#and that shit takes HOURS of work and if you fuck up you have to start COMPLETELY over from the START

[luvyeni]

ONE MORE BEFORE YOU GO ♱. ── ( 엔하이픈 )

trying to get them to stay and go another round …

𝓲𝓲 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒𓈒 ( 엔하이픈 x fem!reader )   ─── ❛ genre ⸝⸝ smut. content warning. allusions to sex , cursing word count. 0.8k 「 req? ⦂ yes/no 」 library  !

𝕼 ㅤ𓈒ㅤ𓈒 yeni’s note .ᐟ i was so confused on how to write this , idky

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 정원 : jungwon﹚ .ᐟ

“that pouty face isn’t gonna work this time.” he said looking down at your pouty face , you were wrapped up in nothing but a sheet. “it worked last time.” you purred , purposely letting the blanket fall. “fuck , you’re really pushing your luck.” he looked at the time — he was gonna be only 5 minutes late if he left right now. “why worry about the time when you can just stay here.” he chuckled. “stay here , and what fuck you all day?” you shrug, you perfect mounds on display. “doesn’t seem like a bad idea to me.”

“you’re insatiable.” he said ; the entire time he’s slowly losing jus mind. “you know you want to.” you said , he checked the time once more — he’ll be 10 minutes late if he leaves now… but he won’t be late at all if he just doesn’t go , plus he’ll be able to feel you all over again. “i promise this is the last time this will ever happen.” he said kissing your lips. “let’s see how wet you are for me.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 희승 : heeseung ﹚ .ᐟ

hearing you whine for the 10th time as he put his clothes on makes him laugh. “glad to know my suffering brings you happiness and entertainment.” you roll around in the bed , barely clothed , normal that would be enough for heeseung; but he was already 30 minutes late to practice. “im laughing because you’re just too cute baby , whine and throwing a tantrum because i wont fuck you again , even though i just made you cum three times.”

“but im still horny.” you said sitting up on your knees. “please , just once more.” you pouted. “and then you’re free to go.” you said , pulling at his belt loop. “you’re crazy.” he said , his lips barely brushing against yours. “for you yes.” he giggled , time long forgotten. “you what baby fuck it , lay back.” he said , hovering above you. “i can’t leave my girl all needy and this wet for me can i , what kinda boyfriend would i be?”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이 : jay ﹚ .ᐟ

sighing as you rub his shoulders; he knows what you’re trying to do. “what if you’re just 20 minutes late?” you purr into his ear. “what can it hurt?” you kissed behind his ear — you were gonna kill him in the best possible way. “because 20 minutes will turn into a hour messing around with you princess , the boys are already blowing my phone like crazy and — fuck.” he threw his head back as you kissed his neck some more. “please.” your hands working on his chest. “you know you want to.”

he couldn’t hold back anymore; turning around , hovering above you. “you’re so spoiled baby.” he said , wrapping your legs around his waist. “it’s all your fault.” you bit back playfully. “yeah?” he smirked , bring his thumb to your bottom lip. “let me take full responsibility then , fuck you the way you should be.”

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 제이크 : jake﹚ .ᐟ

he literally has to fight himself internally to get out of the bed and leave you every morning even when you don’t have mind blowing morning sex , but it’s 100x times harder leaving out the door when you’re still begging for another round. “baby.” he whined. “i can’t i'm already late.” keep in mind he’s still hard himself and your begging isn’t doing him any good. “please jake , i need you so much.” he really needs to leave , his phone has already been blowing up.

he falls for it everytime ; the ole ‘just a kiss before you go.’ bending down to kiss you ; only for him to deepen the kiss , he can’t help it , he just loves kissing you ; it gets him all worked up. “fuck you do this all the time.” he moaned against your neck. “jake please fuck me.” you moaned… safe to say jake showed up to practice an hour late that day.

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 성훈 : sunghoon ﹚ .ᐟ

his shirt isn’t even buttoned up; as he rushes to put his pants and shoes on. “shit im so fucking late right now.” you on the other hand; you’re up and on one already. “see so it doesn’t matter; you’re already late.” you said , he stared at you , you were the reason he was late now , you looked so good in the morning he couldn’t help himself. “we’ve been at it since early this morning , im not sure how im gonna stay awake during practice.” he said. “how are you still so fucking needy.”

“because you look good.” you smiled with a look anything but innocent. “how about you stay home then?” he scoffed. “of course you’d say that.” he said , yet he’s the one kicking his shoes off , crawling back in bed. “are you gonna call the guys and tell them you were being such a needy slut for me today that’s why i didn’t show up?” you nodded. “if you stay in this bed and fuck me all day then i’ll tell them anything.” knowing sunghoon he’s gonna definitely hold you to it.

﹙ 𝐢𝐯. 선우 : sunoo ﹚ .ᐟ

“sorry my love.” he said quickly trying to get ready while you persuade him to stay behind. “but i can’t stay any longer.” you looked so good laying in bed , but sunoo was already so late. “why.” you pouted. “i miss you already.” you said. “what about one more round , then i guess you can go and leave me here to die.” he shook his head at how dramatic you were being , but alas he couldn’t tell you no , even if jungwon was currently blowing his phone up.

“just one more okay.” he crawled back into bed with you. “then i really have to go my love.” he kissed both sides of your cheeks. “so pretty.” he whispered , grinding his lower region against yours. “how can i ever say no to you.”

©️LUVYENI

[sweaterkittensahoy]

As a dog owner myself, this drives me fucking bonkers. Because, first and foremost, forcing retail workers or friends to put up with your dog when you have not previously agreed to do that is bullshit. It's rude. It's uncaring. And, especially in retail spaces, it makes shit harder for people with service dogs.

We recently went to a yarn store that had previously been welcoming to all dogs. We took Bean because we'd been able to before. There was a sign on the door saying "service animals only."

So, Sean and Bean went back to the car while I did my shopping.

Because we're not assholes, and our dog is not required to be the center of everyone's fucking universe.

I do NOT bring Bean to anyone's house without first gaining permission because that's fucking rude. No one's ever turned us down, but if they did, fine. It just puts a minor limit of how long we can stay since she'll need to be crated while we're out of the house, and we prefer she not be crated for more than about four hours if we can manage it (she has proven she can be crated up to eight hours if necessary, but we would rather not make her do that on the regular as it is not the regular routine).

She is a very dog-reactive dog. We keep this in mind in all places we bring her. She is less reactive if we pick her up, but if she starts barking before we can, we have to make her follow the rules of "You fucking know you're not supposed to be acting like this" before we can scoop her, and it's stressful to everyone. It's why she is NOT allowed in houses with other animals because she will bark at any other dogs and try to fight any other animal. So, we won't even ask if we can bring her if we know you have animals, and we will ask if you have animals and let you know she's an ass if we don't know.

I'm not writing this out as a "Haha I'm so much better at dog ownership than you idiots." I'm writing this out because I think Sean and I do a good job of wanting to be with our dog but also not being dicks to other people, and these are the ways we keep that balance. If you don't want my dog in your house, that's 100% fair. It's your house. She can hang out safe and warm in the crate while we enjoy your company.

If you come to my house, you know we have a dog, and if you don't want her to cuddle up on you, we will do our best to keep her from deciding you are something to sleep on. Yes, it's her house, and she's our pup, but you are also our guest, and it's our job to make sure you are comfortable. We're lucky she prefers to sleep with us when people are staying over, honestly. It takes a whole issue out of the equation.

Also, shout out to @infiniteeight8 who is great at refusing to let Bean do whatever she wants because then it lets us watch Bean go into 'cat mode' in order to get pets. Basically, Bean will do all her cute dog shit to try and get pets, and inf will go, "No. Not interested." and Sean and I will distract Bean away as well. But she will always try again, and Inf will refuse again and make it clear she's not into it, and finally Bean will just lay down next to her, and Inf will go, "Yes, this is good. Be a cat," and pet Bean, and then the rest of the time Inf is visiting, Bean will just go cat mode to get the attention she wants.

But the only reason it works is because Sean and I, as Bean's people, reinforce that Bean doesn't get to do whatever she wants just because it's her house. You are responsible for your dog, and part of that responsibility is not forcing your dog onto other people.

We gotta do something about the way dog owners behave. No other pet owner is just bringin the pet wherever the fuck they go all the time but for some reason with dog owners they think its fine if they bring their dog to the gym and taco bell and whatever. And you invite a dog owner to your house where youve got your own pets youve got your dog and your cats and whatever it is you have and this dog owner shows up at your door like "oh i brought my dog i hope thats okay hes so sweet youll love him" and it is always the most untrained poorly behaved agressive animal that has ever lived. And we all have to pretend like its acceptable behaviour well im sick of it

[malereadermaniac]

Possessive & Jealous - Nate Jacobs x Male Reader

Nate doesn't wanna go public with your relationship, but he still gets possessive and jealous when guys flirt with you NOT A YANDERE FIC!! Top!Nate x Bottom!Reader word count: 3.2k Nsfw / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

Nate was pissed. And that's putting it nicely. Nate was fucking seething at what he was watching. The small giggles he could hear, the hand on your shoulder, and that fucking look in your eye; it all just made his anger boil over more and more. The taller man was staring daggers at the scene before him; some loser was really laying it on thick, flirting with what was Nate's. That being you. You belonged to the quarterback, even if no-one actually knew it.

Your conversation with your hot classmate was interrupted by your 'boyfriend'. Nate's rough hand gripping your shoulder with a little more force than necessary; he was clearly trying to make a point. His face was as douche-y as ever, his jaw sharp enough to cut, his eyes seductive, and a barely noticeable smirk on his lips. Few words were exchanged, a small 'hey' and some stupid excuse about needing to talk to you alone - but you could understand the subtext; Nate was pissed, as he so often was. As the two of you walked through the emptying corridors, you studied Nate, in aims to guess what exactly you were in for. You walked behind the taller man, taking in his broad, tall figure; Nate was the star quarterback of your college, it made sense that his shoulders were wide and his back was muscular. His arms were built too, swaying slightly as he walked in front of you, his walk masculine and effortlessly dominant - damn, even though you were already getting annoyed at the man, you couldn't help but be very, very attracted to him.

After what felt like hours of awkward silence, the two of you finally reached wherever Nate wanted to take you. The boy's locker room - dirty as always, but quiet for once, the final bell having rang a good while ago. Immediately, you were backed up against a wall; the cool tiles of the locker room against your skin as you stared up into Nate's dark eyes, waiting for him to say something. The taller man looked you over in silence for a moment, his hands in his pockets and his jaw obviously clenched, his demeanor trying to stay cool; but you know him too well for his act to work on you.

"The fuck you think you're doin' letting that dick woo you 'n shit?" Nate spits out, his tone not obviously angry but rather spiteful

"Huh? He wasn't- Even if he were flirting with me, why's it my responsibility to stop him?" You rebuttal. Nate's jealousy was annoying, but you have to admit that you like it when he gets like this; and you like pushing his buttons even more.

"Probably 'cause you're my fucking... 'cause you're mine." Nate hesitates, anger starting to seep through via the sound of his voice and his actions; his hands darting out from his pockets to make a 'what' gesture.

"Hm hm! You can't even bring yourself to call me your boyfriend! You're the one who wanted whatever this is to never go public, Nate." You say with a chuckle, emphasizing your situation by gesturing circles with your finger. "So don't get all pissy with me 'cause some guy is flirting with someone who is single in everyone's eyes!" You bark back at your boyfriend, your words calculated and shooting to kill.

"Stop being such a bitch, (Y/n)." Nate scowls, his eyes fixated on yours. He's back to his cool and collected self; not a good sign.

"Make. Me." You scowl back.

Without a second thought, Nate had already darted towards you; his hand grabbing your cheeks and forcing your face towards his, Nate's other hand resting on the wall above you in a fist. It was a blur, that's how fast the livid man was moving. Within milliseconds, Nate's lips were crashing against your own; his manly, rough hand squishing your cheeks to force your lips apart in order for him to explore your mouth with his tongue. The quarterback knew you like the back of his hand, his tongue toying with yours in a familiar rhythm, his other hand sliding down the wall to grab your waist; pulling your smaller frame into his massive, built body. Instinctively, your hands slide up Nate's body, feeling up the peaks and valleys of the jock's muscular abs and chest, then settling for gripping one hand in his shirt and another on his buff shoulder as you return the kiss. He must've just finished practice, his shirt damp with sweat and sticking to his bulging muscles. The steamy make-out session seemed to last forever; Nate's lips constantly pushed against your own, and his tongue practically colonizing your mouth. But finally, the brunette broke away from you, his face just an inch away from yours as his rugged and uneven panting bounced off of your lips. Fuck. Nate looked so hot. You kept your eyes locked onto his, looking up at your boyfriend expectantly as you waited for him to make another move. But Nate had other plans.

Abruptly, the close feeling of Nate's sweaty, jacked body on yours was gone - replaced by the cold, humid air of the locker room. You watched as Nate walked over to the shower cubicles, not moving to follow along.

"You fuckin' coming or what?" Nate probes as he turns to face you but keeps walking backwards into the cubicle; his pokerface still in full effect, hiding the scorching anger and possessiveness beneath the surface.

With a roll of your eyes, you follow your boyfriend into the cubicle; shamelessly eyeing his up as he strips his varsity t-shirt off with one hand, his muscles flexing erotically. You follow suit and take off your top, but your hand is halted to a stop by your boyfriend's grip when you reach for your pants. You roll your eyes once more at Nate's childish behaviour but let him do what he wants; resulting in you being backed up once again against the shower door, Nate sliding down your pants and feeling up your thick thighs and ass. The two of you are back to making out, only that this time you're both naked - Nate gripping and kneading your asscheeks like dough, his large, rough hands juxtaposed against the smooth skin of your body. His tongue toyed with yours as small moans escaped your throat and were swallowed by Nate; his ego swelling up subconsciously, knowing that just kissing you is getting those sounds out of you. Wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's thick neck, your breath hitches in your throat at Nate's sudden lifting of your body - his strong arms holding your thighs up, your body squished between the shower cubicle and his buff body, Nate resting you on hip so that he could grind into you as he kept passionately kissing you. Your arms tighten around Nate's neck, peaking down at him as your mouth continues to be dominated by the quarterback; your boner very obviously rubbing up on your boyfriend's six-pack as you let your body be taken over by excitement and lust.

Nate finally breaks the kiss. Forcing his lips away from yours and taking in the sight before him - his hot boyfriend panting like a dog in heat just from kissing him, a string of thick spit connecting your lips you his, and your face flushed light pink while your eyes glaze over lightly with tears and lust. You let out a whine as Nate starts to kiss your neck. Targeting the spots that he knows make your mind go numb, that will make you let out the noises Nate jerks off to. Mewl after whine leaves your lips, quiet but definitely there; the sounds you make and the way you move your head and contort your face, it's all so fucking hot to Nate. You can feel as the well-endowed man goes from gentle grinds of his dick to full on dry-humping you - the feeling of his huge dick poking against your ass, it's one that you're now able to recognize within a second.

"You want this dick? Want me to fuck you right now? Stop being such a little bitch 'n I'll fuck you good, babe" Nate lightly grunts out against your skin as he continues to gently mark you.

"Ha ha... Seems like you want it more than me, sweetheart~" you tease

"You're so fucking difficult" Nate mumbles, making a point to bite your collarbone a little harder

"H-ah! -You fucking love it" you grunt out, the (pleasurable) bite interrupting what was meant to be a quick-witted reply.

After a little more foreplay, Nate's patience had finally worn thin; his dick about to explode from how pent up he was. So once Nate was satisfied with the state of your upper body (that being: your neck, shoulders and nipples being covered in hickeys and bite marks), he made his move. Nate manhandled into somehow only holding you up with one of his arms (holy shit this man is scary strong) and began undoing his pants with his free hand; dropping his draws as quickly yet as effortlessly as he could. With his Calvin Klein's and jeans around his ankle's, Nate slipped a condom on easily and lined his 8 inch monster up to your hole; his tip pressing against your entrance, a feeling all too familiar to the both of you - you two fuck like it's a hobby! With no warning at all, in a jealous attempt at getting you back for being a flirt, Nate thrusted his hips up into yours; his dick forcing all the way inside of you. Thank god that condoms come pre-lubed - 'cause HOLY SHIT THAT HURT. You yelp in pain and instinctively bite your boyfriend's muscular shoulder; stifling your moans of pleasure and trying to distract from the pain. Your eyes immediately flushed red, glazing over with tears as the sting of Nate's girthy, long dick pried your walls apart. Even with the condom on, you could still clearly feel Nate's veins, his dick pushing against your walls so snuggly that without even trying, the man was pressing against your prostate already. Your hands gripped the brunette's biceps harshly, your fingers digging into his skin as you try to register the intense feelings of pain and pleasure combining and co-attacking your brain. But you don't have very long to try and get used to your boyfriend's absolute weapon, 'cause he can only be so nice - thirty seconds of holding back is more than enough! He's still fucking seething mind you! Nate's jealousy is only getting grander, rather than lessening at the feeling of fucking you; he felt even more possessive, even more jealous, like a wild animal resource guarding what his.

Moans escape your throat involuntarily. Groans, pants, and whines getting forced out of your throat from the sheer impact of Nate's hips against your ass. Your legs tighten around your boyfriend's small yet muscular waist, your arms having moved from gripping Nate's arms back to wrapping around his neck; visible scratch marks forming all over the jock's massive, buff back. Nate's one arm is holding you up against the shower cubicle as his other hand is slammed against the door above your head; his fucking massive, rough, sweaty palm against the cold plastic cubicle door being the only thing kind of grounding the sex-crazed version of Nate in the moment. As his dick thrusts in and out of your tight, warm hole, Nate keeps mumbling different mantras to himself; nursing his bruised ego, the only thing he can think about being you with other guys. A carousel of 'mine... all mine, mine, mine' , '(y/n)..' , and 'fuckin' belong t'me' being on loop as your boyfriend fucks you like a mad man. The few moments of silence Nate did have were due to him going back to marking up your body as he continues to fuck you silly. His strong, sharp incisors pressing against your soft neck; sometimes much too harshly.

"Fuck! NATE you're biting too hard!" You shout, pissed off at the man. But your anger doesn't last very long, it can't when your boyfriend's thick dick is assaulting your prostate every other second; sending insane waves of pleasure through your core, and most importantly: your dick.

Your legs dangled on either side of Nate's waist; feet bouncing in rhythm with each one of the quarterback's hard thrusts. You didn't even have to hold yourself up anymore (not that you even could from the fucking you were getting), Nate's arms were able to hold your weight easily, and you were also literally squished up between the wall and Nate's sweaty, ripped body. You could feel Nate getting closer to orgasm, his usual tells showing up like usual; his eyes forcing shut as he focuses on keeping his pace, his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat, his kisses getting softer and softer, despite his pace getting rougher and rougher. Finally, Nate was pushed over the edge - or more so he was fucking lobbed over the edge from the intensity of his orgasm. The brunette was moaning louder than usual, your name falling off of his tongue more than normal, amongst his usual 'fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck's. You weren't too far behind, between Nate's constant pounding into your prostate and the fucking HOT sight before you, it didn't take you more than a minuet to follow suit and shoot your load onto your chest and Nate's. That man always made you cum untouched. He had the skills but it was mostly the way Nate looked that pushed you over the edge most of the time; c'mon, he always looked so hot fucking you like his life depended on it! And this time it was no different! His muscles gleaming with a sheen of sweat, Nate's arm flexing as he continued to hold himself up, his damp armpit hair showing ever so slightly; he just always looked so fucking manly, Nate really was your ideal guy...

"Haaa... Haa.... See? Don't need dick from any other guy- haaa- so stop being such a tease and fucking stop flirting with other guys" Nate grunted out. His voice rugged, panting as he tried to regain his breath.

"hngggg.... fuck~ I wasn't flirting! I'll tell guys to back off when you tell them that I'm your boyfriend" you retort, your breath still uneven and pleasure still tingling throughout your body.

Nate chuckles and looks into your eyes for a moment. You can tell he's thinking, something he rarely fucking does, but you don't know what thoughts are running through his head exactly. But here's a little snipped:

'Fuck I love him so much... FUCK WHY DO I LOVE HIM'

'He's mine. My boyfriend. Don't give a fuck about what people think'

'Shit... I do care what others think'

'Fuck it.'

'No'

'Yes'

'No'

'YES'

"Fine.. Whatever you want, gorgeous~" Nate mumbles with the smallest smirk, and then leans down to give you a peck on the lips.

You smile back at him, hands gently cupping his face, and whisper a soft 'good'.

Bonus:

Nate's room was like your second home. You were there every other day, either sleeping round or just to hang out for a bit. Contrary to popular belief, your relationship with Nate wasn't all sex! You two did have a pretty wholesome relationship! It's just that you both loved having sex with eachother as well, so most of the time something sexual was bound to happen.

Like any other day, you were in Nate's room. Your hunk of a boyfriend at his desk playing whatever fps he was into at the moment, and you on his bed scrolling mindlessly. Finally having had enough of your phone, you make your way over to Nate, wanting some attention as always. You rest your arms around his neck and hug your boyfriend from behind, head resting against his shoulder as you mumble an 'I'm bored' into his ear. You watch as Nate finishes his round, his long fingers gliding over the controller; why the fuck was it turning you one...?! Once he's put his game away, Nate takes your hand and has you stand between his legs, looking up at you from his gaming chair with a soft, very small smile.

"What's up?" he asks.

Your hands instinctively cup your boyfriend's cheeks. His sharp jaw resting in your palms as he closes his eyes. You admire the man in front of you, his messy hair, his attractive features, but mostly how different he's become since you met him; he's so much kinder, less hurt than he seemed before.

"Just wanted some attention" you mumble, biting your bottom lip ever so slightly as you keep admiring Nate.

"Well... Depends what kind of attention ya want~" Nate teases, his typical horny smirk plastering across his face as his big, manly hands slide up the back of your thighs and reach your ass. Nate gently holds your plump cheeks in his rough hands, gently squeezing as he looks up at you expectantly.

"What did you have in mind, baby?" You playfully respond, knowing that the pet name had an effect on your boyfriend.

Nate pats his lap and gestures for you to sit, which you do. His hands keep cupping your ass as Nate's lips make their way to yours; soft kisses, the kind that really make you feel at ease. Nate slips his fingers under your waistband and slowly slides your shorts and underwear under your cheeks; gripping them softly and spreading them as he continues to softly kiss you. Bringing a hand up to your face, Nate gestures at you to suck on them; doing this by obscenely poking his cheek with his tongue as he smiles with his eyes. You do as your told, too lazy to put up your usual battiness.

After a brief moment of sucking on your boyfriend's two finger's as if they were his cock, Nate takes them out of your mouth and brings them back down to your hole. It's a feeling you're used to; one that you particularly enjoy. Hey! Nate's good with his fingers, what can ya do? As the two of you continue your previous kiss, Nate's fingers slowly push past your rim; your tight hole accepting them with ease. Knuckle deep, Nate reaches your prostate immediately, causing you to break the kiss and let out a small, quiet moan. Nate chuckles as you rest your head on his shoulder, gripping onto his sweatshirt as the quarterback continues to work your prostate to perfection; drawing out muffled moans and whimpers despite your best efforts to hold them in.

Just as things were getting good, your dick twitching against Nate's abs as the man milks your prostate, you hear the door to his room open... Nate's dad walks in, acting like nothing was going on; because he couldn't see Nate's finger's knuckle deep inside of you. All that poor man could see was his son's boyfriend hugging his son in his lap - perfectly normal! Nate tries to play it cool but scrambles to get his dad out of his room as you try not to move; wanting to die the whole time. But as soon as Nate's dad left the room, that delayed orgasm hit you like a brick wall~

[dragoncxv360]

📷 various art of Lulu and Chips, ocs made by Alex, @/polaris-stuff and I

🍫 chocolate 100%. Unless it's ricotta cheese which is very sweet actually

✨️ yup, Ells mainly. Old nicknames were Permie, Grouch, Miss Indecisive (from my uncle lol, my brother* was Miss Obvious (*we're both trans masc, so the miss part is from when we were little and still called the girls))

🎵 Legendary from Epic the musical, tho currently I have King For A Day by Pierce The Veil stuck in my head XD (and now I have their other song Phantom Power and Ludicrous Speed stuck in my head too lol)

✏️ yes lol

😏 yup

💛 just my ears, I usually just wear tiny threadless earrings so I don't take them out all that often (although I probably should to at least clean off the bit of dead skin that can build up on them)

🐰 honestly I have no idea

🍪 chocolate chip probably lol, maybe with something fun added, like butterscotch chips or bits of toffee

🐶 cat person. I don't hate dogs, I just unfortunately don't really have the energy for them, especially puppies. I get overstimulated very easily by all the jumping up and biting and shit and it can make me have really bad meltdowns where I yell or shove our puppy away which makes me feel like an awful person so yeahhhh, cats for sure. Although ironically it's cats that I'm allergic to 💀. Nothing severe thankfully, but when we first got my two cats who'd been raised as barn cats for the first 9 weeks of their lives, I couldn't even sit in a room with them for a full hour before my allergies were acting up really bad and making it a bit difficult to breathe (asthma). It's better now but my eyes still get itchy as hell if I get too much cat hair in them (fun fact, it's not actually the hair most folks are allergic to when it comes to cats, it's the saliva. But because they clean themselves with their tongues, the saliva is all over their fur lol. Which is also why hairless cats aren't actually hypoallergenic.)

🎧 used to be a headphones only person but now I prefer earbuds

🌼 I honestly don't remember

🙃 the reason you get all snotty when you cry is because your tear ducts are constantly producing tears to lubricate your eyes, but when you cry they overproduce tears and some of it runs down your sinuses into your nose and mixes with the mucus to create snot

🦉night owl (insomnia mixed with daytime chronic fatigue is a bitch 😔)

🧸 my bed, tho car rides are also very relaxing

🏳️‍🌈 yup (transmasc agender and aro ace)

🦋 (skipping this one 'cause it makes me a bit anxious)

👖sweatpants, jeans aren't really all that comfortable for me, tho I'll wear them for work if needs be

🥤I don't go to starbucks lol, not really a coffee person (adhd makes it complicated XD, coffee does weird things), I prefer hot coco

🧡 hm, honestly there's not really any, though certain colours or combinations can cause a lotta strain on my eyes and give me migraines. I do prefer more redish pinks over purple pinks tho, they just aren't my fav

💎 hm...that's a hard one actually. So I guess I'll do two, based on different criteria. For like things I use the most and enjoy a ton, def my ipad for drawing. But for sentimental things, probably my dad's bass guitar. I have a lot of things of his but that's the one I'm like really attatched to. I can't play it 'cause my hands are too small to reach the frets, but it's still something I plan to keep for the rest of my life.

☕️ tea, as mentioned before, coffee reacts weird with me lol (acts like an adhd stimulant for about an hour before I crash and sleep), also coffee tastes like shit so if I ever drink it it's like half coffee half creamer and sugar XD

🦖 hm, never really thought about it honestly. I looked up extinct animals and found the golden toad, which seems neat

🌙 uhhh...since some time in 2021, so...3ish years? Going on 4?

🌴 fucking water honestly, I get horrible migraines in the heat

🐸 I have no idea XD, adhd cluttered but organized? Something like that lol. It's messy but it's not too messy, it has to be organized in piles and I gotta be able to see the damn floor

🔮 author! Been wanting to be one since I was 10, almost 11, so uhhhh...11 going on 12 years?

💙 taken by Alex :D

🌿 comfy sweatpants and some sorta t shirt lol, prob lilo and stitch themed (I have a bunch of shirts for the movie XD)

🎤 uhhhh...not sure honestly. I used to have Lithium by Evanescence memorized tho

🤎 blonde

💌 yep

💄 nope, only really wore it for choir concerts lol, 'cause stage lights wash you the fuck out XD

🌸 well now I'm just pulling a blank lol, but compliments to my writing make me really happy, especially when it's about the diversity in my stories. I really loved how someone once said the way I write romance feels very queerplatonic, high compliment to me as an aro lol

💞 hehe it's Alex (in all seriousness I like a lotta folks I just dislike tagging people 'cause it makes me anxious)

~ 💖 ASK GAME 💖 ~

📷 What’s set as your phone’s lockscreen?

🍫 Cheese or chocolate?

✨ Do you have any nicknames?

🎵 Last song you listened to?

✏️ Have you ever written fanfiction?

😏 Are you on discord?

 💛 Do you have any piercings?

🐰 What do you think says the most about a person?

🍪 If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

🐶 Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

🎧 Headphones or earbuds?

🌼 What’s the last thing you said out loud?

🙃 What’s a weird fact that you know?

🦉 Are you a morning person or a night owl?

🧸 Favorite place to nap?

🏳️‍🌈 Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

🦋 Describe yourself in three words.

👖 Jeans or sweatpants?

🥤 What’s your go-to Starbucks order?

🧡 A color you can’t stand?

💎 What’s your most prized possession?

☕ Coffee or tea?

🦖 Favorite extinct animal?

🌙 How long have you been on tumblr?

🌴 Desert island item?

🐸 Describe your aesthetic.

🔮 What’s your dream job?

💙 Relationship status?

🌿 Describe your favorite outfit.

🎤 Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

🤎 What color is your hair?

💌 Do you talk to yourself?

💄 Do you wear makeup?

🌸 Best compliment you ever received?

💞 @ your favorite blog.

Reblogs are appreciated!

[drdemonprince]

im really envious of u. I like reading your writing and the stories you tell about sex and stuff and it sounds like u have a lot of fun. I don’t no if I will ever be able to live like that. im autistic and very inhibited is probably the best word. I find it hard to meet new people and go new places. a few times I have gone to local munches but been too introverted to say anything to people and I just sit there feeling self conscious and silly. they have been really nice. but I haven’t made any friends or anything. I feel like I need someone to take me under their wing kinda and give me an in. It seems like I’d really enjoy it a lot but don’t no how to make my way in. I don’t feel confident enough to just use apps and hook up. especially as im so new to it all and dont no what im doing really. I’ve read what you say about going to the social gatherings and stuff but what if im too shy to say anything? I don’t no how to be more uninhibited but I feel like that’s what I need.

please keep in mind that I was not doing any of this shit until I was like 32 years old. up until then I was in only a handful of relationships, mostly ones I had stumbled into through no agency of my own, and I had never really lived out any of my kinky desires. hell I had barely even gone out to a club or a concert or anything on my own, certainly not very often, let alone a sex club or something like that. I had to practice socializing on my own terms, and trying new things alone and scared and finding what was valuable in them despite those feelings a lot. like many many years a lot.

I didn't really venture out into the gay bath house or any of the cruising bars until I had a partner who was interested in taking me to them. that provided me with an in and an emotionally safe anchor with which to explore. I am also indebted to friends who showed me around places like steamworks and explained to me the nonverbals of cruising, which I then went ahead and put in my own cruising guide.

to this day I still have a much better time at events like puppy play night when I go with some homies and can spend some time joking around with them and using their support to help meet people before eventually breaking off and wandering into a back room to get laid. I still routinely have nights where I will go out on my own and do very little but sip from my drink and stand around awkwardly for four hours, maybe dance a bit, and go home.

cruising is an exercise in patience. you are never guaranteed any particular outcome or experience. you work with what nature gives you, and you learn to find some appreciation in simply being there and bearing witness. 9 times out of 10 you get turned down or there just isn't a spark. happens on the apps too.

shooting your shot and getting turned down is a successful consent negotiation. everybody has done everything correctly and it ended the only way that it should have. there's nothing to do but dust yourself off, not take it as some dramatic declaration of your life worth, and go at it again.

I recommend visiting cruising spaces with a friend. and just going purely for voyeuristic and anthropological reasons the first couple times. The only way you become a person who can do this stuff is by doing it, a fuck ton of times. message a lot of people. Go to a lot of events.

at some point you have to find the very act of going to be motivating and enjoyable in some way. thankfully I am fascinated by humans, enjoy dancing, like having a little drink or an edible and wandering around, and treat it all as very valuable writing fodder. you have to find what set of motivations work for you. because it's not about instant success or gratification ever. It is always a lot of waiting and watching and wondering what the night is going to bring, and making peace that often it will bring nothing at all except for being alive amongst others.

keep at it though. start really small. I am so glad that I got to this point, because yeah my life is really interesting and sexually gratifying and fun. but it also is entire weekends of just standing around nursing a drink and doing nothing and looking like an NPC. happens to the best of us

[starkeysprincess]

Petals & Promises

rafe cameron x Kook fem!reader

SUMMARY: Rafe Cameron doesn’t do romance—until after that wild night at the party, when he starts showing up at your door with flowers. No words, just a smirk and a bouquet. It’s probably just a joke... or is it?

wc: 3,4k (I got carried away 😛)

WARNINGS: some angst, mainly fluff, (idk what else to add lmk)

Y/N was curled up on her couch, overwhelmed with the strenuous college work that she had to turn in till next week. It was quiet on Figure 8, The afternoon sunlight filtered through the window, casting a soft glow across the room. The stress inside of her was slowly building up while cautiously reading through her essay, making sure not to make one single mistake. She was a straight A student after all, and the only thing that mattered to her was having perfect grades. Meanwhile her friends were going out, partying, drinking, living their best lives, she was bed rotting and freaking out about her future, it was stupid really.

suddenly, she heard her phone ring and when she saw that it was her best friend Lila, she couldn't of have been happier. Immediately she picks up the phone:

L: "hey girlll, how are you?"

Y/N: "hey Lil, I'm finishing up my assignment, as always, ugh im literally about to pass out."

L: "okayyy perfect then, I have the perfect solution for you, you're coming to Rafe Camerons party today at 8. You seriously need to loosen up."

Y/N: "wait- what? Lil, you know I can-"

L: cya there!

*the phone Hangs up*

"Fuck...." you mumble to yourself and let out a sigh. But on the other hand, maybe listening to Lila and forgetting about school wouldn't be so bad at all? I mean, as long as you don't get wasted what could go wrong? Time passes and you get up to fancy yourself up. It feels so stupid to you, but on the other side you've never been to a party before and a feeling of excitement rushes through you. Therefore you do a full face of soft glam makeup, touching it up with a rosey pink color of gloss and curl your hair. The last touch was the outfit, for which you had decided to go with a pretty dark blue evening gown and a pair of louboutin heels. If you were being honest, this was the prettiest you've felt in a long time. It felt relieving to feel comfortable and beautiful in your own body again. You leave your house and start walking to Tannyhill. Once you get to your destination, you see a large crowd of people in front of the Cameron household. You step into the house, and boom—music shaking the walls, bodies everywhere, air thick with booze and something fruity. Before you can even process, Lila spots you.

“GIRL, FINALLY!” she stumbles over, nearly spilling her drink. “I was ’boutta send a damn search party. By the way you look JAW DROPPING”

“Thank you but you texted me two minutes ago.”

“And that was two minutes of suffering,” she says dramatically, shoving a cup into your hand. “Now drink.”

You sniff it. “What the hell is this?”

“Who cares? It’s alcohol.”

You take a sip—mistake. “Bro, are you tryna poison me?”

she cackles. “Lightweight. C’mon, we need shots.”

Fast forward—you're both gone.

You’re clinging to each other, half-dancing, half-tripping, screaming the wrong lyrics to some song. Your head spins, but in a fun way.The room spins. The lights blur into streaks of neon, and the bass vibrates through your chest like it's syncing with your heartbeat. You don’t know how long it’s been—minutes? Hours? Your head is heavy, your legs unsteady, and suddenly, Lila is gone. Panic flickers through the haze of alcohol. You push through the crowd, bumping into sweaty bodies, murmuring half-apologies. Your vision tunnels, and the edges of the world start to fade. Shit. You need air. You need to sit. Stumbling toward the wall, you brace yourself, blinking hard to clear your vision. The party keeps moving around you—people laughing, dancing, making out in dark corners—but it all feels distant, like you're underwater. But even through your fucked up vision and fuzzy head, you see and feel someone eyeing you down.

And then you see him.

Rafe Cameron.

He’s across the room, leaning against the counter, drink in hand, watching you. Not just looking—watching. His sharp blue eyes flicker under the dim lights, unreadable, intense. Your pulse stutters. Whether it's from the alcohol or the way he tilts his head slightly, like he’s debating something, you’re not sure. All you know is that everything else—the noise, the people, the chaos—fades into the background.

It’s just you and him.

Your legs give out before you can take another step. The world tilts violently, and the last thing you feel is the cold floor meeting your body. Distantly, voices blur together, someone laughs, music pulses through your skull. Then—warm hands. Strong arms wrapping around you before you hit the ground completely. The scent of cologne, sharp and clean, cuts through the alcohol haze clouding your brain. “Shit.” A deep voice, close. Your head lolls against something firm—a chest? A shoulder? You can barely process it, everything slipping in and out of consciousness like a bad dream. “Yo, is she good?” someone asks. “She’s fine,” the voice responds, low and controlled. “I got her.”

Then you’re moving. Lifted effortlessly, arms hooked under your legs and back. The warmth is grounding, but your mind is too fogged to fight it, to even think about what’s happening. Cool air kisses your burning skin as you’re carried outside. The music muffles behind closed doors, replaced by the sound of steady footsteps, the distant hum of crickets.

You try to mumble something, but it comes out as a slurred mess.

“Relax,” the voice says. “You’re safe.”

Safe. The word wraps around you, pulling you further into the darkness.

The first thing you notice is the warmth. Not just from the hoodie wrapped around you, but from the air itself—quieter, softer than the freezing night outside. The second thing is the scent—clean linen, expensive cologne, a faint trace of cigarette smoke.

You’re not at the party anymore.

Your head is still spinning, but the pounding bass, the suffocating crowd, the overwhelming chaos—it’s all gone. Replaced by something calmer. Safer. Blinking hard, you push yourself up slightly, your body weak and heavy, and that’s when you see him.

Rafe Cameron.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, head tilted slightly like he’s been watching you this entire time. But not in the way people usually say he does. There’s no arrogance, no sharp amusement. Just something unreadable. Something almost… gentle. His blue eyes flicker over your face, scanning, assessing. “You good?” Your throat is dry, but you manage to croak, “Where—?”

“My place,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “You were out of it. I wasn’t about to leave you there.” The weight of those words settles in your chest. You were vulnerable—completely out of it—and instead of taking advantage, instead of leaving you behind, he brought you here. Safe. Taken care of.

You were confused, and on the other hand you were partially panicking, why would Rafe Cameron take you to his house?

“I—” You don’t even know what to say. Your hands clutch at the hoodie around you, only now realizing it’s his. The sleeves practically swallow your arms, the fabric drowning you in warmth. “You were shaking,” Rafe says like he’s reading your mind. “Figured you could use it.” Your stomach flips. Why is he like this?

You’ve heard the stories—Rafe Cameron is reckless. Selfish. Dangerous. But the guy sitting in front of you? He’s none of those things. Maybe it's just an illusion, maybe he just wants to get between your legs and leave you. He shifts, reaching for the glass of water on the nightstand, then holds it out to you. But when you try to grab it, your fingers tremble too much. You're unsure of wether you should trust him or not.

Rafe notices.

Without a word, he lifts the glass to your lips himself, his free hand cupping the back of your neck, steadying you. His touch is warm, careful, almost hesitant—like he’s afraid of hurting you. The moment stretches, something thick and heavy settling between you. When you finish, he pulls back just slightly, his thumb barely grazing your skin before he lets go. The loss of contact makes something tighten in your chest.

“You feeling okay now?” His voice is quieter now, softer.

You nod weakly. “Yeah… thanks.”

His lips press together, like he’s debating something. Then, finally, he sighs and runs a hand through his hair.

“I don't want you to go there anymore.”

Your breath catches. “I—what?” Rafe lets out a small, breathy chuckle, almost like he can’t believe himself either. “You just… you don't belong at parties.” He glances away for a second, then back at you.

Your heart drops, unsure what he means and you swear you could feel your face heat up in embarrassment.

Your fingers tighten around the hoodie still wrapped around you, and you finally whisper, “Why?”

Rafe holds your gaze for a long moment, the air between you thick, heavy with something neither of you know how to name. Finally, he reaches out, fingers barely grazing your cheek, his touch featherlight. It sends a shiver down your spine.

“Because it’s you,” he murmurs. He stares you down with a neutral face expression. The embarrassment lingers, twisting in your chest.

Parties aren’t for you.

Rafe’s words replay in your mind, making you feel small. You tug his hoodie tighter around you, avoiding his gaze. He sighs, grabbing his keys. “C’mon. I’ll take you home.” The drive is quiet until he finally speaks. “You think I meant that in a bad way.” You hesitate. “Didn’t you?” His grip on the wheel tightens. “No. I meant… you don’t need that shit. The fake smiles, drunk assholes, guys looking at you like—” He stops, jaw clenching. “Like you’re something to mess with.”

Your heart stumbles.

“I just—” He sighs. “It’s not you.” The weight in your chest shifts. Not gone, but lighter. When he pulls up to your house, he reaches out, tugging the hood over your head gently. His fingers graze your jaw, slow, careful. “Get inside safe,” he murmurs. You nod. “Thanks… for everything.” As you step out, you don’t look back.

But if you did, you’d see him still watching. Still waiting.

Two days pass, but you can’t shake the way Rafe looked at you that night. The softness in his voice, the weight in his eyes. Like he saw you differently. Like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

You tell yourself it was nothing. That it was just a moment. That Rafe Cameron doesn’t do things like that.

But then— The doorbell rings.

When you open it, he’s there.

Standing on your porch, dressed in a dark hoodie and jeans, looking almost nervous. And in his hands—a bouquet. Not just any bouquet, but the kind that looks like it came straight from some overpriced florist. Deep red roses, white lilies, wrapped in a silk ribbon. Your breath catches.

“Uh…” You blink at him, words failing you. “Are you lost?” Rafe huffs a small, breathy laugh, shaking his head. “No.” He glances down at the flowers, then back up at you. “These are for you.”

You just stare. Because—what? After a beat, you slowly take them, fingers brushing his as you do. The petals are soft, the scent rich and overwhelming. “Rafe…”

“I know,” he cuts in, running a hand through his hair. “This is… not what you expected.” You nod, still too stunned to process. He exhales sharply, like he’s bracing himself. Then, finally—

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

Your heart stutters. Rafe looks away for a second, like this is harder for him than it should be. When he speaks again, his voice is lower, rougher.

“That night? Seeing you like that? It fucked me up.” His blue eyes meet yours, and there’s nothing cocky in them. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. “I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I started caring. And it scared the shit out of me.”

You swallow hard, your grip tightening around the flowers.

He takes a small step closer, voice dropping even lower. “But you looked at me like I was good that night. Like I was worth something.” He scoffs under his breath, shaking his head. “And I wanted to be that. For you.”

Your chest tightens, your pulse pounding. Rafe runs a hand over his face, exhaling sharply. “Look, I don’t do this shit. I don’t—” He gestures vaguely, like this is beyond him. “But I can’t not do this with you.”

Another step. Closer.

“So let me take you out. A real date.” His gaze softens, voice barely above a whisper now. “Let me prove I can be good for you.”

The world narrows to just him. His eyes, his voice, the plea hidden beneath it all.

And suddenly, it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.

Because this? This feels real.

[octuscle]

Gym Motivation

Patrick put his iPhone in position and started the recording “Hello everyone! Today is leg day at the gym. I got this new energy drink to try from the cute guy at reception, let's see if it helps me. Darlings, let's start with one of my favorite exercises, the adduction on the adductor machine.”

Patrick took a big gulp from the water bottle and held the label up to the camera with his usual skill and randomness. He set the machine, selected his usual warm-up weight and smashed the elements together with a loud crash. “Darlings, I seem to have a little too much energy today. Let's up the weight a bit!” Patrick increased the weight. And increased it again. And again. Finally he found some resistance. At last the weight was high enough that he could only manage the eighth repetition of the set with the greatest effort. With a loud groan, he pressed the plates together one last time. “Guys, now the adductors are burning!” He took a swig from the bottle. “Fucking awesome stuff, guys, I'm telling you!” Patrick pulled up his trouser legs and tensed his thigh muscles. “So, not bad, is it? But let's not kid ourselves, this is a pussy exercise. On to my favorite, the leg press.”

Patrick went to the next machine, put the camera in position, put on 200 kg and sat down in position. “Guys, it's a warm-up weight of course, but first I'd like to give you a few tips on how to do it properly…” Patrick deliberately lifted the weight casually, lectured on the correct position of the head and back and then stood up to put on another 200 kg “No pain, no fun, right guys?” He sat back down in the leg press and moved the weight, his face contorted in pain. The weight dropped with a crash after the 12th repetition. “And now 10 repetitions with 500 kg! Let the babies burn! Fuuuuuuuck!” As Patrick finished the third set, one of the big guys from the gym came over and gave Patrick a respectful fist bump. His slim body had already visibly pumped up. Patrick showed off his impressive pumped up thighs and stroked the tattoos on his calf. “Bros, we'll do the calves next time. Now let's take care of the muscle that isn't called a gladiator bro for nothing: the gluteus maximus. On to the Romanian squats. Let's not kid ourselves: We real guys prefer working with dumbbells to machines anyway, am I right?” Patrick grabbed a barbell, put some weight on it and performed the squats in exemplary fashion. “Yo, bros, listen up! No hunching that back, got it? Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Fuuuuck!” Patrick took another sip. His forehead was covered in sweat. He took his towel, wiped off the sweat and said, “Yo, legs are crucial, my dudes! Don’t be that guy who skips leg day. But for real, we all know pumping these babies is way more fun, am I right?” He made his pecs dance. “Bro, every pump needs to be a blast and a grind, you feel me? Let’s hit that bench press, man!”

None of his live videos were supposed to last longer than an hour. None of his pumping bros followed him for longer. For TikTok, he would cut it down to a five-minute reel. He didn't need to show the adductor shit in particular, that was more to satisfy the few female followers…

“Sick pump today, bro! Hope I got you pumped to lift some weight as well!” He held the bottle up to the camera. “Yo, not sure if this rad stuff did anything, but it definitely didn't hurt, bro.” Patrick took one last swig from the bottle and reached for the camera: “Yo, dig in, bros! Catch ya tomorrow. Then we’ll get those biceps pumpin’!” And he switched off the camera.

Darren at reception smiled contentedly as Patrick, one of the gym's promotional figures, left the studio. The two said goodbye with a high five. Darren already knew what this gym needed: more pumpers and fewer wannabe fitness models.

[humiliatemeplesse]

Oh ya you're gonna massage my feet faggot. We would have never hired you for the farm hand job if we knew you were a homo. But since you're here and you do a good job and because it's not easy to get guys to come way out here I'm gonna keep you on. But that's gonna come with extra duties. First, we're not gonna hire the other farm hand we had planned to. You can do double the work, saves us money. And talking about money, we're not paying no faggot. You get room and board, that's it. And you're also going to do personal errands for all the guys, like massaging my sweaty smelly socked feet right now. I know you can smell them already, they get really hot in these shit kicker cowboy boots. Now get down on your knees and crawl over here and massage faggot. And y'know way? Kiss 'em too. And thank me for not having all the guys kick your faggot ass. And ya my socks stink but you'll just have to put up with that. It'll do you good, smelling the stink of a real man's dirty socks. Okay, on your knees crawl over here and get to work. This'll be a daily duty after every work day. I might offer it to the other guys too. And what are you gonna do about it? We're not paying you so you can't even leave here especially since we're so far away from everything you can't even walk to a town it'd take you hours. And then what are you gonna do without money? Face it faggot, you're our bitch. Now get massaging my sweaty socked feet or I might have to put my boots back on and kick the shit outta you, teach you a fucking lesson ass licker.

[eschairsnotebook]

So, my husband’s body (45M) got hijacked, and I (42M) had the best sex of my life. Now what?

Okay, so I wasn’t sure where to post this, but I need to tell somebody because I’m still reeling from what the hell just happened. Maybe this is more of an r/confessions or even an r/trueoffmychest post? I don’t know. But anyway, here goes.

So, my husband (let’s call him Mark) and I have been married for almost eight years. We’ve got two adopted kids, a pretty routine life—work, school drop-offs, grocery runs, weekend movie nights, all that good suburban dad shit. Mark is… steady. Like, extremely steady. Dependable, sexy in a “solid oak tree” kind of way. Always been a great dad, great partner. Reliable. So when he tells me a few days ago that he’s planned a surprise date night for us, I’m excited, right? This is rare. He arranges for my sister to take the kids for the evening, makes reservations at a fancy-ass restaurant, the works. Romantic as hell.

So, cut to last night. I drop off the kids, come back home, and Mark is already dressed up, looking fucking delicious in a crisp button-up and slacks. But something is…off. Like, he looks like Mark, sounds like Mark, but the energy? Not quite the same. He’s standing differently, like looser? More fluid? Mark’s always been confident, but this was something else. He gives me this slow, knowing smile when I walk in, and I swear to god my dick twitches before I even fully understand why.

Then, in the most casual voice ever, he says, “The kids are gone?”

And I nod, still kind of stuck in my head trying to figure out what’s different.

Then he laughs. And that’s when I know something’s wrong. Mark doesn’t laugh like that—low, smug, like he’s savoring something. And then his throat convulses. His lips curl back, and suddenly, his jaw stretches too wide, too unnatural, and something pushes through.

I freeze. Because it’s a head—a different head—emerging through Mark’s gaping mouth, black and slick and grinning.

It looks familiar. Like that comic book goo-monstery thing from the Venom movies.

My husband’s body jerks as "Venom" forces himself forward, wearing Mark like a grotesque meatsuit, controlling him like a glove. His voice slithers out from Mark’s throat, two-toned and taunting. “That’s a shame,” he says, “you were really into it a second ago.”

My breath hitches. “Who—what—are you?”

His stolen grin stretches wider. “Tonight, you can just call me Mark.” And then the goo monster retreats, slithering back inside, leaving my husband’s body standing there—but now, Mark is different.

And then the new Mark throws me onto the bed.

What happens next is a blur of strength, heat, and raw, unapologetic power. He moves with purpose, with an intensity that Mark never has. His hands grip me like he owns me, his mouth claiming mine, his body relentless as he watches our every move in a full-length mirror across the room. The way he touches me, devours me—it’s overwhelming, mind-meltingly good.

Mark never takes control like this. He never uses me the way "Venom" does.

And I fucking love it.

Hours later, after I’ve been utterly ruined, my body aching in the best possible way, "Venom" shoots off me and away, a black mass peeling from Mark’s body like liquid shadow. My husband collapses onto the mattress, unconscious, his chest rising and falling in steady breaths. When he wakes in the morning, he remembers nothing.

But now, every time I look at him, I keep thinking about that other version. And how badly I want it to happen again.

If I’ll ever be able to go back to normal.

So yeah. Am I cheating if it was still technically my husband? Because uh. Yeah. I think I might be in trouble.

[lagunned]

IT'S SO EASY, guns n' roses.

pinned rules masterlist

pairing; guns n' roses x fem!reader

summary; your band, lethality, is the hottest thing that’s hit the sunset strip since mötley crüe and the notorious guns n' roses. after a sensational night playing the whisky a go-go, you to meet a very interesting group of men that take a peculiar liking to you.

warnings; cussing, no use of y/n, alcohol & cigarettes mentioned, veryy dialogue heavy, nothing really happens because i didn’t know if anon wanted it to be romantic/romantic encounter with a band member(s), steven is having fun somewhere else.

word count; 1.6k

a/n; i honestly loved writing this. i had a hard time starting it, but when i got it going i couldn’t stop. i was even considering making this a full fledged fanfic, if anyone would be interested.

requests open, not proofread, based on this ask.

The Whisky was packed, the air thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of sweat. The crowd of people blended into one the further you looked out—was jumping around, their energy feeding into yours as you gripped the mic stand, swinging it around erratically. Your heart pounded with adrenaline as the house lights dim for dramatic effect, and with a deep, intentional breath, you launched into the final chorus of your band, Lethality's, set. Your voice was raw, passionate, and uniquely fresh. The audience erupted, fists pounding in the air, whistling and clapping being heard.

This is what made every sleepless hour, every shitty bar gig worth it. The feeling of the audience, the bass vibrating your core, the drums pounding hard and intentional, the guitar wailing along to your voice. You were in your element. This was everything.

With one last powerful belt, you let the song ring out, clutching the microphone as the sound of your heavy breath mixed with the cheers. A slow, sexy smirk tugged at your lips. They loved you.

You turned, locking eyes with your guitarist, tossing your damp, messy hairy over your shoulder and stepping back from the microphone stand. The applause and whistles followed you offstage, still roaring in your ears as you grabbed a towel and wiped your damp face.

You were shocked that Los Angeles had loved Lethality that much, given that they didn't take to women-led bands very kindly. They often watered them down to being a "woman in Rock" and not a "rockstar." You loathed it, and you be damned if it happened to you. You deserved to be on the same playing field as the rest of these young, dumb, and full of cum men. Not that you honestly wanted to be compared to that, though.

"You really know how to work a crowd," a voice called out.

Your eyes shot up to see an older, chubbier man leaning against the wall, arms crossed, looking at you in thought. He nodded towards the dressing rooms. "You've got some serious fans wanting to meet you."

You raise an eyebrow in uncertainty, "Fans?"

The man sends you a shit-eating grin and sniggered, "Yeah. Ever heard of Guns N' Roses?"

For a brief second, your heart skipped a beat as you felt your hands get clammy—but you played it cool, tossing the wet towel onto a nearby beer crate. You exhaled through your nose and ran a hand through your hair. You knew Guns regularly went to the Whisky and other clubs you and your band frequented, and you were bound to run into them, but you still felt extremely nervous. You absolutely adored their newest album, Appetite for Destruction.

"Well," you eventually muttered, rolling your shoulders, "guess I better not keep them waiting, huh?"

With that, you strode down the hall, your heart beating so loudly you could feel it having a concert in your head. The hallway was dimly lit the further you walked down, the sounds of the Whisky still thrumming in the distance. Your heeled boots echoed against the floor as you approached the dressing rooms. Guns N' fucking Roses wanted to see you. You weren't one to get starstruck, you had met some of the best musicians to come out of the strip, but you weren't oblivious either. Part of you was curious, another part cautious. You knew how these men were. Hungry for sex, drugs, and dabbled in Rock 'n' Roll when the job called for it. You also weren't one to get caught up in the rock mystique. Yet, if they had something to say, you were damn sure going to hear it.

You reached the dressing room door and took a steadying breath. You took a second to smooth your hair and shake out the last of your post-show adrenaline. Then, you pushed it open.

The room was buzzing with soft conversation. The scent of fresh leather, whiskey, and cigarette smoke hung in the air. The ginger lead singer, Axl Rose, was the first of the four to look up, reclining in his chair, a drink idly dangling from his fingers. His sharp hazel eyes flickered with something unreadable as he took your figure in. Slash was perched on the couch, lazily tapping ash from his cigarette, while Duff and Izzy leaned back in conversation, their laughter cutting off the second you entered. Instantly, you noticed the lack of their drummer, Steven Adler. Huh.

Four pairs of beady eyes locked onto you.

"Well, well," Duff spoke up, giving a slow, acknowleding nod. "The woman of the hour."

You smirked, stepping inside with your arms crossed. "Didn't realize I was on your schedule."

Axl's lips curled into something between amusement and intrigue. "You weren't. But we couldn't ignore what we just saw out there," he tilted his head, studying you. "You don't just perform—you own that stage."

The way Axl said it wasn't flattery. On the contrary, it was a statement. A challenge, maybe. You couldn’t tell. Not yet, anyway.

You met his gaze without flinching, a newfound confidence overtaking you. "That's the job, isn't it?"

To your right, Slash chuckled, flicking his cigarette once more. "Yeah, but most people don't do it like that." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his leathered knees. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

You shrugged, "Same story as everyone else. Small-town band, a lot of shitty gigs, and too much cheap beer."

Axl smirked at that you noticed. He must've liked that reply, you thought.

"Not everyone makes it out of that."

Something about the way he said it made the air feel heavier, just for a beat. You could feel them sizing you up, trying to figure out if you were just another wannabe act, or something more. Maybe they were checking you out, who fucking knows?

You glanced around, then raised an amused brow. "So, you dragged me in here just to stroke my ego, or is there something else?"

Axl took a swig of his liquor, sliding his arm onto the armrest. "Maybe both."

Axl's words hung in the air, stretching the moment just long enough for you to feel the weight of their attention. You didn't mind it—if anything, you were used to being watched, analyzed, judged. But this? This was different.

Slash took a slow, tentative drag off of his cigarette, exhaling a thin breath of smoke before speaking again. "How long have you been playing as a band?"

You walked over to the other side of the couch he sat on, your eyes not leaving his hidden ones. "Long enough to know what I'm doing."

That earned a chuckle from Duff. "Yeah, we picked up on that, Susie-Q."

Izzy, who had been quiet until now, studied you with that easy, unreadable gaze. "Your sound's different. It's not just your voice—it's the way you hold a crowd. Who are your influences?"

You shrugged, "A little of everyone."

Axl chuckled and swirled the whiskey in his glass. "That's the safe answer," he retorted, clicking his tongue in amusement.

"Safe," you echoed with a knowing, smug smile, "or just true?"

That got a reaction—albeit a small one—a flicker of something behind Axl's eyes. The kind of interest that wasn't politeness. He wasn't just shooting the shit with you. None of them were. They had intentions—intentions you were unsure of.

Slash tilted his head softly, "You got a label yet?"

"Not one worth signing to," you replied smoothly as you shook your head.

Izzy and Duff exchanged what felt like their tenth glance of the night. Axl's smirk deepened as you quietly let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. You were very nervous, after all.

"Good," Axl clicked his tongue, "means you're not an idiot."

You huffed a quiet laugh, "I try."

This whole conversation had your mind reeling: panic mode on. This was going nowhere, and you didn't really come here to get drilled about your music. They didn't even ask to see the rest of Lethality, just you. You weren't sure what to expect when walking backstage, but being rallied up by Guns wasn't it. Their gaze was still on you, making you feel small. You look at Axl from across the room—the gears in his head were moving. You soon realized that never meant anything good.

Axl turned his head to look at you dead on. "So, what's next for you?"

You met his gaze without hesitation, your eyebrows furrowing. "Why? You planning to keep tabs on me?"

Slash grinned, putting out his cigarette in the steel ashtray on the coffee table. "Wouldn't be the worst idea. Not every night we someone actually own the stage instead of just.. standing on it."

Duff gestured towards you with his beer bottle. "Crowd was losing their fucking minds. You got 'em wrapped around your pretty little finger."

You shrugged. “Like I said, that’s the job.”

“And like Slash said, most people don’t get that. They think it’s just about playing the songs.” Izzy eyed you, like he was still trying to figure you out. He motioned towards you as he pulled out a Marlboro from his pack. “You’ve got something else.”

Axl let out a low chuckle and cleared his throat while shaking his head slightly. Then, he raised his glass. “Right. Here’s to whatever the fuck happens next.”

Your eyes flicked to the band’s whiskey bottle on the table. Without a word, you picked it up, twisted off the cap, and took a deep gulp before setting it back down on the coffee table with a quiet, gentle clink.

“You’ll be seeing more of Lethality,” you said simply.

Slash huffed a quiet laugh. “Good. Scene’s getting boring.”

Duff nodded in agreement. “Listen—If you keep playing like that, you won’t be stuck in clubs forever.”

Izzy didn’t say anything, just gave a small, knowing smirk.

Axl’s gaze lingered for a second longer before he set his now empty glass down. “Guess we’ll have to just wait and fucking see.”

The conversation shifted, drinks flowed, and the night stretched on. Whatever this was—whatever had started here—you had a small feeling burning deep inside that this was just the beginning.

© lagunned (2025—) all rights reserved.

[seitmai]

Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

He was right all along!

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day.

He's such a wife guy 🥰

He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

Letters from home >>>> dinner

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it.

I can picture it so vividly in my head!

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Hahah siblings 😂

You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

Fair

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

🤭🤭🤭

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

Oh he is getting all the goodies in the package 🤭

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him.

As I said, wife guy 😌

Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

Oh his wife will get the most raunchy thank you letter ever 🤭

And I have to mention it: the kids having bird names? No notes 👏🏻

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

What a reunion this will be, I see potential for another little baby bird aus the result of it 😅🤭

Mail Call | Rooster x Reader

Summary: After a long and illustrious Naval career, Bradley was used to months spent on an aircraft carrier. Nothing ever felt quite as good as a letter from home. He thought he knew what to expect this time, but you always made things more exciting.

Warnings: adult language, masturbation, horny love letter

Length: 2500 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

Bradley had been in the Navy long enough to know when to expect a mail call. Maybe it was intuition or a sixth sense, but after so many years of deployments, he was certain. When he woke up on Tuesday, something told him to start getting excited. There would be a box with his name written in a familiar scrawl in his hands soon. "Commander Bradshaw." He turned to see a petty officer jogging along the interior corridor of the aircraft carrier with a clipboard in hand. "Sir, here's your schedule for the day." Bradley grunted and skimmed the sheet as he made his way up to the tower. The lightness he felt mere moments ago was replaced by annoyance. Back-to-back meetings filled every inch of the sheet, including a meeting that was scheduled for after dinner.

"Damn it," he muttered, taking the stairs two at a time. His plan to collect his parcel, enjoy a meal, and then head to his private bunk to read the letter was dashed. But he was still convinced that a Comanche helicopter would touch down on deck at some point this afternoon if the weather permitted. He'd get his mail when he could. He needed to wait a little longer to hear from you, which would make him grouchy in the interim.When he pushed open the heavy door to the tower, he greeted the collection of older officers by uttering just one word. "Admirals."

They all greeted him in response with a chorus of overworked voices, and then another clipboard was thrust into his hand. Attached to this one was a sheet detailing the flight schedules for the day, and sure enough, a smile curled along his lips below his mustache when he saw that a Comanche was slated to arrive at 1500 hours with the note US Airmail Transport.

God, a letter from you was sounding better by the minute. Your tone would be soft. You'd tell him how much you missed him. There would be something in there from-

"Commander Bradshaw. Let's get started with your pilots."

His musings were cut short, and he sighed before slipping the offered headset into place and testing out the comms. He was in charge of the training exercises for this deployment, and he needed to keep his mind clear so he could keep his aviators safe. It would do him no good to be focused on what might be happening back at home. He could read about it later.

But as the day wore on, the sky darkened, and storm clouds painted the horizon. When he called his team back to the carrier and watched them land one at a time, he asked the admirals, "Should we check in with the mail transport? It seems to have gone off schedule."

Lightning cut across the sky just as the comms crackled to life with a new voice. "This is Comanche. We're coming in low from the east, trying to avoid the rain. Are we clear to make a quick landing in seventeen minutes?"

Bradley listened to the air traffic team guide the helicopter in, and sure enough, the landing was low and loud, followed by another crack of lightning. He watched from his high vantage point as a team ran out in boots and rain slickers to collect bin after bin of mail, and now his hands were itching again. He could already feel the familiar weight of the box packed with his favorite snacks and some handmade artwork.

"Commander, you'll be late to meet with the pilots."

Bradley was once again yanked from his daydream of being at home where it was warm and dry and cozy, and he was faced with the prospect of having to duck outside into the storm to get to the meeting rooms on time.

The first gust of wind had him shivering and wishing he could grab his mail directly from the helicopter and head back to his bunk. The second gust left him cursing under his breath. He had to go lecture all of these young pilots about where they needed to improve before they could fly their mission, and he just didn't have the energy for it.

"Work now, reward later," he told himself, taking a deep breath and picturing your smile. That was enough to get him through the meetings. It was enough to get him back to his small office where he wrote up his notes for the day. It was even enough to get him all the way to the narrow hallway where the mail was being sorted.

But now there was a massive fucking line of officers in uniform waiting for the same thing he was. And to top it off, his stomach was growling. He could bail out of line, eat dinner, and come back later, hoping there was still someone there to disperse the mail before they closed up shop for the night. But it wasn't worth the risk. He'd be happy to skip dinner in favor of mail from you. It wasn't even a question in his mind.

When he finally reached the window and the rows of alphabetized bins, he told the officer in charge, "Bradshaw, Bradley," and then waited quite impatiently to have an ordinary looking cardboard box thrust into his hands. But his heart leapt with joy as soon as he held it and saw your handwriting. "Thank you."

The box felt a little lighter than usual. Maybe you didn't have time to load it up with as many snacks as you usually did. He hated leaving you for weeks and months at a time to deal with everything at home on your own. He loved being at home for the day to day grind. Loved it. But there was something unique about seeing how much things changed while he was gone.

He shook the box a little bit, curiosity getting the best of him. He passed the cafeteria and ran like a child to get back to his bunk as quickly as he could where he set the box down and tore into it. When he saw the three envelopes on top, he had to fight back his tears and take a deep breath.

He carefully picked up the envelope that said Daddy in purple crayon and opened it up to find several coloring sheets and a note written in light pink crayon that was a little hard to read.

Daddy,

I lost my first toooth. The toooth fairee took it. I got a glittery doller. I drew you the toooth and the fairee.

Love, Wren

Bradley found the corresponding page with a drawing of the tooth along with the tooth fairy. His daughter also wrote her name all over the back of the paper in every color crayon imaginable which made him smile. He read her note again before carefully placing it on his nightstand, and then he picked up the envelope that said Dad in black pen.

Dad,

When are you coming home? Fourth grade is so boring. We are learning how to write in cursive, but I already know how. Mom doesn't make the homework as fun as you do. Don't tell her I said that.

Actually everything is better when you're at home. I had a good report card, so mom let me get a skateboard. I covered it in bird stickers. I can almost stand on it for three seconds. Soccer tryouts are next week, and mom promised to take a video so you can watch it later. When are you coming home again? I'll make sure she doesn't delete the video.

Wren drew you a tooth fairy, but it looks like a demon. So then I started to try to draw the tooth fairy, and it looks really cool. It's on the back of the page. Please write back and tell us when you're coming home.

Love, Hawk

His son's version of the tooth fairy did look pretty cool, and now Bradley was cracking up as he took a second look at the one his daughter drew. Yeah, it was a bit frightening. He set both notes aside, finally ready to read what you had written to him. The third envelope said Bradley in your familiar handwriting, but his heart lurched into his belly. Instead of the thick envelope filled with page after page that he usually received from you, this one was light. His brow creased in concern as he opened it up to reveal just one sheet.

Bradley,

We miss you. The kids are mostly holding it together, but we're waiting until we know your return date to start a countdown. You know how much Wren cries when the countdown goes on for too long. Honestly, it makes me want to cry, too.

I could write you a novel about work and school and how much I miss you, but I thought it might just be more fun to show you. I got a little carried away with the camera a few nights ago when I couldn't sleep. I was too hot, and your pillow still smells like you. It smelled so good. I started thinking about what you and I will do when you get home. Then I couldn't stop. I literally could not stop touching myself, Bradley.

It never feels as good without you, but I do think some of the photos portray just how vivid my imagination was that night. Like I said, I got carried away.

Let us know when you'll be home.

Love, Your horny wife

Bradley immediately started digging through the box, and he soon realized you'd only included a thin layer of his favorite snacks. He scooped them out onto his bed and was left with some Polaroids. A lot of Polaroids.

"Holy shit," he whispered under his breath, reaching in and pulling out a photo of you wearing nothing but a tiny lace thong in his favorite shade of blue. He loved that thing. He loved taking it off of you. Your arm was covering your breasts in the photo, but that was okay. He had a vivid imagination.

Oh, but you didn't leave him hanging at all. The next one he grabbed was you sprawled out in bed, tits on full display, thong present and accounted for. You were biting down on your lip, and he could almost hear you moan. Your nipples were hard and looked just like they did after he had them in his mouth.

"God damn it, Baby. You're killing me." He missed his family. He missed being at home. But right now, all he could think about was fucking the absolute shit out of his wife.

Now he was looking at a beautiful shot of just your face, eyes closed, lips parted in pleasure. That was followed up by you bending over in the thong. And then one where you had your nose buried in his pillow.

There were so many photos, he was getting dizzy. And he was hard. He took a few seconds to unzip his khaki uniform pants while his eyes searched through the photos still inside the box. "Damn," he groaned, wrapping his right hand around his cock while he picked up one of the photos with his left.

You were straddling his pillow in your underwear. Literally grinding your pussy against it. Back arched, tits front and center, riding his pillow like it was his face. He really wished it was.

"Okay, Baby," he murmured, picking up another one while he stroked himself. Your hand was inside your thong. Another one where your blue thong was pulled to the side, showing off your pussy. Another one where you had two fingers knuckle-deep inside yourself. Another one where you were licking your wet fingers.

When he reached blindly into the box again, his hand connected with something softer next to the Polaroids. To his absolute delight, his fingers wrapped around that bit of fabric that he recognized right away. The blue thong. His cock jumped in excitement as he raised your panties slowly from the box and brought them all the way to his face. He knew. He knew you hadn't washed it. He just fucking knew this little thing was put in the box directly after you came all over it and dragged it down your soft legs.

His mouth watered as he pressed it to his nose. Eyes squeezed shut, he inhaled the scent of your arousal. He moaned your name. He could practically taste you as he rutted into his own hand. Bradley inhaled and exhaled your smell, running the lace along his nose, mustache and lips. The fabric was soft on his face, and he could picture you teasing him with it.

He would do anything to have you right now. He wanted you bent over the end of the bed, sobbing and begging him to go harder. He wanted your sweet voice in his ear. He wanted you on your knees. He wanted to bury his face in your pussy until you screamed.

"Jesus Christ," he whined, panting as he jerked himself off. All he could smell was you. It smelled like home and being in love. He couldn't get enough as he rubbed your thong all over his face before lowering it down to his cock. The lace felt exquisite as he ached with need. The fabric glided along in his hand, creating a friction that left him groaning.

He jerked himself off slowly, trying to make it last as long as he could, but the Polaroids were all he could see, and your pussy was all he could smell. He came all over your thong, ribbons of white decorating it while he held onto the wall for support.

"Oh, fuck," he whispered, voice harsh as he drained every drop onto the lace. He held the sticky mess in his hand and huffed out a surprised laugh. From thousands of miles away, you did this to him. This was different from the mail he usually received from you, but he wasn't complaining. He got a nice update on what was happening at home plus a lot more than he bargained for.

Bradley walked into his tiny bathroom and draped your thong over the sink faucet before washing his hands. Maybe he'd have time to grab some dinner before returning to his bunk to write back to you, Hawk, and Wren. He had so much to say. Especially to you. He'd set himself up in bed with one of his clipboards and tell you all about what you made him do.

"Oh, shit," he told his reflection in the mirror as he thought about his clipboard again. "Fuck!"

He had one more meeting left. Starting in just minutes. He eased his cock back into his pants, still zipping up as he left his bunk. Then he walked while discreetly trying to tuck his shirt in and straighten out his uniform.

The further he got from your wrecked underwear, the more he realized he could still smell you. He was going to be able to smell you all night. This was going to be a painfully long meeting. And the letter he wrote to you later was going to be as dirty as your underwear.

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

Thanks for reading! It's been a while since I posted a Bradley one-shot, and this one was hanging out in my drafts for a bit. Much love for a DILF. Hope you enjoy your Valentine's Day as much as Bradley enjoyed his mail!

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[cheekytv]

no way back to normal - chapter one (arthur hill x f!reader) word count: 2.3k warnings: slight angst a/n: well hello!!! i said i would post, so here i am! i actually spent way too much time on that banner and i only like the polaroid section, please ignore the post its idk what the fuck those are... ANYWAY. I was originally planning on doing an arthur tv series but... i kinda got carried away now that the new ep is out so... here we are. arthurtv will most likely get his own one chaptered fic just like george!! i hope you enjoy, please feel free to comment, send asks or reblog, i'd really appreciate it <3

masterlist - next

Running in heels is never a good idea. Especially not during rush hour in London, when everyone and their grandmother are on their way home from work. 

Countless people are on the streets and you somehow manage to dodge those right in your way and continue your sprint. You’re sweaty by now, your jacket hanging over your arm, joined by your handbag. 

God, I hope the bastard is still there.

Everything kind of went to shit an hour ago. Your plane had landed without any delay and even a taxi had been easy to call over and take you into the city. Until you, well, reached the city and he let you out in front of your apartment. Or what you thought was your apartment. Because looking at the address you gave the taxi driver now, this surely was not the house you left. 

Your mum didn’t pick up and neither did your dad and you couldn’t call your brother because he didn’t know you were back. Mostly because you wanted to surprise him, but also because you weren’t ready for the news to get relayed to another person. 

Anyway. Your parents didn’t pick up and your brother wasn’t an option so you opted for your best friend Amy. She thankfully picked up - only to let you know she wasn’t in town. Oh, how wonderfully fucked you were. 

So, you took your suitcase and tried to catch another taxi. There was none around, which meant you had to either take the metro or walk. Just that, when you checked, you saw your fucking purse was no where to be seen. You had forgotten it in the cab. And of course you didn’t own a credit card at the moment, having cancelled the one you had made back in Germany. Fucking great. No credit card equaled no Apple Play. 

All that was left now was hoping for a miracle. You started walking, remembering a small Inn not far and as fate allowed you, the woman behind the counter was kind enough to take in your luggage while you went and looked for… someone to help you. Just then, your mother called, letting you know she and your dad were stuck on the motorway behind a big accident, which meant they couldn’t come pick you up and get you to their place. But they knew where Chris was and were happy to share that information with you.

Chris was at a pub. Which could mean only so many things. Either, he was there for football and you knew there was no game he wanted to watch this evening, or he was there with his friends to catch a drink. And that’s exactly what you had wanted to avoid. His friends. Or at least one of them. 

Which is how we get to now. Obviously, you swallow down your pride. Obviously, there is no other rational decision than to run to your brother and maybe face who you don’t want to see. 

You thank your own training for not being completely done and dead when you reach the pub. How utterly idiotic of you to wear heels today. Your feet are the only part of you that feels like it’s dead. 

Pushing open the door, you are welcomed by the familiar feeling of being in a pub in London, loud voices and laughter and quiet rock music in the background. People are singing along or ignoring the music altogether and you can spot your brother’s head even though he is rather small. 

Taking a deep breath, you make your way through the crowd and only stop when you reach the left corner of the room, where Chris is getting beer downed into his mouth by none other than Isaac Smith, who looks like he is having the time of his life. You spot the camera and bite down on your lip - right, there had been option three. Being here with his friends and filming. God damnit. 

You allowed yourself to look at the other people around the table and feel your heart sink. He’s here. Of course, he is here. 

He’s not the first notice you, instead it’s Arthur Hill, who blinks up a few times, unsure if he’s seeing things or if it’s really you, Chris’ sister who had left for Germany a good six months ago for an internship. 

“Am I drunk or is Y/N standing there?” He says, stretching out his arm and pointing at you. 

Even though the music and other guest’s loud conversation doesn’t stop, it somehow seems extremely quiet when several pairs of eyes are suddenly on you. 

Isaac moves his hand and accidentally pours beer all over Chris’ shirt and the latter yells in protest - that is until he registers Arthur’s voice and sees all his friends staring at the same spot. He swirls around and, indeed, there you are. 

His eyes widen and he immediately jumps over to you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Y/N, you’re back!” He sounds so happy and it warms your heart, but you can’t really be as happy as him, not when your eyes are glued to who broke your heart six months ago. 

George looks just as surprised as everyone else, but there is something behind his pretty eyes. Something you can’t quite point your finger at, something that makes your stomach fall down to your feet. 

“When- what?” Chris parts from you again, his hands staying on your arms, looking you up and down.

“I wanted to surprise you,” your eyes finally move from George to your brother.

“Oh, and that you did!” He smiles and hugs you again. “When did you arrive?”

You tell Chris the story of today, the cameras turning off and you finding your way between Arthur TV and Isaac, Chris across from you, George next to him. You notice that Arthur Hill isn’t here, but decide not to ask about him. Not right now, at least.

“Well,” Chris clears his throat, “I meant to tell you about your apartment complex, I really did, but, uh, I kind of…–”

“He forgot,” Arthur interrupts him, “that’s literally all there is to it. All your stuff is safely in storage.” He smiles at you and you raise your brows.

“As wonderful at that is - where the fuck am I supposed to sleep tonight?”

“You can sleep at our place!” Chris says quickly, placing his hand on top of yours, “of course, you can sleep at our place. I’ll take the couch and-,”

“No, thanks,” you interrupt him, eyes beginning to sting (oh, how much you hate your traitorous heart).

Silence breaks out at your table. The camera men are very focused on their phones, Isaac twirls his thumbs and Arthur’s mouth is hanging open slightly. You don’t look at George and feel just a tad of guilt when you see Chris’ features change.

“Oh, I- I’m sorry, I forgot, uhm.” He scratches his head. “Maybe the first thing to do should be calling the taxi company and get your purse back, yeah?” 

Without even waiting for a reply, Chris gets up and takes his phone out of his pocket. You had told him the taxi company earlier and of course, as a big brother would, he decided to take it upon himself to solve that problem for you. 

“Y/N,” George suddenly speaks up and you feel your heart jump, “I can crash somewhere else tonight if that makes you more comfortable.”

You hate how the sound of his soft voice and the way he looks at you makes you wanna cry and beg him to take you back. Even after six months he’s still there, at the forefront of your mind, not leaving you alone even for a second. Arthur and Isaac excuse themselves, mumbling something about having to use the washroom and you feel your cheeks heat.

“Just because you’re not there doesn’t mean the memories aren’t either.” You reply and George presses his lips together. He wants to say something, you can tell by the way he looks at you. It’s scary how you can still read him after so many months apart. But then, he had been yours to look at and hold for three years, perhaps it would’ve been scarier had you not been able to read his face.

“You left so abruptly after we broke up, Y/N, I thought maybe we could-,”

“You mean after you broke up with me?” More heat rises within you. “After you broke my heart, after you threw away our future?”

George shifts uncomfortably on his seat, lowering his head.

“Y/N, I told you back then that I am really sorry, I swear to god, if I could change the way I feel, I would.”

Again, your heart shatters and leaves nothing in your chest but aching pain. Closing your eyes, you remember what he told you back then. 

“You were my first ever real love, Y/N. I loved you every second since the day I met you, but- but I don’t feel that way anymore. I don’t know when it happened, and I hate myself for it, but there is… there are no feelings left. Nothing romantic, at least. I still love you, I always will, but not… like that. I’m so sorry.”

It wasn’t fair back then and it surely isn’t fair now. Him falling out of love with you when you were ready for more, when you had planned everything in your life with him by your side. 

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t feel ready to be back in that apartment.”

For more reasons than just the breakup. But you were definitely not going to think of that right now.

In all honesty, you aren’t even ready to be back in this city, but the internship ended and you didn’t really want to stay in Germany either. Your parents are rarely ever in the city and since you planned to just go home after arriving at Heathrow, you hadn’t even asked them to come pick you up. Looks like that initial idea is now biting you in the ass. 

“They have your wallet and will bring it over.” Chris walks back in and you look up at him, relieved to move on from whatever this conversation was with George. 

“Perfect.” You sigh and get up, not giving George even one more ounce of your attention even though it kills you inside. 

“I still think you should come with me,” Chris puts his arm around you, eyes glancing between you and the table George is sitting at, “I know it’s weird, but I haven’t seen you in six months, sis, I really wanna hang out with you. You can totally take my room and I’ll take the couch and George can crash at Arthur’s.”

You understand the sentiment, you really do. And a part of you wants to be with your brother for the night, wants to be back home with him and just feel… safe. But even if George were to stay away for the night, he wasn’t… the only one you were avoiding. 

Chewing on your lip, you avoid Chris’ eyes. There was no way in hell you were ever going to tell him - or anyone for that matter. What happens in Germany, stays in Germany. Yet, you can’t shake the feeling this… thing will come back and bite you in the ass at some point. 

“Chris…,” you begin, but your brother shakes his head.

“No, no. I won’t take a no for an answer, Y/N. When the cab comes, let it take you to my place, alright? Arthur is there, he can open the door for you.”

Yeah, and that’s exactly why I don’t wanna go there.

Just that you can’t say that. With a sigh, you finally give in. 

Which brings you to the apartment door you had seen countless times before. That you have knocked on with every emotion possible. Happy, sad, angry, unsure. 

And now, as you slowly lift your arm, your freshly picked up suitcase standing to your right, you knock on the wood with your stomach turning like a washer and your heart beating at maximum speed. 

The door swings open and the man standing in front of you has damp hair on top of his head, a towel hanging over his shoulders. He is wearing a grey shirt and black joggers and your jaw tenses.

Arthur Hill looks handsome as ever. Just that seeing him now doesn’t make you happy or relieved. Who used to be one of your closest friends is something else now. It’s not like with George; George broke your heart out of nowhere, made you into something you never believed you could be when it came to him. But Arthur? 

“Hey.” He breathes out now, his eyes not able to stay on your own for long. “Chris called ahead, I, uh, it’s good to see you.”

Good to see you? You almost laugh at the sheer lie in his words. Quickly you nod and grab your suitcase by the handle, walking into the apartment past Arthur, who steps back and looks after you.

“Y/N-,” he starts, but you just hurry into Chris’ room, ignoring the door leading to George’s and pushing your suitcase inside. Heart still beating like a drum in a high beat metal song, you finally face Arthur who continues to stand in the hallway looking as lost as you feel.

“You didn’t tell anyone, did you?” You ask, your voice sharp. He shakes his head.

“Of course I didn’t.” He responds, his hands finding the edges of the towel hanging over his broad shoulders. You nod.

“Good. Let’s keep it this way,” you cross your arms. 

Arthur nods, his curls slowly bouncing on his head. His hair got longer since the last time you saw him. Something stirs within you when you think about that one night in Munich three months ago. When you remember how his hands felt on your skin and how his lips tasted like that horrible cheap wine you got drunk on. 

The memory is fresh and yet seems so god damn far away. It’s like a blur but still clean as day. It doesn’t make any sense. But then - when has sleeping with your ex’s best friend ever made sense?

“We should still talk about it. Eventually, I mean.” Arthur is just too good of a guy. You knew back then and you know now. Which makes the whole encounter so much more awkward. It surprises you to a good extent he even still lives here - not just with George but also your brother.

“Arthur,” you sigh, pulling a hand through your hair, but before you can get another word out, the door opens once more and your face falls when you see George stepping in. 

“Oh.” He just says, eyes glancing between you and Arthur. Your chest tightens and you quickly look to the floor, hating the way your eyes begin to sting again.

“I’m tired. I’ll go lay down. See you tomorrow.” You say, hoping George knows you are not talking to him.

When the door shuts behind you, you lean against it and for the first time since you’ve stepped into the pub earlier, you feel like you can breathe again.

[starkenobi]

Demonic Domination | chapter one: lo hecho está hecho.

masterlist — demonic domination masterlist — prologue

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reder; Bucky Barnes x Reader; Matt Murdock x Reader.

Summary: Y/N doesn’t classify herself as a vigilante or, as people on the internet say, an antihero. No, she’s just an occult detective with a fucking amnesia trying to create a new life beyond her secret mutant status. At first, she really tried to keep a normal civilian life, but it’s difficult when you’re rescued from a dark place by a man dressed as a mummy ninja calling himself Moon Knight. So, anyway, working as an occult detective makes her travel around the world, and it’s cool because it gives her a lot of stories… Until her feet touch New York grounds. It’s all downhill from there.

chapter warnings: none.

When Konshu announced that there was an important mission, Jake thought it would be another gang or a terrorist group, perhaps a theft of objects that humans shouldn't be playing with or even trafficking and clandestine sale of some artefact.

He expected everything except to find a house full of scientific paraphernalia and a girl locked in a dark room. A weapon in the wrong hands, Konshu said harshly, but Jake only saw a girl who had her life stolen and tortured.

A victim.

"Hey, I'm Moon Knight, I'll get you out of here, okay? Kid, can you hear me? Dammit, Steve, I can see she's unresponsive."

The young woman was covered in blood from head to toe, dried blood with clear signs of torture. It didn't take long to remove the iron chains that held her to the ceiling, but it took some work to get her out of the anklets, the shine and quality of the material indicating a high technology.

But nothing could be that simple with his missions. So, Jake felt several punctures in his abdomen and arms as soon as she was freed from the restraints. Red blades hit him with precision. Luckily, he was wearing the suit.

"Shit. She has powers. Couldn't you have warned us, Konshu?"

With no answers from the Egyptian god, with Steve talking too much in their headspace and Marc starting to get worried, Jake needed to act quickly before the situation really got out of control.

He tried to talk to the young woman once more, maybe calm her down with words before taking drastic measures. Maybe Steve could be right once again.

"We're here to help. You're safe now."

But when another red blade came out of the young woman and tried to hit him in the head, Jake knew there was no other option.

He muttered a somber "I'm sorry, kid." before knocking the young woman out in the head.

Sighing heavily, Jake picked her up and left that bizarre place. The night that had once been lit by the moon was now raining heavily, a clear sign of a sudden storm. Jake tried to ignore the strange feeling in his chest, but the news had confirmed that there’d be a week off of dry spell.

“What are we going to do now?” Steve asked in their headspace.

“I’ll put her in the taxi and take her home.” Jake declared.

“Home?” Marc repeated incredulously. “She needs a hospital and the police. We did our part.”

“Lo hecho está hecho.” Jake replied, putting an end to the discussion before it began. “We’re going to adopt the stray ​​while we don’t have answers, pendejo.”

—

Nothing like one day after another. A routine. No big news, the big gossip revolving around who ate whose sandwich that was in the office fridge or that the dog peed on someone’s shoe again.

From Monday to Friday there was no possibility of anything unexpected happening. Everything was safe. Full of rules. Monotonous to the extreme. A 9am to 4pm job, with about an hour for lunch, and the possibility of several trips to get a coffee.

Without the risk of dealing with angry customers since that was the most isolated part of the department. The actual activity was spent the whole day holed up in an office making calls, writing and reviewing paperwork before the deadline. While it’s good that the amount of paper's decreasing, thanks to technology, spending hours on a computer tired her eyes.

Anyway, was it possible to die from being exhausted from the same old thing? Sure, tired from so much work and the same old thing.

She was tempted to shout 'fire' and risk the work safety rules just to get some reaction on that fateful friday. It was at times like that that she, unfortunately, had to agree with Marc. Taking that job was a terrible idea.

Okay, she was making money fast, but at what cost?

However, she couldn't take other people's opinions into consideration, since Marc didn't know anything about the adult life of a mere mortal. Steven, fine, worked at the museum. Jake, maybe, he played cab driver sometimes. But Marc? Good heavens, Marc lived in a reality where his so-called weekly job was to be the fist of a naked bird!

“Necromancer, you can't keep avoiding your destiny.”

“Shit.” Y/N hissed under her breath as she spilled some of her coffee on the office desk, luckily not getting any paper dirty. “I'm bored, but it's not that deep.”

Frowning, she controlled herself from turning in the direction of the voice. It's best to pretend she didn't know it was there so it would go away quickly.

She then glanced discreetly at the computer screen, finding a slightly disfigured lady standing right behind her chair, hovering a few inches off the floor.

Sighing heavily, Y/N finished cleaning up the spilled coffee before drinking the liquid from the mug again. The visits were becoming more frequent, perhaps it was time to change jobs once again.

“Necromancer.”

“Fuck.” Y/N cursed impatiently.

Ignoring the looks from her coworkers, she got up in a hurry, walking to the kitchen in long strides. Pouring the rest of the coffee into the sink, she washed the mug giving up on caffeine.

Knowing that there would be no point in staying there working overtime, she went back to her desk to turn off her computer and grab her bag. She said goodbye to the group still in the office, quickly heading towards the emergency staircase. Going down the five flights of stairs with ease, it didn't take long to reach the small lobby.

She kept her pace fast until she passed through the door, stopping only after she reached the corner of the street to debate if it was better to go home walking or running.

“Necromancer, there’s no point in avoiding your fate.”

“Stop trying to collect a debt that doesn’t belong to me!” Y/N hissed, finally facing the spirit that was still following her.

“Do you really not remember, necromancer?”

She frowned, finding the question confusing. The spirits' behavior was becoming increasingly odd, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. Before she could retort, the spirit disappeared in a blur at the same time she heard footsteps behind her.

“What are you doing standing here alone, bug?”

Turning around, she came face to face with Steven. “Huh, was trying to remember if I left the charger at the office before I went home for good.”

“If you say so,” Steven arched a brow, offering to hold her bag.

“What are you doing here, by the way?” Y/N asked, holding one of his arms before starting to walk again. “Came to make sure that I’m crossing the street safely?”

“Why do you make me feel like a senior father?” Steven lamented, allowing to be pulled by her in the direction of their apartment.

“Cause you guys decided to bring the ‘three men and a baby’ with a twist to real life?” She fired back, a smug smile on her face.

Steven flashed her a huge smile back. “Marc's saying that Jake's a terrible influence on you.”

“He's just saying that because I called him daddy in front of Layla.”

“What?”

“Oh, you didn't know?” Y/N smirked, knowing full well that Marc was still embarrassed. “Saw him trying to dismiss a woman at the door, so I called him daddy to make her uncomfortable and leave. But lo and behold, it was actually Layla.”

“Oh, that's hilarious.” Steven wheezed from how hard he's laughing.

“C'mon, less laughing and more walking.” She sassed him. “Wanna finish our Star Wars marathon this weekend.”

—

Do you really not remember?

Do you remember?

Open your eyes.

Remember.

Remem-

Y/N woke up with a start.

Trying to catch her breath, she noticed the sun had disappeared and the moon shone brightly in the sky. Shit. She fell asleep without planning to.

“My love.”

Y/N’s mind stuttered to a halt, before launching into motion as she quickly turned towards the female’s voice. “Fuck!”

“Eloquent as always, I see,” the woman said.

“Who the fuck are you?” Y/N hissed, grabbing the first thing within reach – her umbrella.

The woman raised her hands, a melancholic smile on her slips. “I was hoping my messengers were wrong, but it really seems you've forgotten.”

“I won't ask you again,” she growled.

“I have many names, some call me Rio.” the woman answered, her voice sweet as honey. “But you, my love, you know me as Death.”

“What?”

“I'm sorry, my love, I know now that you don't have your memories,” the woman, Death, smiled sweetly as she stepped closer. “But we have things to discuss now that you're free.”

Stood frozen, Y/N utterly stunned. “What?”

Death chuckled, snapping her fingers to make the umbrella disappear so she could hold Y/N's hands. “You've made an oath, my love, a long time ago.”

And I came to collect it.

Demonic Domination officially started! You'll notice some references from the mcu and the comics, I'm cooking something here and I really hope you guys like it! The first chapter is the last bit of introduction. So buckle up! From now on, we're going to start the real deal: following around the occultist detective and her harem Y/N Constantine and the gang.

comments, reblogs and likes are welcomed and appreciated! thank you for reading and supporting my writing 💜

follow the tag #demonicdomination to keep up with all updates and posts!

[shadysubject06]

So I finally saw Sonic 3 last night and I am so....mixed.

This is gonna be a VERY long ramble and definitely will not cover all of my thoughts but I really need to write just any of it down because I cannot rant to myself for another 3 hours.

Firstly, Shadow

Every scene of Shadow is perfect. Period. The fact that he did the first chase on a motorcycle, the fact that he didn't need the motorcycle, the fact that he teleports the motorcycle in the air next to a skyscraper - used his power to make the motorcycle stick to the building so he could ride it up the side - THEN Akira slid off the top and used the motorcycle as a platform to launch himself from?

Perfect.

An element of Shadow that's not utilized as much as it should be is how specifically his "effortless coolness" happens. Sonic will do Extra shit either because it's fun, or because it's cool. Shadow just Does It, and you don't know if he's doing it to be cool or because he just sees something he can use and uses it. There's also how he chose to pick off Team Sonic one by one in the GUN base. He stands in the dark until Knuckles sees him just to scare him, he floats behind Stone and Tails silently with glowing red eyes (can he do that by choice since they didn't glow while sneaking up on Knux?), and while he does take down Sonic much more seriously all of this is still important. Because it shows pieces of how Shadow can be playful in how he does things. He doesn't emote facially or vocally, but he'll still act in a way that's clearly done just to fuck with people. He could have been a bit of a trickster in the past, it's still present in the present, and it can be something he embraces more in the future. (Small Tangent) I know that the Twitter Takeover's are kinda ooc, but they really do feel like a natural development for Shadow's character after all of the trauma and amnesia has been addressed. He thinks he's cooler than everyone, states it as a fact, riles up Sonic for fun, and would still kill and die for any of the cast. He's an opposite to Sonic in attitude but not morals. He feels like a Lego Batman type, with "I'm the Ultimate Lifeform" being his "I'm Batman" where it's not a satisfying answer...but it really is the only one. (tangent over)

The new backstory could have worked really well. I was very surprised by just how much they gutted his og origins, and it lowkey did hurt a bit, but the new backstory isn't bad, just badly executed. Shadow's not a lab experiment created to cure Maria's terminal illness. He was found in a meteor and brought to a GUN lab where they could run tests. Gerald was the head scientist and Maria was there because "he brings her everywhere". Gerald's attachment to Maria is barely touched on other than her death being the reason he wants to kill everyone. He takes her everywhere but we see no scenes of them interacting until her death. Shadow's backstory is told through one exposition dump, one montage flashback, and a final flashback that's just how Maria died. There is so little Shadow in this movie I can't understand it. The exposition dump is done by the Olive Garden Military Guy from Sonic 1. He tells team Sonic that a meteor crashed in Oklahoma years ago, and inside was "a lifeform. The Ultimate Lifeform." He says that they found that Shadow had a huge amount of unstable Chaos energy, and the visuals show that they siphoned it from him by having him run in circles in a giant circular room. We also see his energy filling up a canister. And you need to remember that and what it looks like for the final flashback. But with THIS it's very clear how dehumanized the military is towards Shadow. He's basically running on a hamster wheel. And in the Maria Bonding Flashback Montage, it looks like they would just stick Shadow in tubes of water when they weren't doing tests. There's also another scene where scientists have sensor things on him, and Maria sneaks in and helps him sneak out so that they can have fun. And if there was MORE of that, it would make Maria's presence more impactful. She's not a sick girl trapped in space and slowly dying. (THERE IS NO SPACE COLONY ARK, THEY'RE IN A BUNKER LAB THAT'S FRONT DOOR IS AT GROUND LEVEL) Maria is instead, a normal girl, who just wants to have fun with him and treat him like a friend. They watch a Godzilla-esque movie that says "Beware the Alien Freak", and Shadow gets a horrified look on his face. And in the next convo they have he asks her if she thinks he's dangerous. This is set-up for something the movie never executes. Because in flashback 3, Maria's death, it's Shadow's POWER that kills her. The bullet meant for her misses and hits a container, and if you remember the exposition dump from Olive Garden Guy, and remember what that container looks like, you'll realize what it is. It's Shadow's unstable chaos energy, it gets knicked by the gunshot, explodes, and that's what kills Maria. And am I saying that the movie should have pointed out that it was Shadow's power that caused the explosion? No! But considering how much the movie flops from filler to "direct answer exposition that just tells you what happens", it's just so confusing to finally see something subtle, and it's something that should have been much bigger. Especially because Shadow's main turmoil is 1, he considers himself a dangerous alien, and 2, he's acting on pain and grief that's been stewing for 50 years. But there's a moment that's supposed to play on this directly and obviously, and it's done SO BADLY Also Shadow takes off his inhibitor rings at the end but the movie hasn't even mentioned them, so if you don't know any Shadow lore it means absolutely nothing.

I need to go on a longer rant about the WHOLE GUN HQ SEgMENT, but I'll focus just on the Walters/Olive Garden guy part. The movie made it so that he was a GUN agent stationed at the lab studying Shadow, and even made it where he was there to witness Shadow big put into stasis (That scene? Shadow is conscious and trapped in a tube while it fills with water. That is the energy they needed for the entirety of his backstory). Walters even was a good military goon who tried to stop one out of like 10 guys from firing on "children" (Shadow and Maria) implying that he saw Shadow as a child. But I do not fall for the good guy military shit so boohoo I guess. BIG THING IS?? YOUNG WALTERS LOOKS LIKE TOM. I thought it was James Marsden playing him at first. And remember in the first movie Tom said that a Wachowski has been Green Hills' sherif for 50 years and we all thought Tom was descended from the guy who shot Maria? Yeah that apparently meant nothing. But there's a scene where it SHOULD HAVE BEEN I SWEAR TO GOD Tom is disguised as old Walters, Shadow sees him and assumes that he's Walters The Young Guy Who Froze Me (and he also needs to steal a thing he's holding), and rocks Tom's shit. The disguise powers off and Shadow sees that it's Tom. Sonic pulls up, freaks out, Shadow is reminded of himself when Maria died, and looks sad before resigning to his actions with the "What I had to" line. Because this is supposed to read as Shadow going "I really am a dangerous thing, I've the same grief I have onto Sonic." EXCEPT THAT DOESN'T WORK IF SHADOW WAS INTENTIONALLY ATTACKING THAT OLD MAN. HIM NOT BEING TO OLD MAN HE MEANT TO FUCK UP DOESN'T CHANGE THAT. HE WOULD HAVE PUNCHED AN OLD GUY TO THE HOSPITAL IF IT WAS WALTERS, IT NOT BEING WALTERS DOESN'T SUDDENLY MAKE SHADOW BAD OR EVIL. Because what SHOULD have happened is that Tom doesn't reactivate the disguise before Shadow shows up. He looks like himself. And when Shadow sees Tom in a GUN uniform, looking like young Walters, he gets a flashback of being trapped in the stasis tube as it fills with water - Young Walters staring at him from across the room. Because he's reliving it, he punches forward, trying to break out, and punches Tom on accident. Shadow then grounds himself, realizes where he is, and sees that Tom isn't Walters. Sonic shows up, gets upset that his dad got his shit wrecked, and Shadow is now faced with "even when trying to protect myself I cause pain to others. I really am dangerous", which THEN makes the fact that he tries to goad Sonic into killing him in the final battle hit that much WORSE because not only is that Shadow telling Sonic to give into his revenge and grief, but it's Shadow saying "kill me, I deserve it." And I have many more thoughts but I needed to get that out.

[strniohoeee]

Cupid’s Arrow

Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader

Synopsis: Being ghosted sucks, but being ghosted on Valentine’s Day by your boyfriend sucks even more. Is love a losing game, or is there space for redemption?💌

Warnings: None, kinda boring. Kinda ass. Sorry love yall😼💞

Song for imagine: Love Is A Losing Game- Amy Winehouse

Another Hallmark holiday, here we go….

I can’t believe this, he fucking forgot our date

My eyes squinted as the sun setting left rays peeking in between buildings causing a ghastly beam of light into my orbs.

Rolling my eyes and looking away from the window my fingers played with the hem of my babydoll shirt. It was white with red hearts on it, perfect for today.

We had planned a nice early dinner and a walk in the town for today. I wasn’t a fan of flowers or balloons or any corny traditional Valentines Day tactics. I just wanted to spend the day with the person I loved the most. Or thought I loved the most….

See we had only been together for a year, but known each other for four. Our friendship was amazing and the first 6 months of our relationship, but suddenly it all changed and I wasn’t sure why.

We fought a lot over small things, and he would be so sneaky and shady. We barely would hangout anymore and we’d barely talk or text unless he needed something….

It all started to feel transactional and that’s no way to go through a relationship. But I decided that we should take today the day of love to lay our cards out and figure this all out.

He’s really an amazing guy, and I wanted to make this work; but I began to think he didn’t want the same thing. Looking down at my phone to zero messages and zero missed calls. I sighed a large sigh.

He was now a full hour late, and honestly I knew he wasn’t going to show up. I didn’t even bother to call or text. He showed me his true colors right then and there.

Looking back out the window the sun began to set some more. The Diner was across the street from a drugstore and the amount of men running out with flowers, chocolates and balloons made me scoff. That’s exactly what I mean. It’s a Hallmark holiday so money hungry companies can make boatloads of cash off of lousy men. Why is one day out of 365 days the only day where women should be receiving gifts to show that their partners love them. Bogus….

“Sweety, would you like to order something?” I heard lightly from behind me, snapping my head around when I was met with a cute older woman. Bright red lipstick and powerful blush on. Smiling shyly as I observed her.

“Uhh, sure, could I have a menu?” I asked her

“Oh of course I’ll head up front to grab you one I’ll be back shortly” she replied

She quickly stepped away, and a busser had brought me water over. As I reached for the straw my cutlery set had fallen off the table.

“Shit” I mumbled as I tossed the straw back down

As I leaned to grab it, someone had already bent down and grabbed it. My eyes follow their movement.

“Thank you, sorry about that” I stated as I looked up at the boy and grabbed the set from his hand.

“No worries” he said quietly, I smiled gently at him

He paused for a second and his brows furrowed for a moment.

“Do I know you?” He asked me

“Uhh maybe” I said looking back at him, but I had soon realized who he was and my eyes shot open

“Matt?”

“Y/N?”

We said at the same time. Holy shit I knew he sounded so familiar. I hadn’t seen him since sophomore year of Highschool.

“No way, how have you been?” He asked me

“I’ve been good, are you here with anyone?” I asked him as I looked over his shoulder for not only the waitress but potentially someone else coming with him.

“Oh no, no I’m here alone” he said

“Well if you want you can join me” I said gesturing to the seat in front of me

“Oh I don’t know I don’t want to intrude” he said shrugging his shoulders

“No it’s okay please sit” I said

Taking a seat in front of me, it felt like Freshman year all over again.

Matt, his brothers and I had been friends since middle school. Matt and I had gotten the closest as he was super anxious and shy and I helped him out of that bubble.

Freshman year we’d walk to this diner almost everyday and do homework as we waited for my dad to come pick us up. We had gotten really close and I even developed a small little crush on him.

Sophomore year rolled around and we didn’t have much classes together, and when his anxiety got really bad he didn’t really come to school often. But we all hung out every weekend.

That was until mid school year when my dad got stationed in Oklahoma for the military. Leaving them behind hurt horribly, but we all texted as much as we could. Obviously as we got older and made new friends we stopped texting and calling, but I still kept up with them on social media until I didn’t.

The summer before going to college my father had been killed in combat. Which prompted my mom, my sibling and I to move back to our hometown in Boston.

I was shocked I hadn’t run into them not once in the four years I’ve been back until now. Crazy how life works.

“When did you get back?” He asked me, the lovely waitress had taken our orders at this point

“Four years ago” I said bluntly

“Wow” he said shocked a bit

“My dad was killed in combat and my mom wanted to lay him to rest in our hometown. So much time had passed I didn’t even think you’d remember who I was” I said giggling

“I’m sorry for your loss, are you kidding? My mom always asks about you. I should’ve kept in contact” he replied shaking his head

“Hey it’s okay, the phone goes both ways” I said offering him a reassuring smile

Our meals had come and as we began to eat, I really remembered why I was originally here.

“No Valentine?” I suddenly asked him and I wasn't sure why

Chuckling softly he swallowed before opening his mouth “no actually we broke up a few months ago and I’ve been focusing on myself. Nick is out with his boyfriend and Chris is with Nate. I wanted to be on my own. Since this is my first Valentine’s Day alone in four years” he said shrugging his shoulders as he ate another fry

“Oh wow, four years” I said shocked as I took a sip of my cherry coke

“I thought I was going to marry her, but I get to her house one day and there she is cuddled up with Dan Camineti” he says laughing

“Dan Camineti? Oh my gosh even out of Highschool he’s still a dog” I said in pure shock

“Guys like that never change” he says laughing

“You poor soul I am so sorry” I said shaking my head

“What’s your story” he states after a moment of silence

“My story?” I ask clearing my throat

“Yeah, why you’re here alone surrounded by a bunch of couples” he says giggling

I stopped for a moment as I looked at him, did I really want to tell him I wasn’t really sure. But my mouth started moving before my brain could stop it.

“Well my best friend of four years slash boyfriend of a year ghosted me this evening. We were already having trouble in paradise and we agreed that today would be the day we spoke about it and figured out where our relationship stands; and judging by his actions I know exactly where it stands.” I said firmly

“Oof what a dick, I’m so sorry” he said shaking his head

“Looks like we hit the jackpot with our love life” I said laughing

We endured more conversations as we finished our dinner. It was now 6:30 after Matt paid our bill. Stepping out into the brisk evening I wrapped my red scarf around my neck.

“Thank you for paying” I said to him as we stepped out onto the sidewalk

“Oh of course it’s the least I could do right now” he said winking playfully.

“Hey, want to walk downtown with me and look at the lights and shops?” I suddenly asked him

“Sounds cool let’s do it” he said smiling at me

We had walked around a bit and stopped into a cafe ordering some hot chocolates. We made our way over to a small bench as we sat down giggling

“No fucking way” Matt said sucking his teeth

“Way! I totally had a fat ass crush on you in high school” I said as I took a sip of my drink

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He said rolling his eyes

“Umm because every girl wanted you and I could not handle that type of rejection” I said laughing

“There would’ve been no rejection, I had a huge crush on you too” he said laughing with me

“You’re lying” I said laughing and going wide eyed

As we were chatting I kept hearing jazz music every now and then.

“What’s that?” I asked him

“Oh that’s Juno’s on the bay” he said pointing to the restaurant behind him

Everytime the door would open for people leaving and entering a soothing jazz song would ooze out and into my ears.

Smiling at the sound my eyes drifted towards the sidewalk when suddenly something caught my eye.

“Oh my god” I say as I shot up

“What?” Matt asks me just as shocked

“That’s his car” I say as I look at my “boyfriends” black mustang parked right in front of the restaurant.

“Are you sure?” He asked me

“Oh I’m sure” I say as I began to walk over to the restaurant

Before I made it to the door I looked over into the glass window when suddenly I felt my whole world crash and burn around me. There he was sitting in front of some girl. Laughing…how could he sit there and be laughing after what he just did to me.

Tears stung my waterline when suddenly his eyes met mine and grew in size. Scooting back from his chair he shot up.

My feet moved before I could register what was happening. Stomping past the restaurant the tears began to fall.

“Y/N wait! Wait!” He called out as the Jazz music faded

“WHAT? WHAT DO YOU WANT “ I asked him angrily

“Listen to me, I’m sorry I’ve been meaning to tell you, but I just couldn’t figure out how to” he said

“I should’ve known…you were distant and sneaky and you’d disappear for days on end. I can’t believe you” I said scoffing

“Listen I’m sorry, I love you but I’m not in love with you” he said.

“I hope you have the best life. We’re done. Don’t ever call or text me. Don’t come by my house and don't dare keep in contact with my mother. I never want to see you again.” I said as I wiped the tears from my face

“Don’t don’t cry” he said walking closer

“Leave me alone” I said backing up

“Listen I’m sorry” he said inching closer

“She said leave her alone” Matt suddenly states as he walks by my side

“Matt… you’re worried about me and you’re out with him?” He says scoffing

“He’s my friend..and has been since middle school. Don’t turn this on me” I said getting angry

“Yeah friend sure let’s see how long that lasts” he says laughing

“Come on man, don’t be such a dick just go back to your new girl and leave her alone ” Matt said stepping in front of me

Rolling his eyes and scoffing at Matt he stepped away and went back to the restaurant.

Turning to me Matt begins to laugh

“Tanner Crowley? Come on Y/N he’s dumber than a door knob” he said laughing which then caused me to laugh

“He really is, but he’s so damn cute” I said giggling as we began to walk away

“You’ll find better fish in the see” Matt said winking at me again

“Now let’s get you home” He said as we crossed the street

We lived near the downtown area so it was a nice little 25 minute walk. We spent most of the walk sharing funny memories and giggling like we were in school again.

“Oh my gosh remember when our parents caught Nate and my sister kissing freshman year” I said laughing

“Holy shit I do! My brothers and I were there at his house when his parents were scolding him it was the funniest shit ever” he said snorting

“And my sister made some dumb story up about practicing mouth to mouth for CPR training” I said laughing

“That was hilarious, man the good old days” he said clearing his throat

“They were” I replied

Sooner than later we approached my moms house. Matt had walked me to the front door.

“I had so much fun today, thank you for that” I said smiling at him

“Thank you for allowing me to sit with you as we chatted about our sad love lives” he said nodding his head

“Always!” I responded giggling

“We should hang out again soon” he said scratching the back of his neck

“I’d so love that, my mom would die to you and your family” I said smiling at him

“Cool… we will….uh… I will set that up” he said a bit nervous

“Goodnight Matt” I said lowly

It was a good 10 seconds of staring into each other's eyes when suddenly we both leaned in. Our lips crashed together in a cute passionate kiss. A kiss that would make me squeal when I spoke about it. A kiss that was like butterflies and fireworks in my stomach.

Pulling away we looked at each other's eyes again.

“I’ll see you around” I said smiling shyly at him as I opened the front door

“I guess I’ll see you around too, have a good night” he responded back

“Good night” I said giggling before slipping into my house and shutting the door behind me.

Who would’ve thought I’d be shot by cupid's arrow so suddenly….

The End

Idk what the freak prompted me to write this, but I could not get this idea out of my head since yesterday. Even though I’ve been gone for so long I still appreciate the support and love I’m still getting 🫶🏽🖤. Not sure when I’ll post again, so until next time I love ya 🖤

-J💅🏽

[seasidefae]

ill water the seed for you :) hear me out carlos in a truck a firetruck. different jobs au where carlos is a firefighter who has had dates not like the way he smells. Meets oscar who has a weird little obsession with how he smells. boom a small flower, im not that good at writing sorry 🩵

anon omg! let me shine some sunlight on this now

ok so carlos is never late to things—especially if he’s going on a date. not only is it bad form, it’s just impolite and his mama raised a gentleman.

but with a job schedule as wack as his, there are times when he’ll have to rush out of a 12-hour shift just to be on time to stuff. and on those times, showers had been quick and soapless. he hosed himself down, it’ll be fine!

(it’s not)

after about the fifth time he’s been rejected because he always smells like he just jumped out of a burning building (which—come on, firefighter is stated in his bio, it’s not like they shouldn’t know) he wants to give up.

except he meets oscar. and oscar is funny and endearing without trying, smart and easy to talk to. he wants to make this work.

but he’s just gotten back from a call. a burger joint burned down and it took a couple of hours. he’s about 5 minutes late, fuck the shower. he drives to their meeting place, a bar midtown, and he’s so relieved to find oscar still there that he just—hugs him. almost tackles him in front of the bar.

carlos thanks oscar for waiting up and apologizes about a dozen times in a row. this is all before he realizes what he’s doing.

“fuck— sorry—“

carlos lets go of oscar like an octopus releasing its hold but, to his surprise, oscar just pulls him back and buries his nose on his shoulder. carlos hears sniffing sounds; he thinks it’s the wind.

“i smell like shit right now.”

“no, it’s nice,” oscar says. he sniffs; so okay it’s not the wind. “like beef.”

now carlos has to pull away to look at oscar, holding him by his neck as gently as he can if only to glare at him. is he joking?

but oscar isn’t smiling exactly. he looks contemplative, big eyes still eyeing carlos’ shirt.

“you. you are being serious?”

“first thing to know about me is that i’m always serious,” oscar says. now he’s smiling. “except when i’m not.”

he’s weird. and carlos likes him so much.

he takes oscar inside the bar and orders him a burger. it’s their first date of many.