The flower shop Vere and Kian had picked was close - closer than most shops in general were. Probably the reason why they had chosen it, they hated walking through hell’s crowded streets just as much as you did so you could not blame them, especially because the pride ring suffered from extreme overpopulation.

The building wasn’t much to look at from the outside, it looked like every other average building in hell - maybe they had been talking about something else? Had they grabbed food on their way home? You didn’t know, yet you decided to give it a chance and so you opened the door to the little flower shop and the moment you set foot in it, you felt something shift. The aura felt lighter, easier to carry, the air smelled beautiful - not too overwhelmingly sweet and not like too much, it smelled almost divine. The colors the walls were painted in were so different from Hell’s usual colors, they were bright. A beautiful lilac caused the room to appear bigger than it was. The floor was made out of solid wood - or it was made to look that way, you were unable to tell. The shelves were painted in a shade of blue you would describe as skyblue - yes the sky down in Hell was red and nothing but red - but through the portals to Heaven which you had seen once or twice during the early exterminations, you knew the sky up above was blue - this exact shade of blue.

“You gonna stare at that shit all day? If you do I'll fucking charge your ass for it. You look like you can fucking afford it,” a annoyed voice mumbled from behind you. In a swift yet elegant motion you turned around to look at the person that was speaking to you only to spot the most holy creature you had ever seen with your very own eyes. The man behind the counter was resting his head on his hand, watching you with eyes that seemed more curious than annoyed, his entire body language told you that the tall man seemed to hold a lot of curiosity for you in general. You chuckled softly, before you shook your head, “As much as I would adore to spend longer in this divine feeling place with a person as good-looking as you - I am afraid I have plans that I am sadly unable to cancel.”

The tall brunette straightened his back and raised an eyebrow at your words - had you just complimented him for his looks? That had not happened since- since he had been reborn as a sinner. But his cocky tongue never failed him and so he responded, “Mr. Busy got shit to do that’s more important than talking to the fucking Adam? Yeah, I fucking doubt it bitch.” That caused you to frown, the first man was not supposed to be a sinner so if this man was speaking the truth - which you highly doubted - then he must have been a terrible person. Not that you were any better, you were just as much a sinner as he was. Yes, you were more experienced and more powerful, but in the end you and him were both rotten to the core. “Charming, quite charming, Adam,” you hummed in amusement. And while the brunette must have thought his reaction to your words wasn’t noticed by you, you had seen how his eyes had left yours for a split second. “But as much as I would love to tell you that I came for you, I did not,” you explained, trying to lead the conversation to a more business speaking one, though you had to admit the brunette in front of you was quite adorable.

Adam however made it quite hard to talk business, not that you truly minded. Yes, your schedule would get messed up, but you had already thrown that out of the window the second you had spontaneously left to see the flower store you were currently in. “Ay, you migh’ve not come for me yet but I sure can change that if your sexyness wants to accompany me in the fucking back,” a confident grin was on his lips as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the soft, fluffy mess out of his face. You saw something twitch and flicker behind the broad man - a tail. Truly interesting. “As tempting as your sweet invitation is, I have to decline. Business sadly can’t wait - at least not today,” for a moment you thought this through, then you decided to simply see where this would lead you. “How about tomorrow though? I could pick you up and we could have lunch together - how does that sound handsome?”

Adam turned his head to face the ground, he seemed to be genuinely thinking about it, something you appreciated dearly. Then his eyes met yours again and he nodded before he responded, “Sure, can’t see why the fuck not.” He shrugged lazily before he pointed at you with his index finger and quickly added, “But food’s on you.” To that you nodded - it only made sense to you that lunch would be on you considering that you had been the one inviting him, not the other way around.

“Now talk business hotstuff, even though I’d rather have ya talking dirty to me.”

-

The first date had gone so well that the both of you started to see each other regularly - that meant almost every other day. Something your Imps did not like all that much. Seeing someone in a romantic way took up a lot of time - time you technically did not have given the upcoming ball. But you, Adam and the Imps had managed to get everything done in time.

And that was why you and Adam were at his place. The first man had taken the day off to enjoy it with you - something you had asked of him and that had seemed quite important to you when you had requested him to do so. And given that the brunette liked it better when you two spent time together, there had been no second thought, no hesitation.

“You’re quiet,” Adam addressed the most obvious thing as you mindlessly played with his hair. The both of you were sitting on the first man’s bed, your back against the headboard and his back against your chest, his ass was seated between your legs and he seemed to really enjoy having you that close to him.

A quiet hum fell from your lips in response before you exhaled loudly, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something.” Adam leaned forwards a little so he was able to turn his head in order to look at you. Where this conversation would lead he did not know and at that moment he wasn’t sure if he wanted to figure out where it would lead him to. Would you quit seeing him? Had you finally decided that you had enough of his bitchy attitude and would leave him too?

“I know we have only been seeing each other for a few weeks, I know we have yet so much to talk about and to confess, but I’d love to have you at my place tomorrow. I want you to accompany me at the ball,” you began, as you looked down at the other male with hope in your eyes. Though if he were to decline, you would live, you’d like it better if he were to agree. “Sure,” Adam said, visibly relaxing at the fact that you were neither quitting to see him nor leaving him in any form or way. “As my date, my partner even,” you finished, ignoring the brunette’s little interruption. Those words however caused the first man to turn around between your legs to properly face you. “Does that mean I get to fucking kiss you in front of all those fucking important and filthy rich people?” his eyes shone so pretty as he asked that question as if that would be the biggest achievement in all of his afterlife - and maybe it was.

You chuckled at the man, grinning lazily, “Even better. You get to kiss me whenever you desire.” And without another word the first man was onto you. His hands pressed against your shoulders and therefore kept you pinned against the headboard as his lips finally met yours - oh how long you had to wait for that to happen. His lips felt smooth and soft against yours and Adam was quick to prove that he was a magnificent kisser.

The kiss did not stay soft for very long though, you both made it obvious that you craved the other, that you two were longing for skin on skin contact. You wanted and desired each other and it was not only lust speaking, it was also love. The purest form of love you had ever felt. AdamÄs hands roamed from your shoulders over your chest and all the way down to your hips. Once his hands reached their destination he gave your hips a light squeeze before pulling them up a little to press his pelvis against yours.

A groan fell from your lips and met the lustful hiss of Adam - that was when you decided it was time for a switch. You liked seeing Adam so confident, so dominant, you truly did. But a thing you had learned over the past couple of weeks was that you liked the first man even better when he was all flustered - submissive even. So you skillfully caught his wrists in one of your hands, raised them above his head and leaned forwards. That action of you resulted in Adam falling backwards, landing onto the soft mattress with a surprised gasp. You found yourself on top of him, sitting on his hips to keep him from twisting the positions again as you pinned his hands firmly against the mattress above his head. A whine escaped Adam as he tried to thrust his hips upwards and was met with friction he had not been expecting.

“Oh fuck,” the first man mumbled when his lust clouded eyes met your burning ones. “Already on it, handsome,” you growled eagerly.

[jejuboo-s]

JUST A SIP.

PAIRING: Vampire!J. Wonwoo x F. Reader

W. COUNT: 1.4K

GENRE: Complete smut, nothing much else

SUMMARY: While shaving your legs up to your thighs in the shower, you accidentally wound yourself, blood spilling out of the small cut. In a hurry, you contemplate on going outside and asking Wonwoo to help. But you really couldn’t. Why? Because your boyfriend was a vampire.

EXPLICIT WARNINGS UNDER THE CUT MINORS DNI.

WARNINGS: Name calling (pretty, whore, etc.), mention of razor (for shaving), obvious mention of blood, Wonwoo is kinddaaa mean, slapping (face), Wonwoo gets cockier as reader gets needier, consent is sexy, cum-play, reader puts up with Wonwoo’s shit easily, she/her + female genitalia used/referenced

A/N: long.. long overdue. i haven’t done a work over 1k since my mingyu “stop kissing me please” and that was like two months ago, if i remember correctly. please do let me know what i could make better and if you have any suggestion for me in the near future, thank you. >3<

You hissed, looking at your thigh, you noticed a large cut from your razor. Feeling hot water fall from your shower head back onto your thigh just made the situation even more uncomfortable, so you decided to finish up your shower and head to your bedroom quickly.

Wrapping a towel around your exposed and wet body, you slowly realized that you really weren’t supposed to be going out of the bathroom with blood dripping from your thigh. Especially with Wonwoo home. You see, your boyfriend was a vampire. Although some things were harder to do with your irregular boyfriend, it didn’t stop you from acknowledging how kind, smart, caring, and handsome he was.

But really, you didn’t know how to really… approach this situation. You had two options, one seemed better than the other, yet the so-called “better” one would end up having more cons.

Option A: Turn off the shower, try grabbing a paper towel and wetting it to pat on the cut. Wait until all the blood has been patted off (estimated around ten minutes).

Cons? It would sting like hell, well, sure it’d sting even more if you got Wonwoo to do it with rubbing alcohol (if he could even withstand just looking at the wound), but it was always better for another person to do it. Plus, all the bacteria you’d imagine could contaminate the cut.. just. gross.

Option B: Walk outside with your towel, disturbing Wonwoo in whatever activity he’s doing inside of the living room. Also, interrupting whatever craving he had before and substituting it with your blood.

There technically weren’t many cons, but the last time he’d had your blood was when you two began dating, and let’s just say; it didn’t end so painlessly.

“Baby? Wonwoo?” You called out from inside the bathroom, loud enough for him to hear, quiet enough to not disturb him.

“Hm? Pretty, why don’t you get out of the bathroom to talk to me? You know I like face-to-face conversation better than ones in between walls.”

“Well uhm, do.. Do you still have that rubbing alcohol? And an uhm, a bandage?” You asked meekly.

“Why, are you.. are you bleeding?..” He paused in between his words, and you could tell he did because of the lack of noise coming from whatever activity he’d been doing before.

“Yeah, I just accidentally cut myself while shaving,” you bit your lip. “And there’s nothing really in the cabinets to help. So.. I assumed that asking you would be best.”

“Baby, you do know I don’t wanna hurt you. I haven’t tasted your blood, that rich blood for two years..” His mouth almost watered thinking about it. “I could go overboard and I want to put you over anything else.”

“You know, I wouldn’t mind if you took a small sip.. It’s fine, really, you always do so much for me. It’s unfair for you to give me everything I want but not vice-versa.”

Silence filled the air.

“Come out here.”

Although so bold with your words, inside you were quite the nervous wreck. You opened the door knob with caution, your attention turning to Wonwoo, who had some cheap Netflix show paused.

“Where’s the cut?” you pointed to your inner thigh while your boyfriends’ undivided attention went to the tempting bloody wound.

“So, what you’re basically telling me is that you want me to suck an intimate part of your body free of blood,” that same blood rushed to your cheeks and down to an even more intimate part of your body. “How naughty.”

You sat down on the couch, manspreading. “May I?” Wonwoo asked. It was obvious he wouldn’t take no as an answer by the way his mouth hovered over the cut. But either way, you’d still utter the words.

“Yes.”

Wonwoo sunk his tongue onto the cut, making sure not to waste any last drop, since he knew he’d probably never have this chance again in a while.

On the other hand, you, with your hand trembling scratching at his head, it felt—somewhat pleasurable. Way more pleasurable than it did when he first fed off of you.

“Oh, ‘Woo.. Fuck,” you moaned feeling his warm tongue on the cool patch of body. “Didn’t expect it to be this good..”

He looked up at you after ridding of all the blood dripping down your thigh, with bloody lips, he hovered over your neck and left kiss marks all over.

“M gonna bite you, please, stand still.”

Your neck fell back, providing more space for him to do his thing. Wonwoo let his sharp canines graze over your neck to find a place where he wouldn’t puncture a vein. Before sinking his teeth in, he paused.

“I beg, stand still, you’re shaking subconsciously baby. I promise ‘m not gonna hurt you.”

You tried your hardest but still, it wasn’t enough to ensure that Wonwoo wouldn’t accidentally sink his teeth into the wrong part of your neck. So he just kept a grip on your neck and shoulders.

And then he sank his teeth in.

First: it hurt, it hurt like a bitch. You swore you wouldn’t get used to it, but you still let Wonwoo drink from you like the good girlfriend you were. You just kept an insane clutch on his back, probably breaking skin in the process of doing so.

After a minute or so, your body felt lighter, like a feather, almost. You felt dizzy, not the nauseous type of dizzy; but really, just a feel good type of dizzy. The more he drank, the less pain there was. It was getting substituted with pleasure, it seemed.

“Wonwoo…” You croaked out, hands traveling from his hair and back and hair again. You didn’t know what to do, really, you were in a situation overwhelmed with pleasure.

Your hips bucked and grinded on his pelvis, in response to this, he loosened his grip on your shoulder, bringing it down to your hips, making sure to keep them still while he feeds.

“Woo, babe, hurry. ‘Wan you in my mouth, pretty please..”

Feeling a shadow tower over you, you opened your eyes to see your boyfriend no longer all over your neck, but with bloody teeth and an even bloodier mouth. You brought up your hand to wipe it off, only to just smear blood on his cheek.

God was he hot.

“Good girls wait patiently, don’t they? Fuckin’ whore. You know I haven't tasted your blood in a while, you could’ve been at least a little patient but no, you want to warm up ‘Woos fat cock don’t ya?”

His words hurt, but they also made you all the more horny. You wasted no time in getting off of the couch and letting yourself fall to your knees, your pretty little tongue peeking, waiting for him to take off his briefs.

Although having seen Wonwoo’s cock for the umpteenth time this year, you’d never get over how pretty it looked, hard and covered in precum. Just imagining how far inside he’d be with his dick covered in your spit was complete heaven.

“Open a little more, baby.” He held your chin down, watching as it fell slack with one simple command.

He slid inside, moaning, feeling your cheeks hollow out onto the sides of his dick. It took you a second to stop gagging, sure he wasn’t the longest you’d ever had, but he sure was veiny and thick.

“Oh my fuck,” he kept one hand tangled in your hair and the other to comb his hair back. “You look so damn pretty sucking dick, my dick and only mine.”

You let go with a pop, spit dribbling down your chin and down to your cleavage, his cum filling your mouth. Caressing your rosy pink cheek, he then landed a harsh slap on the flesh.

“C’mere.” Wonwoo held your chin, lifting yourself by your hands, he pressed a long and open-mouthed kiss on your lips, liquid seeping through eachothers’ mouths.

The sturdy towel that’d been holding on for life onto your body finally fell, your boobs pressing onto his shirt whilst deep into the kiss.

Pulling away, a string of saliva and the heavy cloud of lust was the only thing that connected you two, and, well, that bite mark of yours he’d left on your neck.

“God, I love you Wonie.” You gasped, trying to catch and steady your breath. He grinned back, now staring at unbroken skin on your neck.

“Right. So, round two?”

[chaifootsteps]

putting aside the way HB continually lies to its audience and spreads no good very bad ideas about what abuse and sexual coercion is or isn't to a fanbase that skews disturbingly young for a sec

from a creative writing perspective, Stolas is like one of the most frustrating characters to have ever been

like, there's three or four different versions of him at this point. he was a competent antagonistic force once. he had hidden depths.

now he's a pathetic passive whiny creature who is somehow a prince despite doing most of his duties poorly. he has the interior mental landscape of a child. he stakes his happiness on a lower class man who he's trapped with him through his economic need, and he blames that man for his own inability to handle his feelings like an adult.

he wears a godawful romper (sorry, I just can't get past the outfit redesign. it's so distractingly bad)

it just really strikes me watching episodes like The Circus when he as literal imp servants from childhood, or Western Energy when he goes to a cafe where the whole gimmick is imps pouring tea for bluebloods, that like

there could have been a character here, if the show just acknowledged the power Stolas had been born into and is so used to he doesn't even seem to notice that his monthly hookup is the same class as servants he's used and abused his entire life

if the show recognized what a sad wet cat Stolas is, and not in the 'feel sorry for him!!!' type of way

instead we're getting increasingly liberal lectures on 'royalty have feelings just like everyone else, they can't help being rich :(' and all the setup - the mirroring of Blitzo being sold as a child then as an adult to Stolas, the class difference, the rich pitting poor against poor - all goes down the drain, because the show can't bear to have us judge Stolas even slightly

and on top of all that, he isn't even good at wielding the power and privilege he does have. he apparently only bothers using his book once a month for his job, he doesn't memorize his spells, he doesn't teach his oh so important heir magic to defend herself with, he lends out his grimoire with no safety precautions as long as he can be dicked down once a month

funniest thing is if you point out Stolas sucks at his job on top of all his other flaws you'd probably get the 'they're in Hell!' excuse

if that's the case why does the show keep insisting he's perfect? why isn't there more of an Always Sunny sense that we're supposed to enjoy the characters sucking at everything? I maybe could have liked a show like that

There isn't even all that much I can say to add to this...you took the words right out of my mouth, every single one.

[decodedlvr]

As long as I’m with You

Steve Harrington x You (short)

Summary: Steve wakes up to another bad night you’ve had this week

Warnings: hurt/comfort, talks of poor physical and mental health, doctors, suicidal ideation, medication use, drug use, chronic health issues, BPD if you squint, disabilities, use of the word “girl” x times, negative self talk, mentions of sex, angst, fluff~~

This is based off my own experiences and inspired by my pal Morgan’s version; feel free to check hers out

Tick tick tick

The clock strikes 12 and then 1, 3, 5am in the morning, no sleep no rest it’s an every day cycle. The same shitty cycle.

It’s a new year, but not a new you.

Sitting in your walker in front of the excruciatingly bright television screen, high as a kite, everything in existence running through your mind 100 mph, sometimes the weed helps the pain. Sometimes it induces it or even makes it worse. Right now it’s doing nothing for you. Looking over at your loved one sound asleep. You don’t want to bother him with your whines or crying. So you just sit there silence, tears rolling down your cheeks; while you watch some bullshit on YouTube.

Sniff Sniff

“Baby?”

Shit.

“..yea?” you say in a whispered tone

“Are you ok? what’s wrong?”

“Ah, you already know”, you’ve used that line probably over a million times

Steve comes along your side expecting a few dried tears, but his eyes widen when he’s sees the collar around your shirt bitten, snot dribbling down your mouth and throat, crouching down, he lies his head onto your thigh looking up at you, “Talk to me sweetheart”

“No.”

“Hey, I know you’re hurting”—

“GOOD FOR YOU! Congratulations you know I’m hurting, you know I’ve been hurting for fucking years. I’m glad you’ve acknowledged it unlike some people”you sniffle getting up in a hurry to take a piss as he follows with sad eyes leaning against the door frame

“I’m fucking tired, I’m so goddamn exhausted nobody will ever know what I’m dealing with!”, you say wiping your ass not bothering to wash your hands, “I can’t do anything I can’t run, I can’t jump, can’t go to the stupid, fucking grocery store without one of those motorized carts.. my back hurts, my fucking knees are throbbing, stupid fucking nerves won’t calm down FUCK! It’s not like I can get in the bathtub to calm my muscles down. Nothing is helping! No medication, no PT, no injections, no nothing! Why?? am I just resistant to any source of help or treatment? I-I can’t even lay in the goddamn bed to sleep. That’s all I have left is rest!! What is rest!? I don’t know what the hell that even is”

“I know baby I know”—

“NO YOU DONT STEVE, all you know is what you see. I wouldn’t wish on our worst enemy, my worst enemy to feel what I feel. That’s how bad it all hurts. The most evil, sick and twisted person in this world, I would never wish this upon. I just..”, getting dizzy you collapse on the bed sobbing into your own hands, then eventually into Steve’s shoulder as he rocks you, tears spilling from his own eyes—

“Nobody cares, nobody wants to help me. nobody cares unless I’m rich and can afford to give them any and ALL the things off my back, but I can’t. Even with the money you make it will never be enough to help the poor girl who’s too young to have any kind of issue. It’s ���all in my head” I’m just fucking crazy. I could break my own neck and still be told it’s only from anxiety. Nobody cares just”—

“I care” he exhales

“It doesn’t matter if you care, all your care is useless, all your help is worthless to me because it gets me nowhere. Nobody’s love and care gets me nowhere. It’s nothing all but fucking false hope. Don’t you get that? None of you still to this day seems understand that. Stop praying for me to get better. It’s never going to happen. I can’t take it anymore.. I just wanna die! All I wish for is to die but, I can’t even have that. It’s like all of you want me here, to live and suffer for the rest of my life for y’all, it’s not fair, fuck that”, your trembling, body in fight or flight

“Don’t say that, you know I’d do anything to take your pain away”

“It doesn’t matter what you’d do because you’re not a doctor. You’re not a professional, you can’t help me get better.. sucks to hear but it’s the truth Steve..fuck”—

Steve’s really trying not to beat himself up over your words, he knows you’re in pain, it comes from a place of anger, frustration and fear

“I have all these pain medications I could easily take all at once, so I’ll never have to wake up in this position ever again. Why can’t I do it huh? I could end right here right now you never have to suffer again, but I just d-don’t; If anything, I’m the most selfless person for staying alive for YOU just so I can be alive but in pain all over again for YOU!”, your tone getting higher and higher in pitch

“I-I’m sorry.. I wish I knew the right words to say baby”, he’s trying his best to stay strong for you

“You’ve got to be sick of me, tired of me. All I do is cause more money to come out of your pockets, more exhaustion, more burdening, more crying, more everything bad for you. You already deal with your own shit. I do nothing but make your own mentality worse, hell you’re making your own self worse being with a person like me. A broken and useless excuse of a human being. You deserve somebody who can go hiking with you, go to the beach, travel with, who can do the bare minimum. Can’t even fuck you properly—

“STOP! Stop that right now” he shouts

You freeze because he’s never raised his voice at you, atleast not on purpose at such a vulnerable time

“I hate it too. You know it hurts me to know that you hurt and I’m sorry that I can’t take the pain away from you. My sweet, sweet girl I’m so sorry that nobody has given you the chance to hear your voice, to help heal you..but I’m gonna make you the same promise I make you almost every single night. As long as I’m with you, I will try my best with all my power to make it a little bit more bearable for you to be here, and I am so grateful that you are still here and choose to be here with me for us to be together. I know you hurt, but as long as you’re with me, I’m going to do my best to put a smile on your pretty face, beautiful sunshine of a smile because you’re my sunshine.. y-your smile gives me life did you know that?”

You nod. He tells you all the time

“I- I’m tired for wishing to feel ok for my birthdays, every Christmas. All the shirts and posters you got me for Christmas? I haven’t even touched them yet, you know why? Because the selfish person in me doesn’t give a fuck about none of it. The only thing I care about and want and NEED is pain relief and that’s too much to ask for isn’t it? Apparently wanting to be better in the world it’s too much to ask for”

“You deserve to feel better”, he says while his hand travels up your back to rub your tense neck, “You deserve to be free from all of this and I can’t give that to you. You’re not selfish baby you’re hurting. I love you for you. I knew what I was signing up for, and if I didn’t want that I wouldn’t be here right now with you. I know the sacrifices Ill have to make, the tears I’ll have to shed, the strength it’ll take me to pick you up when you’re down, but I fell in love with you, how you are, and who you are”

“Who are you kidding Steve, you don’t even know who I am. The real me. I don’t even know who I am anymore. I wish you met me when I wasn’t sick then maybe you wouldn’t be so stressed out a-and.. and,” you start sobbing again, it’s all too overwhelming

“Hey, hey look at me, no. I met you at the right time. You need me just as much as I need you. You may not think you’re worth nothing but you’re worth everything to me. Yeah you have a good and bad days..—

“I’ve had nothing but bad days for the past few months Steve”-

“I know, I see it, I hear it and I witness it, I may not can feel it, but at the end of it all, you still love me. You’re still here. You still want to cook for me. You still get up to brush your teeth and I’m so proud of you for still trying to care for yourself. That’s the biggest job you’ll ever have, and it’s been a very hard job hasn’t it?

You nod, as he nods with you

“Yeah, it has, but you don’t have to do it alone anymore. I want to provide for you. I want to take care of you. You’re my girl, you deserve so much and as long as I’m with you, I will try every day, every hour, every second or minute, to make sure you know how loved, how great and how amazing you are. How great and amazing you’re doing for yourself and for me. How strong you are”—

—“im tired of having being strong all the time”, interrupting him

“I know you are. You are so strong for being on this earth, even when you don’t want to be. I wouldn’t ask for anybody else, you’re it for me always. Will you continue to let me try to make it better for you every day? To take care of you?”, he squats in front of you, cupping your wet cheeks, kissing your forehead

“But Stevie.. you know you’re getting your own hopes up because nothing you do helps either and I feel like a piece of shit for saying that because”—

“I know what you mean, you don’t have to be sorry. I understand you may not have hope but I do. All my Hope goes towards you and it always will. You are the most important thing in my life. I’m not gonna give up on you, on me or on us, ok sunshine?”

..”okay”, you repeat rubbing your temples

“Head hurt, darling?”

“yes”

“From crying too hard?”

You nod, looking away in shame, “It’s okay, I’ll get your Migrane cap from the freezer and i’ll set your pillows up how you like, just sit tight”, he says it standing then pausing at the doorway, looking over his shoulder, “I love you”

“luv you—

“Hmm? What was that, I couldn’t hear you” he exclaims

“I said love you gosh.. shut up”, you barely crack a smile

That was enough to get him through the rest of the night.

[enchi-elm]

✨ weekend wip exposure club ✨

rules: post 7 sentences/a snippet of an unfinished work

I will do you one better, I will just post the whole thing as I'm not planning on taking it anywhere. Thanks, @strangegeology, for the tag!

Unbeta'd, unedited, etc. etc.

tagging @tortoisesshells, @ladysarai, @thenwhatthefukcisthis, @valerileygreen because I thiiiink you weren't tagged yet!

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

one - love

Eames comes across Arthur at the tennis court. He wants to stay back, observe the man from a distance, but Arthur spots him as soon as he’s within view. His game face doesn’t change—if he’s scowling at Eames’ appearance, Eames can’t tell. He might be hitting the ball a little harder and his opponent stumbles as he lunges, sprawling flat against the court as the ball hits the chain-link fence.

Arthur walks to his bag and grabs his towel, holding up a finger and nodding at his opponent. He wipes his face, walking over swiftly to where Eames stands.

Before Eames can make a comment about his tennis whites, or even ask what the hell Arthur is doing playing at a country club, Arthur cuts him off.

"What are you doing here? Whatever this is, I don’t have time for this right now.”

Hello to you, too. But fine, if he wants to get right to business.

“I have a job for you,” Eames says.

“I don’t work for you.”

“No, but I thought you might deign to work alongside me again. For the right price.”

Arthur gives him a wary look, then glances at his opponent, who’s subtly trying to ingest as many glucose tubes as Arthur’s brief distraction will let him.

“I’m busy,” he says, turning away.

“I’ll be at the bar,” Eames calls out, without acknowledgement from the point man.

Arthur goes back to his position, tossing his towel aside en route. His opponent wipes his mouth and gets into position to serve, already grimacing.

Eames watches Arthur return the serve as if he’s decapitating someone.

Eames knows little about tennis and can’t gauge the length of the game before Arthur shows up at the country club, racket and gym bag slung over his shoulder. Eames is deep in conversation with another patron—swindling him blind and leading him on besides—but he gives a thin smile at the younger man’s approach.

“So what do you want?” Arthur asks, and Eames can tell from no tell at all: he won his match.

“Arthur, let me introduce you to Mr. Ian Thorpe. A financier from Atlanta.”

Arthur shakes hands, just this side of civil.

“Pleasure.”

“Your friend’s been spinning me quite the yarn,” the financier says. He’s a forgettable sort of rich—the right colour suit, but the wrong cut. “He’d have me believing in the investment of a lifetime.”

“He’s a crook,” Arthur says, to a chuckle from Eames. “And a liar. But he gets results.”

The man laughs and rises. “Well, maybe I will give you a call then. I’m sure we can find a way to do business.”

“The pleasure is all yours,” Eames says, greasily, packing everything into the lift of his lips that might otherwise be transmitted in a wink. Arthur watches the man leave and takes the other chair at the table.

“He’s not worth your time,” he says.

Eames casually flashes a black leather wallet—not his. “He already has been.”

“I doubt he’ll miss the cash.”

Eames flips it open and pulls out the driver’s license, perusing it. “It’s not the cash that interests me.”

“He’s your target.”

Eames puts away the wallet. “Or maybe just a person of interest.” He focuses on Arthur, a transparent smile on his face. It could mean anything.

“What are you doing here?”

“I’m here to recruit you. If such a thing is even possible—you must be booked well into next year.”

“What’s the job?”

“An oil man. Bit of a twisted one.”

“Let me guess. Inception?” It wouldn’t be the first offer Arthur’s had this month. It wouldn’t be the first of the week. Whoever blabbed—and Arthur has his theories—made sure that their little reverse-heist was on the lips of every extractor in the industry. Not because they’d tried—God, lots of people had tried—but because Fischer Morrow had folded within six months after Fischer Sr.’s death. Even Arthur hadn’t expected such a swift return.

Eames hums, sympathetic to Arthur’s irritation. He must be hearing a lot of it, too. “You know that the men’s world record for the 100 m dash was at a stalemate for 12 years before it was broken? All it took was one man to crack it and it got beat twice again in four years.”

Arthur pushes down the urge to correct him. It was 14 years, not 12. And it took another five years for it to get broken again. But he knows what he’s saying. For the longest time, Inception was only theory.

“Why, did someone else do it?” That would be interesting.

“A sucker born every two weeks, if the rumour mill is to be believed. Personally, I doubt it.”

“Why, ‘cause you weren’t involved?”

“I was going to say,” Eames says, lifting his glass, “because you weren’t.”

The flattery works, for one unexpected second—Arthur feels a warmth in his neck. He pulls out his water bottle and drinks deeply.

“So what is the job? Extraction? I’m not doing more than two levels. I’m not exactly keen for another one of Yusuf’s concoctions.”

“That’s a shame. I can’t get him off my phone. Says he’s never had such a willing test subject. I think he’d work for free if it meant he got another whack at you.”

“Not a chance. Why aren’t you answering my question?”

“Because I’m savouring this time together before you storm off to annihilate some other poor sod on the court.”

Arthur narrows his eyes. “Why would I storm off?”

“Because you’re not going to like how much you’ll want to do this.”

Arthur listens as Eames tells him the job. He gives it ten steady seconds before he stands and walks away without another word.

“I’ll be in touch!” Eames calls and Arthur gives him the finger without looking back.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

Best and Worst of Both Worlds (Part 27)

Tw: religious mentions, short chapter

its mostly filler and like transition material, but only 2 of the options will introduce a new character which may or may not be relevant to the story

man what the hell am i talking about i barely follow my own rules, just chose what yall think best

VOTE BELOW FIRST 20 VOTES ONLY COUNT

Part 28

"Alright! Let's go!" Evangeline hooked her arms around yours and dragged you away. Montgomery had to catch up after you and her.

__

"Will you shut the hell up?" Montgomery hissed through his teeth.

"I'm just saying, (name) wouldn't have agreed with you saying 'Anita Bath' if you weren't stinky." She took another bite of her pepperoni pizza slice.

"Why are you friends with her?" Montgomery turned to you, exasperated and desperately wishing that you would send her away.

You shrugged and ate your slice. You were secretly grateful that Montgomery came by because you forgot to bring Yves's lunch again. If it wasn't for him, you would have starved until evening. Or you're forced to use your allowance from Yves and Montgomery to buy something- you'd rather save that money for something else.

Then something came to his mind. "Hey, goldie. Ya' said something happened between y'all and that freak this mornin'. What was that about?"

You tensed up, but Evangeline is as cheerful and calm as ever.

"Oh, he just wanted me to stay away from (name). That's all." You stared at her in disbelief. Why would she disclose that?

Montgomery furrowed his eyebrows. "Why?"

She tapped her chin and hummed. "I think he's jealous."

Montgomery scoffed in response. "Typical of those rich bastards. They'll try to isolate their victims so they ain't got no escape until they're done with them."

You felt like your eyes were about to pop out of your sockets when Evangeline nodded in agreement. Who's side is she on?

"And it's as if (name) would want a lil' stuck-up brat like you." Evangeline shot him a nasty look and placed her hands on her hips.

"Hey, that wasn't nice."

"Whatever, twerp." He dismissed her, taking another slice and handing it to you, seeing that you just finished your first one. You're too hungry to care what this gesture might mean, so you just take it off his hands.

"Stinky." She stuck her tongue out at him. Montgomery flipped her off.

This is... a very sibling-like dynamic you're witnessing. Although Montgomery outwardly dislikes her, you think that they're working together towards something. And it's making your gut instinct go haywire.

You wish Yves is here so badly. He knows what to do.

You turn your head to look at the lockers where your phone is charging.

While they were bickering, you stood up and went to check on your phone. You pressed the correct combination of numbers on the keypad and waited for the locker door to swing open. You unplugged your phone and prayed hard it was enough to turn it on.

A minute has passed and it still isn't turning on. You sighed, replacing the cord and allowing it to charge longer.

You returned to your seat, only to see Evangeline and Montgomery listening to a third person standing up next to them. They're holding a stack of papers, and your unwanted companions are holding a piece in their hands.

"Hi there." They greeted you. "I was talking to your friends about our club, here is a flyer with all our details. Feel free to contact us if you're interested."

You flip the glossy paper over, it says:

"Like to talk? Like to convince? Want to make friends? Join our debate club!"

The stranger showed you, Evangeline, and Montgomery where their phone numbers are located on the paper, the names of their social media pages, and meeting times. Which was apparently from 12pm to 5pm daily.

"Don't y'all have classes at these times?" Montgomery asked.

"Well, not all of us do. Anyone can feel free to come in or leave as they like. The session concludes at five in the evening, though."

All three of you gave them a response of acknowledgment.

"We hope to see new faces! I'll get going now, bye!" They walked away and began conversing with other people, promoting their club.

You stared at it. People were promoting their clubs last semester, but you never joined any of them. Maybe you should heed Yves's advice and put yourself out there so that you're not stuck with Evangeline, Montgomery, and Yves as your only friends.

"What do you think, (name)?" Evangeline asked you. "Are you going to join? I'll come with if you do."

You didn't respond verbally, but your body language should be expressing discomfort.

"Sweetheart, I think you're better off joinin' this." Montgomery took out a folded brochure from his pocket.

You tried your best to smoothen it, but it was crumpled beyond repair.

It seems to be a promotional medium for the university's youth group. Sponsored by the Catholic Church.

He wants you to join... a Christian club?

"Y'all should be findin' Jesus. You'll learn a thing or two about work-life balance from those bible studies."

You saw a mischievous glint in Evangeline's baby blues and you know that it's not going to end well.

"Wow, Monty! That's so Christian of you to harass (name), and give them gifts and food in exchange for something you want from them! Look! (Name) is already following in the steps of Christ. Like in 1 Peter, chapter 2, verse 20: When you do good and suffer for it you endure, this is a gracious thing in the sight of God. Great job taking his bullshit!" She clapped her hands and giggled madly.

Montgomery shook his head and looked at her with great incredulity. "What the hell are you even talkin' about?! Y'know what, I don't care. Run ya' mouth all you want."

He turned to you. "Trust me, if you wanna join a club, yer' better off joinin' this one." He rubbed your forearms in his hands.

"Didn't you say we're grown? (Name) can totally make their own decision on which club they want to join."

Montgomery narrowed his eyes at her but didn't say anything in retaliation for once.

"Which club will you be joining, (name)?"

[prince-liest]

oh my god…. prince……. you can’t do this to me. you’re saying next fic has vox getting fucked, focuses on vox’s transness (AH), AND ALSO HES ON THE OFF SEE SAW OF HIS RELATIONSHIP WITH VAL?????? ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL MEE?!!?!!????? I THINK I MIGHT ACTUALLY COMBUST. and bc another anon asked abt how alastor views the violence in voxval’s relationship, i have Another thought on the matter. as much as alastor looks down on vox, they can be Very similar sometimes. they are both egomaniacs and very prideful. i don’t think vox, without outside interference, would ever ADMIT that the violence he faces is 1) something he truly hates AND 2) out of his control. he can’t admit he hates it, because then why isn’t he stopping it? that would be admitting to not being powerful enough or strong enough. and hello, 50’s toxic masculinity coming through, he CANT be a victim of domestic violence. he’s a powerful, rich, and important man. it all comes down to perceived weakness. so, the solution is to pretend he’s mostly fine with it. sure, he can act disgruntled and upset in the moment, but i don’t think he’d ever let himself take it seriously. because then he has to start drawing lines in the sand, and what happens then? will val look down on him? will he lose val? yeah, he is not risking that over a problem he mostly refuses to acknowledge exists. and as you said, this is all happening in the setting of hell, where ultra violence IS the norm, and vox himself is excessively violent. it’s the most delicious 50 layer cake of fucked up-ness.

RANT ASIDE THO. i have a question. 2. do you ever plan on having vox interact with the hotel crew outside of angel? ANDDDD what would charlie’s reaction be to their friendship/situationship/ kinda love affair. i think she could add SOOOOO much hilarity and Intense Emotions to this series. not that the boys haven’t been doing their part in that so far. charlie just intensifies everything she does, god bless her. -🌓

The "getting fucked" bit and the trans conversation bit are directly related to and relevant to each other, and frankly I'm just very happy to be out here writing the specific flavors of deeply queer shenanigans that I'm writing, and to have people actively enjoy that. It genuinely means a lot to me that I've strayed so goddamn far out of the bounds of good old top/bottom yaoi archetypes that introduced me to fandom and yet have a wildly enthusiastic audience nonetheless. So, that was my long way of saying that you bring me a lot of fucking joy, anon, hahaha.

As for everything you're saying about Vox, power, and masculinity: YOU! points dramatically at you YOU GET IT! YOU GET IT!!!!!! Everyone just read this, this is it, this is the thing. I have no notes to add. There is a reason that the main point he raises the moment he actually says something vulnerable about it (before he immediately cuts himself off) is a complaint that he's an overlord, so why—?

And with regards to your questions: I'm not gonna lie, my actual planning for 666 is usually, like, extremely by the seat of my pants. I plan nothing except, "Oh, shit, had an idea for the next one. Lesgoooo—" and that's been the case for literally every single installment. It's all just been evolving naturally and building on top of itself. So! I can't say that I plan to have Vox interact with the hotel crew or Charlie, but I also will never say that I'm actively opposed to it.

That said, I do think a lot of this fic is kinda structured around hitting specific topics that come up in intimate settings between Vox and Alastor specifically, with occasional tag-ins from Angel Dust, so I don't really know if there's anything in particular I'd like to write that I think would work better in this series if more characters got involved. But, hey! Never say never!