#and it's truly terribly flattering

[canisalbus]

jeez, is everyone getting surgery and looking at your dogs lately!? 8 days ago i fainted and broke my spine, major surgery that same day, and since then ive been avoiding going crazy on bed rest by looking at all the machete art where hes like, frail-looking and nervous and prone to illness, yet still so deeply loved by his golden sweet dogbf, and im like awww omg i need a sweet floppy dog man of my ownnnn

so, thanks for the sanity! love your doggies!

Good lord, that's awful! :U I'm so sorry to hear that. That's a really rotten way to start a new year.

I hope you're doing alright and the extended bedrest is just a temporary setback, as soul sucking as it is. Get well soon!

[heyitsphoenixx]

i need to save money fr so bad but also i need an entire new wardrobe bc every spring/early summer i feel like i need all new clothes and i get so uncomfortable if i feel like nothing in my closet is Me anymore

this should tell u how pretentious i am

[dollyichi]

I JUST GOT A CRUSH! ᯓ★ katsuki bakugou x f ! reader. 1.02k words / fluff / not proofread

bakugou is bad at social media. not exactly terrible, yet not so great either.

he really doesn’t care too much for it nor does he use it that often but he’s not that unfamiliar with it. he finds himself being on tiktok from time to time though he never really bothered to make it known that he had an account in the first place, just enjoying whatever he comes across and liberally blocks accounts that come up on his fyp that pissed him off. he never posts anything either so it didn’t matter. it’s a typical account with a generated username and a blank profile, 57 following, 0 followers.

recently he found a video that he wanted to share (an edit made by a fan) and posts the link on twitter, alongside saying how ‘it’s real sick’ of them to make that for him. he didn’t even know videos like that were famous. the effort and skill it took made him think it were cool.

what he also didn’t know, was that his profile would be revealed when you press on the link.

he got so confused when his account suddenly gained so many followers in just two days since he ‘never mentioned it.’ that was until he sees the replies on his tweet that the linked he used to share got him exposed.

he checks it out for himself which proved that he did actually share his account without knowing, but it’s ‘whatever.’ even after everyone found out he just used it like normal. it’s only a pain when they kept asking him to post something.

he truly is without care, yet he underestimates the fans who immediately stalk his ‘almost’ empty profile. you see, he doesn’t know that his reposts are public because he doesn’t actually look at his own profile. it’s usually a like, like, repost, favorite, like, then close app routine that he does before he goes to bed.

there's a few funny videos here and there, cooking videos and recipes too, things he'd like to try out soon for himself, or techniques that were really helpful for him. some are also videos of fan edits that he recently discovered, where the same video he shared was at the top of the page.

yet, there was one reoccurring face that kept popping up. a pretty girl who likes to lip sync some songs or show off their trinket hauls. sometimes mini vlogs from their day to day or makeup vids. and the topic trends everywhere: DYNAMIGHT TIKTOK CRUSH

when you saw it you really couldn’t believe it yourself that the one anonymous commenter on your videos was a pro-hero, your favorite nonetheless. though, it makes you a little nervous since your face is plastered all over different social platforms because you’re only active on that app. you don’t know where to go from there except squeal into your pillows. definitely flattered when you recall the many times he called you pretty on your vlogs.

as the rest dive deeper into his little ‘crush’ they even saw him comment on a few of your videos with compliments that sounded extra flirty. they teased him so hard saying how he looks like a creep especially with that profile. he’s never gonna hear the end of it. soon a new topic blows up that reads: GO FOR IT DYNAMIGHT

in his defense, if he were to give anyone an explanation, he thinks you have a really nice smile and a really soothing voice. also that you’re real cute and charming, that’s why he could watch and even rewatch all your content in one sitting. he couldn’t get enough of you, absolutely smitten. even had to ask kirishima how to turn on notifications for an account in the guise of turning it on for his agency's tiktok.

you’re also the only account he’s following that’s not a cooking channel or a pro-hero. and yeah it’s basically all that, a crush. not that he expects you to actually give him a chance, he’s happy just seeing your content.

however, the poor (not really) bakugou is actually unaware of the whole situation of his ‘tiktok crush’ trending since he was finishing a mission. only finding out when he got a call from kirishima asking if he found a girlfriend already. “what the fuck are you on about?”

“your fans are talking about how you keep reposting videos of this one girl on tiktok. i mean, it’s kinda obvious if you’re dating.” and it hits him, quick. your username (the one he could only remember, really) flashes in his head, but he laughs it off. “nah nothin’ like that. think i could shoot my shot though?” he asks him and kirishima says, “haha! i think she already beat you to it.”

not knowing what he meant, he swiftly gets home, showers, and lays on his couch whipping his phone out of his pocket to search up your username. and there he was, staring at his phone, unable to stop the smile on his face when he sees the thumbnail of your new video. he opens it immediately and there you were, holding a dynamight figurine (a very limited one too!) close to your cheek that you’ve never shown before until now. you never thought to show it thinking he might see it and think of you as weirdo. it gave the opposite effect actually, even made him more confident because who would've thought your pretty collection had a 'random guy' in there (definitely not random for you at least).

bakugou immediately likes, reposts and adds it to his favorites. even screen recording the whole thing cause you never gave access to download your videos—it was a very special moment for him okay!

he then comments, ‘you can have the real thing too.’

a few minutes later it’s got your icon with a heart beside it. he chuckles, happy that you finally noticed him. beams when he gets a notification that you followed him back.

he’s definitely going to dm you after he calms down. just hopes this time you don't beat him to it again.

do not copy, plagiarize, translate, or repost my works

note : i love a katsuki with a crush i think it's so cute. but i love it even more that he's still confident about it!!! i like to think that reader probably has like 20k followers or something so pretty big but not as big as the others. the first time he met you he stumbles upon a video of you talking about the ice cream u just got and then he got hooked cause u were so cute when u were picking the flavor. PLEASE DO NOT SHARE THIS ON TIKTOK BTW >< also minors & ageless blogs please do not follow me!

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere boyfriend, some toxic traits

gn reader

Thinking about a bruiser boyfriend who loves it when you kiss his bloody knuckles after he’s finished beating someone to a pulp—who loves to grope the fat of your ass and thighs, sink his fingers into the plush, knead you like dough while sinking into the comfort of your lap face-first—getting all woozy with groggy moaning when you run your hand through his hair.

A rough boyfriend who kisses you oh-so-terribly softly—but who, no matter how gentle he tries to be, can never truly mask just how brutishly strong he actually is. You can always feel the burden hiding in the pressure of his fingertips lingering on your skin, doing everything in his power to hold back the full weight of his true power. 

A big brawny boyfriend who gets fed up with you sometimes—who, instead of yelling and cursing, instead just picks you up over his shoulder like a sack of flour and pays no mind to any of your protests except for a light slap on your ass, holding you there while you bang away at his back with balled fists, telling you he’ll let you down once you’re down acting like a brat—but who, at the same time, whenever makes you cry, gets down on both knees and puts his forehead to the floor, crawling forward until he’s right by your feet, kissing your ankles until you forgive him.

A trigger-happy, prone-to-jealousy boyfriend who squares up at any given chance when he thinks someone’s flirting with you, who barks just as hard as he bites and will happily sleep in a jailcell any night if it means he got to knock someone's teeth out for talking to you.

A massive boyfriend who loves drowning you in his clothes, who wants you to wear them always—who just shakes his head when you tell him it’s not flattering to your figure and tells you that nothing in the world suits you better. 

A ride-or-die boyfriend who tattoos your name on his bicep and talks you into getting his name on your ass. 

A no-filter boyfriend who tells you that he’d straight up murder you and bury you in his backyard if you ever dared leave him, who doesn’t give two shits whether it’s cliché or not—if he can’t have you, no one can.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Toji ♡ DS – Akaza, Inosuke, Sanemi

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[foldingfittedsheets]

One time I got wrangled into doing the fair circuit to sell beds. It’s truly terrible and not many people go to a fair looking for a luxury mattress I quit after three days because I couldn’t sleep in the hotel or make fair sales and it was miserable.

But on the same circuit they decided to sell some massage chairs and they had a different team of people trained to sell those. One of them was a pretty butch lesbian around my age, so naturally I gravitated to hanging out with her on shuttle rides to and from the hotel.

We chatted and she flirted and I didn’t think anything of it until one day I casually mentioned my ex girlfriend. Her jaw dropped and she was like, “You’re gay?!”

“What?! Of course I am! Why do you think we’ve been hanging out?? You’re the only other queer person here!”

Turns out. She just wanted to flirt it up with a straight girl and thought I was flattered and never once considered that I like to dine on pussy too.

I went back to my extremely straight home store and asked my manager in despair, “Don’t I look gay????”

“You have asymmetrical hair, giant glasses, leather boots, and a million flannels,” he consoled me. “You look gay. Don’t worry.”

[randomshyperson]

Hesitating Hearts - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

Summary: Between you and Wanda, love has been kept a secret for too long. It's time for one of you to be brave. | This brief story is based on the Brazilian song "Medo Bobo".

Warnings: mild angst of mutual pining, drunk confessions, very fluff, friends to lovers, some kissing | words: 2.572k

A/N-> Hey, there’s a line here from Anne with an E. Also, I wrote this because I’ve been a Marvel fan for years, and it was only after WandaVision that I actually saw Wanda. I need this angst.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad | Song-Based Collection

-&-

For the first time since she met you, Wanda was being selfish. Not only that, but she was truly determined to be selfish. And to be honest.

And to be heard.

Yet, seeing you cry change her words or tone to something less of a statement and more of a question. An hypothesis. To picture you both in a world where there was time and courage, instead of fear and missed opportunities.

“What if…” She started that from the kitchen counter where she was sitting. Unlike yours - which also happens to be the reason you're standing at the open fridge - her glass was full. 

You hum out of curiosity, wishing for her to continue and hoping she would choose a lighter subject now that you were done pouring your heart out in that old compound kitchen. But Wanda takes a shaky breath, and you nearly miss her hesitation while you're leaning down to grab more wine from the bottom drawer. “What if I tell you that I have feelings for you.”

You chuckle. Naturally and immediately, because it's certainly a joke. To ease your nerves and soon to turn your sad tears into laughing ones. A talent that Wanda always seemed to have.

But you turn to your friend - Is that what she is now? Colleague. Work partner, drinking buddy maybe. The girl next door. The temperamental witch you share training schedules with. The strongest Avenger.

Wanda is looking at you, expectantly. Vulnerable.

You frown.

“What?”

You don't mean to sound so surprised, not really because mainly, you're sure she's joking. You're also drunk, the wine making it a little harder to put the thoughts in order. And Wanda is giving you this kicked puppy eyes and you're not understanding anything.

She swallows hard, but her gaze doesn't flinch.

“What would you say to that?”

You laugh again, dryer than before, somehow hurting your throat a little. The wine bottle stared at you from the counter but you don't feel like drinking anymore.

“Wanda, what are you…” you stop mid-sentence, reaching for your face to rub your eyes. You really shouldn't be drunk for this conversation. But then again, why is this conversation happening in the first place? “Why are you saying this?”

Wanda knows you're drunk, knows you're hurt. So she doesn't mind you're not taking this seriously. She gets up but doesn't move closer.

“Maybe I'm just tired of listening to your whining about your terrible partners.”

You cross your arms, pouting as soon as you mutter “I don't whine”. But Wanda is moving closer now, slowly walking past the counter and towards you.

“Or maybe I just meant it.” She whispers, green eyes nearly hypnotizing. “I am right here. I've always been. Why can't you see me?”

The question is too close to your lips, suddenly it's too real. 

This is Wanda fucking Maximoff. The most incredible, world-changing amazing person you know. 

Her cheeks grow a little pink and it's her time to giggle.

“I'm flattered.”

You huff, looking away. “Don't read my thoughts.”

She doesn't pull back, gaze searching yours even though you don't look up. “How else would I know what you think if you never tell me?” She challenges, but your head is spinning, and Wanda's perfume is not helping. You step away, putting more distance and a counter between the two of you again, and it works a little.

“I don't understand why you're doing this.” You declare, suddenly serious. You sound hurt and Wanda hesitates immediately once she catches the tears forming in your eyes. “I know it is not fun, having to endure my drunk nights. But you're the only person that stays so I thought…” You take a deep breath, Wanda shakes her head. She's gonna clarify that she didn't mean it that way - she was not complaining about your company at all - but your rambling shuts her out. “I know I'm not an easy friend. I can be self-centered and absent. And I'm so terrible at feelings. But we have known each other for so long, and it took us years to get here. Just to have comfortable silence. I don't have this with anybody. So, I'm sorry if I'm being too much but please, this kind of teasing… I really don't like it. You're… not the type of friend I can have this kind of joke with.”

Some part of her is hurt by that: She recalls how often you would flirt and joke with your other friends, most of them to be honest. Sometimes, even playful touches, that would make Wanda's blood boil. 

Hearing this kind of joke is not for her hurts. But Wanda is not sure if it is a bad thing.

“I wasn't joking.” She insists, but you chuckle before stealing her full glass and the wine bottle.

You change your tactic because Wanda changed hers. It has always been this way between the two of you, a never-ending push and pull with a never giving up side.

“So you're obviously drunk. I'll take this.” That is what you say before grabbing the items and moving to the living room.

When the compound is empty and quiet like this, it's almost like a normal residence. The way things are arranged now, one could be fooled into thinking that was a normal living room in an old house instead of a high-tech secretive environment for superheroes.

Wanda takes a deep courage gathering kind of breath once she's alone in the kitchen.

Those feelings have been asleep, pushed back for way too long. Now that she said them, she's simply incapable of numbing it again.

“Why is it that the idea of me liking you sounds so absurd?”

She's not being sweet anymore - just like her feelings, she's demanding. Craving for validation and correspondence.

You chuckle during a gup and there's wine falling down your chin. Wanda let out a shaky breath at seeing the drops across your chest, exposed by the poorly bottom-up shirt, and you chuckle again when you catch her staring.

“Don't give me those eyes.” You sneer, as hurt as before but somehow, angry. The bottle is tightly grabbed in your left hand, but you finish Wanda's glass before speaking again. “This whole thing is ridiculous. You are drunk.”

“I'm not drunk.” She retorts, arms crossed when she stands in front of the couch you're sitting. You smile but it doesn't meet your eyes. “How could I be drunk if you have my glass?”

You grimace, putting the item away on the small table. Your head is hurting and Wanda gives up trying to read your messy thoughts.

“If you're not drunk, you're mourning.”

She raises her eyebrow at your audacity, but then, she catches the near despair in your eyes and takes a deep breath again.

Instead of cursing you, she uncrossed her arms and knelt down on the carpet to have your eyes at the same height as hers.

“I'm not running away from any of my feelings. It's quite the opposite.” She starts softly, hands moving on your things to take the bottle away and find your fingers. “You said yourself. We have known each other for so long. Why is it so hard for you to accept that I love you?”

You let her hold your hands but only for a second. Then, you take your bottle back.

“Of course you love me, Wanda, I'm your only friend.” It's not meant to be hurtful, not the way she thinks so. Yet, there's a form of venom in your words that leaves her speechless. You pull back to rest completely against the couch but Wanda doesn't move an inch. You try to laugh but it's almost a sob. After another long sip, you point at her. “I'm the only one who really understands you. And your silly jokes and your questionable morals. And because of that, you think you have to thank me somehow. That's why you're saying all of this love bullshit. You don't really mean it.”

She takes a peak, deeper this time, at this painful life-changing memory that you have of a first relationship. Hurtful and toxic behavior that traumatized you for life and would never stop coming back whenever you found yourself a good partner.

Wanda doesn't say anything at first. She gets up and decides that maybe you really are too drunk for this conversation.

There's a glass filling itself with water when she offers her hands for you. This time, to help you to your feet.

But you hug the bottle and give her a sad look.

“Just leave me here. I'm not being a good friend right now.”

“You're an amazing friend, sweetheart.” She retorts immediately, a sincere smile on her lips. “You're snarky and clever and loyal. And you're so fun. You're my favorite person. I wish you could believe me when I said it.”

You hide your tears from her, there were too many tonight. Wanda grabs the water floating in her direction and waits for you to look up again to give you the item.

The wine bottle flies away in colorful red sprinklers when you make the exchange.

“Can I take you to bed?” Her question is innocent in every aspect, but you grin and her cheeks warm up.

“One love confession doesn't make me that easy, Maximoff.” You retort playfully and she smiles while this time, you accept the help to get up. The wine glass is forgotten because Wanda's powers do the job of taking everything to the right place in the kitchen, perfectly washed if needed.

The walk to your bedroom is silent, excluding familiar guidance of “watch your step” or “let me help you with the zipper” when Wanda helps you off your work clothes to pajamas.

Those are things you have done together a dozen times now, but not quite like tonight. Wanda never took off your shirt after saying she had feelings for you. She was never in your bed after you didn't believe her words.

There's a tense silence now, while you're lying next to each other.

She tussles around before suggesting “Maybe I shouldn't sleep here tonight.”

You sigh deeply before it's your turn to tussle around and look at her.

“You never sleep away when we are drunk.”

She turns her body in your direction, using her hand as a support for her face.

“Well, I am not drunk. And it's different now, darling. Tonight is different.”

You hide your grimace against your pillow. Wanda smiles. 

Her fingers move up, to play with your hair and she takes some pride in how she can catch some of your reactions: the blush, the shudder, or the hard shallow.

“What's in your head?” She risks it very quietly.

You look up just a little from the pillow and almost lose the ability to form a coherent thought with such pretty eyes looking back at you.

“As if you can't tell.”

She smiles at the impolite answer, never moving her fingers away from your hair. It's such a lovely and comfortable gesture that you're struggling not to fall asleep.

“Despite what everyone thinks, I'm not willing to read every mind I come across. It's often overwhelming and also disappointing.”

You smile at her, pulling the comforter up a little, nearly enough to cover your face. Wanda wishes you wouldn't do it, if there's something she likes to do is to look at you.

“You gotta admit there's fun in knowing what everybody thinks. What keeps them up at night, what's stealing their attention, and who they are thinking about. How they feel, what they fear.”

She gets a little closer, to count your freckles. To see your honesty.

“Is that what you want me to do with you? Read your every thought, know your fears, know your feelings?”

You swallow, look down at her lips but then pull back, gazing at the ceiling. Wanda just keeps looking at you.

“I don't understand why you're doing this.”

She's ready to start another argument, maybe even tell you to go to sleep so that you can talk in the morning, but you keep talking and she decides to keep listening.

“We were never like this. I'm a fucking mess and you're a fucking mess too, and I had James, and we both know how shit that went.” You continue with a tearful voice. “Then I had Natasha and fuck me, that was even worse. And you had Vision and Simon, and that is probably a lifetime of bullshit. So I don't….” You take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You end up giving a sad chuckle. “What I think I mean is that we have been around each other from the start. And I never saw you. Not like this. And it sounds fucking ridiculous that I just stand there, next to you for years, wasting my time with everything else instead of looking at you. And seeing how perfect for me you always have been.” There's this crack in your voice and Wanda really wants to kiss you but you don't look at her, not even when your tears start to fall on the sides of your face. “Now I'm so scared. It's like you put on the lights on this thing that was going on in the dark, this precious and special thing we have. And I am terrified that it could end as bad as any other relationship I had, because you're not like any other relationship I had, Wanda. You're… fuck, I can't even-”

She gets closer, enough to touch and to take your face into her hand to make you look at her.

“I wish I knew sooner too. We would have saved us so much time and heartache. But you can only know something when you know it. And I know this now, I'm certainly of it. How much I care for you, how important you are. And I think we have wasted too long being scared.” Her forehead falls to yours. “Maybe it is time we are brave together.”

You kiss her first. Wanda has this memory of your eighteen-year-old versions hiding from Avengers training with cigarettes and shared headphones, making stupid jokes that were ridiculously funny. She recalls the teenage hormonal urgency she used to push down right at this moment, how your breathy sighs cause her head to spin, or how every little sound sends a straight wave of heat towards her body.

But she also tastes the wine and pulls away with the same accelerated breathing and dark eyes as you have.

“You shouldn't have drunk that much.” She whispers against your lips, ignoring your attempt to chase her mouth as she gets up. She knows her willpower wouldn't survive another round. “See you tomorrow, dekta.”

Just like this, she's out of the room. 

You pull back at the bed with a huff and a silly smile on your lips. Every bit of skin Wanda touched, especially your lips, tingled. Your chest was as warm as your heart, and you were sure it had nothing to do with alcohol.

You may be just as drunk as you were the countless times your past relationships started and ended. But this time you are sure it will be different, the person means too much to you not to be. You will make sure it is better.

[fairyhaos]

❖ kiss your heart // xu minghao

minghao x f!reader, 1.1k+ words

tags: established relationship, both xmh + yn are RICH rich, fluff, kissing, marriage/proposal talks, minghao is literally so in love omfg

warnings: pet names (angel, sweetheart)

notes: literally me rambling about rich + devoted minghao with absolutely no direction planned and i think it's super obvious HELPP but it does not matter !! ur honor i luv these 2 theyre so sassy smitten and it devastates me

“you’re actually the worst person i’ve ever met.”

you glare at your boyfriend as he gets out of the driver’s seat, walks around the front of the parked car and opens your door for you. he’s still smiling that faintly smug smile that’s been on his stupidly handsome face ever since you left the restaurant, and you hate it.

“sweetheart,” minghao says, taking hold of your hand and helping you out of the car, “it’s really no big deal.”

you scoff, rolling your eyes. releasing minghao’s hand, you deposit your purse into his waiting palm and flounce away, across the car park and to the apartment building doors.

minghao struggles to hold back a laugh as he trails after you. “y/n. you’re not truly mad, are you?”

“of course i’m truly mad,” you huff. “you said i could pay for our date this time.” 

during the five years you’ve been dating minghao, he’s taken you on a whole variety of incredible dates. from the impromptu long weekend to paris to the days where you just go to the restaurant down the block for dinner, minghao has never failed to take care of you and always pays for your meal.

any other person would be flattered to have such a rich and devoted boyfriend. and really, you adore that about him, too.

but, well. you’re rich also. and sometimes, you want to be the one to dote on your boyfriend.

you punch in the building code unnecessarily hard and stomp through the automatic doors before minghao can catch up with you. from behind, you can hear him laughing, and it makes you whirl back around to look at him, pouting extravagantly.

“i don’t see why that’s so funny. you promised, hao,” you whine, and minghao just laughs again.

that night had been just a normal date night, nothing more than the two of you dressing up to go to that one upscale chinese place that you both love. and so, it seemed like the best day to finally start paying for your dates—if it was any big occasion, minghao would’ve definitely protested against the idea, insistent that he wanted to treat you on such a special day.

and at the time, it seemed like it would work.

minghao had smiled at you, adjusting the pearls around your neck, and agreed.

you’d felt ridiculously satisfied, excited at the fact that finally, you’d have a chance to pay for your boyfriend. but oh, how wrong you were.

“i’m sorry, angel,” minghao says now, brushing a finger over your cheek fondly before pressing the ‘up’ button for the elevator. “it just so happened that i’d already paid for our meal before we’d even got there. i didn’t want to burst your bubble by telling you so, but i guess that made it even worse, hm?”

you whine again in frustration. “hao, that’s not even a thing! you can’t pay for a meal in advance!”

“i can when i know exactly what we’re going to order,” minghao grins.

“what?! i swear, that must go against restaurant etiquette! that's actually crazy behaviour. i can't believe you did that."

the elevator arrives then, and minghao gestures for you to get in first. you do, still arguing with him over restaurant rules and whatnot. even as you do so, supposedly very upset over his behaviour, you still hold onto his arm and lean against him to take off your heels, and then pass them over to him once they’re off your aching feet.

minghao smiles amusedly, terribly smitten. 

“—going to get you back for that stunt one day, xu minghao,” you say, stabbing an accusing finger into his shoulder. “gonna book out the entire restaurant. no, wait, the entire street! we’re going to venice one day, and i’m going to close down a whole road for us only. just you wait.”

the elevator doors open with a ding, and he trails behind as you continue talking, dreaming up big plans on how to treat your boyfriend sometime in the future.

it’s devastatingly endearing. he knows it was maybe a tiny, tiny bit mean to advance-pay the bill tonight, but in his defence, he does that most nights anyway. plus, he likes seeing how pouty you get over it, knowing you're not actually upset, but still insisting you are because you can pay for your own meals, without minghao's card, thank you very much.

and you very much can—he hasn’t run the numbers in a while, but he’s pretty sure you’re richer than him right now—but he likes paying for you. likes taking care of you like this.

he inputs the keycode to the apartment, chuckling as you continue to rant.

“okay, alright,” he finally concedes, opening the door and letting you enter first, taking off your wool coat for you and hanging it up by the door. “in which case, how about a compromise? i pay for our ordinary dates like these, and you can pay for special occasions.”

your eyes light up at his words. “wait, really?”

minghao laughs. “yes, really.” he puts your purse on the dresser by the door, your shoes in the shoe cupboard and then takes off his own. “except for valentine’s day, white day, our anniversary, and your birthday. i’ll be paying for those.”

“what?” you complain. “hao, you’re leaving me with nothing!”

“you can pay for my birthday.”

“come on, that’s a given. i would do that anyway.”

you’re giving him those big, sad eyes again, and minghao can’t help but smile even wider. lord, you’re just so pretty and you love him so much and he’s never been more grateful for that because he loves you so much too.

“well,” he says, pretending to think, “we don’t have an engagement or wedding anniversary yet. so if those things ever happen… then maybe…”

your eyes widen, little sparkles appearing in your irises even as your entire face softens, gentle and hopeful. “you’re… you want to marry me?”

minghao can’t take this anymore. he walks over, takes your face in his hands and kisses you, once. and then again, deeper, softer, for good measure. just to get his point across.

“of course,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away. “i love you.”

you lean in and peck him on the lips once more. “i love you too,” you say, and then pull away so he can see the mischievous glint in your eyes. “hey. if i propose to you, then i’ll definitely get to pay for every engagement anniversary we have, right?”

minghao laughs, pulling you back into his embrace. “sure, sweetheart. that’s only if you propose to me first, however.”

“are you trying to start a proposal race, minghao?”

“maybe. will you join in, y/n?”

you laugh, looping your arms behind his neck and bringing his face close to yours again. “oh, it’s on.”

fics tags: @jeonginssa @weird-bookworm @minhui896 @slytherinshua @haowrld @belladaises @moonlitskiiies @mirxzii @zozojella @kawennote09 @a-wandering-stay @abibliolife @wonranghaeee @icyminghao @sweet-like-caramel @your-yxnnie @odxrilove @kyeomyun @crackedpumpkin @kellesvt @eightlightstar @onlyyjeonghan @aaniag @starshuas @raevyng @isabellah29 @hrts4hanniehae @mcu-incorrect @dokyeomkyeom @suraandsugar @tulsa24 @melodicrabbit @dokyeomkyeom @hopeless-foolery

[comatosebunny09]

preface [ trois ] | sylus

summary: he still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. she’s not you. the body type and stature don’t match. still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate in his journey to find you.

warnings: human trafficking, graphic depictions of violence, minor character deaths, reader has hair, reader implied to be femme, mild language, allusions to reader’s past as a kidnappee, sylus is still murderous

tagging: @world-of-hearts @athanasia-day @falon-fen @queen-serena88 @karespocketboyfriends @mrswanel @readerxyourfave @sunsets-and-crows @antonneva @libriomancer, @queenofstresss, @aeanya @socutesotall @babyx91 @syyyy4ever @karolamurdock

notes: limerence | part 1 | part 2

now playing: o fortuna - carl orff

He recalls it like it was yesterday.

You, clad in black, bearing enough skin to tease. Your back was to him as you fiddled with something, none the wiser to his molten stare. 

He’d watched you from the rail of his club’s second-floor balcony. Thoughts consuming him as guests trickled out, drunk, merry, and sure to return. He waited until the last of them left—until his staff scuttled about, clearing off tables and reorganizing expensive bottles at the bar—to make his move.

You were a guest headliner—someone he occasionally invited to perform on stage. Lux was known for more than just its atmosphere. 

The entertainment was unmatched, and the women were attractive. Sylus couldn’t deny how the scene became more…interesting with you around. You even managed to draw out a few of his enemies for him to snuff out, the bastards greedy and wanton in the face of fresh meat.

With a smirk, Sylus descended the stairs. Stopped behind you, watching you struggle to unlatch your heels from your ankles. 

You glanced up when he poured himself onto the red leather ottoman across. So close, his knees bracketed either side of yours, and he’d caught a whiff of that warm scent you carried. 

Wordlessly, he drew your foot into his lap. Your expression warped into one of brief astonishment before it was replaced by something sultry. A mask you often donned when putting on a show, though he was curious to see what truly lay beneath it. 

You leaned back on your palms whilst he undid the buckle. He glanced up, a chuckle dredged from his chest as you dragged your toes down his quad in thanks. It was flattering. Felt nice, little tingles ricocheting up his spine. 

He hadn’t pursued the touch of a woman for some time, too busy solidifying his position in the underworld to entertain temptations of the flesh. 

He was here on business. His personal reservations could wait. 

Sylus patted his thigh, signaling you to give him your other foot. You had been dancing all night. Smiled pretty, made him money. The least he could do was reward you for your generous contributions. Show a little empathy. 

You obliged, an appreciative hum in your throat when he freed you of your shackle. Reluctantly, gently, he let your feet slide to the floor. Contemplated massaging them–they were soft and agitated. But he was here to preposition you, not seduce you. 

Not yet.

Sylus leaned forward in an easy slouch with his elbows resting on his quads. Tapped his fingers together, studying you. 

You were quite a sight beneath the red throb of the lights overhead. The imperfections lining your features made you all the more appealing, hiding beneath the glamor you posted up with your Evol. He could easily see through it, thanks to his Aether Core.

He knew about that, too. The power you housed. Part of why you were such a showstopper, your Evol allowing you to make these elaborate costume changes and transitions in the midst of performing. 

He didn’t know the full extent of your abilities just yet. Figured they were more than cheap parlor tricks. But having the power of illusion on his side was something he couldn’t get on without. 

Clearing his throat, Sylus spoke low and even, voice slightly above the dull pulse of the music turned down in the background. 

“How would you like to be a permanent employee here?” 

You quirked a brow. Pitched forward with a hand propped under your chin, your eyes glittering with mischief. “I’m surprised it took you this long to ask.” 

He couldn’t help but laugh. “That easy, huh?”

“What? You thought I just came here out of the goodness of my heart?” Your eyes flickered downward, and you leaned in, toying with the first button of his shirt.

He was surprised by how simple you’d made this for him. No coercion, no ultimatums. It’s as if you were waiting for him to preposition you, coiled like a spring itching to be released. He couldn’t help wondering if you knew the full extent of what he’d ask of you. The people he’d employed were more than just pretty faces. But that conversation would come later once he’d earned your trust, your loyalty. 

Nonetheless, he put back up the businessman front as he stood. Twirled the strap of your heel on a slender finger, and he peered down at you with a lazy smirk, offering you his hand to help you up and to seal the deal. 

“Then it’s settled. You work for me now,” he replied coolly. Matter of factly, no room for you to back out.

You stood with his help, your hand in his electrifying. You bore a look of amusement as you shook it, sensing there was more to this ‘job’ than what was shown at the surface. You were signing a contract with the Devil and didn’t even know it. 

“Cool. Do I get a welcome basket or something?”

Sylus snorted. Beautiful and cheeky. He could tell this would be the beginning of an interesting partnership. “I could arrange that.”

The mirth around you dwindled, and you studied him for a beat before you grew antsy. Held out your hand as the moment subsided, tapping your foot expectantly.

“Can I have my shoe back now? I should probably get goin’ before you try to coerce me into being your secretary, too.”

He canted his head, feigning ignorance. Woundedness. “I thought I’d hold onto it as a memento.”

You huffed out a laugh. “A memento for what?”

“For our new friendship.”

You snorted. “That’s real creepy, Mister.” Made a grab for your heel, yet Sylus held it just out of reach. You tried for the shoe again, your fragrance overhauling his senses as your warm chest brushed against him. 

He suddenly found himself wanting to smell you all the time, wanting to feel the heat wafting off your skin more often. And that pretty smile you wore—he had to have it for himself. 

You looked at him with a devastating curl to your lips, hands on hips. “Do you tease all your new recruits like this, or am I a special case?”

He chuckled, something tugging in his chest. “Consider it a part of the onboarding process.”

As you stood there, silently scrutinizing each other beneath the strobing lights, he found his interest in you sinking deeper than surface level. And he suddenly wanted to know about everything that made you tick. 

He felt a magnetic pull towards you, like the moon drawn to Earth. Something he couldn’t quite place. He’d be remiss to say he wasn’t curious to see where this partnership could lead. 

The deal was sealed that fateful night, even if it hadn’t been in black and white. He owned you. 

And over time, you would learn that you owned him, too.

—

The present comes sliding back in, banishing his memories to the furthest reaches of his mind. He’s caught reminiscing like you’re already dead. Catastrophizing, assuming the worst. 

He knows better. You’re tough. Stubborn. Still, he doesn’t err in his steps to find you. There’s always that just in case. Just in case your Evol failed you. Just in case they incapacitated you long enough to sell you off.

He’s panting. 

Not from the exertion of fighting and killing. Rending flesh from bone, turning men to ash as he saps their energy to use as his own. Not from painting the ship’s walls with the soot of burned bodies, leaving a statement for anyone who dares to steal from him again.

No.

He pants with an effort to restrain himself. 

He could sink this ship if he so chooses. But there are still innocents onboard, trickling out in onesies and twosies. Still goons charging at him from the exits with weapons poised at his chest as if they know who he is and what he’s after—laid out the red carpet, pulling out all the stops.

And he still has yet to locate your whereabouts. 

He ducked in and out of vacant rooms after reaching the cruise ship's lowest cabins. He funneled henchmen into the hallways one by one, snuffing them out like coals. Followed their source, gritting his teeth as the trail came up cold.

He eases into another area once the fray dies down. An inky darkness greets him. He crouches when he hears a lifeless, robotic voice speaking. Rattling off descriptions like it’s reading a menu. 

Sylus’ blood turns to icicles in his veins. Could this be the auction he’s been seeking all this time?

He peers over the partition, blocking him from sight. Spots a gentleman clad in a suit, his back facing Sylus as he sits in a leather armchair.

Two more men similarly sit on opposite sides of the room, forming a triangle. Various animal masks conceal their faces. 

Fixed in the center is a ceiling-high, glass display case with three figures clad in black standing in its center.

Two bodyguards flank the smaller being shrouded in an onyx cloak. One guard reaches up to peel back the robe’s hood, and Sylus’ breath catches. 

The figure is inherently feminine, clad in a lingerie set. Gaunt, like she’s been deprived of a proper meal for days. If not for the henchman with their hands manacling her forearms, Sylus is sure she would collapse. 

They’d dressed her up all pretty like a doll. Tried to make her look more appealing, though Sylus was sure these men would buy her regardless of how emaciated she looked. 

He still can’t make out any telling features, a doily-patterned veil draped over her head. She’s not you. The body type and stature don’t match. But still, she’s another girl he can spare a terrible fate.

The metallic voice chimes in overhead again. The bidding starts at one million. The gentleman before Sylus raises a white paddle, soundlessly placing his bid. Sylus’ stomach churns. He’ll kill everyone here, he swears it.

He observes passively for another moment. Bristles when the girl in the case weakly attempts to free herself from her captors. They shake her in warning, and the veil slips off.

Sylus swallows thickly, his power prickling on his fingertips. He waits until the bid reaches five million before he makes his move. Soundless as the tendrils of his Evol snake around five necks. Before they know what’s amiss, five sources of life are siphoned, sinking into Sylus’ body. 

The woman gasps. Throws herself against the glass, pounding on it with weakened fists. Begs Sylus with quivering, blood-crusted lips to save her. 

He’s detached as he snaps his wrist, the entry of the display case easing open. She studies him a moment longer in her quiet panic. Looks between him and the open door, unsure of what to do. 

Sure, he’s disappointed that she isn’t the woman he seeks. She isn’t you. But he wouldn’t hurt her. That would go against all the effort he put forth tonight to bring this human trafficking ring to its knees. 

He signals for the girl to leave with a cant of his head. She snatches up the cloak, hurriedly draping it about her shoulders before skittering out of sight.

Sylus’ mouth pulls into a rigid line. Nostrils flare. He burns with malice, breathing deep to quell the urge to burn this ship to the bowels of the ocean. Still, he has faith that you’re still on board somewhere. He just has to look harder.

Dipping out of the room, he enters another. Goons no longer pursue him, either thoroughly snuffed out or they fled in the wake of Sylus’ ire. 

He’s startled when he hears an enmeshment of grunts. One high and light, and the other gurgled and strained as if being choked. He darts from behind the partition in this new room, and the sight that welcomes him makes his body flood with something glacial.

He pants again, but this time for an entirely different reason. 

A wave of relief crashes into him. He doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. 

In the center of a case similar to the one he’d seen just moments before is you. And you’re in the midst of choking out a guard with the links of your cuffs. He’s red-faced and fighting for his life, clawing at the links until bloody, jagged lines marr his neck. It’s to no avail.

With one final jerk, bone snaps, and the sigh of a life fleeting signals his demise. Your breaths are labored as you sit amid your carnage—four guards taken out similarly, haloing you—fixing Sylus’ with a reposed look.

“Took you long enough,” you puff with an inkling of a smile. And he doesn’t think he’s ever found you more beautiful, even beneath the sweat and grime and blood—thankfully not yours—that you’d accumulated throughout your capture.

Sylus moves on autopilot when his wits return. With a waggle of his fingers, your cuffs fall free from your wrists, accompanied by the shackles around your ankles. You must’ve put up quite the fight. He swells with pride despite the moment, and if you knew the doubts he housed about your safety, you would surely fight him.

He pries the display’s door open with his Evol and conquers the space between you in three long strides. Kneeling on the floor beside you, Sylus ingests your features. Smooths your sweat-slicked hair away from your face. Turns your head this way and that, scrutinizing you for injuries.

“I’m fine,” you assure on an exhale. Wrap your lithe fingers around his wrist as if to soothe, and it’s like he’s been shocked by static. He studies you a moment longer, painting a frantic triangle between your eyes and mouth before taking your hand in his, trying to haul you up.

“Let’s get you out—”

“Ow!” you hiss, flinching back. Sylus’ eyes glaze over you before taking in your ankle's swollen, purpling state. His eyes narrow, and he resists an urge to growl. 

If he hadn’t already killed all of them, he’d make them pay for hurting you.

“Might’ve sprained it,” you laugh, wincing at the stickiness of your voice. 

He peers at you fondly before scooping you into his arms, mindful of your injury. You instinctively curl into him, your arms loosely winding about his neck, and you nuzzle into the hollow of his shoulder. 

With his adrenaline slowly draining, Sylus cautiously moves you back into the hallway. Steps over the viscera and carnage he had caused, severed hands and errant teeth littering the once clean, blue, carpeted floors.

He has you back. You’re safe. A little bruised, but you’re safe. And he doesn’t think he’s ever felt so grateful. 

Slowly, the pair of you are consumed by the shadows of his Evol before morphing out of existence.

—

“Where will they go?” you ask with a wistful, faraway look in your eyes as Sylus’ coat blankets you, flapping in the breeze.

Luke and Kieran were herding the girls from the semi from the docks into awaiting vehicles, accompanied by a slew of Sylus’ staff members from Lux. They were patient and understanding as they gave the girls blankets and water, ushering them into Jeeps and SUVs to be transported to safety.

You watch them from Sylus’ arms, and he catches a glimpse of the girl you were all those years back. Hopeful and optimistic despite being in captivity yourself, knowing that no one would come for you. 

With his eyes transfixed on you, he speaks low and even. “Back to their families.”

You gaze at him, your eyes glazing over with a swell of tears. A moment of rarity between you, where you drop your defenses and grace him with a peak of the woman that resides beneath that callused exterior you outwardly project to the world—a means of protecting yourself. 

“What if they don’t have families?”

He shifts you in his arms, a smirk touching his lips. “Then we’ll do everything we can to help them find their place in this world again.”

You look at him with a reverent gleam to your irises. Shyly nuzzle into his chest, your voice so small, he has to strain to hear it.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “Seriously.”

Something tugs at his heartstrings. He merely nods, walking you through the line of vehicles. The click of his loafers on the pavement echoes whilst he takes you towards the moonlight, nestled against the horizon. 

—

“You’re not supposed to sleep with a concussion, sweetie,” Sylus husks, and it surprises even him how soft he sounds. 

You must feel so smug, having the big, bad Boogeyman fretting over your well-being like this. He could crush you with his bare hands, yet he’s cautious as he strokes some of your baby hairs away from your forehead, your temple cool to the touch.

“Not sleeping,” you rasp, your lips pulling into a disarming smile. You don’t sound convincing, your voice heavy with sleep. But could he argue with you? “Just resting my eyes a bit.”

He snorts, your smile infectious. He lapses into silence when your smile fades and your breaths even out. Reluctantly withdraws his hand, watching you slumber atop his bed, and you just look so natural between silken, red sheets with the firelight waltzing over your visage. 

It’s been an eventful night. You deserve some rest. He feels better, having you safely tucked away in the penthouse, far from the arms of men with impure intentions, far from your memories. Should anything else come up, he knows you’ll be alright with the twins and his employees downstairs keeping tabs on you.

Regardless, his brows furrow with worry. Unlike him, you haven’t this miraculous ability to heal as quickly as he does. 

As if summoned from his thoughts, Mephisto appears through a flurry of inky smoke on his wrist. Sylus scratches the crow’s chin affectionately before fixing him with a serious, crimson stare. “Keep an eye on her,” he implores. 

Said crow hops from his wrist onto the side of the bed near your face, and in his way, he signals to Sylus that you’ll be left in good hands. Or wings.

With a final sigh, Sylus peels himself from the bedside chair. Stuffs his hands in his pockets, sparing one final look at your snoozing figure from over his shoulder. He can’t help how his lips twitch, something like affection warming his veins as he stands in the doorframe.

He exits the penthouse, down the elevator shaft, and through the stilled halls of Lux. Dumps himself into the balmy arms of the summery night. 

There’s still unfinished business to attend to, and now that he knows where Fate’s stronghold is, he figures he’ll pay an old friend a much-needed visit.

And maybe teach him a thing or two about stealing from The Devil.

[canisalbus]

Hi hello, I was struggling with my Spooktober challenge, but wanted to draw something today, so I ended up with this:

He is Very Shape, so I had to lmao (I don't draw animals much, so it was a bit tricky, but hope it came out okay!)

Also, terkkuja toiselta suomalaiselta, meikäläisiin törmää niin harvoin :D

.

[8lyme]

Play it again ♬

Logan Howlett x reader (unmentioned gender)

♬ Play it again - Luke Bryan

SUMMARY - You've been listening to the radio all night long, and can't believe your song comes on when you're luckily alone with Logan.

a/n - chat ... please be gentle this is a self indulgent one shot based off the sickening obsession i have with this man. i need him biblically. Also, I'm imagining this to this song or Springsteen by Eric Church, but obviously use whatever song ur heart desires unedited ! And lowkey out of character but idc

At the start of summer, the students of the "gifted youngsters" program begged Charles to let them set the grounds up for a small party as a celebration for the end of the school year, despite nearly all of them being permanent X-mansion residents.

You excitedly volunteered to help, sitting in the kitchen concocting a dessert recipe as Scott mixed punch. Within a few hours, the yard was lit with string lights hanging from tree to tree. Fold-out tables with sheets as tablecloths held plates of food and drinks. Closer to the mansion, a large speaker blared music from the radio.

You listened to the music, half listening to the conversation Storm and Charles were having and half trying to hide your sideways glances at Logan, who was very attractively manning the grill. You might've heard a question directed at you but Logan's white t-shirt was tucked into his jeans. The cut of his sleeves stretched against his biceps, one hand on his belt and the other flipping hot dogs with tongs. You wanted him to turn so you could shamelessly stare at his ass in his jeans. You were no better than a man.

"Didn't you bake these cookies?" Charles said, catching your attention. You hoped that was the first time he asked that as you looked down to him.

"Oh, yeah, I did", you answer (hopefully as nonchalant as possible). "I hope they don't taste terrible."

"Please, you are the baker sent from heaven" Storm sighed, taking a bite of one of your cookies.

"I told you, my mutation literally causes the spirit of Martha Stuart to take over my body" you snort. "She's the little rat in my chef's hat".

You earned a chuckle from Charles, a yellow paper plate of some of your baked goods resting on his legs.

"If I truly ever felt the mind of Martha Stuart at this school, I would send us into lockdown" He joked back, but you had glanced at Logan again and your mind left the conversation.

He was smiling warmly as he handed plates of burgers and hot dogs to a few surrounding kids. He turned to the table behind him to open another pack of buns, and you silently thought 'thankyouthankyouthankyou' as you shamelessly stared at his ass.

With an enormous amount of willpower, you returned to the conversation ahead of you as Logan unfortunately turned back to the grill.

♬ ♬ ♬ ♬ ♬

The lights dimly lit the courtyard under the darkening sky. You sat in the grass, legs outstretched and feet swaying to the radio still playing in the background. Hearing footsteps, you glanced behind you.

Logan was making his way towards you, beer in hand.

"Hey" he said, kneeling to sit beside you. He sighed as he turned to stretch his legs out before taking a long drink.

"Hey there, grillmaster" you smile, reaching to snag his beer.

"Headmasters orders" He groaned as you sipped his cold drink.

"Whatever Logan, you had a smile on your face the whole time"

"I think you were a little busy staring at my ass to notice my face" He teased and snatched his beer from you, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Don't even flatter yourself" you said, turning away and hoping he didn't notice the blood rushing to your cheeks. "I was admiring your grilling capabilities".

He let out a quiet laugh as your face became even hotter.

"Only my grilling capabilities?" He said, and you felt him leaning closer to you. "Nothing else?"

You tried to ignore him despite goosebumps making their way up your arms. He taps your arm with his beer, trying to get you to look at him.

"You think you're hot shit, huh?" you say as a deterrent.

"And you don't?" he flirts, knocking you with the cold bottle in his hand again. You roll your eyes, deciding between groaning out 'Whatever, Logan', 'Spare me', or 'Fuck off'.

Before you even open your mouth, the radio catches your attention. You take a second to recognize the beginning of the song before gasping loudly.

"Oh my god, this is my song!" you light up, whipping around to face Logan and grabbing his shoulder. "The radio's been on all night, I can't believe it's playing!"

You scramble up to a crouch and grab at Logan's arms.

"Come here, Logan, I wanna dance!"

Before he can say a word, you yank on his wrists and pull him off the grass. Your song hums from the speakers as you pull him to spin to the beat. Logan rolls his eyes at you, but he can't ignore the smile that's on your face. You're holding each others' fingers, and he lets you push and pull at opposite arms.

You can't help but sing along, turning from side to side with the lyrics. A grin forms on Logan's face, and he decides to pull you closer and put his hand on the small of your back. You're too enthralled in the music to feel embarrassed, and you push your leg up to force Logan to dip you.

You pull away from him and spin yourself under his arm. You're jumping and swaying to the beat, unaware that Logan is enjoying himself enough to dance along as little as he can get away with.

At every chorus, you lift your hand in a fake microphone and sing into it. Logan sings along too, but quietly enough that you don't notice.

The last few notes of the song play out, and you slow to a stop and catch your breath. You look up at Logan, surprised to find him with an enjoyable look on his face. Your hands are still connected when you straighten up to say "Sorry, I just haven't heard that in while".

You start to let go of his hands, but his fingers tighten around yours. He's looking right into your eyes, the normal furrow in his brows gone and his features softened.

"Don't apologize" he says gently.

"Okay" you respond in whisper. His gaze is unwavering.

You blink with your heart thrumming in your chest. You can't tell if hours or only seconds have passed while you've been looking up at him. You're afraid to look away and ruin the moment, but you unintentionally glance down at his lips and notice that he's smiling.

With a newfound burst of confidence, you pull your hands from his to grab at his jawline. You tug him down and kiss him. Before you can pull back, his hands grip your back. He pulls you closer from his hand between your shoulder blades and other on the curve of your spine. He sighs into you before you pull away, and you meet each other's gaze once again.

"I hope they play that song again" Logan says to you after a beat. You can't fight your smile before you say "Me too".

He brings your face to his and whispers "You spilled my beer, asshole" before kissing you deeply. You push him away, smiling.

"Go get another one, I'll figure out how to play that song again"

[gpcwsl]

Alessia Russo x Reader

- Written in silver -

WC: 909

MasterList

Warnings: short?

Song: You belong to me - Taylor Swift

My bday was yesterday, thought I could write a fiction for ‘Readers’ bday. Hope you enjoy!

The crisp March air nipped at your cheeks as you made your way into the Arsenal training facility, excitement bubbling in your chest. Not just for the match ahead but for the entire day itself—it was your birthday. You had already been bombarded with messages from family and friends, but the real celebration would be at the game. Arsenal had a late afternoon kick-off at 17:30, and you couldn’t think of a better way to spend your special day than playing the sport you loved.

Stepping inside, you were greeted by the familiar buzz of the team preparing for the pre-match meeting. You exchanged quick greetings, laughing at Lotte’s attempt to juggle an orange as you made your way to your usual seat—right next to Alessia Russo.

“Happy birthday, trouble,” Alessia greeted with a grin, her blue eyes sparkling with something you couldn’t quite place.

“Thanks, Less,” you replied, dropping into your seat with a content sigh.

Alessia had been your best friend since she joined the club, always by your side whether you needed a partner for extra training or just someone to binge-watch terrible reality TV with. If there was one person who made every day brighter, it was her.

Before you could say anything more, Rénne Slegers stepped to the front, signaling for the team to settle. The room quieted as the pre-match meeting began, everyone focused on the tactical slides displaying Arsenal’s game plan. But then, out of nowhere, the screen changed.

A blown-up, truly awful photo of you filled the projector screen.

Groaning, you immediately recognized it—it was a candid from training where you were mid-sprint, mouth slightly open, looking anything but flattering. A chorus of laughter filled the room as you buried your face in your hands.

“Who did this?” you demanded, already suspecting the usual culprits.

Before anyone could answer, the entire team burst into song.

“Happy birthday to you… Happy birthday to you…”

Your face grew warm as all eyes were on you, the embarrassment creeping in. Unable to handle the attention, you turned to the only place that felt safe—Alessia. Without thinking, you leaned into her, letting your forehead rest against her shoulder in an attempt to hide away.

She chuckled softly, the sound sending warmth through your chest, and gently patted your back. “Aww, come on, it’s cute. You should be honored.”

“Less, I will actually fight you,” you muttered, which only made her laugh harder.

The singing finally came to an end, and the meeting resumed, but Alessia didn’t move away. Instead, her arm rested lightly behind you, fingertips grazing your back in a way that felt… different. Not that you had time to dwell on it—there was still a match to win.

Finally, after an intense 90 minutes, Arsenal clinched a narrow 4-3 victory. It wasn’t the prettiest win, but it was a win nonetheless. The team celebrated on the pitch, exhausted but elated, before heading back to the changing room.

As you were toweling off, Alessia caught your eye and tilted her head toward the exit. Curious, you followed her out, away from the noise of the post-match chatter.

“Alright, what’s up?” you asked as she led you into a quieter corner.

Alessia shifted slightly, suddenly looking… nervous. It was rare to see her like this—she was usually so confident, so sure of herself. But now, she was fidgeting, her hands tucked behind her back.

“I, uh… I got you something,” she admitted.

You raised a brow. “Less, you already got me a win, what more could I want?”

She rolled her eyes but smiled nonetheless. “Just—here.”

From behind her, she pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box. The navy blue wrapping paper was smooth, tied with a silver ribbon.

You took it hesitantly, glancing up at her before carefully untying the bow. Inside was a delicate silver bracelet, a thin chain with a single charm hanging from it—a small football, engraved with your initials and hers intertwined.

Your breath hitched slightly. “Less… this is—this is beautiful.”

She shrugged, but you could see the hope in her eyes. “I wanted to get you something special. Something that—” she hesitated, before continuing, “—means something.”

Your fingers traced over the charm, heart pounding just a little too fast. “I love it,” you said sincerely, looking up at her. “Thank you.”

Alessia let out a breath, as if she had been holding it in. “Good. I—I was hoping you’d like it.”

You took a step closer, unable to stop the soft smile forming on your lips. “You’re my best friend, you know that?”

For a moment, something flickered across her expression—something deeper, something unsaid. But then she grinned, her usual playful self returning.

“Yeah, yeah,” she said, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Now, let’s get back before they start thinking we’ve run off together.”

You laughed, slipping the bracelet onto your wrist, where it fit perfectly.

As you walked back to the team, you couldn’t help but wonder—was this really just a birthday gift? Or was there something more behind the way Alessia was looking at you?

Maybe, just maybe, you’d find out soon.

[obsessedwhyyes]

Velvet and Vice - An Astarion Quote Prompt List for Smut Writers

As requested, one smut quote prompt list for Astarion coming right up! I've divided this into two sections: Before and During (under the cut for obvious reasons). Before the smut and during the smut. All lines are fully gender neutral. As before, drop me a tag if you use any of these! I'd love to see them in action.

Gif by @gortash on Tumblr!

Before

"Oh, darling. I didn't realise it was this easy to have you wrapped around my finger."

"I don't even have to say a word, do I? You're already thinking about it."

"You look delectable in this light. Good enough to eat, one might say."

"Patience was never my virtue. But for you, I might make an exception."

"Darling, your gaze is positively ravenous. Careful, or I might think you want to devour me."

"Your eagerness is flattering, truly. Though I can hardly be blamed for being so alluring, can I?"

"You're quite the temptation, darling. And I've always had trouble resisting those."

"I promise, the only marks I'll leave are the ones you beg me for."

"Oh, my sweet. I plan on making sure you remember every. Single. Detail."

"I promise to be gentle. Unless, of course, you'd prefer otherwise."

During

"I've barely laid a finger on you, and you're already breathless. Oh, this will be fun."

"Darling, if you keep making sounds like that, I might just lose my focus. And we wouldn't want that, now, would we?"

"My, my. Aren't you just full of hidden talents? I'm positively intrigued."

"You look so vulnerable; so deliciously at my mercy. Shall I show you just how much I enjoy that?"

"You're a masterpiece like this, you know. And I've always had a taste for the finer things."

"You're playing with fire, darling. Keep it up, and I'll ensure neither of us gets any rest tonight."

"You're so delightfully sensitive. It's almost criminal how easily I can drive you mad."

"You're being so good for me, darling. I think you deserve a little more, don't you?"

"Care to discover just how talented these fingers can be?"

"I've barely begun, and you're already putty in my hands. How terribly convenient for me."

"You have no idea how delectable you look right now. It's almost unfair, really."

"Oh, darling. You didn't think I'd be satisfied with just that, did you? We're just getting started."

"My, such enthusiasm. One might think you've been fantasising about this for days."

"If you want my attention, you'll have to earn it. Show me how badly you need it."

"Always so eager to please. I do love that about you."

I also write Astarion fanfiction! Masterlist can be found here.

Non-smut Astarion quotes for general use here!

[milqueandsugar]

🌼☕` Wearing His Clothes`☕🌼

Gen / Fluff

Includes / Alastor , Lucifer

| ALASTOR |

If Alastor could spend every evening like this, he would. A warm hellish day, a pleasant breeze that made the usual sulphuric smell that lingered in the air tolerable, and most of all, you by his side. The scarlet parasol you carried over your shoulder sifted the dying rays of the sun into a glorious red. If Alastor could devour an image he'd have this walk on a plate.

"Have I ever mentioned how marvelous you are in red?" The static of his voice crackled to life, so did the blood in your cheeks. "Very, very often." You tease, his grin widens. "Oh so not nearly enough."

You were working up a come back when something heavy dropped onto your shoulders. It smelled of chicory and black coffee, it smelled of Alastor. You poked your head up out of a collar, his collar. You stared up at your lover who twirled the parasol you must have dropped in hid hand. Spinning the red refracted light around the both if you like a kelidoscope.

"You are darling in red, I'll have to ring up Rosie to get you one of your own."

"Matching outfits Alastor? Tattoos next?"

"I was thinking rings, but by the by."

Alastor is definitely a possessive character but I don't think that translates at all to you wearing his clothes

He's actually quite protective of them, he's as particular as he is possessive and it has to be some sort of gesture for him to lend it to you

He especially holds off on lending clothes to you if you make it know you like it, just for teasing purposes of course!

He only truly lends you his bow tie or jacket and only, of course, on his terms

He finds it endearing, how flattered or excited you are at something as simple as a coat, though he holds this little secret close to his chest

It's not as fun if you can tease him back!

Due to his more animalistic tendencies/physicality he is particularly sensitive to smell

If you REALLY want to rile him up use his cologne or soap, it might take a day or two but it's impossible not to notice his increase in physical affection

Once he registers that wearing his clothes is another, far more subtle way of having you smell like him he'll be far more generous with lending you garments.

| LUCIFER |

Every few months you cleaned out the closet, Lucifer liked to buy things, you liked to wear things, both of you were terrible for over filling your closet. He was out for a day out with Charlie, which made things easier. You loved him truly but he made tossing things out difficult, it was too pretty or to cute, to sexy for him to part with. He wasn't wrong, he had an excellent eye for picking clothes you liked, but at this rate you'd need to buy a new home to accommodate for the mass amounts of clothes!

It was when putting the keeps back when you noticed it, his hat. A hat you both loved and hated, the golden snake around its brim gleaned in the light. You snatched it from the shelf at the top of the closet. Your surprised he didn't bring it today, he wore it always, especially when with Charlie. You wondered if she liked it, or if she liked it when she was a kid and bright colours were like moths to light.

You step over to stand in front of the floor length mirror. It felt like a normal hat, of beautiful craftsmanship of course, but just a normal hat. You couldn't see why he was obsessed with the thing. You felt a little silly wearing it, you felt even sillier when a snort sounded from behind you.

"Oh so that's where my hat went"

He thinks it's cute!!

He's confident so he doesn't see any real need to mark or claim you, he knows he loved you, and he knows you love him just as much!

Absolutely pleased to lend you clothes!

If it becomes a habit of yours he even goes out of his way to pick up clothes he thinks both of you will like

Turns into a fun shopping activity!

Be fully prepared for him to start stealing your clothes too though this is a two way street

Maybe it's for the best too he's got no style let's be honest

Absolutely tortures you if he discovers you think it's hot, wears your clothes out, wears your clothes in private, when your on a date

Good luck, they're pretty much his now

No hiding if you dress more feminely either he's not afraid of rocking a mini skirt

The act itself doesn't do anything but seeing you so excited about it?? That does it for him

[snowsinterlude]

omggg your fics deserves so much more attention they are so good , I love how you write coriolanus. what do you think about corio with a size kink, a girl thats so much shorter than him and on the more skinnier side giving him an ego boost because of how he could move her the way he wants ahh

omg i love this questiooonn!!!!!!! love them size kink girlies. truly. a kiss on your cheek for asking me that. love you!! i hope you like it!!

c.w: rough sex, size kink, dirty talk, tummy bulge, dumbification, praising, degrading and aftercare.

first of all, we need to understand that coryo is 6'0ft tall. which means, he's not gigantic, but near you?? man he looks like a building.

at first he was afraid to hurt you during intimacy, but seeing you squirm down his body as he hold both your arms and watches the small bulge on your stomach as he fucks you seems to flinch something inside him.

he turned out to be so rough. not as if you're complaining, though. you loved him. and you loved to see him being so eager to have his cock hitting your uterus and filling you with his size.

you gave him all the consent to be rough to you, but he always told you to feel free to stop him if he's hurting you in any way.

you loved him so much!! his cock fucking you dumb, making your thoughts a bunch of smeared numb images as he fucked you.

and he loved you even more, the way you boosted his ego through your words was terribly flattering for him.

"too big, too big!!" was the main thing you'd be squealing when he finally thrusted hard and deep inside you, his eyes focusing on your face and your body, so pretty, so small. he loves making a mess out of you. "coryo, please!!"

your words woke him up, his thrusts becoming steady and slow.

"what is it? is it hurting you, princess?" he asked, kissing your temple.

"n-no, please, keep going! i-i'm almost there!" you said, crying as he fucked every thought of your pretty head. "you're so big, please! it's s-so deep, so good, ah!"

and your words would always make him chuckle, his thumb softly rubbing your clit as he tortured you and get you over the edge. you could cum all he wanted, and he wouldn’t deny how much his ego seemed to be massaged by the thought of being so good that he could make you cum multiple times. he would fuck you in every human possible position, and his favorite would still be missionary, cause everytime your eyes looked into his you would be blurting out a bunch of "fuck, i love you! coryo, pleease! i love you, too much!" and he loved you too, don't worry.

"god, you're such a slut." he said, groaning as he frowned at the sight of your hand resting on the bulge on your stomach, he felt so good. too good. too deep. too fucking good. and you would always let him know that. "who'd know such a pretty girl could make the dirtiest sounds?"

being called a pretty girl, a dirty whore, a dirty princess, a beautiful slut, always seemed to get a raise out of you, and you, of course, would cry on his cock, crying until he came and pulled out of you.

aftercare would be the sweetest time ever, he would help you bathe cause you would always be too fucked to have a quick bath, there was a time he found you sleeping on the bathtub, and even if he found it cute, he didn’t want you to be sick afterwards, so he started bathing with you, washing your hair and cuddling with you as you slept peacefully on his chest.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Tesco

Leila Ouahabi x Reader

Connected to Uni Love II

Summary: How Leila got the bruise on her cheek

Leila's minding her own business as she wanders through her local Tesco. She's got one earphone in as she goes down the snack aisle. She's meant to be getting food for a little meetup at Deyna and her girlfriend's house but, as the only one out of the Man City girls going currently not injured, she can afford to be a little bit late.

Every Brit she meets says that there's something magical about Big Tesco but, honestly, she's not entirely sure she gets the appeal.

Deyna's girlfriend gave her a list to stick to but Leila's pretty sure that lists are just guidelines anywhere so she's going off vibes only as she crouches down in front of one of the fridges full of dessert.

She doesn't even realise what's happening until she's sprawled out on the floor with pain blooming on her cheekbone. Leila looks up in confusion to see a full trolley where she used to be crouching and the prettiest girl she's ever seen approaching.

"Oh my god! I'm so sorry! Are you okay?!"

Leila's still completely star-struck as you approach, your hands fluttering over to check her face.

"I didn't even notice you! God, I'm sorry. Can I do anything? Are you alright?"

Leila, in a moment of pure adrenaline, captures your hand in her own and kisses the back of it. "I am so okay." She's trying to be smooth (Deyna and Laia would laugh at her if they were here) and, thankfully, you seem to be flattered if the blush on your face is anything to go by.

"I feel terrible," You say," Can I buy your basket for you? As a sorry."

"If you buy my basket," Leila replies as you help her to her feet," Then can I have your number? I'd love to take you out."

You laugh and inwardly, Leila pumps her fist in victory. "Are you trying to pick me up? In a Tesco?"

Leila grins, even though the movement makes her cheek ache. "I've heard that Big Tesco was a magical place but I didn't know that it stocked such beautiful girls like you."

You laugh under your breath. "Oh my god. I hit you with my cart and you're trying to pick me up. I can't believe it."

"I'm Leila," She says with a wink," But you can call me your future girlfriend."

"Wow," You say," You're so forward. Is that because of the pain or just what you're usually like?" You take Leila's basket and put it in your trolley.

"Let me take you on a date and find out."

You grin at her. "I gave you quite a shiner. I hope that you don't hold that against me."

"Trust me," Leila says," I am very happy that you hit me with your trolley."

"It was an accident, truly."

Leila winks. "I wouldn't have minded it if wasn't."

You laugh. "Alright smooth talker. Do you need to get anything else or should we go and pay for it?"

"We can pay now," She says," But if you need longer to make your mind up about me then I'm happy to pretend to need more things."

"You're very charming," You reply, beginning the push your cart to the registers," I've already made my mind up about you." You fish out your phone. "I'm working for the next three days but I'm available at any time after six if you still want to go out."

Leila has to restrain herself from snatching your phone to type in her number so makes sure to take her time (but still ends up wearing a smile that betrays how excited she is).

You do the same with her phone, shyly handing it back. "You should probably go get some ice to put on your bruise. Is it far from your place?"

"My friend's girlfriend is a doctor," Leila confesses," I'm actually heading there now."

"Well," You say, feeling bold and giving her a goodbye kiss on the cheek," I hope she has ice for you. I'd hate for that pretty face of yours to be all black and blue during our date."

You waltz off and Leila stands frozen for several minutes as she watches your retreating figure.

Then, her phone chimes.

It's Deyna, asking where the hell she is.

[mondothebombo]

✨Small Canon Things in Ninjago That Aren’t Necessarily Important to the Plot, but Important to Me Pt 2✨

(in honor of the first post reaching 2.5k notes)

1. the reason the ninja can’t summon their elemental dragons anymore is bc they’re too traumatized

2. Kai takes laxatives

3. Lloyd felt responsible for Nya’s sacrifice

4. Morro took a shot while he was in Lloyd’s body

5. Cole’s favorite color is orange

6. Chamille, the master of form, is a “bad girl” post s4

7. the ninja were literal children when they waltzed into Chen’s tournament and proceeded to beat all the adult EMs in the competition

8. prior to seabound, Nya resented her parents for not being there in her childhood, her mother more so than her father (✨mommy issues✨)

9. Nya is hyper-independent as a result of her childhood; while Kai is more openly accepting to his parents because he has a better memory of them

10. Wu was close enough with Lilly that he could remember whether or not she wore a necklace

11. Cliff Gordon was a “womanizer”

12. Lloyd didn’t naturally hit puberty until s8

13. Cole and Jay are best friends

14. whether or not you see Pixane as a bf/gf situation in canon, they are canonically soulmates

15. Jay has not yet received his inheritance letter

16. at least up until the Merge, Zane’s statue is still in downtown Ninjago City

17. ninjago citizens are fully aware their only protection are six super-powered teens/young adults

18. the ninja are still famous, public figures

19. Jay is the only ninja who hasn’t died (yet)

20. despite being a terrible actor, Lloyd is always sent on the undercover missions

21. the ninja are on first name basis with each others parents

22. Cole’s favorite genre of music is soft rock

23. Zane has selective memory

24. after Nya’s sacrifice, each ninja depicted a different stage of grief (Zane-Denial, Kai-Anger, Lloyd-Depression, Jay-Bargaining, and Cole-Acceptance)

25. Cole never actually had feelings for Nya, he was just flattered by the attention and petty about Jay being mad at him

26. elements react based on the master’s emotions

27. Jay is so emotionally dependent on being around other people that he loses his mind when he’s alone for too long

28. Lloyd had a chat with god and wasn’t impressed

29. Cole’s snoring can be heard throughout the monastery

30. Nya is not a morning person

31. Kai and Skylor have been in a situationship since s4

32. Lloyd being the grandson of god is not common knowledge

33. the group of civilians that were on the bounty when Cole fell are probably the only ones who truly realize the danger the ninja put themselves in on the regular to protect the city, and how close they are with each other

34. Wu didn’t want to tell the ninja about the green ninja prophecy because he was afraid of having a repeat of Morro

35. since s8 at the very least, the ninja all shared a room on the bounty until the monastery was rebuilt

36. Jay’s confidence in his own abilities fully depends on what others believe he’s capable of

37. several villains have called the ninja out on being “just a bunch of kids,” and then proceeded to get their shit rocked by said kids

38. the overlord can gloat to Lloyd all he wants to in crystallized, but fact of the matter is Lloyd defeated him when he was like twelve

39. Kai and Nya raised and took care of each other, it wasn’t just Kai doing all of the work

40. Kai is two years older than Nya

41. Zane’s biggest fear is losing his humanity

42. Lloyd’s biggest fear is becoming his father

43. Nya’s biggest fear is losing her individuality

44. Cole’s biggest fear is letting his family down

45. we the audience are the only ones who see the characters as legos; they’re real people in-universe

46. Kai likes spicy food

47. while elemental masters are immune to their elements to some extent, their elements can also be shown to hurt them in some circumstances

and as always, feel free to add on!!