#I am plagued with visions

[fukcnoplease]

Danny is done. He is tired. He is dead. He deserves a sweet treat and to hibernate under fifteen weighted blankets for nine years.

Instead he is standing in the Gotham City cross country bus station with a dead phone and no sweet treats. He had had the misfortune of having avid ghost hunters as parents, who had demanded he help them with their latest invention instead of joining his friends on a fancy bus hired by Casper High to take them on a multiday, multicollege trip. Apparently they had made an agreement with the school that as long as he met the school trip in one of the cities and still paid for the whole trip, he could still take part and at least catch the school bus home.

Of course, exhausted after helping his parents, catching up on homework, and taking out some ghosts Danny ended up falling asleep on his bus. Now he was standing alone, cold, half-dead, in Gotham City’s main bus center with a dufflebag of clothes and backpack of ghost supplies his parents forced on him.

The school trip was, thankfully, passing through Gotham as one of the universities but they had multiple cities to hit before they got to Gotham. According to the itinerary it would take at least five days for them to hit Gotham and even then theyd be arriving late in the evening.

Danny had to find a place to stay for five nights and something to do for five days. Thankfully, Gotham city is seeped in ectoplasm which means its full of ghosts. Ghost who are more than happy to help a lost boy find a place to stay.

Danny chats with some ghosts, being pointed this way and that before he finds a nice old man dress in a fine suit with an unfortunate gunshot wound to his chest. The man offers to lead Danny to an excellent and cheap place to stay and Danny… is too tired to care honestly. He follows the ghost across the city, hails a taxi, repeats the address the ghost gives him, missing the taxi drivers shocked stare, and falls asleep in the taxi.

He is woken up by gentle taps on the glass by an older looking man and gives a half asleep mumbled thanks to the taxi driver as the old man takes his bags inside. Even in his tired state Danny has the sense to offer to carry his own bags but is politely and sternly refused by a british accent which is enough to wake him up.

Standing in the entrance way of a luxury… hotel? It doesnt seem to have a reception, though, and the decorations feel far to personalized. He glances around to find the helpful ghost staring wistfully at one of the larger portraits. A family of three, a beautiful woman with shoulder length dark curls, a young boy with dark hair and a bright smile, and the face of the kindly ghost.

The butler(?!) calls for Danny to keep up and he rushes to catch up, more out of instinct than sense. The ghost wanders casually after them, pausing to admire artwork every now and again.

The butler drops Danny’s bags in what seems to be a guest room, or maybe this really was just an incredibly fancy hotel, the room had its own ensuite, desk, and empty closet and chest of drawers. Honestly Danny couldnt even hazard a guess anymore.

The butler(manager?) informed him that breakfast was at 8 am sharp every morning and dinner was 6 pm sharp every evening. Danny gave a dazed nod which was apparently all the older man needed before he vanished back into the hallway. Almost as quickly as the ghost did after giving Danny one last cheeky grin.

Queue Danny being weirdly introduced to the Batfam and doing his best to avoid the adoption papers at all costs while also trying NOT to be eldritch and strange around this also eldritch and strange family.

[nomsfaultau]

I once had a dream where Tommyinnit was trying to come up with an absurd political take for the bit, but didn’t want to say something actually controversial because he was streaming. So his political hot take was this:

16 year olds should be allowed to vote. In fact, so should 10 year olds, and 2 year olds. The moment they’re out of the womb they need to be in the voting room. It’s not a REAL democracy unless everyone gets a vote. What do you MEAN the ballot is covered in crayon scribbles? Are you saying you don’t listen to the voice of the people? Fascist.

[childofthestone]

oh. oh how cool would it have been if we'd been able to play da4 as it was meant to be, a dark gritty heist simulator, but your main companions are SUTHERLAND AND COMPANY

[lunar-wandering]

I love seeing u post bc every time it’s like wow. I’ve never seen someone say smth about these guys that’s more Correct.

HELP???HDSKFJSLDKJFS

[haikyuuloser21]

me: avoids writing for academic purposes at quite literally all costs, have failed classes because i straight up don't do writing assignments

also me: what if i open a google doc and just write a 100k+ word fic about levi right now

[shnurffle]

sometimes i feel bad about only drawing fanart but these characters keep entering my mind like akria

[bajablastflavoredsaxreed]

bari saxthur got lucky in that kayne didn’t write him a part in The Wager so he didn’t have to go to the world’s longest and ugliest rehearsals

[respheal]

Unbroken (I'm sorry bb I'll come back to you soon)

Fallen Fae (new chapter coming this week, gods willing)

Hic Svnt Leones (is in the timeout corner while I work on FF)

Her Sword and Shield (the skeleton at the bottom of the pool)

Compass Rose (a Linkle & Four-centric sequel to UB that's haunting me with ideas)

if you're seeing this, it's your sign to reblog this with the names of all your current wips to see if you have a trend. No hate, don't be shy, don't feel pressured, i'm just curious cuz here's mine:

s&a ch20 What it is

can you stop me (Godslayer sky)

I don't know what to do

Shadow four swap

Eepy shadow

Shadow Dink revival

Pathetic Shadow, bad dink

Shadow throws ppl into DWorld

Shadow mirror

Shadow bumps into four

Shadow and Wars i guess

Shadow Master Sword

Shadow wall

I haven't had a recent fixation on anyone, i have no clue what you're talking about :D

[mari-lair]

very rushed but it is of utmost importance that you know the researcher is a fan of puns.

[crowlls]

Little WIP

[starrynightsatthecafe]

The dark place is slowly creeping back towards my direction. An unwelcome but expected sight in this complete pandemonium that is my life.

[otrtbs]

if i were an artist i would draw smth like “i’m ur favorite marauder’s favorite marauder” and then it would be james potter looking hot as fuck !!!! because it’s true !!!!!!!!!!!

[celestialgallaghers]

Bruised Ego [18+]

Oasis brain rot has consumed me so badly i’m sorry.

Summary: Tagging along on tour with Oasis should’ve been amazing. And it was except for one major problem: Liam. You two don’t get on well and being stuck around him for days on end makes it worse. After a particularly ruthless offense on your end, Liam plots his revenge. 

Word count: 7.1k

Your ears were ringing, the vibrations of the music still thrumming through your body. Being on tour with Oasis was fun. Ecstatic, even. The energy in the venues was unbelievable. Thousands and thousands of fans screamed, shouted, and practically worshipped the band. And somehow, they all seemed to remain relatively level headed. I.e. they weren't divas. 

Well, most of them weren't. 

Liam was often brash and unpredictable. It was amazing that he and Noel were even related. 

You’d met Noel way back in his roadie days and the two of you had shared some good fuckin’ laughs. He was fun to be around, never taking shit too seriously. Sure he could be a cocky bastard too, but it was in a loveable way. Liam, on the other hand, was anything but. 

Over the years, you’d become part of Noel’s inner circle. You knew his friends, his girlfriends, his dealer, everything. It was inevitable that Liam would have to be part of that picture too. 

Your first impression of him was that he was a bit standoffish. He stood about, not saying much. Mostly lingered in the background, drink in hand, tossing out the occasional quip. In the beginning you didn’t mind him. However when the band really started to take off and you began hanging around more, he changed. Became more self assured and loud mouthed. Suddenly, avoiding him wasn’t so easy.

Before, you only had to put up with him at the pub or a gig, and even then, he was tolerable. Running his mouth? You walked away. Being more annoying than usual? Another pint solved that. You had ways of drowning him out.

That all changed when you found yourself stuck on a tour bus for endless hours with him. 

You’d been a fan of Oasis since their genesis. Well, since Noel joined anyway. So when they exploded all over the world, you didn’t think twice when he asked if you wanted to join for a leg of the tour. In hindsight, maybe you should've thought it through more. 

You and Liam had never exactly seen eye to eye, but the tour had amplified every little irritation. It had started small. Accusing you of stealing his lighter (you didn’t), calling your taste in music “shite”, or nicking your sunglasses. You gave as good as you got, though. A well placed jab about his ego or a quip about how Noel carried the band usually did the trick.

Then there were the more vicious moments. Like the time you’d shared a hotel wall and he refused to turn down his music, no matter how many times you banged on the wall. Or when he told a reporter you were just some groupie who wouldn’t leave, which led to a shouting match so loud that even Noel had to step in. And of course the night he’d implied that your friendship with Noel was something more, which was just completely untrue.

It was exhausting, infuriating, and completely unavoidable. No matter how much you tried to ignore him, Liam had a way of pulling you into his orbit whether you liked it or not.

Tonight’s show had been another insanely loud and energetic one, but something was clearly pissing Liam off. You’d taken on the simple job of handing them towels after the gig, and the scowl on his face almost made you laugh. And right now, as he sulked in the post show haze, you had a feeling he was about to throw a fit over something ridiculous. By now you’d learned how to interpret Liam-isms. After being in eachothers pockets for so long, it was practically second nature. But that also meant you knew how to push his buttons, almost as well as Noel did. 

You handed off the last towel and followed everyone back into the dressing room. Another thing you loved about Oasis? Every single show ended with everyone getting completely pissed and going a bit mad. Absolute mayhem. And you loved every second of it. As you made your way through the door, you noticed Liam was already sulking in the corner. Everyone else ignored him, too busy cracking open bottles and flicking lighters. The air quickly became thick with smoke and sweat. 

Someone handed you a beer, and you perched on the edge of a rickety couch. You’d learned the hard way not to trust the surfaces of dressing room couches. Some things were better left unknown. 

Noel found you, and the two of you clinked bottles. 

“Great show tonight,” you said, taking a swig. “They were screamin’ proper loud. I think my ears will be ringing for a week.” Noel chuckled but before he could even open his mouth, Liam mumbled something from the corner.

You turned your head toward him. “What?”

“Said if you don’t like it, you can leave,” Liam repeated, his expression growing more and more agitated. “No one’s askin’ you to hang round.”

You scoffed. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. “Don’t be an asshole, Liam,” you said, disdain dripping from every syllable.

Noel just stood there, vaguely amused. He had always appreciated your ability to handle Liam’s antics, no matter how insufferable they could be. Liam, on the other hand, just glowered. 

“No, really,” he said, shoving himself to his feet and shuffling over. “What exactly is it that you’re doin’ here? You’re just in it for the free ride.”

You rolled your eyes and leaned toward Noel, speaking as if Liam weren’t even there. “What crawled up his ass?”

Noel smirked and took a slow sip of his beer. “Dunno. But whatever it is, it’s been there a while.”

Ignoring Liam was probably a mistake.

“No, I’m seriously askin’ you,” he said, voice sharpening. “What’s the real reason you hang around?”

You blinked, caught off guard for just a second. Was he serious? You were starting to get properly pissed off now.

“You know damn well why I’m here so don’t act thick,” you said, trying to keep your voice level. “Noel asked me to come, and I said yes. If you’ve got a problem, take it up with him.” 

Noel, ever the instigator, simply shrugged. “Yeah, Liam. Thought you liked when people actually wanna be around us.”

Liam ignored him, eyes still locked on you. “You don’t even do anything,” he shot back, sneering. “All you do is hand us the towels and take up space.” 

Your fingers tightened around the bottle in your hand. 

“Fuck you, Liam.” 

His expression twisted into something smug as he watched you rise to leave. And then, like the complete tosser he was, he moved to the door, blocking your exit.

“Oh, so you’re gonna run away now? Like you always do?”

You glared up at him. Unfortunately, he was taller than you. Significantly taller. You tried to push past him, but he shifted, making it even harder.

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” he said, that insufferable smirk creeping onto his face.

“Let me through, Liam.” Your voice was quiet, but laced with pure rage. You were not in the mood to get into a screaming match tonight. He stood his ground, so you put all of your body weight into shoving him out of my way. He barely budged. 

This only seemed to amuse him. “And what if I don’t?” he challenged, a smug grin pulling at the corner of his lips. 

You clenched your jaw. You knew you shouldn’t do it. You really shouldn’t do it. But he was leaving you no choice.

Before you could overthink it, you brought your knee up. Hard.

A strangled gasp escaped him as he doubled over, finally allowing you to move past. The sound of laughter and jeers echoed behind you as you stormed off, gripping your beer tight. You needed somewhere quiet. Somewhere to stew. And maybe have a cigarette of two. 

You found a secluded corner and let out a deep sigh, still fuming. You were mad. Not just at Liam, but at yourself for letting him get under your skin so easily. His words replayed in your mind. “Free ride.” Bastard. Sure, you supposed tagging along with the band might look like freeloading to him, but to accuse you of just taking up space? That stung. Noel was your friend. Had been your friend for a long time now. He was the one that asked you to come, not Liam. If Liam had a problem with that he should’ve said something sooner, not near the end of the tour. 

You leaned back against a cool concrete, letting the chill seep into your skin. The air here was quiet, calm. Something you desperately needed after the chaos of the dressing room.

You fished a cigarette out of your pocket and placed it between your lips, willing the nicotine to ease the knot of irritation in your chest. Halfway through your second one, you heard the distinct sound of footsteps approaching.

They slowed as they neared, hesitating. Your gaze remained firmly fixed ahead. You knew exactly who it was. His stupid cologne gave him away.

Liam. Of course.

Something told you Noel had forced him to come find you. He cleared his throat loudly, as if demanding your attention.

“What do you want?” you asked flatly, refusing to acknowledge his presence.

“Brilliant. Nice to see you too,” he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What do you think, genius? I want to talk to you. You’re the one who kneed me in the bollocks, remember?”

You scoffed, flicking ash off your cigarette. “Yeah and you deserved it.” 

Liam’s scowl deepened, his jaw tightening. He knew he deserved it a bit, but would never admit it. He gritted his teeth before replying. 

“You didn’t have to be so violent about it.” 

“Yeah well you didn’t have to be such a dick either,” you shot back, finally turning your head to look at him. 

“I wasn’t even being that bad,” he retorted with a scoff. “You’re the one who overreacted.”

“Yeah sure ok Liam,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like you were deliberately trying to wind me up or anything.”

Liam folded his arms, clearly annoyed but unsure how to counter that. Instead, he moved to sit on the ledge you’d claimed. A few beats of silence passed before he spoke again, his tone carrying just a hint of mockery.

“You could at least apologize for almost castrating me,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching in what might have been a grin if he weren’t so irritated.

You sat up, looking at him with a deadpan expression. “Fine. I’m sorry for kneeing you in the balls.”

It wasn’t sincere and he knew it. But you really didn’t want to waste your night fighting with him yet again.

“Drinks to make it better?” you offered, gesturing toward the dressing room.

He narrowed his eyes at you, still skeptical, but eventually relented with a small huff. “Fine. You owe me for that one.”

“Atta boy,” you said, patting his leg as you slid off the ledge.

“Don’t mock me,” he grumbled.

“Oh, don’t be such a baby,” you teased, noting how he was still wincing. “I didn’t get you that bad.”

“You definitely did!” he retorted, irritation mounting. “I’ll be sterile for the rest of my life now, thanks to you.”

“Maybe that's for the best,” you said under your breath.

“What was that?” His head whipped toward you, eye’s narrowing.

“Nothing,” you huffed. “Let’s all just hope and pray that the mighty Liam Gallagher's dick still works.”

“Oh piss off,” he grumbled. 

You snorted at that. Men were so touchy when it came to their dick. It honestly amused you. 

“Fine, fine,” you said, holding up your hands in mock surrender. “I’ll find you some ice for that, yeah?” 

“Don’t bother,” he grumbled. “I’m fine.”

But your eyes flicked down, catching the way he subtly adjusted himself, clearly still nursing the ache.

“Sure you are,” you replied, biting back a grin. “How bout that drink, then?”

Without waiting for a reply, you headed back toward the dressing room, hearing his footsteps reluctantly follow behind.

True to your word, you fixed him a drink. By the time you handed it to him, his scowl had softened slightly, though you knew it’d be a while before he dropped the whole thing.

The night stretched on, the room a blur of laughter, music, and the occasional drunken shout. People drifted in and out, and you, now properly drunk, had completely pushed the earlier incident to the back of your mind. 

What you didn’t notice, however, was the way Liam had been watching you from across the room, his gaze sharp and unreadable. There was still a flicker of irritation in his eyes, though now it was laced with something else. He’d slowly been plotting a way to get a bit of payback throughout the night.

You stood up suddenly, stretching. “Right, I’m going for a piss,” you announced, making your way toward the bathroom.

Liam’s eyes tracked you, and as soon as you disappeared behind the door, he quickly drained the rest of his drink and pushed himself off the couch. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he strolled after you, slipping through the bathroom door quietly.

He saw you, but you hadn’t noticed him. He leaned against the door, making sure it was securely shut. A quick scan of the bathroom confirmed that you were all alone.

You’d just finished washing your hands when the sound of someone clearing their throat made you freeze. Your head snapped up, and through the mirror, you locked eyes with him.

“What the fuck, Liam?”

His smirk widened at your obvious surprise. He leaned lazily against the door, arms folded across his chest, exuding a sort of casualness that set your nerves on edge.

“Just checking in on you, mate,” he said, voice laced with amusement. “Would hate for something to happen to you.” 

“You didn’t need to follow me in here, you creep.”

Liam just chuckled, completely unfazed. “Just making sure you weren’t up to anything. You know, plotting which band member to incapacitate next.”

You rolled your eyes, but something about the way he was watching you, like he was waiting for a reaction, made you uneasy. You suddenly felt vulnerable with your back to him.

“What are you getting at?” you asked, turning around slowly to face him.

Liam tilted his head slightly, considering you. He could see the flicker of suspicion in your eyes, and that only fueled his amusement. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

A strange tension settled in the air. The bathroom suddenly felt much smaller. You still had no idea what he was up to, but didn’t want to stick around and find out. You eyed the door, trying to plan an escape, but it seemed like you were really, truly trapped in here with him. 

Liam caught the way your gaze flickered toward the door. “You’re not actually thinking of running out on me after I’ve been so considerate, are you?” His tone was mockingly hurt. “That’d be a bit rude.”

You sighed, tilting your head. “Just trying to figure out what it is you want.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, feigning innocence. “What? Can’t a guy just have a friendly chat?”

You gave him a deadpan look. “Is this about earlier? I thought we’d moved past that.”

Liam scoffed. “Just returning the favor, me. You know, since you nearly ended my bloodline earlier.” 

You snorted. “What, you gonna punch me in the vagina or something?”

Liam let out a short, amused chuckle and shook his head. “Nah, that’s a bit daft, don’t you think? There are… much more creative ways to get back at someone.” 

Your gaze sharpened, suspicion flaring. “Like what?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he took his time, pretending to consider his options, drawing out the moment just to see the flicker of impatience cross your face. 

Then, he leaned forward slightly, dropping his tone low, almost whisper like.

“What if I just lock the door?” His voice was teasing, but there was an unmistakable edge to it. “Keep you right here with me for a while.”

The air in the bathroom shifted.

You could still hear muffled sounds from the dressing room outside, but inside this tiny, enclosed space, it was just the two of you. The weight of his words lingered, heavy between you.

You held his gaze, refusing to waver. “Oh yeah?” Your voice was steady, but there was a challenge in it. “And why would you wanna do that?”

Liam’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk. He could hear the defiance in your voice, but he could also see the way your fingers twitched slightly, the way you shifted just the tiniest bit where you stood. He pushed himself off the door, taking a slow step towards you. 

“Oh, you know, just to enjoy your company a little longer. It’s been a while since we had some… alone time.”

Your breath hitched for a fraction of a second before you forced yourself to scoff. You turned away slightly, arms crossing over your chest in a weak attempt at indifference. But it was too late. He’d seen the way you faltered. Because you knew exactly what he was referring to.

That night.

Months ago, in some pub, Liam had sworn up and down he could outdrink everyone. It had started with an innocent enough bet: who could drink the most pints before tapping out. Classic, stupid, testosterone fueled entertainment. But as the night went on, it became less about the booze and more about Liam’s ego.

“I could drink you under the fuckin’ table,” he’d slurred, pointing a lazy finger at you across the sticky wooden bar top.

“You’re already halfway there, Liam,” you’d shot back, smirking as he swayed slightly on his stool.

Noel had been pissing himself laughing in the corner, watching as his brother made a fool of himself.

Somehow, you and Liam had been the last ones standing. That’s when things got messy. The two of you had spent hours running wild through the streets, fueled by booze, drugs, and reckless abandon, only to find yourself in his bed the next morning. 

Neither of you had spoken about it since. You hadn’t been sure he even remembered. He never let on or made a jest about it, so you pretended that it didn’t even happen. It was easier that way. Easier to hate him than to… well you didn’t really know. It was a feeling you were too scared to explore and something told that going down that road would be detrimental.  

But now, standing here, Liam watching you with that smug, knowing look, the memory felt a little too close.

His eyes flicked over your expression, smirk widening. “You remember that night, don’t you?” His voice was slow and teasing. “It’s a bit blurry for me, but some moments I remember quite vividly.” 

He took a step closer, and you willed yourself not to react.  You met his gaze evenly, forcing an unimpressed scoff. “We’re not doing that again,” you said flatly. Then, for good measure, you added, “And from what I recall, you were quite unremarkable.”

It was a blatant lie. 

“Hm,” he hummed, tilting his head as if in thought. “Funny, that’s not what I remember.” He took another step forward. “The sounds you made were pretty unforgettable, I must say.”

Your stomach flipped. You’d been caught. There was no escaping this. Memories that you’d forbidden yourself to think about were now rushing to the surface at an alarming rate, making you flush all over.

He was only a few feet away now, closing in. You were running out of space, out of room to breathe.

“Not. Happening.” 

The words came out strong, firm, but your heart was hammering against your ribs, betraying you. He could see right through it.

His gaze locked onto yours, eyes dark and unreadable. The tension was thick, pressing in from all sides. When you instinctively moved back, your lower back met the cool edge of the sink, stopping you in your tracks.

Shit.

Liam let out a low chuckle, stepping even closer until he was nearly flush against you. The heat rolling off him was overwhelming.

“Are you sure?” His voice was lower now. “Not even a little bit interested?”

He brought his hands to either side of the sink, caging you in. You swallowed hard.

“Liam.”

It was supposed to be a warning, a firm line in the sand. But it came out softer, almost pleading. You winced at yourself.

His smirk grew.

Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, slightly parted, lips plush and so damn close. He licked them absently, and the tip of his tongue just barely grazed you. A small, sharp inhale escaped before you could stop it.

Your breath mingled with his, the gap between you shrinking, pulling you into some inevitable gravitational force. He smelled like beer, sweat, and something distinctly Liam. Something intoxicating.

Your brain was screaming at you to walk away. To push him off. To regain control of the situation. But the alcohol and sudden lust in your bloodstream were drowning out those voices, leaving behind only heat, impulse, and the undeniable truth that this was a losing battle.

One second you're standing there, locked in a tug of war, and the next, your mouth was crashing into his with bruising force. A sigh of relief escaped your throat, unbidden, as if your body had been waiting for this moment all along.

Liam, the bastard, smirked into the kiss, because of course he would. He presses back with equal, if not more, force. His hands move from the sink to your waist, pinning you against the cool porcelain. Your hands flew up, grasping the back of his neck.

Then his tongue flicked over your bottom lip, teasing, coaxing. You let out a small, needy sound before you could stop it, and his grip on your waist tightened in response. Alarm bells were ringing in your head, but they were no use.

Liam, ever the smug prick, took his time, dragging his teeth over your lip, biting just enough to make you shiver.

You tug him closer, pressing against him. You take control, tongue sliding into his mouth, swallowing the low groan that rumbles in his throat.

For a moment you’re lost in the taste of him. The heat of him. Then he pushes forward, his hips pressing heavy against yours, pinning you so firmly into the sink that you feel every inch of him. The stiffness pressing into you sends a thrill through you, heat beginning to sink low into your stomach and down between your thighs. 

This is dangerous territory. But you can’t find it in yourself to care.

Then he’s grinding against you and the pressure makes you gasp into his mouth. Your fingers tighten around the back of his neck, nails digging in as your body arches instinctively into his. Liam groans lowly. His hand moves from your waist, trailing down your thighs. Suddenly he’s hooking your leg around his hip, giving himself more space. 

He presses impossibly closer, and you feel him, hard and insistent against your heated core. A strangled sound escapes your throat, something needy and desperate. 

His mouth moves, leaving your lips to trail hot kisses down your jaw. When he reaches the pulse point on your neck, he bites down hard enough to make you whimper. He feels it, feels you, react beneath him, and the bastard smiles against your skin.

Then he sucks, lips warm and wet as he marks you, punctuating it with a sharp thrust of his hips that sends sparks up your spine. A strangled whine spills from your lips as your fingers tighten in his hair. A steady, aching pulse throbs low in your core, demanding more. Demanding him.

You roll your hips, grinding against him, chasing that friction, and Liam groans. A deep sound that makes your skin burn. His grip tightens, one hand splaying across your ass, dragging you harder against him.

The feeling of him hot, hard, rocking against you sends another sharp thrill through your body, but it’s still not enough.

“Liam,” you manage to gasp, voice wrecked and wanting.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice rough against your skin. “You really are desperate for me, aren’t you?”

His words send a fresh wave of heat straight through you, and you should fight back, should snap at him for his cocky arrogance, but then he rolls his hips again, perfectly, and all that leaves your lips is a broken moan.

He pulls away from your neck, lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips are flushed, swollen, glistening with spit. His eyes, dark, heavy lidded, and filled with something dangerous, leave you momentarily breathless, completely losing your train of thought at how devastatingly gorgeous he looks like this.

You’re broken from your trance as you feel him twitch rather noticeably against you. Your breath catches, heat flooding through you all over again.

Liam notices. Of course, he does. A smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth as he presses forward just a little more, just enough to make you feel it.

“Feel that?” His voice is rough, teasing, laced with something darker.

You swallow hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. Instead, you grip the front of his shirt, pulling him closer.

He chuckles, breath hot against your cheek. “C’mon, love. Don’t go shy on me now.”

You purse your lips, fighting the way your body reacts to him, to the way he’s so sure of himself.

“I don’t know,” you murmur breathlessly, tilting your head and pretending to consider. “Feels… underwhelming.”

Liam lets out a sharp breath, half amusement, half disbelief, before his hands tighten on your hips. In one swift movement, he ruts against you, slow but deep, the pressure enough to knock the air from your lungs.

You gasp. His smirk returns.

“Still underwhelmed?” he murmurs against your jaw, his lips brushing skin.

You hate him. Hate how good he is at this. But mostly, you hate how much you want more.

“Liam,” your voice wavering, thick with frustration.

He chuckled, dark and low, the sound vibrating against your skin. “So impatient,” he murmured, fingers tracing patterns just above where you ached for him. 

You sucked in a sharp breath, hips jerking involuntarily as his hand slipped under your shirt and began toying with the waistband of your jeans, the ghost of a touch setting every nerve alight. The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. 

You feel his fingers skimming along your zipper and nod. He wastes no time in unbuttoning and unzipping your jeans, pushing them down just enough to make room. 

He slips his hand inside, exploring the newly exposed skin of your inner thigh. His touch was feather light, slowly dragging his fingers, deliberately teasing everywhere except where you needed him most. Your body was tensing with every drag. Every time he would get close he would skirt around at the last moment

It was torture. You tried to grind against his hand, desperate for even the smallest bit of friction, anything, but the moment you did, he pulled back completely.

You gasped, eyes snapping open.  

Liam smirked, watching you with a cruel sort of amusement, chest rising and falling just as heavily as yours. He was enjoying this. Holding you on the edge, dragging it out.

“Tell me what you want,” he said, voice challenging.

Your pride flared for half a second because fuck him, he knew exactly what you wanted. But another, bigger part of you, the one that was throbbing and needy and so desperate, didn’t care about pride anymore.

Your fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer, eyes burning into his.

“Please,” you gasped, not caring how desperate you sounded. This was beginning to border on agony. You needed him to touch you. 

His fingers skimmed the waistband of your underwear, maddingly slow. “Please what?” he murmured, voice thick.

You swallowed hard. Frustration and want coiled tight in your stomach. His bottom lip was caught between his teeth, that damn smirk playing on his face as he dragged his gaze over you. He was enjoying this too much. You knew he wouldn’t give in easily.

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction. You wouldn’t beg. Not yet.

Liam arched a brow, clearly amused by your silence. “C’mon, love,” he taunted, fingers tracing lower but still not there. “I know you can be polite.”

Your pride waged a brief, losing battle. “Touch me,” you breathed, barely above a whisper. Then, gritting your teeth, you forced out, “Please.”

Liam’s smirk deepened, victory flashing in his eyes.

“See? All you had to do was ask,” he said, voice dripping with smug satisfaction.

Liam’s hand slid down again, this time with purpose, and he pressed his thumb roughly over your clit. The jolt of pleasure shot through you like a live wire, making your hips jerk involuntarily. His low, knowing chuckle sent another shiver down your spine.

He started circling you slowly though your underwear, teasing, barely giving you what you needed. A strangled moan escaped your lips. You were soaked. There was no way he couldn’t feel it.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath, voice thick with something akin to reverence. 

Two fingers slipped beneath the waistband of your underwear, then lower, parting you as he gathered the slickness between them. The rough pads of his fingers dragged torturously along you before teasing at your entrance.

Your head fell back against the mirror as he finally dipped into you, stretching you in a way that was both excruciatingly slow and perfect.

His fingers curled, expertly finding the spot that had you gasping, clutching at him. A high pitched whine slipped from your throat. Liam sighed shakily in response, his free hand gripping your hip as he leaned in to capture your lips again. He swallowed every sound you made, lips moving hungrily against yours, matching the urgent rhythm of his fingers.

And then he curled them again, deeper this time. Stars burst behind your eyelids. Your hips rocked into him, desperately chasing the pleasure, and he let you. Let you fall into the pace he was setting, let you lose yourself in it. His thumb returned to your clit, circling with devastating precision.

You were close. So close it almost hurt.

“Mm—Liam—” you gasped, body shuddering, the coil in your stomach ready to snap.

But then his fingers were gone.

Your eyes snapped open in disbelief, your body trembling from the abrupt loss. You barely had time to catch your breath before you met his gaze, smug, victorious, infuriating.

“What the fuck?” you panted.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear as he whispered, “That’s for earlier. You deserved it.”

Irritation bubbled up as you felt your own words echoed back at you. He was enjoying this, playing with you like a cat with a mouse. 

He was pulling away from you, but before he could get too far, you grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked. Hard. “Don't you dare walk away from me.”

He let out a surprised whine, head tilting back slightly at the force. When his eyes flicked back to yours, they were darker, hungrier.

“You really need to stop pulling my hair,” he rasped, though the way his body reacted said otherwise.

You smirked. “Yeah? Or what?”

His grin turned downright predatory. He leaned in close, lips ghosting over yours as he murmured, “Or I’ll make you remember who’s in charge next time,” voice thick with dangerous promise.

A thrill ran down your spine, but defiance still burned hot in your veins. You yanked his hair even harder. 

He threw his head back, eyes briefly fluttering shut as he let out a deep, guttural groan. The sound went straight to your stomach. 

When he looked at you again, there was something new in his gaze, something dangerous.

“You’re really asking for it,” he muttered, his voice rough.

You tilted your chin up, challenging him. “Yeah? You’re all talk. I’d like to see you even tr—”

Before you could finish, Liam spun you around in one swift motion, pressing you against the sink.

Your breath caught as he caged you in from behind, his body flush against yours, his grip firm. His hands settled on your hips, fingers digging in.

He made eye contact with you through the mirror, wanting to see your every reaction when he spoke. 

“You want to play rough, do you?” His voice was low, edged with something dark and tantalizing. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, “Is that what you want?”

His fingers trailed slowly down your back. The touch sent shivers racing down your spine, anticipation tightening in your stomach. Your breathing was ragged, uneven. You couldn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply nodded.

Liam tsked softly, his lips barely grazing your ear as he murmured, “Use your words.”

His hand dipped lower, grazing right where you needed him most. The lightest touch, barely there but enough to have your knees buckling.

You choked out a whimper, torn between pride and raw, undeniable need. But there was no fighting it anymore.

“Please,” you gasped, voice unsteady.

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. His fingers kept teasing, playing just on the edge of where you needed him, drawing out your desperation.

“Please what?” he asked yet again, tone mockingly sweet, fingers dancing ever so slightly closer.

You clenched your jaw, stubbornness warring with your need. “Don’t make me say it,” you whispered, still clinging to the last thread of your dignity.

Liam hummed as if considering, then pulled back slightly. “Fine, I’ll just leave you here then.” His tone was maddeningly casual. “I’ll walk right out that door.”

Panic surged through you. Without thinking, you grabbed his wrist. “Please,” you exhaled shakily, voice barely above a whisper. “Fuck me.”

Liam went still for a beat. Then, his smirk curled wickedly against your skin.

“What was that?” he taunted, fingers skimming along your inner thigh, feather light and infuriating. “Couldn’t quite hear you, love.”

A shiver wracked through you, and you shot him a glare through the mirror. “Bastard, yes you did,” you managed, your voice trembling despite the bite in your words.

His smirk widened. He must have had enough too because the next thing you heard was the unmistakable sound of a zipper being undone. A wave of relief crashed over you, body humming with anticipation.

The mirror didn’t give you a view of him, but then you felt him. He pressed himself against you, the hard, burning length of him making you gasp. You’d nearly forgotten how well endowed he was, insides clenching in remembrance.

Liam groaned low in his throat as he felt your bare skin against his. He pressed against you further, every inch of his body aligning with yours. His chin dropped to rest on your shoulder as his breath came out ragged and wanting.

“Fuck,” he muttered, voice wrecked.

His eyes locked onto yours through the mirror and for a moment, you barely recognized yourself. Your face was flushed, lips parted as you struggled for breath, hair an absolute mess. Liam didn’t look much different except he carried that insufferable smugness. His pupils were blown wide, the sharp blue of his eyes almost lost in the haze of lust.

He reached up, brushing your hair aside before pressing a searing kiss to the exposed skin of your neck. The heat of it sent shivers down your spine. And then, with one smooth movement, he aligned himself against you, teasing your entrance.

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed forward for you to feel him. Only the tip. Just enough to drive you insane.

“Liam, God, ple—”

Your plea was cut off by a sharp thrust, his hips snapping forward with force. He went in much deeper than either of you had anticipated, if his choked off groan was anything to go by. Another strangled groan ripped from his throat as he sank in, fully stretching you open. The sensation stole the air from your lungs.

For a moment he stilled, chest rising and falling in harsh, uneven breaths. You could feel the tension in his body, the effort it took not to completely lose himself in you. Then he pulled back slowly before plunging in again.

A choked off noise tore from your throat, almost embarrassing if not for the deep, wrecked sound Liam let out at the same time. His fingers dug into your hips, gripping tight as he built a rhythm, driving into you with increasing intensity. He cursed under his breath, clearly loving how eagerly you moved with him. His pace grew rougher, more urgent.

Your head dropped forward, letting him take what he wanted. You were already on edge from earlier, your body eager and desperate. You pushed back against him, meeting his thrusts with as much force as you could muster.

Then one of his hands left your hip, sliding up your body. Before you could even process it, he fisted a handful of your hair and yanked your head back up, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror.

This sight was filthy. The two of you, tangled together, bodies slick with sweat, moving in sync. The way his jaw clenched, lips parted slightly as he watched every expression that flickered across your face, sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Your whole body was on fire. You struggled to keep your head up, feeling it droop again. He firmly yanked it back up again, a quiet hiss of pain and pleasure spilling from your lips. You trembled beneath him, and he groaned at the sight of it, at the way you responded to him so beautifully. His pace became relentless, his hips snapping into yours with forceful precision. Every thrust drove you closer and closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, the coil inside you wound impossibly tight. Liam wasn’t far behind. You could feel it in the way he throbbed inside you, how his movements became just a little rougher, more erratic. With a gasp, one hand slipped down between your thighs, fingers circling your clit with frantic desperation.

“Just like that, love,” Liam murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “Don’t stop.”

His words sent fire racing over your skin and a sharp thrust sent you toppling over the edge. A cry tore from your throat as the pleasure crashed over you in waves, your body clenching tight around him. Your legs shook, entire body trembling as you rode it out, moans spilling from your lips, unrestrained and raw.

Liam cursed, his grip tightening as he pounded into you through your release. The way you clenched around him had his own control shattering in an instant.

“Fuck,” his voice broke as he buried himself deep one last time, warmth flooding inside you as his body tensed, the most heavenly sound leaving his lips. You managed to open your eyes and were met with his beautiful face screwed up in sheer pleasure as he rode out his orgasm. 

For a moment, neither of you moved, caught in the lingering aftershocks. Then, slowly, he slumped forward, his sweat damp forehead resting against your shoulder, breath hot and heavy against your skin. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath before pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Your eyes met in the mirror again. Liam was still breathing hard, hair disheveled, his skin glistening with sweat. But there was a lazy, satisfied smile on his lips, his blue eyes dark and hazy. 

After catching his breath, he slowly pulled out of you, groaning softly at the feeling. You immediately missed the warmth and weight of him deep within you. 

Liam stepped back slightly, regaining his balance, his gaze dragging over you through the mirror. You looked thoroughly wrecked and judging by the glint in his eyes, he was damn proud of that.

You straightened, stretching and feeling the soreness in your limbs from being bent over a bathroom sink for so long.

“Looks like your dick still works,” you teased. 

Liam let out a deep, amused laugh, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, it certainly does.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively as he tucked himself back into his pants.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “Am I forgiven then?” you questioned, batting your eyelashes for good measure.

Liam hummed, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair behind your ear. “I suppose you are,” he said, amusement lacing his tone.

Then, before you could respond, he stepped in closer and dipped his head, placing a light kiss against your jaw. His lips barely ghosted over your skin before he murmured, voice low and promising.

“But you’re not getting off easy next time.”

This was just for fun but I'll probably write about Noel next :)

[nomsfaultau]

I had a dream about vampire dark sbi, where Tommy was turned into a fledgling against his will and was desperate to escape. His coven had other ideas however, and so Tommy was constantly getting hunted down by Philza, Techno, and the Jawless One.

oh. Were you you expecting Wilbur? No that dude is problematic, and my dream presented the ideal solution: replacing him with a monster made of long mangled limbs and a ripped off jaw that dangles on a thread of viscera. So I’m just sayin, here’s how 4/4 can still work-

[saint-lily]

Kristen would later admit in a court deposition that this was one of her burner accounts on Columbian Twitter

[cookie-nom-nom]

I had a dream I was running a dnd one shot for dungeon meshi, where I put them in a ‘seemingly normal town’ that was actually one super organism meat-slime monster mimic thing that replicated entire towns to draw in prey. All the ‘people’ were like an angler’s fish lure, attached to a pulsating floor by viscera. It was an inelegant pantomime of normalcy.

only

Chilchuck was the only one rolling high enough perception checks to actually notice. He was losing his mind freaking out while Senshi was gushing over unique cuisine (more pieces of the monster) and Marcille was busy buying things in the flesh market. Chilchuck kept begging them to figure it out but they just kept flubbing roll after roll, trying to convince Chilchuck he was over reacting and needed to calm down now they were safely out of the dungeon.