#Oneshots ideas

[lunaticalove2]

Okay! I actually wrote the first one! I am waiting for ao3 to send me an invitation, and I'm going to caopy the story there. For now, I'm publishing it here (Story under the cut). Enjoy!

Blitzø's POV

After reuniting with Octavia, Stolas stopped being Stolas. He wouldn't eat, wouldn't speak, wouldn't get up, and I often found him gasping for air in the middle of a panic attack. I feel really bad for him, and I'm doing the best I can to help him through this tough time. He didn't even have the strenght to come to work, so now I leave him to sleep on the couch while I'm in the office or on a mission, and when I come back I make something to eat for the three of us. My biggest fear is him doing stupid things to himself while at work. I try to call him when I'm not there with him just to know he's okay. He doesn't speak much, tho. I told him he just has to pick up the phone and if he doesn't feel like saying something he can just make noises like hoots or something like that. This morning was really tough for him. Stolas tried to call Via again, cause he never gave up with that, and he finally got a response. But it wasn't what he was hoping for. The scene was something like this:

*flashback*

Blitzø:"you sure you wanna call her again? You can try tomorrow"

Stolas just nods, and Blitzø sighs softly, he can't say no to him. The phone rings and someone picks up

Stolas:"Via?!"

Octavia:"Stop calling to this number! If I ever want to talk to you again, I'll be the one to call. So stop looking for me. Bye"

And she hangs up. Stolas looks at the phone, too stunned to speak or even move. Blitzø notices and immediately runs by him.

Blitzø:"Hey, breathe. She's just going through a tough time. Just like you"

Stolas stays silent. Everything starts spinning and his vision is blurring with tears. His breath caught in his throath. Blitzø embraces him and Stolas returns the hug, and soon enough he's hyperventilating and crying in the other's shoulder

*end of flashback*

So now I'm esitant to go to work, I'm scared he's going to do something stupid. And these days he's also refusing to take his anti-depressant. I'm so worried, but I also can't leave everything to Loona and M&M. Today we have many clients, and they can't handle it alone. I decide to approach him. "hey Stols" he looks at me "I have to go to work. Are you gonna be fine on your own for a few hours?" he waits a moment and then nods "alright, I trust you. But if something, ANYTHING, happens, don't hesitate to call me" I kiss him on the forehead "see you later, big bird". And I leave the house.

Stolas's POV

I feel so useless. Blitzø just left for work and I didn't even say anything. And this morning Octavia, my sweet Via, rejected me. When I called her she literally said she didn't want to see me nor talk to me. My mind is full of thoughts, I can't think straight. Withouth noticing, I get up and suddenly I'm in the bathroom. I open the drawer and I take a blade. I deserve it, I tell myself. I starts cutting... 1, 2, 3 cuts. It feels good, and I can't stop. At one point, I don't even know how much time passed, I cut too deep and start panicking, only now realizing what I had done. I immediately get up and put my arms under the water. A few cuts stop bleeding too much after a while, but a few of them are still losing too much blood. I feel myslef on the verge of passing out, I'm so lightheaded. I need to call Blitzø. Even if I'm ashamed to do so. I grab my phone and dial his number. I wait for him to pick up doing my best to stay concious. He picks up almost immediately: "Stols? Are you ok? Something happened" I only manage to croack out a few words with the tears that were now running down my cheeks "B-Blitzø. I'm sorry" he sounds worried as he responds "I'm coming now" and he hangs up. I just need to atay concious.

Blitzø's POV

I just received the call from Stolas. I'm driving as fast as I can, maybe I even killed some people that were crossing the road, but I just need to be there for him. I arrive and burst into the door. "STOLAS!!" I yell from the kitchen. But then I hear some crying from the bathroom and I immediately run in there. I can't believe what i'm looking at right now. Stolas, my Stolas, crying in the bathroom with a blade next to him, and his arms are full of blood. I rush to his side and kick the blade out of his reach. I hug him tight, not caring if my clothes are getting wet with his blood. "I-I-I'm so sorry. I-" I shush him and tell him that it's okay as I let go and look at his arms. This is worse that I thought. Some of the cuts are very deep. I notice that he is breathing heavily, and maybe struggling to stay concious. "Stols, looks at me. Try to focus on me and don't pass out". He nods. I help him off the floor and to the sink, where I remove most of the blood. While doing this, I say "Why would you do that? It's dangerous" he is still crying, probably can't bring himself to stop, and I don't blame him for that "I-I don't know. I-I don't know what's gotten into me. I'm so sorry" I look at him and say "It's okay. Don't apologize. You're going through a tough time". When I finish washing away most of the blood, I take him on the bed, disinfect and bandage his cuts. When I'm done, I give him a cup of water, since he's still shaken and he lost much blood. "Wanna talk about it?" I ask. He shakes his head no. "Can you just... Hold me? For a bit. I'm still kinda dizzy" he says. My expressions softens and i immediately embrace him and rub his back comfortingly. After a moment, I decide to speak again: "When you feel like hurting yourself again, call me right away. I'll help you" he just nods and falls asleep 2 minutes later. I sigh as I continue holding him. It makes me really sad thinking that Stolas, the once always smiling and silly prince, just thought that he deserved to self harm. I once though he was annoying, I though he was just a horny bird that was using me as his toy. But I got to know him, and the most important of all, I learned to love him. And I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure he's safe and happy

Fic Ideas I don't feel like writing, and if someone does, tag me.

Some are a bit angsty (especially this first one. Sorry, i have a dark mind. In fact, that's my favourite)

1- Stolas, after seeing Via like we've seen in sinsmas, is in a really bad mental place, worse than before. So he just stops eating, doesn't talk much, has panic attacks often, and self harms. Blitzø knows of his relationship with food and panic attacks, but doesn't know about his self harm. One day, Stolas locks himself in the bathroom and does THAT. He accidently does a cut too deep and he starts loosing too much blood and feels himslef passing out. The only thing he brings himself to do is call out Blitzø's name. And things escalate from there, with Blitzø cleaning his cuts and helping him calm down and cope with it

2- (this one is a bit comic) after the little dance they had on sinsmas, Loona, Millie and Moxxie, since they saw and registered everything, are rubbing it in their faces and jokingly making fun of them about it

3-Just Stolitz cuddling and joking on the sofa, playing with each other

If I have any other, I'll write them down

[lilacgaby]

after the war, katsuki had amassed a fanbase. even in the school itself, he'd find himself being chased down every period.

saying he hated it was an understatement. he hated not only being followed and judged, but being late to his classes? that was the final straw.

you slammed your head against the desk in your now empty classroom. math was your weakest subject and you'd just failed another test..

with a 70%. oh, the horror.

deflated and upset, you sunk your weight against the desk. only to jump up in surprise as you found yourself eye to eye with bakugo himself.

"h--"

"be my girlfriend really quick."

"what?!"

he pulled you up with surprising gentleness, pulling you to the door and opening it, the dozens of eyes staring at you. more specifically, staring at the way bakugo's hand was intertwined with yours.

"my girlfriend doesn't appreciate your bullshit. and neither do i."

he pulled you with him, walking you down the hallway as you heard the groans and grievances of his fan girls. he finally stopped in front of the stairs, letting you free your hand now moist from his sweaty palms.

"uh.. if you help me with this shit, i can tutor you or whatever." he had a hand behind his head as he now looked into your eyes.

you barely needed to contemplate it. spend time with your crush and get your grade up?

you stuck the pinkie of your hand out, "i'm in!"

he scoffed, a soft smile on his face as he intertwined your pinkie in his.

little did you know, you had him wrapped around your pinkie in more ways than one.

full ver!

taglist: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @i-the-fluffo

support me!

[osamucide]

TEXTING THEM “I WANT A BABY” ⊹

. . . ft. dazai, atsushi, kunikida, ranpo, fukuzawa, ango, oda, akutagawa, chuuya, fyodor, sigma, and nikolai

cw: sassy men, suggestive in ango, oda, chuuya, + nikolai's, language lol

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

[ao3usermelancholyhues]

rb for larger sample size! feel free to elaborate in tags about your process.

[choccy-milky]

from my new oneshot, 'the vexing village of vellmore' ✨ ao3 / wattpad ((it's about seb & clora visiting a cursed village and trying to figure out how to break the curse, and since it ended up being 50k words i decided to split it into 2 chapters and the next part will be out soon!🙏 also, while it does have spoilers for the raven and the snake, it's a standalone story and can be read blind💖))

[inthedarknessofnight]

Thinking about struggling musician Eddie who makes a living singing and playing guitar in a Metallica tribute band.

Thinking about bartender Steve who thinks tribute bands are the cringiest, most insufferable things to ever exist.

Thinking about Robin, his coworker, who made a bet on the very first day of their new job that Steve would eventually hook up with someone from a tribute band.

And the thing is, he almost makes it. Three years and he’s got a completely clean track record. Well, at least until the night some random Metallica cover band’s frontman has Steve questioning his sanity from the moment he sets foot on stage. Because Steve is mesmerized. By the way his lithe figure moves under the bright stage lights. By the way his fingers slide deftly along the neck of his guitar. By the way his voice permeates the room, filling the air to the point where Steve thinks he must be breathing the music into his lungs. And then, the motherfucker has the audacity to take off shirt his mid-performance, putting on display a well-curated collection of tattoos. Steve feels like an ancient deity has descended from the heavens and decided to play fucking Metallica, on a fucking Tuesday, in the shittiest fucking bar in all of Inianapolis. Well and truly distracted by the action on stage, Steve doesn’t register the glass slipping slowly out of his grasp, until the damn thing has hit the floor and broken into a thousand pieces. When he turns to examine the mess, Robin is already there, broom in hand.

“You might wanna think about closing that mouth, dingus. I don’t think you drooling all over this pristine countertop is good for business,” she says with barely contained laughter, quickly sweeping the shards into the dustpan.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” he retorts, rolling his eyes, suddenly very aware of just how much he was staring. Instinctively, Steve shakes his hand to drive away the haze, grabs a new glass, and tries his best to focus on the task at hand.

It isn’t until the final number of the evening that Steve’s resolve truly crumbles. He’s all but managed to tune out the goings-on around him, which is why he nearly has a heart attack when he suddenly finds himself face to face with the beam coming straight from the main spotlight.

“Can we- Yes. Perfect. There he is,” says a low voice coming from the very center of the stage, followed by a cacophony of loud cheers.

And… Oh no.

“What the-,” he mutters, a hand flying up to shield his eyes from the blinding light. That’s when he sees him.

“Hey, pretty boy behind the bar. Get me some whiskey up here on this stage, will you?”

And Steve is so so so incredibly fucked.

He stares dumbly for a few seconds. Having seemingly lost any and all ability to think independently, Steve brain shifts into autopilot, causing him to grab the full bottle of Jack sitting on the shelf behind him, stroll towards the stage as if possessed, accompanied by the sound of cheering, which only grows louder with every step he takes. He climbs the steps leading onto the stage. As soon as he reaches the top, he finds himself face to face with…

He’s so close. For a brief moment, Steve wonders if he knew prior to this moment that a person can be this beautiful. They’re chest to chest. The guy is ducking his head to whisper something to Steve, his breath hitting the sensitive spot just below the ear as he does so.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says, his like voice smoke, and milk, and honey, and all things Steve wants to breathe in, and drink, and savor. He plucks the bottle from Steve’s hand, ringed fingers grazing his.

He winks at Steve as he takes a few steps backwards, a devilish smile playing on his lips. Then, without breaking eye contact, he tips his head back, opens his mouth, and begins pouring the amber liquid until it spills over he edges, running down his neck and the length of his torso. After what feels like hours to Steve, the guy finally swallows the remnants of the drinking in his mouth, immediately leveling Steve with a dark gaze.

“Now you.”

Positively transfixed, Steve realizes a little too late that he has, in fact, missed his window to flee, and is headed head-first for whatever public humiliation the guy has in store for him. A strong, sure hand grips the back of his neck, long fingers tangling into the hair at the nape, tugging ever so slightly.

“Open.”

It’s not gentle. It’s a thing of lust. A command. Steve feels it in his bones. And he can’t look away. His body is not his own when he gives into the pull of the musician’s hand, his jaw going lax, mouth automatically falling open. The guy brings the bottle up to Steve’s mouth, pouring in a generous amount. Before Steve even gets the chance to swallow the liquid already burning its way down his throat, the bottle is being shoved rougly into his hand, the guy bringing his other hand up once again, only to press the palm under Steve’s chin, forcing his mouth closed. Forcing him to swallow. Steve nearly chokes.

“Good boy,” he says with a wicked grin, before pushing a spluttering, coughing Steve back in the direction of the stairs, causing him to nearly topple off the stage. The guy laughs maniacally into his microphone and the crowd goes wild, the drummer already counting them into the final song.

Still bewildered and absolutely dumbfounded by whatever just happened to him on that stage, Steve chances one last glance in the singer’s direction as he descends the stairs.

This time, however, he isn’t met with a sultry, dark look, or one of the guy’s infamous mischievous grins. Instead, he finds a pair of soft brown eyes staring back at him, and plush pink lips curved into the dopiest, most endearing smile Steve has ever seen.

…

By the end of the night, Steve has found the love of his life and Robin is collecting money from nearly every employee at the bar, sporting a smug, I-told-you-so expression on her face.

[ethan-acfan]

Merlin getting injured while saving Camelot again (getting stabbed or shot, etc). But he hides it so Arthur won't ask questions, and he has to just grin through the pain until one of his stitches gets undone and he doesn't realize and passes out in Arthur's room. So Arthur comes back from training to find Merlin crumpled into a ball shivering and covered in blood.

[lexithwrites]

james and reg meeting through dorcas and marlene getting married (they're both the best men) and regulus asking dorcas who the hot guy dancing like an absolute idiot to the spice girls with a margarita in his hand and the tie around his head is and dorcas just smiling because she knows reg is gonna love him

[puckinghischier]

Just sitting here thinking about how Jack would usually fuck you nice and slow, praising you the entire time and putting your pleasure before his, but one night after a really tough loss where nothing went right for him and the team, he just loses it and immediately comes home to let out his frustrations on you. Manhandling you like a rag doll, spitting on you, yanking on your hair as hard as he can, and choking you until you see stars and you'd be loving every second of this version of Jack and he'd pick up on that, calling you degrading names and mocking you for being such a dirty fucking slut that he never knew about you

WARNING!: degradation, name calling, choking

the change of pace was surprising to you, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t unleash a new preference of yours. the commanding, harsh, and derogatory nature of the entire night is something you never expected from him, but damn if there wasn’t a part of you eating it up.

from the second he got home you knew something was off. he slammed the door, threw his bag against the wall and stomped right over to you, wordlessly picking you up and carrying you to the shared bedroom. he threw you onto the bed, the large bounce you did causing your heart rate to spike.

“jack, honey, what’s going on? i don’t-“

“shut up. don’t fucking talk to me,” he interrupts you, your mouth instantly snapping shut. the look in his eyes was like nothing you had ever seen before — wild and dark.

he starts removing his clothes, standing naked in front of you before you could even blink. not knowing what to do, you start removing your sweatshirt, slowly bringing the thick material up and over your head. jack stood watching you, an expectant look on his face.

“god, can you go any fucking slower? hurry up. off. all of it, off,” he spits out as you start to grab your t-shirt, removing the fabric from your goose bump ridden body.

“for the love of god, are you fucking helpless or something? i said hurry up,” jack raises his voice, reaching down to grip your ankles, pulling you towards him harshly. once you’re sitting at the end of the bed, he grabs your shoulders, forcing you to sit up. he rips the shirt the rest of the way off of your body, throwing it across the room.

he doesn’t even attempt to unclasp the bra you hadn’t taken off from running errands earlier. instead, he tugs the material so harshly you can feel the piercing sting on your sensitive skin, feeling the plastic clasps snap apart, rendering the undergarment useless as it falls from your chest.

a gasp falls from your mouth, but it’s lost in the grunt he lets out as he shoves your shoulders back down onto the bed, gripping the waist band of your leggings as he tugs them down — along with your underwear — in a singular movement.

“now, was that so fucking hard?” he growls, pushing your ankles back up onto the bed, moving you away from the edge as he crawls onto the mattress with you.

you’re surprised at yourself, because not once during the entire interaction did you wish jack was his usual, soft and caring self. instead, you found every single harsh word and rough action traveling straight to your core. an unfamiliar warmth of arousal now stirring in your stomach as you watch him crawl towards you.

“up, on all fours, ass towards me,” he commands you, not waiting even a millisecond before grabbing your body and placing you into position himself. he starts caressing your ass, taking the soft flesh into his hands and kneading handfuls. “don’t even get it. don’t even know all the shit that happened tonight, do you?” he talks, pinching and squeezing your skin even tighter.

“tell me, maybe i can-“ you start to squeak out, but a harsh smack to your ass stops you. you involuntarily let out a sharp squeal, not expecting the action.

“when i say don’t fucking talk to me, it means don’t fucking talk to me,” jack rubs soothing circle around the red skin. “you don’t know what went on tonight. what coach said in the locker room after the game. what an embarrassment the whole team was tonight. the way the refs let us get our asses kicked all night long. so there’s nothing you can say that��ll make me feel better, you understand?”

you nod, looking back at him over your shoulder, surprising yourself when you jut your ass out further towards him, all but asking for another smack. he smirks, gladly granting your request.

he raises his hand, bringing it down even harder than he had the first time, your whole body jolting forward at the impact. your yelp sounded almost like pleasure this time, your brain going in a million different directions.

“now this? this makes me feel better. this makes me feel in control again. because i am, aren’t i? i’m in control right now. because you’re just my own personal slut, here to use as i see fit,” his voice dropped a few octaves, gravelly and thick.

before you can even fully register his words, a moan slips past your lips. you feel yourself clenching around nothing, your cunt slick with desire at whatever this new persona is coming from him.

he slides a hand down towards your entrance, interested at how turned on you seem to be by all of this. when his long, slender finger swirls around the still clenching hole, he chuckles, amused at your current state.

“you like this new side, huh? my sweet, innocent girl likes being called a slut and treated like some whore i picked up off the street, doesn’t she?” it’s more of a statement than a question. another clench of your pussy answers his question, his finger nearly getting sucked right into your sex.

“too bad this isn’t about you, isn’t it?” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, shaking his head at you, even though you can’t see him. “tonight is about me. making me feel better. in fact….” he trails off, bringing his cold fingers up to start attacking your clit, rubbing so ferociously your arms holding you up nearly give out from the friction. “…you can’t come at all tonight,” his fingers suddenly drop, your labored breaths stopping altogether as his words register.

your head whips around to glare at him, but the second you have him in your sights, you feel his cock slam into you without warning. your body lurches forward so much your nose nearly smacks into the head board.

jack pulls out almost immediately, slamming back into you with quick, full thrusts. he grabs your hips, pulling them back with each movement to meet his thrusts.

he can’t see your face, but your mouth is hung wide open in a silent scream, not being able to even think about anything but how you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

you finally let out a whimper at a particularly deep thrust, feeling one of his hands leave your hip to grab a fistful of your hair, yanking your head back. he keeps easing your head back, neck fully extended, so much so you’re now able to see his face hovering above you.

“can’t believe you’re this cock drunk already. barely even started, baby. not been a peep out of you, has there?” you want to shake your head, say something, moan, anything. but the angle of your neck prevents any of that, only allowing you to look at him with your wide, rolling eyes.

he can feel the familiar flutter of your walls, signaling your impending release. he releases your hair, but so abruptly that your face flies forward like a rubber band has snapped, chin smacking against your chest.

he pulls out, leaving you a whining, pathetic mess. he takes his arms and flips you over so you’re now on your back. taking one of your legs, he extends it up and rests your ankle on his shoulder. he stands on his knees in front of you, looking at you with anger and annoyance.

“told you you’re not coming tonight. it’s about me, not you. it’s always about you, you greedy whore. you can’t just let me have this one night, huh?” he literally spits at you. the silky string of saliva leaves his mouth, its trajectory landing right on your stomach, mixing with the sweat there. he watches the rapid rise and fall of your chest, noting the stiff nature of your nipples.

as if he’s in a trance, he brings a hand up fully slapping one breast, watching it fly over and smack the other. then repeating the action with the opposite breast.

you jolt again, whining out a high pitched moan at the feeling of your heavy tits being smacked around. he smirks down at you, repeating the action a few times, each smack harder than the previous.

once he decides he’s had his fill of playing with your tits, he trails his hand down your stomach, swirling and smearing his spit around your skin. when his gaze falls back onto your glistening cunt, he snaps back into his previous task, smirking before once again, ramming into you without caution.

thrust after thrust, he can feel himself reaching the edge, moving in and out of you with ease, watching your eyes roll into the back of your head. there was one thing, however, he wanted to test before he let himself go.

he brings a hand up towards your face, running a finger from your temple to your chin, watching you. he brings his hand to rest on the side of your throat, thumb rubbing up and down the center. “d’ya trust me?” he whispers to you, typical, soft jack making an appearance.

you nod at him eagerly, assuring him you trust him, wholly and completely. you risk breaking the rules, a small “always” leaving your lips. he looks at you with love in his eyes, but you watch as they switch, once again showing the wildness you’ve grown to like tonight.

he moves his hand slightly so his whole hands covers your throat, and he squeezes. hard.

you sputter and wheeze, eyes wide at how much pressure he’s applying, not even easing into it. but you’re not scared. if anything, the pressure building in your head is dizzying, adding to every sensation coursing through your body.

he doesn’t stop, squeezing tighter by the second. just as he’s about to let up, worrying he’s gone too far, he feels that flutter from your core once again. his sign you’re enjoying this far more than he ever thought you would. he holds his grip for a few moments longer.

you’re starting to see stars in the edges of your vision, but you’re so turned on you never want it to end. with a final, small caress of the side of your neck with his thumb, he lets go. you suck in air, actually a little worried he might have left a mark once you gain your wits about you again.

the whole time, he never stopped rutting his hips into yours, thrusts growing sloppier by the second. he leans forward and lines his mouth up to hover above your breasts, collecting a mouth full of saliva and letting it fall from his lips onto your full, bouncing breasts. and again on your chest. and your stomach. and where his dick is sliding in and out of you. then he moves back up your body, taking a hand and parting your lips, watching his foamy spit land right into your open mouth. the fluid drips right into the back of your throat.

watching you early swallow his spit, then opening your mouth and begging for more, is what does him in. he feels the band about to snap, so he pulls out of you, drops your leg from his shoulder, and moves to straddle right over your stomach.

he strokes himself a few more times, then aims his release to fall in a sticky mess all over your spit covered tits, watching the milky substance roll and drip over the fleshy mounds. he strokes himself until the sensitivity takes over, slumping down, but careful not to put all of his body weight on you.

you wiggle and writhe beneath him, trying your hardest to reach a hand down to your pulsing center, needing now more than ever to reach your own release.

jack feels what you’re trying to do, and grabs your hands, trapping them both above your head.

“what did i tell you earlier, you dumb slut?” he’s clearly not done with being an ass just yet. “only i get to come tonight. and i did. so now you’re gonna go clean yourself up, come back to bed, naked, and if you can behave for the rest of the night, you might get to wake up to something nice,” he bends down to place a chaste kiss to your lips, releasing your hands and moving to sit beside of you.

you sit up and start to get off of the bed. once you’re stood fully, jack takes the opportunity to reach over and smack your bare ass again, smirking at you when your head whips around to look at him.

“hurry up, i may be pissed tonight, but now that i got all of that out of my system, i want to cuddle,” he tells you, his tone back to your normal jack, but eyes still wild as ever.

[thef1diary]

Pornstar!Daniel - mdni

You’d always had a bit of a crush on your neighbor.

It was hard not to when he smiled at you like that—boyish, warm, the kind of smile that made you linger just a little longer on your porch, pretending you were checking the plants. He was the type who radiated easy confidence, the kind of man who could make even the mundane days feel thrilling.

During the day, Daniel was your friendly neighbor. The one who waved at you from across the street while you backed out of your driveway. The one you always ran into while walking your groceries inside, quick to ask if you needed help carrying the heavy bags. The one you made excuses to talk to—borrowing sugar, returning a dish you never actually borrowed, or simply “accidentally” bumping into him at the mailbox.

But at night? At night, you had no idea it was him who made your cheeks flush and your breath hitch.

Pornstar!Dan, whose videos you’d stumbled across on a whim one lonely evening, quickly became your favorite escape. The way he moved—slow and deliberate, commanding attention with every touch—was hypnotic. The filthy, teasing words he murmured into the camera sent shivers down your spine, especially when he urged you to touch yourself to the rhythm he set. His voice alone left your cunt dripping and aching for more.

Pornstar!Dan, who never showed his face, but that only made it better. It let you imagine anything you wanted. His body, though—god, his body was unforgettable. The taut muscles of his arms, the sharp lines of his abs, the curve of his back, and the sheer thickness of his thighs, adorned with tattoos, had you hooked.

Pornstar!Dan, who left you a panting mess, fingers buried deep inside yourself as his voice spilled through your headphones. The way he muttered “good girl” or playfully degraded his viewers you had you writhing in your sheets, desperate for more.

Pornstar!Dan, who livestreamed just often enough to feel personal, his voice deeper and filthier as he answered live comments, adjusting the camera to give the perfect view of his inked body. It always seemed coincidental how his streams were perfectly timed with your nights, as though he somehow knew when you craved him the most. You just never guessed that it was because he was livestreaming from right across the street.

Pornstar!Dan, whose videos you’d fallen asleep watching more than once, waking up to that sinful view of his hardened cock paused on your phone screen. You’d bite your lip, cheeks burning, before turning it off and pretending you didn’t spend hours thinking about his body.

Pornstar!Dan, who had that one tattoo on his bicep, the one your fingers always traced on your screen while imagining what it would feel like under your touch. It wasn’t until much later, seeing a glimpse of ink peeking out from Daniel’s sleeve as he flipped burgers on a grill during a neighbourhood barbecue party, that you wondered why it looked so familiar.

Pornstar!Dan, whose voice haunted you even in daylight, especially when your neighbor Daniel casually asked how your day was with that same deep rasp. It was a coincidence, you told yourself. Nothing more.

The connection never clicked. How could it? By day, Daniel was your kind neighbor, and by night, Pornstar!Dan was your private obsession.

Because surely, it couldn’t be the same person. Right?

[leafwateraddict]

Couldn’t stop thinking about Dust being able to pass as Classic. So I had an idea where Dust replaces Classic in a timeline and steals(?) his partner.

He gets conflicted when he starts actually caring about you… But denial is an easy road to take when there’s seemingly no consequences to your actions.

The reveal i guess. Most normal reaction to learning your partners been replaced for god knows how long and you have no clue where he is.

Now that I think about it I might’ve gotten some inspiration from that one chapter of IJAG by @htsan (iykyk) only a lil bit tho

(Full rambling of the idea + extra sketch cuz i liked the expression) ↓↓

I originally wanted y/n to notice the differences instantly but i think it would be angstier if they didn’t and only noticed like months later >:3

[lokiswifeduh]

Long Night

Pairings - Roommate!tfatws!Bucky x Fem!Roommate!Reader

Summary - You've been stood up twice in a row now. Bucky is tired of seeing you disappointed. So he takes you on a date.

Warnings - angst, being stood up, angry/annoyed bucky

Notes - I'm horrible at summaries, I know!! This happened to me a couple days ago, wishing I had a Bucky to take me on a date in Brooklyn right about now! Not proofread so lmk if there are any mistakes! Thank you for reading loves!!

WC - 1,750

masterlist

"Whatcha gettin' ready for, doll?" Bucky leaned on your bedroom doorframe, watching you straighten your hair in the mirror on top of your dresser.

"I have a date." You smiled, not noticing the slight drop in Bucky's smile.

"Oh, with anyone I know?"

You shook your head. "His name's Nash. Someone Sam set me up with," You explained. "He's supposed to pick me up in twenty minutes."

Bucky internally rolled his eyes. The guys Sam hung around with were nice, yes. However, he never got the guts to take you out on the date you deserved. A date with him.

"Are you sure you want him picking you up?" Bucky asked, making you look back in confusion. "I mean you don't know him that well... You could meet him there or uh, I'll drop you off." You let out a small laugh, "Yeah Buck, I'll just have my male roommate drop me off at a date, that'll go over well."

Bucky shrugged. He walked away from your bedroom to grab a beer from the fridge before sitting on the couch. He turned on whatever channel didn't require him to use the remote too much before slouching into the cushions.

Twenty minutes passed by when you slipped out of your bedroom, shutting the door behind you.

"Wow, doll. You.." Bucky's eyes widened slightly, "You look great."

You grinned, looking down at your outfit. It was basic but it was the most comfortable yet fashionable outfit you had. Black flared leggings with a sage green sweater and some white sneakers. It was simple yet appropriate for a late-night-diner date.

And to top it all off your makeup had cooperated for once. Both eyebrows looked like twins and not sisters. Your highlight was perfect, shimmering, but not too much. And you had the perfect lipgloss that made your lips look sunkissed. Perfect.

"He should be here any minute!" You sprayed some perfume, your favorite vanilla scent, and went to sit in the armchair across from the couch.

Bucky hummed, keeping his eyes on the Tv, taking another sip of beer.

However, twenty more minutes went by and Nash hadn't texted you, hadn't called, and hadn't shown up. Bucky was starting to feel bad and you could tell by the pity looks he kept throwing your way.

"He uhm," Bucky cleared his throat, "Maybe he hit traffic. You know, with it being New York and everything." You nodded, trying to hold onto at least a small bit of hope. "Yeah, traffic." But then another forty minutes went by and he still hadn't even texted.

And then another hour.

And another hour.

By the time Bucky finally turned off the Tv it was three and a half hours since the time Nash was supposed to come pick you up.

You were still sitting in the armchair, having dozed off with a couple tears streaked down your face. Ruining your once-perfect makeup.

Bucky sighed, silently cursing Sam even though he knew it wasn't his fault.

"Alright, doll," Bucky whispered, placing his metal arm behind your back, and lifting your legs with his right. You groaned awake, holding your phone in your palm as you wiped your cheek. "What time is it?" Your eyes shoot open, "Did he show up?" Bucky placed you in your bed, handing you one of his t-shirts you had stolen a while ago. "No, doll. I'm sorry." You stripped your shirt off to change as Bucky went into your bathroom, grabbing a couple of makeup wipes.

"Here." He softly spoke, hating your distraught and disappointed expression.

You wiped your makeup off, shedding a couple more tears in the process. The tears dripped from your cheek to the grey henley Bucky had given you. "It's okay. Maybe he was just busy." Bucky wanted to roll his eyes. He wanted to tell you that any respectful man, any gentleman wouldn't have done what Nash did to you. But he kept his mouth shut, opting to hum in your favor, and threw the makeup wipes in the trash when your face was completely bare.

"Goodnight, Doll." He placed a kiss on the crown of your head as you hummed in response. "Goodnight, Buck."

---

A couple days later, you finally got a text back from Nash.

"Bucky I was right!!" You came sliding into the kitchen, your socks making it easy to ice-skate on the smooth wood floor.

Bucky chuckled at your ability to skid so gracefully without falling. He had tried it once but vowed to never do it again after he slid into the dining room table. You would never let him live it down.

"Right about what, doll?" Bucky flipped the pancake, adding some vanilla to the dough.

"About Nash! He actually was busy!" Bucky quirked an eyebrow. Wondering why he had waited this long to text you back. Six days to be exact. "Did he say with what?" Bucky turned back to making breakfast.

"He said he got busy with work, and that something at work pissed him off so he didn't wanna see me while he was upset." You explained what Nash had told you.

Bucky had never wanted to hit someone in the face so hard.

Well, actually that wasn't true. But he did want to sock Nash in the face for standing you up and giving you a half-ass excuse days later.

"I mean that explains things, yeah..." Your brows furrowed at Bucky's flat tone. "Do you not believe it?" Bucky sighed, pulling the milk and eggs from the fridge as you sat on the countertop. "It's not that I don't believe it, it's just that it kinda seems like he forgot and or didn't wanna see you so he made up an excuse a little less than a week later to not seem like a dick." You nodded, taking in the information. Bucky couldn't sense your reaction quite yet, seeing how you were just staring at the ground with your hands in your lap, swinging your legs in the air.

"I mean, I'm seeing him tonight. If everything goes well after then I'll know it really was true."

"You're seeing him again?" You nod, "But this time I'm meeting him at the fourth corner Bakery. And I'm meeting him earlier this time, around noon."

Bucky looked over at the clock, seeing it was already 10:45. "Well you better go get ready," He said almost reluctantly, "Breakfast will be done before you need to leave."

You smiled, hopping off the countertop as you gave Bucky a quick kiss on the cheek. "Thanks, Buck. You're the best!"

He smiled, but then remembered he's only making you breakfast before you go on a date with a guy who's already stood you up once. Rolling his eyes, he scrambled the eyes, listening to your music in the other room.

---

You had already left for your date three hours ago when Bucky decided to go over to see Sam. His excuse was wanting to discuss the next mission they were due to go on in a week. But he just didn't want to sit at home all day, thinking about how you were on a date with another guy.

However, before he could reach Sam's he had to pass by the bakery where you were meeting Nash.

Yet when he looked through the window, there you were, sitting all alone at a table for two, eating a piece of cheesecake. No Nash in sight.

An internal war started in Bucky's mind. Should he go in and see if you were okay? Or should he believe Nash was in the bathroom and you were just sitting by yourself for a minute or two?

But then he noticed the solemn look on your face. The way your fork poked at the half-eaten cake. And that was your favorite kind. Bucky mumbled a soft curse, opening the door to the bakery and making his way over to you.

Without words, he sat down, his gloved hand resting on the table in front of your plate. You kept your head down, not quite looking at Bucky but knowing he was there.

"He didn't show, again." You mumbled. If Bucky didn't have super soldier hearing he doubted he could've heard what you had said.

"I know, doll. I'm sorry." You finally looked up, tears in your eyes which made Bucky's heart clench. "Why me, Buck? Why am I the one who's alone?" Bucky stayed silent, knowing you needed to vent.

"Am I unlovable? Is that what it is? Why does every single one of my friends get to find the one? Get to fall in love, get married, and have kids and I'm the one without someone?!" Your outburst made some other customers look over in concern.

You groaned, resting your head on your hand and hiding your face from the rest of the bakery. "I- uh, I'm not sure, doll. But I know one thing.. you're not unlovable. You just haven't found the one who wants to take the effort to show you how effortless you are to love."

You looked up at Bucky, fresh tears gleaming in your eyes. You had never seen him look so vulnerable before. He usually grumped his way through emotions. But not with you, not anymore.

He gave you a sad smile, clearing his throat before he stood, "Y'know what, doll. Let's go." He held out his hand. You looked around, "Where are we going?" Bucky took your palm in his gloved hand, "It's a surprise." You laughed, before standing and throwing the rest of your soggy cheesecake away. "You know how I feel about surprises." "Okay, I'll give you a hint." Bucky opened the door for you, making sure to walk on the side of the road with the bustling cars and traffic. Bucky called a taxi, opening the door for you. "You're about to have the best date of your life." You stared at him in awe before laughing and climbing in the taxi. Bucky's knees barely fit as he scooted in next to you. The driver asked where to go as Bucky licked his lips, "Brooklyn, please." You smiled, "Brooklyn?"

Bucky nodded, throwing an arm around your shoulder. "I may be old but I still know some good spots to take my best girl on a date." A blush rose to your cheeks as you looked over to him. "Your best girl?" Bucky nodded, picking up your hand with his metal one before leaving a soft kiss on your knuckles. "Always and forever, doll."

---

masterlist

[lilacgaby]

katsuki didn't expect to be here today.

with you, a gorgeous woman at that, laid in his arms. found passed out in the meadows, a flower bed beneath the two of you. time still, wind blowing through your bodies as you rested.

he had been out hunting, blowing off smoke. annoyed at his current situation of being forced to marry a woman he didn't know, one who'd likely never love him. one he knew he'd never love.

a life of loveless marriage, one he was raised under, scared him more than he'd pray tell.

he'd rushed out quickly, barging through the servants, the large doors, and his grand estate. only his bow and sword on him as he trekked through. familiar lands enveloped him, but the sight of you didn't. more importantly, the sight of you, who had started falling.

he was moving before he realized, catching you in muscled arms, the sad crunches of ruined flowers beneath him. though none compared to the sight of the one he held now.

his bow and sword discarded, hands moving out of instinct to wipe the tears off of your face. it was clear you weren't supposed to be out here, your dress one of a high noble, silks too expensive for a common folk to afford. a satchel.. one that bore an emblem that seemed all too familiar. thoug it didn't take his full attention. his body seemed all to keen to focus on you, his chest sought to match your breaths, hearts beating in tandem.

you awoke just a few moments later, eyes wide at the sight of him. he settled you next to him, as you spoke to him. "thank you, i don't know what came over me." you spoke gently, a tone of unconfidence as you looked down at your hands. a ring on your finger.

though it looked unfit on you.

"i understand." he replied gruffly, picking up his weapons behind him, hands feeling antsy to be occupied at the sight of the gorgeous stranger in front of him. "bad feelings 've been in the air lately, it seems."

you looked up at him finally, allowing him to get a clear view of your face. with eyes puffy, lips swollen and bitten, and cheeks red. he fought off a smile, this wasn't the time to be thinking of how cute you looked.

you let out a sigh of sorrow. "it's been getting to all of the heirs of age, it seems."

he held you for a minute longer, hands grasped together tightly, wordless comfort based of mutual understanding given. neither of you said anything, but you both felt like you needed it. he knew it in the way you didn't want to let him go. and you knew it in the way he didn't. it was hard for him to pull away, but he knew he had to.

after a beat, he stood up. lowering a hand to you. "no sense in worrying about the inevitable," you smiled slightly and took his hand. "right."

he looked at the sun, it was slowly falling, prime hunting time. "you should head back to wherever you came, it'll be night soon." you nodded, and brought a bag up from the floor, you opened it, and a bracelet was in your palms.

you handed it to him, the red ruby of the beads matching his eyes as they shinned in the sun. "take this, please."

he was taken aback, seemingly unaware of why you would do this for him. he tried pushing your hand away, but it was unrelenting. a stubborn look in your eyes and he rolled his, sliding it onto his wrist.

he moved to leave, when you grabbed your wrist. it was out of impulse, he felt the internal panic in your stance, your mouth hung open slightly, though no words escaping. finally though, you manage a weak, "your name?"

for the first time since his arrangement, he laughed. laughed at the simplicity of the gesture, at your expression, at his situation.

with a boyish smile, he rested your hand at your side, touch lingering for a second too long. "call me katsuki."

he turned to leave, feet feeling a little more heavy now, knowing he was walking away from you. someone he seemed to get along with so easily.

you yelled your name after him, the crunches of the grass underneath your shoes fading away too. you were gone now.

he looked back at you, feeling the beads of the bracelet under nimble fingers, before squeezing it in his palm.

the hunting went poorly, he was too distracted to aim. the night went painstakingly fast, the arrival of the family, his wife, the agenda for the day.

uncomfortable traditional clothes felt even heavier now, the chains of being binded to someone he didn't know being heavier than any chain he could break physically.

his head that was slumped on the table was now forced up, his mother kicking him in the foot to remind him to at least try and be polite. he sighed, a feeling of dread hanging over him as the footsteps neared.

each one was sealing his fate, the door click the nail in the coffin.

but all his negativity vanished, all poor thoughts ceasing at the sight of you. your eyes were just as wide as his, your hand over your face in shock. the entourage beside you confused at your expression.

"madam?"

"katsuki?" you whispered under your breath.

though he managed to hear you. how could he not when you demanded his attention so seamlessly?

but now it was his turn to be speechless. speechless at the prospect of your rank, of your arrival,

and at the realization that he'd be married to you.

tags: @k0z3me @darhinadadragon @maddietries @exoticrasin @lavendarstarz @hisonlyobsession @i-the-fluffo @cookielovesbook-akie @frosted-flakes @irenne-stans @lulumi1u @bakunis @twirlyphim @drawingforshitsandgiggles

[aithusarosekiller]

Moonwater where Remus is like 'I'll only come back to teach at school if my husband can come with me' bc they'd gotten all codependent the second they reconnected after the war and reg is allowed to go with him but has to be in animagus form the whole time so Remus quickly becomes the cool dada teacher with the huge lion familiar

Reg, melting into the bed: today was so exhausting 😔

Remus: oh yes, Reg, it must be so difficult laying around licking your paws all day

Reg: it is actually

[choccy-milky]

people-watching and gossiping 💅

(more older seblora brainrot bc of my oneshot)

[hairmetal666]

Closing shifts at Scoops Ahoy are always boring, but Robin took off early to study and nobody is coming in for ice cream at 8pm on a school night in mid-winter. Steve's alone and has been for the last forty-five minutes, with no end in sight.

He's doing tricks with his scooper, counting how many times he can twist it through his fingers without dropping it (57 so far), when the most beautiful man Steve has ever seen, walks in. He's got long dark hair that falls in perfect curls around his shoulders; wide eyes the same deep brown of fresh, dark coffee; and the most perfect plump mouth.

Steve can't move, his head going fuzzy. His eyes catch on the man's chest--visible through the black mesh tank top he's wearing-- revealing tantalizing swirls of black ink and the glint of silver bars through each nipple. The guy also has on leather pants that cling to the line of his legs like a second skin.

Jesus. Steve just realized he's bi and the physical embodiment of his wet dreams walks into the store like it's nothing. He's going to die.

The man rushes to the counter, his eyes finally falling on Steve, and it's like his feet get caught on each other for a second before he struts forward. His face melts into this heart-stopping smile, bringing out the cutest set of dimples Steve has ever seen. This is it, Steve is done for, time of death, 8:06pm.

"Ahoy, sailor," the man says with a mischievous glint in those dark eyes.

He returns the smile and somewhere, somehow, finds the words to reply, "I think that's my line."

Steve leans towards the counter, but in doing so, drops the scooper hanging from his fingers. The metallic clatter is harsh against the tile, and blood rushes to his cheek. "Whoops," he mumbles. He ducks down to retrieve it, mentally kicking himself for his clumsiness.

The man's smile only grows, and now there's a faint flush across his pale cheeks. And fuck if Steve can't help but smile right back, to let their eye contact linger.

"What can I get you?" He asks. His voice is way too low for regular customer service, and if he flutters his eyelashes too--well, that's between him and the USS Butterscotch.

"I know this is ridiculous. It's late and it's starting to snow," the man says. He leans over the counter. "But I need a strawberry shake to go."

"Strawberry shake, good choice," Steve nods. "Coming right up."

They don't stop looking at each other or smiling as he blends up the drink, and when he hands the cup over, their fingers brush, linger, both their faces staining red.

"How much do I owe you?" he asks.

Steve shakes his head. "On the house."

"You really know how to charm a guy, sailor-boy."

"Maybe I'm hoping to see you again."

"Depends," the man says. His smile widening, his dimples getting somehow deeper.

"On?"

"How good this shake is." He winks.

Steve thinks he might burst into flame before the man can taste the drink, but then the guy glances at his watch and curses. "Sorry, sweetheart, I gotta run. Been a pleasure, sailor."

And with that, he runs from the store, strawberry shake clutched in his long-fingered grasp.

Steve collapses against the counter, burying his face in his hands. He's not ever gonna recover from that.

---

Eddie's guitar is in his lap, his melted strawberry shake at his side. He can't get the guy from the ice cream shop out of his head.

Fuck, he had all that perfect hair under that silly little hat; his face dotted with cute little moles and freckles; eyes that flashed from honey to gold to green flecked hazel; and the poutiest, most perfect lips ever had Eddie seen. Not to mention how he looked bent over in those itty bitty shorts. Shit, if he isn't totally done for.

He can't stop smiling.

That is until a guitar pick hits him right in the forehead, dragging his attention back to his surroundings.

"Earth to Eddie," their manager, Chrissy, says. "You go on in ten minutes."

"Don't tell me you didn't get the stupid shake." Gareth shakes his head.

"No, I got it. Not to worry."

"Then what's up with you?" Jeff asks.

Eddie can't help the huge, stupid smile that illuminates his face.

"There was a guy," Eddie sighs.

Chrissy and his bandmates share a look. "Let me guess," Gareth says. "You walked in and he was like 'Oh, Mr. Munson. Let me get you ice cream, let me suck your dick. Oooh, you're so hot. Corroded Coffin is my favorite band.'"

"C'mon, no. I don't even think he knew who I was."

At one point, that would've bothered him. But now, after five years of hooking up with dudes who were only interested in famous Eddie Munson, he likes that the guy from the ice cream parlor seemed totally oblivious. That, when his eyes lit up with interest, it was for genuine attraction and not name recognition.

"Did you get his number?" Chrissy asks.

He slumps. "No."

His friends all groan. Another guitar pick flies at him, getting caught up in his curls.

"Well, you'll go back tomorrow. Now get your head in the game, Munson! You have a sold out stadium to play!"

---

"I'm not kidding you, Robs, he was the hottest guy I've ever seen. I didn't even know dudes could be that beautiful."

"Uh-huh," she says.

"You're not even listening." He jabs her in the ribs, making her squeak.

"Sorry, sorry," she bats his hands away. "Describe him again?"

And he does, leaving nothing out. Once he's done, Robin is gaping at him, gum about to fall out of her open mouth.

"What?"

She grabs his wrist, dragging him out of the store.

"Robin, what are you doing? We're supposed to be working!"

She doesn't answer, just hauls him to the record store down the hall.

"Was it this guy?" She asks. She's out of breath.

"What?"

"Steve! Was it him?" She gestures to a new release display and it's Steve's turn for speechlessness.

He's surrounded of images of the man from last night; on magazines, CDs, cassettes, on a couple posters hanging on display. He's with a couple of other guys, they're in a band called Corroded Coffin, but all Steve can see is deep brown eyes and plush lips, the bright dimples.

"Well?" Robin demands.

"Yeah," he nods. "That's him."

"Oh my god!" Robin screams. She grabs his arm and squeezes. "You flirted with Eddie Munson! Steve! You minx!"

"It was nothing," he blushes. "He's probably got someone already, anyway. I mean, look at him."

Robin makes a little face. "There are some rumors, but nothing serious."

"It was a nice dream," he says. He gives her a little smile. "Now, let's get back to work."

She loops her arm through his. "Whatever you say, dingus."

---

It's been a long day of slinging ice cream. Maybe Robin's revelation that the cute guy from the night before was an insanely famous rockstar is to blame, but Steve is exhausted.

"Hey, dingus!" Robin calls from the front.

"Yeah?" he mumbles.

"Some guy is here for you. He looks a lot like Eddie Munson."

She's not even finished with her sentence before Steve is vaulting back behind the counter, coming face-to-face with the man of his dreams.

Eddie's gorgeous, his face already flushed a faint pink. And just like the night before, Steve can't help but smile at the man before him, who dimples up immediately in return.

He forgets that Robin is there until she says, "Go get 'em, tiger," and snaps him in the chest with a towel.

With Robin gone, they still don't say anything for a second, both smiling and blushing and staring at each other.

"So, uh, I guess you're wondering why I'm back today."

"That's easy," Steve says. "It was the best strawberry milkshake you ever had."

Eddie laughs with his head back and Steve is stuck staring at the long lines of his throat.

"Well, it was the best, no question. Made me realize I was a fool not to ask for your number."

Somehow Steve's smile grows. He jots his name and number on a Scoops napkin, passing it to Eddie who does the same, before carefully ripping the paper in half.

"We're still on tour for the next three months, but I'll call you when I can?"

"I'm looking forward to it."

"Talk soon, sweetheart," Eddie leans into Steve's space, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Steve still has a hand resting on the spot when Robin re-emerges.

"Oooh, you've got it sooo bad," she sing-songs.

He's so happy, he can't even bother to shush her.

---

Corroded Coffin has a new album out. It's a huge hit, number ones across the board, a fixture on MTV. It's full of heavy metal love songs, sales bolstered by the rumors that Eddie's been in a secret relationship for years.

They're at the Grammys, nominated for Best Metal Performance. The band has moved on down the red carpet, but Eddie's still answering questions, their assistant waiting with him. The interviewer asks Eddie, "There's a lot of speculation about your romantic life because of this album. There are rumors that the song 'Sailor Boy' is in reference to how you met your lover. Will you tell fans about the person you're dating, the one who inspired the album?"

"No," Eddie smiles for the camera. "But oh, do I love the way he moans," he sings a lyric of the song in question before giving the interviewer a lascivious wink, and continuing on down the carpet.

Years later, after Eddie and Steve are comfortably out and married and Corroded Coffin has cemented themselves in metal history, the video of that interview will be uploaded to YouTube.

It's obvious, now, the way Eddie and Steve, the "assistant", gravitate towards each other. How Steve flushes a pretty crimson that spreads below the collar of his shirt as Eddie sings. The way Eddie smirks at him with a raised eyebrow. The way his hand cradles the small of Steve's back as they walk away together.

It causes a frenzy online, fans compiling blog posts and videos of moments of Steve and Eddie being totally obvious about being in love before the world knew that they were.

Eventually, Steve posts a photo to the band's webpage. It's of him and Eddie at Scoops Ahoy. He's wearing his uniform, and Eddie is in a faded Metallica t-shirt and ripped jeans. They stand at the counter with their arms around each other, smiling hard, eyes locked. He captions it with, "putting the sailor boy allegations to rest."