#but this will be a story that stays with me I think

[pancakesthewormwithcandy]

Hey ya'll this is why Rainworld is both really good and really challenging. It has 72 PAGES OF MOVEMENT CONTROLLS HALF OF WHICH ARENT EVEN HUMANLY POSSIBLE WITHOUT MACROS AND ARE SO ODDLY SPECIFIC ITS SHOCKING ANYONE FIGURED IT OUT AT ALL. and it teaches you two moves in the start, drops you in an eco-system with a bunch of smart Ai that you have to learn yourself through trial and error. It's not a game about you. It's en ecosystem and you are at the bottom of the food chain and have to rely on your knowledge to get through it. You often die instantly in one hit, it's brutal but very fun especially if you look at it under the guise of an eco system simulator where you have to hit your head against the wall a few times until you learn how to get past certain things. Like it felt like being a child exploring the world again idk i loved it so much.

Easily one of the best if not my all time favorite game I've ever played. The first time experience was honestly insane to me and it has some interesting themes if you are willing to dive into the lore and explore enough.

DO NOT LOOK UP ANYTHING. DONT SPOIL ANYTHING. the jot of the game is learning it for yourself trust me. ( granted one time i got so stuck i was going to quit and looked up spoiler free help so like only do it if its like " I'm gonna quit if i don't look it up" ) But like don't look up anything if you can help it its sooo much more fun.

also if you've already finished the game there's DLC and mods and they are all peak. One mod lets you meow. it is perfect.

speaking of i think i know what im gonna do tonight LOL

just have to make sure

[greengoblinswifey]

Little Do You Know—Player 001/Hwang In Ho x Fem!Reader

summary—after making a passing remark on the possibility of the front man being attractive, your crush on young-il who unbeknownst to you is the front man, boils over. based on this request.

warnings— flirting, oral(f&m receiving), praising, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie.

The group sat gathered around with a small meal, the kind of makeshift dinner that felt comforting despite the bleak circumstances. Gi-hun leaned back, his arms crossed, recounting some story about the Front Man. “I’m telling you, he has cameras everywhere. He probably sees and hears everything we’re saying.”

The mood was tense, as it often was when the Front Man became the topic of conversation. But your lips twitched upward, a thought making you suppress a giggle.

Dae-ho, ever the curious one, caught it immediately. “What’s so funny?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in your direction.

You waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, nothing. It’s silly. Forget it.”

Young-il, sitting across from you, tilted his head slightly, his expression soft. “Come on,” he said gently, his voice soothing in a way that made you feel oddly safe. “Anything you have to say, we’ll appreciate. Don’t hold back.”

Encouraged by his tone, you hesitated for just a moment before shrugging. “Alright, but don’t judge me.” You exhaled a breathy laugh, looking down at your lap for a second before glancing back up. “What if the Front Man is, like—really hot?”

The reaction was instant. Dae-ho choked on his milk, sputtering, while Jun-Hee’s eyes widened slightly before she went back to eating as if she hadn’t heard you. Even Jung-Bae, usually laid back, looked at you like you’d just grown a second head.

“Seriously?” Gi-hun said, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s what you’re concerned about?”

“What?” you asked defensively, your shoulders lifting in mock innocence. “I’m just saying. It’s possible!”

Gi-hun groaned, covering his face with his hands. “We’re talking about a guy who might be orchestrating all this madness, and you’re worried if he’s good-looking?”

Before you could respond, your eyes flicked to Young-il. Everyone else was either laughing awkwardly or shaking their heads, but Young-il wasn’t saying a word. Instead, a subtle smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, almost imperceptible to anyone else. Almost.

Your gaze stayed on him for a moment, your brow quirking as you tilted your head slightly in return, a silent question hanging between the two of you. His smirk deepened just enough for you to catch the meaning, amusement, maybe even intrigue, but he quickly smoothed his expression before anyone else noticed. He was hot too, you thought.

Gi-hun, still shaking his head, muttered, “Out of everything you could be thinking about.”

“Well, excuse me for lightening the mood,” you shot back playfully, rolling your eyes. “It’s not like I said I wanted to marry him or something. Geez.”

As the group moved on, you couldn’t help but replay the moment in your head. Maybe you were overthinking it, but wasn’t Young-il’s smirk a little too knowing? Or maybe it was just your ridiculous crush on him twisting your perception. You’d never admit it out loud, but you found yourself drawn to his quiet confidence, the calm authority he exuded even in casual moments like this.

It was ironic, really, here you were crushing on Young-il while joking about the Front Man. Little did you know, the very man you were teasing about might as well have been sitting right in front of you, wearing the mask in plain sight.

You shook the thought off with a small laugh. Overthinking, as usual. Still, when Young-il glanced your way again, his gaze warm and unreadable, you couldn’t stop your stomach from fluttering.

The night had settled into a familiar stillness, broken only by the occasional shuffle of someone shifting in their sleep. You couldn’t sleep, your earlier exchange with Young-il replaying in your mind. That smirk, so brief, had lodged itself in your thoughts.

You were still awake when he appeared, his footsteps quiet as he approached where you lay, tucked into a dim corner of the quarters. He didn’t say anything at first, just crouched down beside you, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asked softly.

“Guess not,” you replied.

He tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Still thinking about the Front Man being hot?”

“I didn’t mean to make it weird,” you said laughing and flustered.

“You didn’t,” he assured you. “But if I didn’t know better, I’d say you might have a type.”

Your cheeks warmed under his words, and you rolled your eyes, trying to deflect. “Oh, come on. I was joking.”

“Were you?” he teased, his smile widening just a bit.

You were about to retort, but something in his expression stopped you. His hand, warm and steady, brushed against your cheek, lingering for just a moment before he leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a whisper.

“You know,” he said, his tone teasing, “if you wanted to get something off your chest, now’s the time.”

Your breath hitched. “What are you trying to say, Young-il?”

“Just that I’m here,” he replied, “If there’s something you want.”

His words sent a jolt through you, and before you could second guess yourself, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his. The kiss started slow, testing the waters, but quickly deepened as his hand came up to cradle your face.

The thought of the games seemed to fall away as you lost yourself in the way his lips moved against yours. His hands were firm but gentle, holding your face as the kiss turned hungrier, more insistent. His fingers found their way into your hair, tugging slightly, drawing a low moan from him that you quickly stifled.

“Quiet,” he murmured against your lips, a teasing smirk playing on his face as his thumb brushed over your cheek. “We wouldn’t want to wake anyone, would we?”

Your heart raced as his lips moved to your neck, his hands on your waist as he guided you back against the small bed. He trailed kisses down your chest, his kisses slow and savoring every moment.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

A soft gasp escaped your lips as his kisses grew bolder, trailing lower. He pulled off your bottoms and your lace panties, tongue licking from your hole to your clit. The way he did it so suddenly, so smoothly, made your pussy throb. You instinctively bit down on your lip, your hands fisting the fabric beneath you as you fought to keep your composure.

“Relax,” he whispered. “Let me taste you.”

His hands slid down your thighs, spreading them open as he adjusted your position. He glanced up at you, his dark eyes meeting yours with a glimmer of mischief and tenderness. You pressed your lips together tightly, his skilled tongue flicking your clit then moving to your leaking hole.

“Don’t hold back too much,” he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “I want to hear those pretty moans, just a little.”

Your cheeks warmed at his words, his tone leaving you breathless. You felt the warmth of his fingertips on your thighs and the tenderness of his kisses on your pussy, and his praises were a quiet balm to the storm of emotions swirling inside you because of the game.

“You taste so fucking good,” he whispered. “You’re perfect.”

Your fingers gripped his shoulders as he continued ravishing your pussy, mouth engulfing you and sucking as though the meal from earlier wasn’t enough. He was attentive to your pleasure, fingers pumping steadily inside your pussy as sucked and flicked your clit with precision. The precision you expected and appreciated in an older man. No one had ever made you feel this good. The pleasure was otherworldly and your legs shook from it all.

The coil in your abdomen and euphoria built with every passing second and you had to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep quiet. His words and actions blurred together, creating a warmth that left you trembling. When his tongue brought you to your peak, you bit down on your lip to stifle a cry, your entire body shuddering as he pressed a soft kiss to your clit.

“You did amazing,” he said softly, his lips brushing against your ear as he leaned closer.

You gently nudged Young-il to lie back, a teasing smile tugging at your lips. “My turn,” you murmured, your fingers grazing the waistband of his bottoms.

He raised an eyebrow, a chuckle escaping him, but there was no mistaking the lust in his gaze. “You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” you interrupted softly.

Slowly, you slid his bottoms down, taking in the sight of his, long, thick cock with a mixture of nervousness and determination. He was big, but you could take him. His sharp inhale was audible as your lips wrapped around the head, his hand instinctively brushing against your cheek as you went down.

“You’re too good to me,” he whispered, his voice low and tinged with awe.

Your fingers wrapped around his girth, careful and deliberate, and you began to stroke as you sucked with a rhythm that earned a quiet moan from him. The sound sent a shiver down your spine, but you focused, letting his quiet praises guide you.

“Just like that,” he murmured, his fingers threading in your curls. “You’re doing so well.”

You glanced up at him, mouth full, eyes watering and saliva mixed with pre cum dripping down your chin. Your cheeks warmed from his words and the darkness of his gaze. The way he looked at you like you were the most beautiful little thing in the world as you took him down your throat made your heart race. You bobbed your head faster, using as much tongue as you could on his thick shaft, your actions conveying what words couldn’t.

The effect was immediate. His head fell back against the pillow, a low moan escaping him as his free hand gripped the fabric beneath him.

“God, you’re incredible,” he said, his voice rough. “That pretty face of yours, how will I last?”

You couldn’t help but smile with his cock buried in your throat, your movements continued, now slower and purposeful as you went up and down. His breathing grew heavier, and his hand in your hair tightened slightly as he struggled to maintain composure.

“You’re too good,” he managed, his voice breaking slightly. “I—”

Before he could finish, the coil in him snapped, and his praises were replaced with a low, drawn out moan of relief. You swallowed the ropes of hot cum, watching as he tried to catch his breath, his gaze locking with yours almost immediately.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his tone full of affection and disbelief. He reached out to cup your face, pulling you closer until his lips pressed against yours, savoring the taste of himself on your lips.

Your confidence emboldened by the way he looked at you with dazed, lust filled eyes. His hands still rested on your waist, fingers brushing your skin as you leaned into him, your voice soft but teasing.

“Can I ride you?” you asked, pussy aching for him.

His lips curved into a smile, his thumbs drawing slow circles on your hips. “Anything you want, princess,” he murmured.

You bit your lip as you shifted, settling over his hard cock with a nervous laugh that he silenced by cupping your cheek. “Take your time,” he said.

When you finally sank down onto his length, his hands gripped your hips firmly, guiding you with a steady rhythm that sent shivers down your spine. The quiet moan he let out made you even wetter, and you instinctively leaned forward, resting your hands on his chest for balance.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice rough but filled with admiration. “You ride me so well, just like that.”

His praises made you bolder, and you bounced on his cock with more confidence, your breathing shallow as he let his hands roam, one sliding up to gently cup your tits. The warmth of his touch made you bite back a moan and his eyes darkened as he noticed.

“You’ve got to be quiet pretty girl,” he whispered, his hands still steadying you. “Think you can do that?”

You nodded quickly, though the feeling building inside you made it harder with every moment. His grip on your hips tightened, and he thrusted up into you, the two of you finding a rhythm that made it impossible to focus on anything but how he stretched your pussy. He was so big, your pussy was sure to remember the shape of his cock after you were done.

“I want to cum with you,” you admitted breathlessly, leaning down so your lips were close to his ear. “Inside me.”

Young-il’s breath hitched, his eyes meeting yours with pure lust. A slow smirk spread across his face. “Beg for it,” he whispered.

Your cheeks burned, but the desire in his gaze made you bold. “Please,” you murmured, leaning closer. “I want you to cum with me. Please.”

He groaned softly, his hands gripping your hips even tighter. “Good girl,” he praised, his voice unsteady. “Just hold on to me.”

The pleasure between you reached its peak as his praises and your whispered pleas filled the air. When the release finally came, it was almost overwhelming, and you buried your face against his neck to stifle the moan that threatened to escape. His hands held you firmly in place as he came with you, cum spurting inside you while you soaked his cock, his breaths ragged but filled with relief.

“You’re amazing,” he murmured after a long pause, brushing stray strands of hair from your face. His gaze softened as he pulled you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You couldn’t help but smile, your heart racing as you settled against him. “So are you,” you whispered back, letting the moment linger in the quiet comfort of his embrace.

[creativepromptsforwriting]

Drabble List #12

75 prompts to write drabbles or longer stories.

"Everyone should be delighted to know me."

"Tick tock, the clock is ticking."

"What a fantastic idea!"

"Not going to destroy the world or anything."

"You're awful at solving riddles."

"That was a poor decision."

"Do you really think you can handle the truth?"

"I never thought I'd see you again."

"Why did you lie to me?"

"This isn't the end, it's just the beginning."

"You promised you'd never leave."

"There's more to this story than you know."

"I'm not the hero you think I am."

"Sometimes, doing the right thing means making tough choices."

"If you walk away now, don't bother coming back."

"I've kept this secret for far too long."

"Are you sure you're ready for this?"

"They'll never believe us, but we have to try."

"I can't believe you just said that."

"No one else knows, and it has to stay that way."

"Do you trust me?"

"We can't let them win."

"You have no idea what you're getting into."

"This changes everything."

"I thought I knew you."

"I've waited my whole life for this moment."

"You were the last person I expected to see."

"Why does it always have to be you?"

"We're running out of time."

"Do you think they suspect anything?"

"I've made up my mind."

"This isn't what I signed up for."

"How can you be so sure?"

"We can't afford any mistakes."

"You can't keep running away from your past."

"What are we supposed to do now?"

"Sometimes, the hardest thing is to let go."

"You know this isn't right."

"What are you hiding from me?"

"We have to stick together."

"I'm not giving up on you."

"There's no turning back now."

"I never wanted any of this."

"What if we don't have a choice?"

"It's time to face the music."

"You have to trust your instincts."

"Everything we've worked for is at stake."

"I didn't expect you to understand."

"This is our only shot."

"I'm not interested anymore."

"You owe me an explanation."

"We can't do this alone."

"I thought you were on my side."

"This is bigger than both of us."

"What do you have to lose?"

"I can't pretend anymore."

"You're not as invisible as you think."

"What's the worst that could happen?"

"You're the only one who can help."

"We need to be careful."

"Are you with me?"

"No, this is enough."

"I don't think I can do this."

"Ok, so sue me."

"What a fine young man."

"This isn't about you."

"I know what I have to do."

"We need to find a way out."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It's not as simple as it seems."

"I can't believe it's come to this."

"This isn't over yet."

"What's the plan?"

"Take me to court."

"There's no easy answer."

Drabble Masterlist

Have fun creating and writing!

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[power-handmaiden]

Chuck Tingle interview

OK, here is the FINAL 2024 Tingles My Butt post, which I've been pretty hyped for. I still kind of can't believe this. While I was figuring out how I'd move on from 2024, @drchucktingle generously offered to answer some questions of mine to commemorate the end of my tingler project! Here they are!

-Considering that your process for tinglers is just to write it out and not stress about proofreading and editing, was it weird for you to see someone decide to go back, examine, and contemplate every single tingler published in the past decade?

the whole dang project was really wonderful for me, for exactly the reason you have just said. tinglers are very STREAM OF CONSCIOUS and only edited with one quick pass so while i think this adds to their honesty and rawness it also means that my time with them is limited. really watching someone go back through them at this depth was like reading a diary that i have not opened for many years, and it jumps around through time in a very beautiful way. it was very moving

-I love tingler character names. I personally admire how many great ones you come up with. (I never know what to name my ttrpg characters.) You just come up with all these great names that seemingly spring from nowhere, how do you do it?

DANG great question cant believe i have not been asked this before but yes there is a type of name that shows up in the tingleverse that is unusual and has a certain feeling and cadence that is very specific. if i am trotting along with sweet barbara and there is a name of a product or a place or something that has this tone we will say ‘oh thats a tingleverse name.’ the reason i wanted to do this in the books was as a very subtle way of saying these stories exist on a timeline that is RIGHT next to ours, so in some ways it is exactly the same as our world but there are these little cultural differences with things like chocolate milk and spaghetti and then with the names. you will have buckaroos like justin and sarah trotting along next to buckaroos named corb torbins-quill or borto lart.

-So, as a reader, reading from 2014 to now, old tinglers and new tinglers feel different to me. I believe you when you say tinglers have always been sincere, but they feel MORE sincere than they used to be. Like, I feel like there was some self-consciousness and irony in some of the early tinglers that you've since let go of and embraced the Chuck Tingle voice more. I don't know, am I imagining this, or does this square with your tingler writing journey? If it does, what has that process been like for you?

i think you are absolutely correct. the intention with tinglers was always to be a place for me to express myself with complete sincerity, but the practical way of HOW to trot like this took a bit of an evolution to arrive at. in other words i knew the basics, but actually refining the best way to express yourself and perform your art takes time. maybe in the same way goin back and watching season one of a tv show can feel very different from season three, even though they are part of the same expression. 

similar thing happened with in my chuck PRESENTATION as well, where my main focus was to stay anonymous so the metaphors i used to talk about my life were still true but laid on much thicker. even my attire was a large gi so that you would not even be able to see my shape, which has obviously changed now because i wear suits these days. all of this was a process of starting in a place i knew was important to me and then peeling off the parts that were not helping the message or expression over time

-Is there anything you could tell us about the significance of Borson Reems? I feel like he's more than just another Buck Trungle/Chuck Tangle/etc but I'm not sure what exactly...

yes borson reems is god. not that i believe in GOD in the way that most buckaroos talk about god (i am agnostic) but within the tingleverse, borson reems is an avatar for the creator of that world. technically i am borson reems, because i am writing the books. the question is: are we all the gods of our own little worlds that we create? i do not know, but when i look around at my buds and the joy and love they bring to various timelines they sure seem like gods to me

-A lot of no-sex tinglers (especially ones that aren't romance-focused) vary in terms of plot and structure a lot more than erotic tinglers. Is your writing process for these stories any different?

same process actually, but the sex scenes in tinglers are about 1500 to 2000 words long, and total tingler length is 4000 words which means if you are not including that portion you are going to have to come up with some creative way to fill that space in the story and a new axis for story to turn on. so the variety comes from me getting creative and trying out different axis points

-In "Not Pounded By My Book "Pounded In The Butt By My Non-Fungible Tingler That Is Literally This NFT" Because Of The Current Catastrophic Environmental And Ethical Impact" there are references to an earlier draft of the story that was never released because you ended up disagreeing with the message. Are there any other tinglers that never got finished and/or published, if you'd be willing to talk about any of them?

oh this is a VERY good question. the story of the NFT tingler is that when buckaroos were first talkin on nfts online and nobody really knew what they were, my first thoughts were just ‘oh this is interesting what the heck is this?’ this is my way with most CURRENT EVENTS. and i thought ‘this would be an interesting tingler, i suppose maybe i should make the tingler an ACTUAL nft’. this was in VERY early days so i did not really even understand what an nft was (neither did 99 percent of buckaroos yet honestly). so i looked into it just enough to actually MAKE a nft tingler that was a real nft and put it out. lasted for about thirty seconds before buckaroos were messaging saying ‘oh this is bad chuck you should look into what this is’ and i DID look into it and thought’ oh yeah this is terrible nevermind’. i took down the original and thought ‘well THIS is what art is all about. this is where i thrive in a world of moving living art that is in communication with itself’. so i dove into the research and actually started to understand NFTS and then i repurposed the story into a strongly anti-nft tingler and put that on out instead.

as far as OTHER tinglers that kind of move and breathe and live like this, in communication with the audience, GAY T-REX LAW FIRM is another very good example. that one i wrote early on and i think it was kind of in the model of something like fifty shade of grey, where issues of kink and consent and communication are not really handled well. i think at the time it came out the story was okay, but as time went on it always kind of bothered me and finally i thought ‘i love art that exists in the REAL WORLD and changes and evolves, so lets rewrite that story and fix some of these mistakes.’ honestly it is something i wish more artists would be open to. its okay to let something hold strong against a changing timeline, but it is also okay to explore what its like to take the notes that time gives us

-This one is about Chuck Tingle that exists in deeper layers of the Tingleverse that operate on tingler logic: what does the location inside his/your butt look like?

probably a nice mid-century modern home up in laurel canyon neighborhood of los angeles. kind of quiet and small like a cabin but also very cozy, like the kind of place where you would put on a crosby stills nash and young record on vinyl and gaze out into the woods for a while then walk down the hill for dinner at a little cafe where you spot some actor from a 60s tv show also having dinner in the corner booth. this basically sounds like the start of a tingler and in that tingler i will say the actor would be a bigfoot.

-OK this one is very self-indulgent but if you could help settle this frequent point of discussion I have with my wife- where do the following fit in the Tingleverse bigfoot/dinosaur/unicorn/living object(/human/does not apply?) taxonomy?

-a ghost of a regular human

-a regular human vampire

-a human/fish mermaid

-a sentient winged horse

-a sentient centipede large enough to wrap around a mountain several times (she is handsome)

alright lets trot through these. a GHOST is not one of the four tingle types so you can have a ghost racecar or a ghost unicorn or a ghost bigfoot. ghosts are outside of the four types and do not have a classification

a VAMPIRE is also outside of the four types. so you can have a vampire bigfoot or, of course, a vampire night bus. does not strictly fall into any of the four main categories

MERMAIDS are technically a long lost species of unicorn I DONT MAKE THE RULES I JUST EXPLAIN THEM. this makes the MERMOPED tingler a little confusing but i had to pick a category and that one went into living object. now that i mention it possibly the only tingler that is technically a double category of unicorn/living object.

WINGED HORSE is easy, thats a pegasus which is a species of unicorn just like a mermaid

a SENTIENT CENTIPEDE LARGE ENOUGH TO WRAP AROUND A MOUNTAIN is an ancient creature, therefore dinosaur tingler

-My other self-indulgent question: do you have a favorite bug? (Or second-favorite if you count Mothman as a bug)

i love finding spiders in the house and giving them a pet because they are doing a good job livin their lives doin their thing. close second would be a pretty ladybug

-Any thoughts on what tinglers will be like in 2025? Do you expect to be writing a lot of political tinglers again, like post-2016?

honestly i really do not like writing specifically political tinglers anymore, and the amount that i write has gradually dropped over time (i think ALL tinglers are political but in a different way). so honestly i think i will write a few political tinglers but not many. my hypothesis on this is that my HORROR NOVELS are very very political and so maybe i get a lot of these ideas out of my system that way now. when it comes to tinglers i just wanna explore my OWN mind and heart and butt more

THANK YOU for these wonderful questions and thank you for your tingler-a-day project it was so moving and powerful. what a treat it was an honor to be a part of something so beautiful. THIS PROVES LOVE IS REAL

[all-by-myself98]

OK I'm gonna rant for a second

When I was sick with covid last Feb, I watched the Malcolm X movie and I mentioned the Angela Bassett phenomenon in a Letterboxd review I was basically like.

This woman has such an interesting range of works. Not a predictable range like from comedies to actions to horrors. But like from what would be considered high brow vs low brow film and TV.

She's done like the serious Oscar tier kinda shit like the Tina Turner biopic, Boyz n the Hood, the Malcolm X movie as I mentioned, and a lot of other like. Really successful really like. The kinda shit that might be considered high brow or like. cinema shit, you know? Shit that wins awards and stays in people's minds because of how highly regarded it is

And then she's kinda gradually tapered off of that, which is fine! I think if I was an actress and I had a shit ton of success earlier in my career, I might also branch off and look at other projects. A lot of the stuff she's been in nowadays isn't really classified as high brow. It's mostly drama television or cartoons or, of course, action stuff. Like there was Meet the Robinsons, there was American Horror Story, there was fucking. ER! She was in ER for like two years(?) as a main role! And then of course that itty bitty foray in the failed Green Lantern movie, and then her actual success with the Black Panther movies.

Like... They're less dramatically intense, more just. Fun! She got her bag of money early on and now she's doing whatever the fuck she wants which is so valid of her, I would do the same thing if I ever went into that line of business. Earn your security, then have fun and do what you want!

And honestly this might not have even been her intent. There could have been other stuff going on. Her wiki link mentioned that after her Tina Turner biopic she wasn't getting any calls for roles for like a year and a half. So maybe people were just being idiots and skipping over her, maybe there was some dumb fucked up Hollywood politics involved, or maybe she's genuinely letting herself have fun with her roles now, OR maybe she noticed that there's just as much integrity and potential in a role like Athena Grant or Queen Ramonda or Marie Laveau than there is in her earlier character counterparts.

Again, this is also relying on this backwards and outdated idea of high brow vs low brow film and television. I don't subscribe to these ideas, and I think it's low-key kinda ridiculous and I think people should just have fun watching what they want without feeling like what they want to watch isn't good enough or doesn't command the same respect... But sadly other people do absolutely subscribe to these ideas and you can tell because it's difficult not to notice a difference in the tone or nuance of two different works, and why some works are not nominated for awards as much as others because some Hollywood awards panel either don't see it as serious or as respectable enough to be in with the so called "big leagues".

All visual work is valid and all visual work is capable of eliciting the emotions they need to elicit to keep their audiences hooked.

ANYWAYS that's the end of my little blab

I love Angela Bassett and whatever is the reason for her shift in her filmography, girl you are not gonna hear me complain one bit. As long as she's happy, I'm happy for her. I just find it fascinating to think about is all

And thus. The Angela Bassett phenomenon (copyright pending)

trying to understand a show you don’t watch only through gifs you see on your dash

[mindless-existence1]

Summery: Giving Shadow a little nose kiss and him getting hella flustered.

@luc1dw0rld

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting warm stripes of light across the small living room. You sat cross-legged on the couch, Shadow beside you.

He was unusually talkative today, his low voice recounting something about his latest mission and how he had outmaneuvered his opponents.

You nodded along, genuinely interested, though you couldn’t help but notice how close he was sitting. Not that you minded—there was something calming about his presence.

“And that’s when I—” Shadow paused mid-sentence when he noticed your gaze fixed on him, your expression soft. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, suppressing a grin. “Keep going.” He narrowed his crimson eyes slightly but resumed his story, clearly trying to ignore your amused look.

You leaned a little closer, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your head on your hand.

As he continued, you couldn’t resist the urge that had been bubbling up since you noticed how focused he looked. Without thinking much about it, you leaned in and brushed your nose lightly against his in a playful, gentle motion.

Shadow froze.

His eyes widened slightly, his words dying on his lips as he stared at you, completely still.

You pulled back just a little, unable to hide your smile. “It’s just a type of kiss people do sometimes,” you explained, your voice soft.

Shadow blinked, crimson eyes locked on yours, his expression torn between confusion and flustered disbelief. “...What?”

“Like a nose kiss,” you repeated, tilting your head. “It’s when you rub noses with someone. It’s supposed to be sweet.”

Before you could say anything else, Shadow let out a frustrated huff and leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His quills grazed your cheek lightly, but he didn’t pull away, staying there as if trying to shield himself from your gaze.

“You can’t just do shit like that,” he muttered, his voice low and muffled against your skin.

Your breath hitched in surprise, and a grin tugged at your lips as you raised a hand to rest gently against his shoulder. “Why not? You flustered?” You tease.

“...No,” he lied immediately, though the warmth radiating off his face said otherwise. You chuckled softly, your fingers lightly brushing over the fur on his back. “You’re really bad at hiding it, Shadow.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he grumbled, but his head stayed tucked against your neck, his ear flicking slightly as if he was debating whether to move or stay put. “Well, for what it’s worth,” you said, your voice softer now, “I think it’s cute when you get flustered.”

Shadow let out a low, almost inaudible growl—not of anger, but of pure embarrassment. He finally pulled back just enough to glare at you, his face still tinted with the faintest blush.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting back a smile. “And yet, here you are,” you teased, your grin widening.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, his shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly.

“Just… warn me next time,” he said gruffly, his gaze fixed on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the room. “Where’s the fun in that?” you replied, earning another exasperated huff.

But despite his flustered protests, you couldn’t miss the way his body relaxed slightly, the lingering warmth between you speaking louder than any words could.

[anaconamor]

jude taking a nap while resting his head on your ass

short and sweet 😌

your afternoon had been filled with studying. you were back in uni after a long and deserved break and although you didn’t need or had any soon due dates, you wanted to get a head start on your work. you laid on jude’s bed, scrolling on your ipad while on the phone with your friend. “no cause that’s exactly what i was thinking! i told her that-”

“babe? im so tired-” jude’s voice sounded in a despair whine. his shoulders low and eyes almost closed as he walked to his bed. “give me a sec-” you said to your friends and muted the call. “why don’t you sleep for a bit? we still have a lot of time before we go out,” you suggested turning sideways to rub his back.

“mhm yeah gonna do that, im so exhausted,” jude said while yawning, rubbing his eyes as he worded his words. “wake me up okay? i don’t want to sleep too much or else i won’t sleep at all tonight,” jude stated, making you nod your head understanding, giving him a tired kiss to which he returned.

“so i was saying-” you returned to the call now whispering since you didn’t want to wake jude up. you understood how he felt and the last thing you wanted was to annoy him while he wanted to rest. “she had gotten up and turned… just give me one sec again,” you scrambled nervously. jude had shifted over and rested his head on your left ass cheek as his hand then placed on your right cheek.

“jude why don’t you sleep on the pillow?” you tried suggesting, but he shook his head, digging his head deeper into your plump cheeks. “no. this is so much comfortable. so soft and squishy,” jude smirked, kissing your left side as he heard your giggle. “just stay still while i sleep. i promise you this is so comfortable and all i need right now,” jude said strangled, his eyes fluttering in delight.

“judeee”

“baby please im almost asleep,” jude whined and fell back unconscious to sleep. you let out a deep sigh, accepting fate that your boyfriend was using your ass as his personal pillow. “my ass,” jude caressed it as you let out a giggle. you returned and apologized to your friend, who just teased the two of you for being so clingy yet so passionate.

jude was fast asleep, hearing his deep snores and breathing as he fell deeper and deeper into his sleep. he had his hand still resting on your ass cheek, his cheek smushed cutely as his snored away. you took a small picture, wanting to show him later. you yawned too, your call finished soon, accepting your fate as well and taking a small nap. you set an alarm to ensure you wouldn’t oversleep and forget your night plans. you take one more glance at jude and smiled.

“why is he like this?”

——————

ynusername added to their stories!

[cjlouwho]

This got a little long winded, so it gets its own post. The story you are about to read is based off of this poll. These are your choices.

Tommy was pretty sure he'd never felt a headache like this before. He wasn't prone to migraines, but he'd seen his mother suffer with them and this... well, this might be worse.

He squeezed his eyes shut, groaning as a wave of nausea fell over him.

It wasn't just his head that hurt. It was his whole body.

Damn, he hadn't been this sick in... well, ever.

His body shook with chills. There was a heaviness in his chest that had him turning his head to the side and choking out a hard cough.

Once he finally settled, that heaviness still there, he slowly let out a raspy breath.

Pudding.

He wanted pudding.

That was odd. He used to crave pudding as a child. Every time he got sick, he would request a pudding cup. And that's what he wanted right now.

Maybe he still had one in the fridge. He'd kept a few things there for Jee back when- Well, he had some kid foods that had been sitting in his fridge for a couple months now. Surely, the pudding would still be fine.

If only he could get out of bed.

He made a mental note to order a new mattress. This one had lasted him quite a few years, but he was definitely feeling the lumps today. It was hard and painful and poked into his back.

“God, this sucks,” he breathed out, blinking his bleary eyes open and... oh.

This wasn't right.

He wasn't at home. Wasn't in his bed.

And the heaviness in his chest was actually on his chest.

That's when the memories came flooding back to him. Going for a flight on his day off. Wanting to clear his head and get his thoughts in order.

He couldn't panic. He needed to maintain focus.

That was hard to do when his brain was all jumbled.

He remembered his phone was... somewhere.

Shirt pocket! That was it!

Carefully, and painfully, he reached up and pulled out the phone.

Miraculously, it was still in one piece. Besides a few cracks to the screen, it seemed to be working fine.

He stared at the screen. The default background that was once a picture of him and Evan.

It hurt to breathe. Hurt to think. He knew he probably didn't have that much time. Not with the way this heavy piece of metal pressed against his body.

So, with fuzzy eyes, Tommy went to his contacts, hovering his finger over the name before pressing down.

“Hello?”

“H- Hey. Long time, n- no talk.”

“Tommy? What's up? Are you okay?”

Tommy huffed out a laugh. “I... Well, that's a loaded question.”

“You sound weird. What's wrong?”

“I wanted to a- apologize to you.” With a grimace, he swallowed down what was definitely blood.

“For what?”

“For everything.”

There was a pause, then, “Did you do something stupid?”

“Not intentionally,” he deadpanned. “Listen, I- I kinda got into an accident and I...” his voice trailed off as he went into a coughing fit. The movement sent a pain shooting from his leg to his back. “Damn it!” he yelled.

“Tommy! Tommy, talk to me. What do you mean you got in an accident?”

“No, it- it doesn't matter. I just wanted t- to apologize for the way I left you.”

“You apologized for that years ago, Tommy. Tell me what happened so I-”

“Abby!” he exclaimed, the hunk of metal over him creaked as it lowered slightly. “I don't... I just need to apologize. I- you loved me, didn't you?”

“Yeah, I did. Car crash, or were you flying?”

“F- Flying. I loved you too. Not... Not the same though. Sorry.”

He could hear her mumbling something to someone else, then she was back on the line. “I'm calling 911 with Sam's phone. Stay on the line with me, Tommy. Are you in LA?”

“Mhm. Do- Don't think I made it far. Abby, listen, I didn't... I didn't mean to hurt you. I was so s- scared of- of everything.”

“Do you see anything around you? Any indicators for where you are? They're working on pinging your phone.”

When Tommy turned his head to the side, all he could see was trees. “Woods. I think. Can't see much. I was dating th- this guy.”

“Can you tell me where you're hurt? Are you bleeding anywhere?”

“Oh, for sure. But A- Abby, I didn't m- mean to hurt you.”

“Focus, please. Where are you bleeding?”

“Head. Leg. Mouth. Kinda e- everywhere. I was dating th- this guy,” Tommy sucked in a shaky breath, a rattling in his lungs. “Your guy, actually. O- Our guy?”

“Tommy, I think you're getting confused. I-”

“No, no. Evan. Buckley, Ev- Buck. Him.”

There was silence on the other end of the line.

“Hello?”

“No, I'm here. I- You're dating Buck?”

“Was dating Buck. I- I ended it. I'm c- cold.”

“Help is on the way, Tommy, just stay with me. You broke up with Buck. Why?”

“Remember wh- when we went to karaoke nights? Th- That was fun, wasn't it?”

Abby sighed. “It was, but that's not what we're talking about.”

“Wh- What was the song we us- used to sing?”

“You were a big Queen fan. I Want to Break Free. Shoulda known,” she mumbled.

Tommy laughed, but it quickly turned into a coughing fit, where blood bubbled up in his mouth.

“Tommy! Tommy, stay calm, okay. Turn your head a little so you don't choke.”

Tommy listened, spitting out the blood before he continued. “We should karaoke again.”

“I don't think that's gonna happen. Tell me about Buck.”

“Evan.” Tears filled in Tommy's eyes and he tried his hardest to blink them away. “We were t- together six months and it all f- fell apart.”

“Why?”

“He wanted... wanted me to move in. Can you b- believe that?”

“Yeah, actually, I can,” she answered. “Buck likes to attach and you're, well, attachable.”

“No. No, I'm not.”

“You haven't changed much, Tommy. You didn't seem to think you were worthy when we were together either.”

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. Down his back he could feel the sensation of more blood dripping from his neck. “What d- do you mean?”

“The whole time we were together it felt like you were waiting for a bomb to drop.”

“That probably had to do with the whole being gay thing.”

“Mm,” she hummed. “Maybe. Don't think so though. Hang on a second.”

He looked up at the hunk of metal trapping him in place. “Nowhere to go.”

Tommy closed his eyes while he waited. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but the next thing he remembered, Abby was yelling in his ear. “-mmy! Tommy, talk to me!”

“Wha- I'm here, I'm here. God, you're l- loud.”

“And you're an ass. If I was there I'd smack you on the back of the head.”

“That would hurt,” he replied. “With the gaping wound an- and all the blood.”

“Back to Buck. Why'd you say no to moving in?”

“I own a home.”

“And?”

Tommy thought for a moment. “I- I wasn't enough for you, Abby. Couldn't be.”

“Mhm.”

“I hurt you. Didn't m- mean to, but I did. I saw- I saw it in your eyes, when I left, I... You loved me, and I couldn't... I'm sorry.”

“Is that why you left?” Abby asked. “You were afraid Buck would do the same thing to you?”

“I really...” he couldn't stop the tears now. His chest heaved in the little space it had left. “I really loved him, Abby, and I- I saw what I did to you and I couldn't. I just co- co- couldn't-”

“Okay, okay, Tommy, I need you to stay calm, okay? Listen, the dispatcher is telling me that the 118 is close to you. So you stay calm and you talk to me!”

“O- Okay.” He tried to calm his breathing the best he could, but the rattle persisted. He knew that didn't mean anything good. Each breath got a little harder, the blood continued to flow down his neck, and he was pretty sure something was sticking through his leg.

“Did you tell him how you felt?”

“He didn't... He never said it. That he loved me.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Maybe he was waiting on you. Did you think of that?”

“I think...” He just wanted to close his eyes. Nothing made sense, the cold feeling was fading, he was going numb. “I think I- I'm dying, Abby.”

“No! Listen to me, Tommy! They're close to you! I need you to make a noise. Let them know where you are. You hear me?! Call for help, Tommy.”

“Abb-”

“Call for help!”

Tommy groaned, more blood coming up in his throat. He managed to move one arm just enough for his hand to knock on the door of the chopper. “H- Here!” he yelled, banging on the door as hard as he could manage. “I- I'm here!”

Abby listened over the phone as the 118 arrived on scene. She could only make out bits and pieces.

“Tommy, can.... me? Talk to... There ya go! We got a...”

“What about the...”

“Hey. Hey, we're here, Tommy. Just focus on... and we'll get ya out, okay?”

“He's losing too... gotta get that off now!”

“Tommy, you look at me! We will... you just gotta promise me you'll... Promise?”

She waited, holding her breath until she heard his voice, just a touch above a whisper. “Promise.”

Things got quieter for a bit, then she heard voices again, so she yelled, “Hey! Hey, pick up the phone! Someone pick it up!”

“H- Hello?”

“Buck, is that you?”

“Yeah, Abby, it- it's me,” he answered, his voice practically shaking. “Maddie said y- you were on the line with him.”

“Is he...?”

“He's alive. We're following the ambulance to the hospital.”

“How bad?”

She could hear Buck sniffling through the line. “I don't know how he's alive, Abby,” he admitted, lip trembling. “It looks like this thing has been through a compactor.”

“And Tommy?”

"Has a gash on the back of the head, concussion, broken ribs, a pretty big piece of glass through his leg, definitely some internal bleeding. He... Chim says he should make it, but we- we barely got here in time. He might've... if he wasn't talking to you he probably...” He couldn't even bring himself to say the words.

“Hey, don't think about that now. He's gonna be fine. That's what matters.”

“Yeah.” Buck ran a hand over his eyes as he nodded. “Yeah, you're right.”

“I'll let you go, Buck, but let me know when he's stable, okay?”

“Yeah, I will. Thanks, Abby.”

“Of course. Oh, and Buck!” she quickly added before he could hangup.

“Yeah?”

“I know the guy pretty well. He loves you. He's just not great at being loved.”

“A- Abby-”

“Don't give up on him. He's worth it.” Before Buck could get in another word, she hung up.

*****

The next time Tommy opened his eyes, he was in a hospital bed.

Evan was beside him, staring down at an empty cup in his hands. Tommy figured he must've sensed the staring, because soon enough Buck was meeting his eyes. “You're awake,” he said, eyebrows rising.

“I-” Tommy cleared his throat. “I think so, yeah.”

“There's been a couple wake ups that didn't quite stick,” Buck explained, standing to grab cup of water. He put the straw to Tommy's mouth and had him take a sip. “Slowly,” he instructed. “Don't want you choking.”

Tommy took a few sips, then settled back in the bed. “How long was I out for?”

“Almost four days.”

Tommy's eyes widened. “You.. You haven't been here the whole time?” he asked. “Have you?”

Buck nodded. “Three nurses have tried to drag me out of here. All have failed.”

Tommy hoped the monitor didn't show how fast his heart felt like it was beating. “Wh- Why? Why'd you stay?”

Buck smiled, wrapping his shaky hand around Tommy's. “A mutual friend of ours told me you were worth it,” he said, his eyes glistening with tears. “I just so happen to agree.”

[urgentkettle]

I think you’ve hit my point exactly. Dracula (book) and Nosferatu are fundamentally telling different stories. They have the same kind of monster, a similar cast of characters and story beats, and then they diverge both narratively and philosophically. They’re just different.

Let me be clear, I don’t think friendship would have saved Ellen. Nosferatu (the 2024 version especially with that opening scene) is rather fatalistic in this way. Ellen is doomed to die by the story no matter what happens. The only way to stop Orlok is for her to sacrifice herself, which is the only real choice/agency she is offered. She can die like his other victims, die and stay at his side as a monster, or die distracting him until the sun rises. All bad choices. And she is fighting like hell to live (and keep her friends alive) until it is revealed that there is no alternative. The fact that Ellen chooses to kill Orlok is an interesting and inline with the themes of domestic abuse and power. The 2024 version centers Ellen as the protagonist. This is a story about her.

Just as you said, the men are doomed in this same way. In the book there are months of time to collaborate and ride trains in order to defeat Dracula (DRAMA queen indeed). Even more so, the Scooby Gang are first bound together by their love for Lucy. which becomes their solemn quest to defeat Dracula at all cost (thank you Art’s fat wallet) and save Mina. As is shown by their affection and recognition of her cleverness, the whole Gang comes to love her too. Dracula is a story about the Scooby Gang. On the flip side, Friedrich can barely stand Ellen before things go off the rails. He throws Ellen and Thomas out on the plague streets when he’s had enough of her hysterical lady talk! As a group, the Nosferatu crew (help me workshop a more clever name please?) are bound by fear and an aggressive ticking clock. They don’t stand a chance.

Did you see the 1922 version? How’d you like it? I’ve got thoughts about that too. If I hadn’t seen it before the 2024 version, I would have liked this new one even less for not meeting my “but it’s Dracula!?” expectations. Going in knowing that the two are different made it easier to open my heart to this new one. If that makes sense. I’ve got the 1979 version on my watch list.

Bonus thoughts that are only spoilers for Dracula (book) under the cut

You didn’t say it did, but I’d like to point out that book Dracula doesn’t have a pretty ending either. Mina is saved, but not before she is brutalized by Dracula repeatedly. Jonathan is barely holding it together in Transylvania. Lucy dies and is damned. Quincy dies fighting in the final battle (justice for my man, they keep erasing him). Many of the film adaptations do make the ending prettier/neater. And I’m like, babes this is horror. The count is supposed to be scary; he’s a monster. This shit is pure suspense I wanna feel fear in my veins. But I digress.

I think a fundamental difference between book Dracula and Nosferatu is how the protagonists work as a collective. In Dracula, they are the Scooby Gang (trusting, collaborative, polyamorous). In Nosferatu, they are the teens from an 80s slasher (suspicious, deceitful, jealous). The count can be defeated, but only the power of friendship can save Mina.

[gazasparkle]

Good morning my friends who always support Gaza 🔆🫶

I miss you all and may God always protect you and your families from all evil 🙏

Today the weather is beautiful and the sun is shining 🫂, so my child Tim and I decided to go for a small walk near our house.

But every time I go out with my child and see the extent of the destruction, I feel a pang in my heart 😞💔, because my beautiful Gaza has changed and I no longer recognize its beautiful streets that provide comfort and safety as before.

My five-year-old son Tim, as he looks at all the ugliness and rubble, keeps asking me, "Mama, why doesn't a big bird come and carry us and take us far away so we can live like before? I'll bring my toys Mickey and Superman and fly in the sky 😔

He falls silent and repeats his question, "Mama, when will the war end?" Well, we'll go to heaven like my friend Omar

Omar is Tim's close friend. Every day they used to play together in front of the house, but he was martyred by shrapnel while playing in front of his house after we got used to the sound of his jokes, laughter and activity. Now he's not here and Tim always asks about him. Because of his insistence, I told him that he too, Tim, went to heaven 🙂‍↕️💔, like your grandfather, grandmother and uncle, they are all in heaven now.

It's true that it's a small outing, but our life and our story are big 🙏🫂

This is part of our daily life with our children who ask many questions and the answers are beyond their mental capacity to comprehend what It happens over the course of a year and three months because we are in a war.

Your prayers and your support for me, Tim, my family, my husband, my mother, my father, and my brothers, always stay safe 🙏🫂

Every time I get help from you I tell Tim about it, the only thing that keeps me close to the safety of my child and my family is your donation and sharing our story with all your friends 🙏🫂

Don't abandon our family with all my love 💔

@gaza-evacuation-funds @nabulsi @northgazaupdates2

@oorevicejda@yellowwperil@sandersgrey @ofide @rukafais

@officialpenisenvy @theonpilled @fleurrice@tetrafelino@think-queer

@timothylawrence@roakkaliha @lostacelonnie@huzni @laurajameskinney

@gambOfficial @vincentspork@teabisexual@officialscud @evilponds

@dinodamage @yurischolar @lune-tic @lipid @newporters

@witticismz @dovv@capricornpropaganda @charlott2n @determinate-negation

@parsleyrosemarybotch @tadpoledyke@userpeggycarter @thedigitalbard@melon-colli

@demilypyro@lesbocrocker@kahin@chososhairbuns

@zamanassad @wayneradiotv @jihaad @evillesbianvillain

@stuckinapril @goldenspirits @scarletlich @rongzhi @marxistcomedy @el-shab-hussein@nabulsi@wellwaterhysteria @appsa

[babyimyurs]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐫𝐮𝐞, 𝐈 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐭𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐲𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

~

Hwang in-ho ( the frontman ) x reader.

A/N: this will be a multi series. haven’t proof read

Warnings: nothing. I’m sure if you watched squid game you’ll be fine with this.

opening: you have been working alongside gi-hun for years after he came out of the games, after hearing his story it connected a few dots from your older brothers disappearance. After arriving at the games you found out that both of yours and gi-hun’s tracker implants have gone missing, you came face to face with your biggest nightmare… playing the game.

-

After playing red light, green light you hoped that you didn’t have to wake up the next day, you had no clue that a simple children’s game could have that amount of blood and death in it. After agreeing that you would join gi-hun’s plan, he told you all about the rule that ‘when your eliminated, your gone for good’ you didn’t really believe him but now you definitely do.

a part of you also wondered how long your brother survived.. a day? two? three? you wish you could of just slapped him silly and got him a job in your coffee shop. But- here you was awakening by the sound of classical music playing out of a speaker and metal squeaking as all the players started to move around in their bed.

you woke feeling not tired at all, not even doing the usual ‘rubbing your eyes and yawning’. Probably due to your lack of sleep or the amount of trauma you got from the day previous.

“y/n.. hey.. y/n” you heard a voice, a familiar one.. a frantic gi-hun was standing next to your bed, tapping your arm. “gi-hun, you okay?” you said which gi-hun replied with a shrug as he looked around at the players. “your telling me that everytime we wake up we’re going to hear that music?” you huffed, looking up at the speakers. “trust me, that should be the least of your worry.. I still can’t figure out how they managed to get our tracking chips” gi-hun said, now looking at you with a face of absolute confusion.

“players please line up in two cues to get breakfast” a woman’s voice from a speaker said in her usual happy tone. “come on, maybe a bite to eat will make us think” gi-hun proposed hitting the metal post of your bed, waiting for you to get up and join a line.

upon waiting in the cue, you and gi-hun got a load of looks and whispers.. few that said “look there’s the mad man” , “do you think they are a couple?” , “a nearly died because of that punk shouting”. you both ignored them and soon enough you received a bread roll and a carton of milk.

“hey y/n.. take my milk, you know my stomach doesn’t take it well” gi hun said, handing over his carton as you both took a seat on some steps next to jungbae and dae ho. you got to know the guys after red light, green light, gi-hun introduced jungbae to you saying that they were friends outside the game and well dae ho.. introduced himself to group after hearing over the discussion on what the next game could be which will now happen after the big vote that went on. That’s right. The vote. most of the players after red light, green light started begging to let them go and it ended with a massive vote to either stay or go and of course majority said stay.

“excuse me..” a voice approached the group, your wasn’t very familiar with it but after looking up it was the guy that came over to gi-hun after the vote, young-ill his name was.

“you all wouldn’t mind if I joined this group? a lot of players are talking about the next game being a team game. most of the groups formed already are teams of five and there are only four of y-“ young-ill said before getting dramatically cut off by dae ho “yes! you look very strong and have good thinking! reminds me of a pal i had when i was in the marines!” he said, putting his arm around his shoulder and patting his head.

you laughed, finding the situation of how dae ho was younger than young-ill and still acting like the oldest funny. “of course, take a seat” gi-hun said, his tone not one hundred percent certain on this guy as he gave you a look of ‘keep a eye on him’.

“I say why not! what about you y/n can 001 join us?” Jungbae asked to which you just shrugged and looked over at the group “I don’t mind..” you said which got a kind smile off young-ill.

“Well welcome welcome double one!” dae ho said, looking over at young-ill as he took a bite out of his bread roll. “ah.. Thank you” young-ill replied, taking a look at everyone but lingering on you suspiciously long. “I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation before.. wanna take my milk too? I’m in the same situation as 456” young-hill said, looking over at you.. passing his carton of milk over to you.

You looked at him for a moment before shaking your head with a smile “thank you, but I think dae ho wants it more than me” you replied, pointing over to dae ho who was staring at the milk carton like he was an lion eyeing up its prey. Young- ill understood and nodded passing it over to dae ho instead.. his smile dropping almost like he was planning to give you the milk from the start.

“All players please make your way to the game hall.. the next game will be starting shortly” an announcement called out from the speaker which gave you a fright, spilling the milk that you was drinking on yourself. “fuck!” You groaned out of annoyance, taking your zip up jumper off and throwing it besides you as you and your team stood up.

you started to walk to the game hall before young-ill couldn’t help himself but approach you “you’ve got some- may I?” He said, pointing to your chin which had a white stripe of milk running down it. how embarrassing. Before you could answer young-ill had already brought his jumpers wrist and wipe it off for you.

“there you go..” he said, looking at you with a kind smile. “thank you, I didn’t realise- that could of been embarrassing” you said getting a little too flustered in the moment, you couldn’t lie to yourself he was attractive. “ah.. it was nothing, don’t thank me.. okay?” he said, looking up at your eyes before glancing down to your lips in a quick motion. you nodded, noticing the look and shaking the intimate motion off completely by hitting his shoulder and walking ahead “we’re going to be late! come on!”.

young-ill watched you walk off out of the door, now being left in the holding room with a bunch of guards. “whatever you do, keep that one safe..” he said, which in return got a bunch of nods and with that he walked out the door too.

// ahhh! okay this was my first ever fic on here and why not make it a inho x reader because that man is the death of me at the moment. hopefully part two won’t take long to come out since I do have coursework to do and all but also let me know if you guys have any squidgame one shot ideas you’d want to request me to write :)

[myownwholewildworld]

Love is heartbreak

↪ a the age of adaline inspired fic

pairing: marcus acacius x ageless!f!reader. summary: kissed by the goddess juno on your day of reckoning, you are brought back to life, condemned to wander the earth for a century. until you meet the other half of your soul who offers you the life you yearn for. but will you be strong enough to accept such promise? author's note: yes, i've cheated on my other wips, I'M SORRY. but when the angst and romance call, i can only answer - i am only human afterall. hope you like this little story that was supposed to be a drabble but ended up being this long, oops! comments and reblogs appreciated. enjoy! x warnings: 18+, mdni. soulmates trope. angst, romance, smut. mild breeding kink (soz). infidelity. mention of SA (not by Marcus) and death. dual pov. reader is female and a blank slate. reader is close to 150 years old (stopped ageing in her twenties) and Marcus is in his fifties. not beta'd and very lightly proofread, apologies if you spot any mistakes lol wordcount: ~8.4k. divider by @\saradika-graphics

“I’ll do anything to stay by your side, amica mea (my beloved). I don’t care about what the future holds if it’s not with you,” Marcus’ broad hands held yours, his thumb drawing invisible circles on the back of your hands.

You hated this — how your heart twisted inside you, torn apart by the choice you had to make. Was this never-ending life not enough punishment? No, you also had to go through heartbreak — your own and Marcus’. For love, you had to.

With eyes averted, you looked down at your worn sandals. Tears teetering on the edge of your waterlines as your vision became blurry with sadness, regrets and fears washed over you like the Tiber kissing the shore goodbye.

In your hundred years wandering the ground beneath your feet, you never had to go through this. Always so careful not to feel, not to grow close to anyone, not to really live the life you wanted, and now you were in a position where it almost felt too real.

Within reach — you only had to extend your hands and hug him in a tight, soothing embrace. Only needed to accept the life that Marcus was offering. Though as much as you wanted to—you wanted it, him, so badly—you could never.

And what was worst, you couldn’t explain why. First you would see the horror in his eyes, that frightened look glittering, then incomprehension, and finally disgust. Your heart couldn’t take it.

“But I do care, Marcus. Yours is bright, your military career is about to take off. I would only hinder you, your dreams. I am no one, and—” you tried to reason with him.

But love was blind. Love was deaf. Love didn’t care about impossibilities, because love was defiant.

At least his was.

“Do you think I care about being disowned? Do you truly believe that I would choose such dreadful life over you? Over a wonderful life with the person I love most?” Marcus squeezed your hands before one of his found your chin, tilting up your face to him. “Omnia vincit amor, et nos cedamus amori (love conquers all, let us too yield to love).”

You shook your head in denial, his words ringing in your ears like chants of war. Because Marcus waged war in all aspects of life, even in love — he’d conquered your heart so fully, you’d never asked him to return it. It would forever be his to cherish, to cry over, to destroy, to hate.

Because he would need to hate you to overcome the heartbreak you were about to cause.

“You don’t have a choice here. You are to marry the lady your family has arranged for; her family’s prestige will do you good. You’re just infatuated, Marcus, it isn’t true love,” you forced yourself to let a soft laugh out, wiping your tears as you took a step back. “At least, for me, it isn’t.”

Marcus’ expression folded and your heart with him. You hated yourself for saying such a vile lie, but a necessary one. The passage of time would not affect you, always stagnant in your early twenties after a fateful day when Juno decided to save your life from certain death. The Goddess of love and marriage was also one known for Her eternal youthfulness — one She would only share with those who had been wronged. And you had been so wronged in your mortal life.

And here you were, so close to committing the same mistake all over again. But you knew better this time — not because you didn’t trust Marcus, but because Fate was capricious. It didn’t matter if Juno was watching over you.

“You don’t mean that. I know you don’t. This is true love, lux mihi (my light), one that would live through eternity,” Marcus muttered breathlessly, reaching for you again, looking for that unbreakable connection you both strongly shared.

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus,” you retorted, forcing your tone to sound mocking.

Another step back with an unmovable expression and you saw realisation dawning on him. Slowly like a river widening its meanders, steady like the constant flow of water. Relentless you were, steadfast in your resolution.

“Ave atque vale (hail and farewell), Acacius,” were your last words to him.

35 years later...

“Father, may I marry her?”

Marcus gazed down the dining table, eyeing his son with consideration. He knew what it felt like, how true love messed up your head to the point of madness. He had felt that way only once in his life, and it wasn’t for the woman sitting beside him.

As cruel as it sounded, Marcus never loved his wife, because his heart belonged to someone else — the now hazy memory of a woman who always lingered on the edges of his mind. A cruel reminder of how feeble and fleeting love was, how love turned into heartbreak with just a few words.

“At least, for me, it isn’t.”

That sentence alone had broken him, his ability to feel some sort of romantic connection died that very same day. At night it would haunt him, filling his dreams with nightmares. The same scene playing over and over in his mind, his heart cracking even more every time those words would hit him.

He’d waited for weeks, months. A year it took him to realise you truly were not coming back, that you meant it. He’d only been a plaything for you, a toy you discarded once things got too real. And at that point he surrendered to the pressure his family put on him. Marcus had followed through with the arranged marriage in the end, despite the agony and the empty hole in his chest.

And now his son was following in his footsteps. His heir looked so much like him, like a reflection of the past staring back at him. It pained him — he saw himself in Magnus, almost as if the roles had reversed and he was his own father thirty-five years ago. Pleading, asking to marry the love of his life even though his hand had already been promised in holy matrimony to another.

His wife, Prisca, waved one of her hands with disdain, the spoon clattering on the porcelain plate.

“Nonsense, Magnus,” she tutted at their son. “We’ve already been through this. You will marry Verina. You’d put us in a very compromised position with Gellius if you don’t.”

“But—”

“Quit your whining and man up, my son. Gellius is the Emperor’s best counsellor. It will bring our family great reputation,” Prisca reasoned, tone poisoned with greed. “And riches.”

“Father?” Magnus’ eyes shot to his, pleading him to intervene.

Marcus sensed Prisca stiffening besides him, gripping the arms of the chair like a vice. He didn’t look in her direction but knew how her orbs distilled venom. She would never understand what their son was talking about, but he did. Too damn right.

“I would like to meet her before giving you my blessing,” he spoke calmly, lacing his hands together on top of the wooden table.

Magnus’ eyes sparked up, a hopeful smile curling his mouth.

“Of course, of course! She’s waiting right outside,” and then his son hurried out of the room.

Prisca stood up, the screeching noise of the chair’s legs irritating Marcus.

“Like father, like son,” she muttered maliciously before disappearing too.

In this moment of silent respite, Marcus pinched the bridge of his hooked nose. The patience he had to muster was titanic. His life had been nothing but heartache and war, his son being the only reason he stood by his wife’s side in public. He’d tired of the pantomime, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

He would meet the woman who had stolen Magnus’ heart, just to make sure there was no deception from her part. Marcus wouldn’t wish for his son to go through the same heartbreak as him. If everything was at it should, then he wouldn’t oppose.

“Father,” Magnus called, and Marcus removed the hand from his exhausted, battle-scarred face.

His heart literally stopped.

A warm smile softened your expression when Magnus asked you to join his family in the dining hall. You had been sitting patiently in a small waiting room, wondering if this was right.

The first time you had laid eyes on Magnus a week ago, your heart jolted, and your mind went blank. He reminded you so much of your one and only true love, the one you ditched thirty-five years ago because you were too afraid to embrace the beautiful life he had offered you. The one you still felt in your heart, dormant yet very present in your everyday life.

Perhaps it was wrong of you to encourage this situation, whatever this was. When Magnus had asked you that morning to join his family for supper, he had caught you off guard, so you found yourself agreeing to it.

Deep down you knew why you hadn’t disappeared yet: you wanted to live this moment one more time. Wanted to remember how it felt to be loved so fiercely by Marcus, a yearning you’d been craving for over three decades. Only this man wasn’t Marcus, only someone who was his spitting image.

One dinner, a few hours more of playing pretend, and then you’d vanish again. Leave Rome behind after such brief visit before someone recognised you. You couldn’t afford to give any explanations, so you’d only visit this place once every decade.

You walked behind Magnus, head slightly bowed and hands laced in front of you. Magnus’ broad body blocked your vision, but soon enough he stepped aside to introduce you.

You curtsied, eyes averted, fixed on the marble slabs.

Before you straightened your back and introduced yourself, the man across the room spoke your name — your real birthname.

Inevitably, your heart sank to your belly with panic and your eyes quickly drifted up to meet the darkened ones you once had allowed yourself to swim in.

Marcus. Your Marcus.

Your heart raced in your chest and filled with pure joy. You couldn’t stop the smile that had started curling your lips nor the glassiness of your eyes.

Your one and true love was staring back at you with widened, tired eyes. He had gotten up off his chair and was striding towards you before he suddenly halted a couple of meters away from you with confusion painting his handsome features. Ones that had not remained impassible to the passage of time and war, but ones that you daydreamed about every single day without fail.

So within reach — you would only need to close the distance between you two and hug him, hug him till dawn and never let go. Oh, how much you missed him, how much you still loved him. With your whole heart, the one that ached and wept with regret in your chest right now.

Would he love you back? Did you break the love you shared past the point of mending?

“What? Her name is Aurora, father,” Magnus chuckled nervously, his eyes dancing between the two of you, puzzled. “This is the woman who has stolen my heart. I would like to marry the love of my life with your blessing.”

Your eyes flew from Marcus to Magnus at the revelation, bewildered. Marriage? Was this what it was all about, the purpose of his invitation to meet his family? Marcus’ son wanted to marry you?

You had not seen that coming, as it wasn’t your intention at all. You had only wanted to live this fleeting fantasy of yours for a few days, but there wasn’t love. Not like the one you felt for Marcus, that could never compare.

“Your name is Aurora?” Marcus’ question forced you to look in his direction, your heart twisting maddingly inside you. You nodded with hesitation, “I thought you were…” Marcus pronounced your real name again, the sinking pit of your stomach churning.

“That was my mother,” you quickly came up with a lie. You could never tell him the truth.

“Your mother,” he repeated slowly, shock and pain transforming his beautiful face. “I knew your mother.”

“What? Really?” Magnus intervened with a laugh, palming his father’s shoulder. “That’s such a coincidence!”

You looked at both of them, but your eyes inevitably lingered on Marcus’ darkened ones. Would he believe your lie? Again?

“The resemblance with her is… uncanny. You look so much like her, Aurora,” Marcus rasped, taking a step back and steeling his posture with determination.

He didn’t need to speak for you knew his hurt. Because the same memories that were flooding his mind, had been drowning you for decades.

The atmosphere felt heavy with unspoken truths, your face burning — you loathed yourself for the pain you had caused him. Pain that still contorted his expression every time his eyes flicked to yours.

Would he ever forgive you? Would he know that you lied so many years ago? That you truly and irremediably loved him? That you would always do?

You bowed down your head, mainly to conceal the unspent tears brimming on your waterlines.

“So I have been told, General,” you muttered softly as Magnus’ hand rested easily on the small of your back, his lips brushing your temple gently.

“I know this may seem sudden, father, but I know that Aurora is the one,” Magnus confessed shyly, pulling your body towards him in a warm half-embrace.

Never in your life had you wished yourself to disappear so badly. Marcus’ sight burnt through you and you couldn’t help but reciprocate him. The sadness—no, the heartbreak—in them was like a dagger through your heart, and you wondered if the decision you made so many years ago had been the right one.

By the looks of it, he had done well for himself, just as you had imagined he would. The villa was beautiful, sumptuous even. It spoke of his status in the Empire, how highly rewarded he had been for his enterprise. You assumed that Marcus had married eventually after you left, and you only hoped he’d married for love.

“I see,” Marcus murmured in reply to his son, walking back to his chair. “Let’s eat first. Prisca, my wife, won’t be joining us. She had to excuse herself because she wasn’t feeling well. Please forgive her absence.”

Prisca. So he hadn’t married for love, his family had won and forced him into an arranged marriage after all. Your heart cried for him, for the injustice you had showered upon him with your departure. Perhaps he ended up loving her so his life wouldn’t be as miserable.

That last thought stung, the dagger further twisting in your heart. You wanted his happiness, but selfishly you hoped Marcus still loved you. Undeserving of such love you were, that was clear to you, but you still hoped anyway.

“Of course, Dominus,” you hushed as Magnus guided you to an empty chair.

The food served was delicious, but the silence looming over the table tinged the atmosphere uncomfortable. Magnus did a remarkable effort to keep the conversation going, but Marcus’ succinct replies didn’t leave much room for chatter. And when Magnus pushed again about the marriage proposal—to you dismay—Marcus said that it could discussed tomorrow over breakfast.

Even though the man in front of you had aged, you still saw him as he was thirty-five years ago. He had a scar on his upper cheek and across the bridge of his aquiline nose, crows feet kissing the corners of his brown eyes, his thick curls were greying, and his demeanour was more stoic, but he was still your Marcus.

The only difference though was his lack of… life. His eyes didn’t sparkle anymore, they were tinted with darkness and sorrow. Had war changed him? Had you changed him?

Your throat collapsed on itself, tightening to the point of suffocation. Just in time, you reined in the tears as the last maid removed the plate in front of you.

“I should be going,” you announced, pushing back the chair to stand up.

Marcus sprung to his feet before his son did. And when he realised his promptness, he cleared his throat but didn’t speak.

“It’s late,” Magnus said, standing up to be by your side, throwing a confused glance to his father. “Could she stay the night, father, please?”

Marcus nodded.

“I will ask one of the servants to prepare one of the empty chambers,” Marcus conceded, walking around the table to meet his son.

“Oh,” Magnus sighed, and you knew he’d hoped to share a bed with you tonight.

Your face burnt once more with shame when Marcus’ eyes looked for yours. However, you didn’t meet his gaze, scared of what you would find in it.

“Thank you, General, you are most generous,” you husked in a low voice.

“I will show you around the villa in the meantime, amica mea,” Magnus said, his hand quick to rest on the back of your waist.

You subtly flinched at his endearment. That was what his father always called you. It felt wrong when he said it now, completely out of place — it didn’t at first, when you looked at him and imagined he was Marcus instead. But with the love of your life standing firm in front of you, it sounded so vile.

This fantasy of yours was a dangerous game, one you didn’t want to play. Not if it meant hurting Marcus again, because you could see the way he studied you. How his pupils dilated with anger every time his son would seek your touch. It was killing him, and you in the process. When everyone went to sleep, you would leave in the middle of the night, as the shadow you were condemned to be.

Magnus urged you to turn around and walk beside him, when you heard Marcus gasp.

“Your birthmark,” his words stopped you right in your tracks.

When Juno touched you to bring you back to life over a century ago, Her caress left a mark on the back of your left shoulder. The shape resembled that of a peacock, the loyal animal known to accompany the Goddess.

“What about it?” Magnus intervened, confused by the interruption.

Slowly you looked over your shoulder to glance at Marcus. His eyes were a window to his restless, half soul, desperate and blown — he knew. He searched your face for a crack, a way in, but your expression didn’t tumble.

You wished you could veer around and throw yourself in his arms, kiss him and apologise, ask him to take you back. But you just couldn’t. Love was heartbreak, and it would have to remain that way if you didn’t want to hurt Marcus even more than what you already had.

“Nothing,” he grumbled, jaw tight with a tic on the muscle.

Marcus stirred in bed, unable to get any sleep.

Your face haunted him brighter than ever — every time his eyes shut, your sorry expression would gnaw at the confines of his mind. Seeing you right in front of him after so many years, all curled up to his son’s side, drove him mad.

At first, he thought himself crazy. You looked exactly as you did thirty-five years ago — not even a wrinkle kissed your skin, not a greying hair anywhere to be seen in your plaited hair. So when you explained you were the daughter of the woman who broke his heart, he had believed you.

That was until he saw the birthmark on your shoulder. The unmistakable shape he had joked about in the past, telling you that you had been kissed by Juno Herself at birth. It was impossible that you had inherited such a peculiar mark.

But it was even more impossible that you had remained as youthful as you were, as if not a single day had passed. How was that even possible? Some people were gifted with slow ageing, he had seen some, but to remain exactly the same? No, there was something else lurking, an explanation he could not grasp because it was too surreal, too unfathomable for a mortal.

Marcus needed answers. His mind was a tangled mess, this new discovery shining a different light on the conversation that destroyed him over three decades ago. Did your words have a meaning he had not been able to see before?

“Eternity? Don’t speak of things you don’t understand, Marcus.”

What had you truly meant by that? Did you understand what eternity really was in a level he couldn’t even start to comprehend?

Heart pounding, he quietly removed the covers and sat on the bed. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that Prisca was sound asleep. Not that she would miss him anyway.

In darkness, Marcus palmed around until he found his toga and quickly changed to then walk out of his bedchamber with a clear destination in mind.

He trudged along the cold corridors of his villa until he found the door to the room you were sleeping in. For a second, he doubted, thinking he was crazy for the implausible reason taking form in his mind. But if it wasn’t that—that you were, somehow, ageless—he still needed to know why. Why hadn’t you aged? Why leave him? Why not tell him the truth?

As his shaky hand lifted and curled to knock on the wooden plank, the door swung open.

You appeared under the doorframe with a wild expression and widened eyes, obviously in a hurry to leave. Again.

“Marcus,” you gasped, one hand flying to your chest in surprise as your beautiful eyes met his.

He froze in place, all the words he had planned to say stuck to the back of his throat, forming a lump that would not let him speak. Your beauty was dazzling, but it was the buried love he harboured for you what stopped him from talking as it resurfaced.

His memory of you had not faded, able to remember every single feature of your face regardless the passage of time. Everything about you was engraved in his mind, but he had almost forgotten how sweet you smelt. Roses, with an earthy hint of grass.

As your scent numbed his mind, Marcus finally found his dry tongue.

“Don’t leave, please. Don’t leave again,” he begged in a hoarse whisper, his eyes diving in yours.

You looked up at him and he felt himself under a spell. The same one you had him under years ago, when the heart was shattered and the mind bleak. Because even when you waved him goodbye, he still loved you. Never stopped, was never able to hate you for what you did, what you said.

“Can we talk?” he pushed before realising your eyes were glassy with sadness. “I know your name is not Aurora. I know it’s you.”

Your bottom lip trembled as a single tear fell from the cliff of your lashes. Moved by his own ghost of the past, Marcus reached for your cheek with his palm, the thumb brushing away the tears that followed the first one.

You let go of a deep sigh, kissed the palm of his hand and nodded. His heart was beating so loud, so fast, he almost missed your words.

“I owe you an explanation, Marcus,” you finally spoke, a broken sob almost tearing his resolution.

As you stepped aside, Marcus came into the room you were so eager to leave behind. Your heartbeat had spiked the moment you saw him and hadn’t slowed down since then. Perhaps you didn’t die of heartbreak but could die of a heart attack.

For decades you had been running until you found him. Until Marcus made you believe you could have everything he promised. It had been the first time you had actually considered growing roots. But the thought of not being able to grow old, to see the love of your life wither away while you remained sane, was paralysing. You had panicked — too scared to accept the love of a man who would give up everything for you, too frightened to trust someone again.

But was Marcus not worthy of your trust? He demonstrated repeatedly how he would always protect you, always cherish you. Not only with words, but with actions too. He had been so considerate, so loving, for a moment in the past you thought it a ruse. How could someone be so damn perfect and still be real?

Your heart clenched in pain, seeing him latch the door behind him and turn around to face you. The look of confusion, of sorrow, ate at your conscience. Under the candlelight, his torn features stuck out, time unforgiving. He was still gorgeous, would always be in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” was the first thing that slipped out before the quivering of your bottom lip let out a sob. “I’m so sorry, Marcus. I didn’t know Magnus was your son, otherwise I would have never—” you shook your head, taming your cries. “I should have known. He looks so much like you. When I first saw him, I thought it was you. That somehow you had been able to still time and be with me.”

You sobbed a pitiful laugh, unable to look him in the eye. It was shameful having to admit something like this — that you had chased after a boy because he reminded you of someone you loved. But despite your immortality, you were still capable of human mistakes.

“So you didn’t know he was my son?” Marcus asked quietly. You could see the inner workings of his mind ruminating as you shook your head no. “Do you love him? Were you really going to marry him?”

The questions caught you off guard. Although at some point you were expecting them, you didn’t think it would be this early in conversation. It might be for the better if it got out of the way as soon as possible, so you could explain yourself.

The first cut would be the deepest, although the rest would still hurt.

“I love the idea of him,” you emphasized, ashamed of yourself for giving in to such fantasy. “I thought I could love him the way I did you, that he could be a vessel of my love for you. That I could, for a few days, remember how it felt— how you felt. That I could have you one more time,” you paused and sighed, intertwining your hands together to twist them nervously. “I only met him a week ago, marriage did not cross my mind at all. I was going to leave once—”

“Once it got too serious,” he finished for you.

Marcus went quiet again, his eyes transfixed on you. You wished Juno blessed you with the ability to read minds, to know what he was thinking right this moment. Did he hate you for what you just revealed? Did he think you were sick for trying to live out a fleeting dream? Would he forgive you for such despicable behaviour?

“Do you still love me?” his gravelly voice was so low, for a moment you thought you had imagined it.

But the doubt, the fresh hurt in his wounded gaze, told you otherwise.

You gaped for air, your lungs strained with sorrow. You should fib, stand by your initial lie, tell him you didn’t. But what had that gotten you the first time around except for a life of misery and loneliness? What had that gotten him?

“I do. I do love you, Marcus,” you whispered, out of breath due to the pounding of your heart. “Couldn’t be any other way. You’re the other half of my soul that I’ve been missing for so long.”

Time stilled as you looked Marcus dead in the eyes. You were not expecting anything out of your raw confession, because the time for those had passed. It was what you should have said thirty-five years ago, not now. You were too late to mend the love that had slipped through the cracks of time.

“Then that’s all that matters,” he finally broke the silence, his voice laced with emotion.

The admission shook you. Could this be true, really happening? Did he still love you after all this time?

In a couple of strides, you found yourself in his arms, the way it should have been ages ago. His forearms wrapped around you like a warm blanket as his head bowed down to taste your lips.

You kissed him back, first sweetly, then fiercely. You kissed him with all the unexpressed love you held in your heart, with the passion your true love deserved. His tongue was as sweet as you remembered, as soothing as your memory recalled. A dance ensued, his tongue reading a love letter to yours.

Your hands, which had been resting on his chest, drifted up to cradle his face — his moustache and stubble pickling the skin of your palms. Marcus untied his mouth from yours to kiss your tears goodbye, then pressed a peck on your forehead. His heart was beating as loud as yours, in unison like true soulmates.

“I’ve missed you. I never stopped thinking about you, lux mihi,” he confessed under his breath. “Life was never the same after you left.”

His admission made your heart flutter even further, and you couldn’t help but let your hands roam his back. Your fingers played with the knot holding the toga in place, his seeping warmth beckoning.

“I need you, Marcus. Make love to me,” you pleaded, leaving a love trail of kisses on his neck.

Marcus’ chest rumbled at your plea, his lips hunting down yours in a heartbeat. His hands were quick with your clothing, worshipping the curves of your body as it was revealed to him. You did the same with his toga, until you were both bare, standing in front of each other.

You saw his eyes lingering on every nook and cranny of your skin before they found yours. A thunder of connection ran through you, of yearning. On your tiptoes, you kissed him again, pressing your breasts onto his chest while your fingertips traced the map of his back.

You didn’t expect all the bumps and grooves you found on his skin; battle scars dotted around everywhere. Some thick and protuberant, some thin and soft. Marcus keened at your touch, silently letting you know that some of them were too sensitive to be caressed.

How much hurt his body and heart had endured, a life dedicated to war and duty. Your heart cried for him, for not being able to be by his side when he needed you most. Had you taken up his offer, had he run away from responsibility with you, his skin would tell a different story.

But the past couldn’t be changed, only the present was malleable enough to shape a new future.

Slowly he pushed you towards the bed, his hands resting on either side of your waist while his thumb drew lazy circles on your bristled skin. Raking your fingers through his silver curls, you leaned back on the mattress, his warm body blanketing yours.

His hands found the apex of your breasts, soft fingers rubbing your taut nipples as your head tilted back. Marcus licked the salt of your exposed neck, finding your pulse point. He kissed the spot and lingered, your vein pulsing against his lips as one of his hands discovered the slick your thighs harboured for him.

The feathery caress of his ring finger outlining your seam turned you into a whimpering mess. His pad stroked your nub, a slight flick followed before it slid down your slit and found your weeping hole. He circled it a few times, taunting you effortlessly, before returning to your clit.

You heaved, lips pursed so your moans would stay contained. In the dead of the night, you worried this show of love would seep through the walls. But not even the thought of his marriage, the thought of Magnus lying in bed a few rooms over, could stop you from joining your bodies together the way the Gods intended.

Marcus’ mouth travelled down the column of your neck, kissing the center of your clavicle before he went further down. Your unattended nipple was soon enough smothered by the wetness between his lips, and you fisted his hair in response, gently tugging at it.

“Marcus,” you moaned, eyes shut. Rejoiced.

One nipple drowned in his spit, the other pinched between his fingers, and his ring finger pressing tight circles on your thudding clit had you fighting to remain silent. But the moment the hand between your hands moved down and his digit teased your walls apart as it sank in your slick warmth, you couldn’t stop the muffled yet loud moan.

“Sing for me, meum corculum (my little heart),” Marcus husked. The gentle pumping of his finger in your wet heat had you quietly howling a few seconds later. “That’s it.”

Your felt your walls contract, pulse around his finger, holding onto him for dear life. Feeling your need as his own, Marcus dunked his middle finger in your pussy too, stretching you while his thumb stroked your clit. The combination of it all made you clench around him, almost begging for release.

“Let go for me,” Marcus asked between licks, and you couldn’t resist his prayer.

The coil that had been tightening inside you finally snapped, releasing a wave that coursed through your quaking body like a tumultuous sea. Your back slightly arched as your thighs trembled around his forearm, chest rising with a dire need for oxygen.

Marcus chuckled softly, setting your nipple free as he searched for your mouth again. He devoured you as you came down from your high, his erect cock gently resting on your mound. The weight of it on your sensitive skin felt like it belonged. The anticipation of welcoming him inside you made you gush.

“Let me drink you, kiss you, savour you,” he pressed a kiss on your mouth after each pause.

Your skin flushed; the proposition was somewhat indecent. It was lewd, frowned upon, and you were tethered to the chains of social decency. But there was nothing decent about infidelity, after all.

“Please, mea vita (my life). I can make you reach for the moon and the stars in the ceiling above if you let me, make you touch them,” he promised.

You shyly nodded, and his boyish grin grew wider, his lips tensing. So contagious, you smiled back as he came off you and moved your body until your butt was on the edge of the mattress.

He scooted you over towards him until the back of your knees were resting on his shoulders — leaving you completely exposed to his hungry gaze. His eyes lingered on your leaking dampness, his dilated pupils tracing the outline of your seam. The intensity of it all, the deep connection, made your thighs press together against his neck, wanting to hide your core from him.

You had nothing to be shy of, as Marcus had already seen you bare before. Sex with him had always been ardent, fervent — the heat of passion always got the best of you both, a certain urgency to consummate your love. But now? Now was different. There was no rush in his movements, in how his thumbs pried your pussy lips open, in how his warm lips brushed the sensitive skin on your inner thigh. His calm confidence in taking you as he had promised was new to you, who never had all the time in the world. But right now, you did. For Marcus, you did. Always would.

Your lashes fluttered, kissing the apples of your cheeks the moment the languid strokes of his tongue met your swollen flaps. He kissed one gently, then the other, before the wet muscle lapped from your gushing hole up to your clit. So venerating were his licks, your limbs relaxed at the intimate kiss.

“You taste like ambrosia, lux mihi. The best relish I have ever been graced with,” his hot breath collided with the cold skin on your slit, your body trembling in response.

“Marcus, please,” you begged, although you were not sure why, or what you were asking of him.

He didn’t leave you waiting again. His fingers sank in the flesh of your thighs while his tongue dived inside your slick furrow. So dextrous were his charges, you couldn’t help but mewl like a starved kitten in a back alley asking for leftovers. First, he flicked your excited bundle of nerves, and then he suckled on it, his jaw working you through the climb to another orgasm. The buildup was intense, but it became feverish the moment his finger joined the action — it slid easily inside, curled to caress the precise spongy spot of your arousal.

Unaware of your own actions, one of your hands slithered down your belly until you fisted his curls — pushing him towards the centre of your heat, not away from it. He hadn’t lied — the stars appeared behind your eyes, bright like the future you wished you had with him. A sea of constellations, all imploding at once in an amazing rain of stars that blinded you as you came crashing down from the skies.

You heaved and wailed his name in ecstasy, your entire body quivering with the strength of a thousand suns. Your entrance clenched around his finger as you held your breasts, your thumbs ghosting the taut buttons. You leaked your pleasure on his mouth, and he drank unashamedly, grateful of your offering.

A sweet kiss on your mound before he towered over you, and you could only look at him in awe with raw, true love. When his battered body blanketed yours, you draped your arms around his waist, hands lightly resting on his lower back. The knowing smirk on his lips spoke of a muted “I told you so.”

“I love you,” he whispered instead.

Your heart swooned and healed and cried and exploded. All at once. He hadn’t said those exact words yet, but they were veiled in every sentence, every action he had said or done tonight. Deep inside you were eternally grateful that he hadn’t grown to hate you, that his love for you remained intact despite heartache, circumstances and time.

Unbeknownst to you, tears welled up, ones that Marcus drank too. As he did, your palms stroked his ribs, careful to avoid the scars you had come to learn were too delicate. Eager, one slid off his skin until your fingers wrapped around his throbbing manhood. Eyes down, you saw the pearly bead of pre-cum commending you to butter it on his flushed head. With your thumb you caressed the tip, and Marcus’ lips parted in need — an invitation you quickly accepted, dunking your tongue in his mouth.

A few pumps had him groaning and soon enough you were guiding him to the pocket of heat between your thighs. His cockhead kissed your gushing entrance the same way his lips did — knowing, denuded, possessing. And slowly he made his way in, parting your flesh like a new stream disturbing the earth beneath. The burning sting was most welcomed, blossoming into a fullness you had craved for decades.

“I’m home,” Marcus rasped when he was fully seated in your cunt.

Your throat clamped a little, emotion overtaking your senses the same way his erection did.

“Welcome home, dilectus (beloved),” you muttered with a loving smile and teary eyes.

You melted into a slow kiss as Marcus rocked his hips, rutting into you almost lethargically, wanting the moment to last. You let him set the pace, the drag of his cock in your pussy a delight that had you reaching for the stars again and your inner walls squeezing him tight. The sweet rhythm of his swaying tightened the slick, hot coil that pooled low in your belly, and the moment Marcus gained momentum, you followed.

Needily he started fucking into you with precision, chasing both of your highs. His dick pulsed inside you, your heartbeat instinctually adapting to his in a second. Both so close to the sky above, gasping for air now, you rocked underneath him to amplify such pleasure.

“Marcus,” you whimpered, your hands now cradling his face. You lost yourself in his eyes, blown and loving. “Please, inside,” was everything you murmured.

Even after your petition, the snap of his hips against yours didn’t falter. Instead, the pace increased as his wild orbs studied your blissed out expression.

“Do you mean it?” You nodded effusively. “Do you want your belly round with my child?”

You didn’t even know if it was possible — yes, you looked young but were closer to a hundred and fifty years on this earth than to the day you were born. The fertility of your womb was one you never dared to test in your immortal life, but the thought of having such a memory—someone—to remember him by when the days grew cold and the nights dark was overpowering reality.

“Yes, I do,” you reassured him, pecking his lips softly.

His head fell, his face resting on the crook of your neck, while he made love to you. His moves stuttered, announcing his climax, and your pussy hugged him tight in a natural response. The moment the first ropes hit your cervix, you came undone too. As Marcus filled you with his warm spent, you creamed around his beating girth, your hands holding onto his shoulders as your back arched and your nipples kissed his chest.

It took both of you a few minutes to come down, for the haze of lovemaking to slowly dissolve in the musky air. Marcus hungered for your lips and he hunted them down with eagerness. Your bodies finally untied, his cock leaving you empty yet satisfied.

You hoped—prayed—his seed would take root in your womb. Even if it was impossible, the sliver of a miraculous possibility gave you a resemblance of hope. So you pressed your thighs together, greedy of his gift.

Marcus rolled off you, falling onto his tummy besides you. Quickly you laid on your side, your fingertips tracing the lines of his skin again. A feathery touch to alleviate the harshness of life. He unburied his face from the pillow and turned to look at you.

His smile was instant, and so was yours.

For an hour no words were spoken at all, no sleep was achieved either. You both remained silent, staring at each other, soaking up the love that flooded the chamber.

Replacing your fingers with your lips, you kissed the scars on his back, his shoulders, his arms. And finally his nose and cheek, where you dawdled as if your caress could erase the pain they inflicted.

“What are we going to do, amica mea?” Marcus husked after what felt like an eternity.

Reality set in, leaving a gaping hole in your belly. What could you do? Would you be strong enough to stay by his side for however long the goddess Mors took to claim him? Strong enough to build a life you knew was ephemeral? And once he was gone from this mortal plane, what would be left of you?

The choice was an impossible one. One that you should have made decades ago, when the heart was whole and the mind still strong. Now you knew how arduous life was without him, how—for years—you had looked for him in the small details and every single man who resembled him, how the regret and the grief haunted you at every turn of a decade. Now you knew that life wasn’t worth living if you didn’t have Marcus to share it with.

You traced the profile of his nose with your lips before pressing a soft kiss on his.

“I am not sure, but I am willing to try… if you are,” you whispered, leaning back.

The implications of such life were huge for him. Married, with a son who though himself in love with you, an acclaimed General who served Rome even when Rome didn’t serve him. His responsibilities were greater than yours, Marcus had so much to lose. Had you accepted his proposal when you should have, neither of you would be in such dire situation.

Marcus sighed heavily, rolling onto his side to face you. His calloused hand cradled your cheek, his eyes filled with a determination you wished you had back then, when life was easier.

“There is nothing nor no one that could stop me from spending the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” he mumbled, hand dropping to your hip. “I said it then, and I will say it again: I do not care for this life if you are not with me. I don’t care about reputation nor retaliation. For over fifty years I have done what was expected of me, and I am done living my life for Rome and her vice. You’re the stars that light up my path in the darkest of nights, the warm sun that guides me home. For however long you’ll have me, I’ll be with you. My heart was always yours, mea vita, since the moment I landed eyes on you. And I don’t want it back, ever, even if you have to leave again.”

The softness of his delivery, the truth his words emanated, brought tears to your eyes. You thought yourself unworthy of his love, his devotion, when you had only caused heartbreak. But this was your second chance, one you were not going to let go.

You moved closer to him as his arm wrapped around you. With your forehead resting on his naked chest, you traced invisible lines on his ribs.

“I won’t leave. That broke me once, can’t handle it a second time. I love you and want to spend the rest of our time together showing you how much I do, making up for lost time. For however long,” you repeated, kissing his chin.

There was a brief pause, and you knew what his next words would be.

“How old are you?” the question you had always avoided, dreaded.

“Close to three times your age,” you confessed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The answer slowly sank in, but instead of horror, incomprehension and disgust, you only found acceptance. As if it was just another fact about you, nothing of major importance.

“You look amazing for being close to one hundred and fifty years of age,” he joked with a grin to lighten the mood. You let out a soft laugh in response. “How? If you want to share.”

The story of how you came to be ageless wasn’t a pleasant one. But your life was full of secrets that had ruined every human link you had to this earth, and you wouldn’t let them spoil the only real connection you had left.

“I… I was promised to a man, one who I thought was worthy of my love. There were things I was blind to at that time, and only time showed them to me. I thought everything was going as expected, he was always so courteous and respectful in public. Until our wedding night, when he…” you paused, the memories too painful even after all this time, “he abused me, and let his friends use me. When they were done, they left me for dead in a ditch.”

Marcus’ arm draped around you tighter, his heart beating so loud you could hear it thumping against his chest. He hugged you close, his warmth calming and reassuring. Marcus was nothing like that man, if your abuser could even be considered a person. You knew he never would be so despicable — you were as sure as the first lights of the sun would wake you up tomorrow.

“It took me hours to finally drift away. And when I did, Juno greeted me. Said the man had wronged me, and that I should have a second chance to understand what marriage and true love actually were about. Then she touched me right here,” you caressed the peacock-shaped birthmark, “and breathed life into me.”

Marcus leaned back a little to inspect your torn features. The heartache he had to endure paled in comparison to yours. How could someone inflict such hurt on another? He couldn’t even fathom such disgusting scenario. That man was the reincarnation of evil, and he wished he suffered the most agonising death.

He had only seen your soul’s purity, your kindness, your benevolence. Anyone who didn’t was blind.

“You did not deserve that ending, amica mea — no one does. He didn’t deserve you,” his heart cried for you, for the weight you had carried for over a century. “You’ve got the purest heart I have ever known. A soul that I will protect until my dying breath.”

“A half soul,” you interrupted him, and Marcus looked at you confused. “Because your other half completes mine.”

His heart jolted, this time because of the sweetness of your confession. That muscle had grown bigger in the last two hours than in his entire lifetime. He sworn himself to stand by your side, come what may. You would never be wronged again, not if he could avoid it.

“We’re leaving tonight,” Marcus declared without skipping a beat.

“What? What about your wife, your son?” your eyes had widened, but his resolution was firm.

“My wife… she’s not been my wife for years. She’s poison. And my son…” he shrugged, conflicted. “He’ll eventually understand, or so I hope. I believe he might already have an inkling that something weird was at play from the moment I said your real name.”

“Marcus, are you sure? You’d be sacrificing so much for me, I wouldn’t want to—”

He didn’t let you finish, his mouth covering yours in a passionate kiss that slowly turned gentle and soothing. Your hands caressing his battle-scarred skin was like a balm; your touch the first and only one to cure all his ailments. Unhurriedly, he sat back up on the bed, dragging you with him.

“Let’s leave now. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, lux mihi,” Marcus purred against your lips.

Fifteen minutes later, you were both clothed and atop of two horses, blending in with the shadows of the night that concealed your departures, in search of a new life. Together.

taglist: @orcasoul @lilac-boo @picketniffler @almostfoxglove @gothcsz @liciafonseca @namenotimportant1373

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

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To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

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The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

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[sofavoritepuppy]

secrets out- schlatt

fluff, references to smut, mostly just pure fluff tho :)

You blink your eyes slowly as you wake up. You hear the soft chirping of birds outside, and the sun casts your bedroom in an almost angelic glow. You stretch a little bit, but come to find there’s no resistance. You realize that, unlike most mornings when you wake, Schlatt’s arms aren’t around your waist. You groan, coming to the conclusion you should probably go and look for him. You decided he’s most likely in the kitchen making coffee, probably on his second pot as well. A small grin spreads across your face as you think fondly of him and his crippling caffeine addiction. You’ve had to hide the grounds from him multiple times, tough love as you say.

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed as you try to sit up. “Fuck!” You mutter under your breath, soreness seeping into your entire lower body. 

Speaking of tough love, last night was a lot of fun. You slide out from under the comforter and steal one of Schlatt’s shirts. You grab a pair of panties too, but it hardly matters due to the length of the shirt. “Jay?” You call out meekly, wincing with every step to the door. You sneak out of the bedroom and out into the hall. Voices float from the kitchen and you smile. You imagined your boyfriend listening to a podcast, or watching COD videos like he usually does when making the two of you food. You run your fingers through your hair as you slowly make your way to his kitchen. “Jay,” you call out again. 

“I am genuinely struggling to walk right now, thank you for that. If you aren’t making me breakfast right now after last night, I might actually kill you.” You complain as you step into the kitchen. 

However, as soon as you lay eyes on the scene in front of you, you feel your heart drop.

Ted, Eddie, and Charlie are all sitting at your kitchen table with Schlatt, a look of pure shock on their face. Hand still in your hair and eyes wide, you survey everyone whose eyes are currently on you. Eddie is staring at you wide eyed, brows furrowed together. Charlie is blinking, mouth agape, and rubbing his eyes every few seconds like he expects you to disappear. You snap your eyes up to Schlatt, giving him a panicked look as you tug on the hem of your shirt, attempting to cover yourself further.  “So…” You mumble, red flushing your cheeks. “I didn’t know that you guys were coming today.”

“We thought uh, we thought we’d surprise Schlatt for his birthday, but it looks like he surprised us.” Ted says. “We were going to invite you to this, but you said you’d be busy this week with that secret boyfriend of yours- oh. Oh.”

“Yeah…” You mumble as you look at Schlatt helplessly. 

“So.” Schlatt says and pushes up from his seat. “It appears the secret’s out.”  

He walks over to you and slings an arm over your shoulder. The group’s eye’s follow him do this usually platonic action, something Schlatt has done to them many times, but it has an awfully intimate sort of feel to it this time around. “I cannot believe you two are fucking.” Charlie says.

“We aren’t fucking dude, we’re dating.” You say, punctuating the sentence with an eye roll. 

“For how long?” Ted asks.

You look up at Schlatt and he lets out a chuckle. “Uh, for about a year and a half now.” He says.

The shock on everyone's face returns, and Ted looks aghast.  “A year?” He says, astounded. “She's been on Chuckle Sandwich since then! You guys have visited me in LA since then! You- you- you probably fucked after seeing me!” 

You and Schlatt share a look. “Well yes, but also-” Schlatt starts to say before you smack your hand over his mouth.

“Nope. We are not sharing this fun fact right now, big guy.” You say, knowing exactly what story he was about to share. 

“Why? What did you do?” Ted exclaims. 

Schlatt muffles against your hand but it stays firmly pressed against his mouth. “Ted, I really don’t think this is the time to share.” You say, sickly false sweetness dripping from your voice.

Ted opens his mouth to say something but is quickly stopped when you yelp. Schlatt bit you. You yank your hand away immediately. “Jesus Jay!”

“Had to have you bring your arm back down. Your shirt was too far up, you were flashing everyone.”

You turn a deep red yet again and say, “I’m going to go change.”

You look up at Schlatt pointedly. “Be good.”

He holds up his hands in mock-surrender. “What have I ever done? You’re the one who gave me the world's most graphic good morning!”

You roll your eyes as you walk out. You rush back to Schlatt’s room and pull on a pair of his sweatpants. They were massively oversized on you, you had to roll the waistband at least four times. “WHEN I WAS IN THE SHOWER? ON THE COUCH?” You hear Ted yell through the wall. Schlatt apparently could not listen to simple instructions. You rush back to the kitchen to see Charlie and Eddie cackling at Ted and Schlatt are arguing. “No dude!” Schlatt yells. “Do you remember what she was wearing that day? You wouldn’t be able to resist either dumbass!” 

He points at you like you were an example. “Schlatt.” You said, voice hard.

He knew what you meant immediately. He knows thats your you-need-to-shut-the-fuck-up-before-I beat-your-ass voice. “Sorry doll.” He mumbles, looking at the floor.

Charlie’s jaw falls back open. “Did- did I just hear JSchlatt use- use a- use a pet name? And apologize?”

Schlatt scowls at Charlie as he wraps his arms around your waist. “The fuck about it you fucking bimbo? Do you only call your girlfriend by her name?”

“No but like, I’m not you. I’m not a big ass tough guy.” 

“Aw Schlatt’s not that tough, are you love?” You say, and boop Schlatt on the nose for added emphasis.

“Dude you’re fucking embaressing me,” He replies and buries his face into your neck.

Ted, Eddie and Charlie look aghast. This is not the man they know. Eddie opens his mouth to say something, but is shut down by a loud ringing from Schlatt’s phone. He pulls it out, looks at it and sighs. “I have to take this,” He says, annoyed. 

He then shoots a pointed look at you. “Be good.” He says, copying you.

You dramatically nod and bat your eyelashes at him as he walks out. You turn back the group, and all of them open their mouths at once to start asking questions.

“So you woke up here?”

“Yup.”

“How often do you sleepover here?”

“Never.”

“The fuck you mean by that?”

“I live here.”

“EXCUSE ME?”

“Mhm.”

You point at a door across the living room. “That's where I stream from. Schlatt streams in the other spare bedroom upstairs.”

“You two live together?”

“Yup. Coming up on four months of living here.”

“You’re kidding right? There’s no way Schlatt can’t be heard screaming in the back of your streams?”

“He’s actually super quiet domestically.”

“Domestically?!? Sorry, are you guys like, in love?”

“Nope. Hate that guy.”

---

first schlatt fic ever yayy (i didn't want to post this to ao3 lol) tell if u guys like it and any requests or anything!!

[ch6rm]

♱ ࣪˖ date night — chris sturniolo

. . . you're caught up in a terrible date, and a rescue from chris turns into something more than just a friendly favor.

˖ warnings. smut (fingering, no actual p in v, implied sex), confessing feelings kinda(?)

˖ soph's note. first one shot, and whoever requested this im so sorry it took forever 😭

the restaurant was a cozy italian place, tucked in a quiet corner of the city. candlelit tables, soft music playing in the background, and a warm basket of breadsticks in front of you—it was exactly what came to your mind when you thought of a perfect date. tonight was anything but that. it would’ve been perfect, if only the person sitting across from you wasn’t so insufferable. you felt like you were being held hostage, forced to listen to him talk about himself and nothing else. your friend was a horrible match maker.

within five minutes of sitting down, he’d managed to interrupt you twice. you sat across from him, trying to force a polite smile as he launched into yet another story about himself. here we go again….

“oh, and i’m super into traveling,” he continued, leaning back in his chair with a smug grin. “but only first-class, you know? i work too hard to settle for anything less.” how had we even gotten to the topic of traveling?

“oh…” you nod absentmindedly. gosh, this guy was a jerk. you glanced around the restaurant as he spoke, hoping the waiter would interrupt with the check.

he obviously didn’t notice your lack of enthusiasm as he dove into yet another story, leaning forward in his chair enthusiastically. how many stories was this guy pulling out of his ass? you fought the urge to roll your eyes. you’d been here for over an hour and he’s barely asked you a single question all night.

“anyway,” he said, waving a hand, “enough about me. what do you think about my watch?”

you blinked, staring at the obnoxiously large gold watch on his wrist. “it’s… nice?”

“right?” he grinned, clearly fishing for compliments. “cost me a fortune, but hey, i deserve it. gotta treat yourself, right?”

you tried to stay optimistic, but as the evening dragged on, you could feel yourself mentally checking out. when he started boasting about how many instagram followers he had, you knew you were done. you needed an escape.

forcing another smile, you reached for your phone under the table, sending a text to chris, hoping he could save you from this nightmare of a date. you: can u please pick me up? this date is a total disaster

you press send, fingers anxiously tapping on the table as you await chris’ response, the man in front of you too caught up in his life story to notice your anxious glances around the restaurant. finally, your phone buzzed.

chris: wya?

you sent him the address, feeling a rush of relief knowing you were gonna be out of here soon. there was so much precious time wasted on this stupid date, and you mentally cursed yourself for even giving this guy a chance.

ten minutes later, you spotted chris’ car through the window. you began to speak, cutting the guy off mid-sentence as you stood abruptly, grabbing your purse. “im really sorry, i’ve got to go,”

“what? why?” he looked genuinely confused, furrowing his brows as he saw you getting ready to leave so sudden.

“something came up,” you lied, giving him a sympathetic look, already heading for the door before he could say another word. chris was leaning against his car, arms crossed, his expression one of amusement as you both got in the car.

“rough night?” he asked as you approached.

“you have no idea,” you groaned, slipping into the passenger seat. chris climbed in after you, pulling away from the curb. almost immediately, you launched into a rant, frustration bubbling over as you spoke about everything that went wrong. chris listened, feeding into your frustration as he let out a sarcastic remark every now and then.

eventually, your complaints died down, and with nowhere else to head, chris pulled into an vacant parking lot as the car was engulfed with a comfortable silence.

“thanks for coming to get me,” you say, glancing over at him. “i couldn’t handle another second there. he was driving me insane.”

chris chuckled, his fingers drumming lightly on the steering wheel. “‘s no big deal, really.”

you give him a soft smile, glancing around the empty parking lot. the only light came from the dim glow of a nearby streetlamp. for a moment, neither of you spoke. you shifted in your seat, looking over to chris as his fingers stilled against the wheel. you couldn’t help but notice the way the light hit his face, accentuating his cheekbones and jawline. you stared for a second longer before your voice broke the silence.

“but seriously,” you begin, “you’re always there for me. i really appreciate that, chris.”

chris turns to you fully, his expression softening at your words. “of course,” he says, his voice quiet, “i’ll always be there for you. ‘s cause i care about you. you know that, right?” he looks over at you, and the sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten.

“i know,” you nod, looking away from his gaze, “i care about you, too.” you feel a rush of heat rise up to your cheeks as you speak. why were you getting so flustered?

something shifted in his expression as you said that, his playful demeanor no where to be found as your eyes met his again. “you’re not just saying that?” he asked, leaning in slightly, his hand resting on the steering wheel.

“no,” you murmured, the word catching in your throat. you watch as his gaze dropped to your lips for a split second before darting back up to your eyes, and you found your pulse beginning to quicken.

“okay, cause i mean it. i care do about you—a lot." his voice lingered on the last word, and the way he said it made you feel a way you couldn’t quite explain.

you swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. his eyes were locked on yours, and you felt unable to look away. it felt like he could see straight through you, past all your nervousness and hesitation, and straight to the way your heart was pounding.

“chris…" you started, but his name barely left your lips as he leaned in, his hand slipped from the wheel. you felt his fingertips brush lightly against your arm, sending a shiver down your spine.

"tell me to stop," he murmured, his voice low and his breath warm against your cheek. his eyes flickered to your lips again, lingering this time. but you didn’t tell him to stop.

his lips met yours, tentative at first, like he wanted to make sure this was real. but when you responded, your hand moving to cup the side of his face, his hesitation disappeared. the kiss deepened, and you soon felt yourself being pulled onto his lap, now straddling him. warmth flooded through you as he gripped your waist, fingers digging into your hips. you felt the kiss becoming needier, his hands moving to pull you closer, deepening the kiss. your hands find their way to his hair, softly tugging at the strands as he lets out a quiet groan into your mouth. his hands moved to your thighs, rubbing up and down before they slipped under your jean skirt to tease around the soft lace of your underwear. chris pulls away, beginning to pepper kisses down your jawline and to your neck as his fingers inched closer to your clothed core.

his middle finger delicately brushed over your cunt, feeling the wetness seep through your panties as you let out a gasp, your hold on him tightening.

“you want me to stop?” he murmurs into your neck, beginning to add more pressure with his fingers. you quickly shake your head, mumbling out a desperate ‘no’ before you feel him slip two of his fingers into your panties, groaning at the feeling of your wetness. you let out a moan as he teases your entrance, slipping his two fingers inside you effortlessly.

“fuck,” you breathe out, and chris begins to pump his fingers into and out of you, curling his fingers as he elicits another moan from you, your grip on his hair tightening.

chris leaves hot and opened mouth kisses on your neck—the pace of his fingers quickening. he continued to bite and suck at your neck in response to your whimpers, his free hand coming up to squeeze at your tits as you bucked your hips into his hand, the knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

“i’m gonna cum, chris,” you whine, your head falling against his shoulder before you felt him remove his fingers, bringing them to his mouth as he tasted your arousal, leaving you whiney and needy for more.

chris patted your hip, urging you to get up as he spoke, “backseat, now.”

© ch6rm