#cathers world

[cathers-world]

Someone should make me fan art bc I’m so amazing (plz I wanna make it my pfp)🥺🦶🏻🦶🏻

[phxntomsdusk]

reading all this stuff about cathers-world and it’s just gross.

it’s one thing to acknowledge the fact that yes, minors will interact with your work at times, and sometimes you just can’t stop them from doing so because they can simply lie about their age. but to talk and follow minors who make it known? that’s disgusting.

discussing nsfw topics with a minor is horrible and should never be done. following a minor as an nsfw account is gross, especially if they make it clear they don’t want nsfw/kink accounts following them.

with blank accounts where you can’t tell if it’s a minor or adult, don’t risk it. either ask or block them, it’s not that hard.

as a minor myself i hate seeing certain people i know and follow interact with accounts like this. its disgusting to say the least.

all in all, as an nsfw account, stay away from minors. your nsfw account is a space for adults. not children.

and another thing. the fact they explained oral sex to a minor? that is fucking criminal. it is never okay to explain that to a minor, unless you’re they’re parent or a sex ed teacher. but you’re not either of those, you are an adult on the internet, and explained oral sex to children. who the hell does that?

even in my sex education class, that topic was not explained. my parents have never spoken to me about that topic. that topic should not be explained to minors, because it is disgusting. especially online.

[malavera]

Peaches: “Will you forgive me... Daddy?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

this is a part 2 of my series called Peaches, but it can be read as a standalone 😉 if you wish to check out the part 1 click here!

summary: It’s not like you can’t take care of yourself, no. Your dad just worries a lot so he asks for your friendly old man neighbor to look after you while he’s gone on his business trip. But is that all?

warning: SMUT! MDNI. a little bit fluff, ddlg dynamic, bratty!reader, dom!logan, oral M receiving, throatfucking

taglist: @wcndercore @peachyystuff @kholdkill @narjuko @the-occasional-artist1125 @robynanthonystark @suchasweetieee @jensojkaobecna @explainthisaetheists @currentlyquestioningexistence @cathers-world @seasonofthenerd @thinkinonsense comment if you'd like to be tagged for the next part 😉

The peach-colored bath bomb hisses as it plunges into the warm water, sending ripples through the surface. It fizzes and dissolves, releasing a cloud of sweet fragrance that wraps around the room like a soft, intoxicating embrace. You inhale deeply, the scent pulling you back to a moment not so long ago. As the steam rises, you let the bathrobe slip from your shoulders, but hesitate. The water beckons, promising comfort and warmth, yet something in you resists. His scent still clings to your skin—a haunting reminder of a presence now gone. The thought of washing it away feels like surrendering the last trace of him, and for a moment, you stand there, torn between the allure of the soothing bath and the ache of holding on to what remains.

But in the end, the warmth proves too inviting, and you let yourself slip into the bath. The water envelops you, pulling you into its embrace as your mind replays the scene, vivid and haunting. You can almost see him again, the way he casually brought his fingers to his lips, licking the last remnants of you with a slow, deliberate ease. He didn’t say a word, but that smirk—so confident, so sure—spoke volumes. It was a silent claim, a parting message that lingered as he turned to leave, leaving you with nothing but the fading echo of his presence and the water that now seems too gentle, too cleansing, against the memory you wish to keep.

Time has slipped away, and now, two weeks have passed since that moment. It feels like a distant dream, yet the memory remains sharp, refusing to fade. You’ve been avoiding Logan ever since, even though that’s not what he wants from you. He’s the opposite of what you’ve intended to do; he wants you to embrace it. He wants you to embrace your desire.

But like what you are, you’re too much of a pussy to face your own desire. Even though it aches for his touch.

Now, with your dad away on a business trip, you couldn't be more thrilled. The house is yours, a rare freedom that has your mind buzzing with possibilities. You imagine nights without curfew, slipping out into the night without a care, and not having to worry about getting caught. But your excitement gets the best of you, and you celebrate too soon. Just when you think you’ve outsmarted the system, your dad’s words come crashing down like a cold wave, his rules and expectations finding a way to reach you even when he’s miles away, dampening the thrill before it even begins,

“I’ve asked Logan to watch over you here and there. So, I won’t worry much. He’ll update me on whatever it is you do so, behave.”

Fun right?

And here you are, sitting in the diner’s booth with your girlfriends, the buzz of conversation and the smell of greasy food filling the air. They’re all planning to head to a party after this, and when they mention the time—10 PM—your stomach flips. That’s your curfew, the invisible line you’ve never dared to cross. But tonight, the temptation is too strong, and you’re about to go for it, to finally break the rules. Just as you’re about to give in, the door chimes, and there he is—Logan, strolling into the diner like he owns the place. He walks right up to you, his presence sending a jolt through your resolve, and without a word, he makes it clear he’s not letting you out of his sight tonight. As he takes your hand, you know the party isn’t in the cards anymore—Logan’s about to take you on a different kind of ride.

Crossing your arms tightly over your chest, you pout, your bottom lip jutting out as you stubbornly refuse to look straight ahead. “I’m not a seventeen-year-old,” you mutter under your breath, the words more for yourself than for him.

“But you act like one,” Logan shoots back with a tsk, not missing a beat.

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “I’m twenty-three, for god’s sake. Both of you need to stop treating me like a baby!” You huff, finally turning to face him. He’s driving with effortless ease, one hand on the steering wheel, the other casually resting against the door. The simple, relaxed way he holds himself only makes him look even more frustratingly attractive. You hate that he’s right, but more than that, you hate that you can’t stop noticing just how good he looks when he’s in control.

Stubborn as ever, you dig in, determined not to let him win this round. You reminded yourself of why you were fuming in the first place, the anger bubbling back to the surface. “Stop the truck,” you demanded, your voice edged with frustration.

Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise flashing in his eyes. “What?”

“I said stop the truck, or I’ll jump, and I won’t hesitate. Do not test me right now, I swear, Logan,” you grumbled, your tone leaving no room for doubt. Your sudden tantrum catches him off guard, and for a moment, the confident Logan you’re used to falters. The sweet little peach he thought he knew is nowhere to be found, replaced by someone fierce and unpredictable.

It intrigues him. Something in your defiance pulls at him, piquing his curiosity. He’s not sure what you’re planning, but he wants to find out. Without a word, he slows the car, watching you closely, waiting to see what you’ll do next.

The tension in the car was thick, suffocating even, as you glared at Logan, fury burning in your eyes. The moment felt like it could explode any second, and you weren’t willing to sit there another minute. With a sharp huff, you pushed the door open and stormed out of the car, the cool night air hitting your face like a slap.

“Peach!” Logan’s voice boomed, filled with an urgency that barely masked his frustration. He fumbled with his seatbelt, the metal buckle clinking violently before he freed himself and followed you out. The car door slammed behind him, reverberating in the stillness. “What the hell are you doing?!”

You didn’t stop. “I’m going to my friends, and you can’t stop me!” Your voice was a defiant shout, each word a hammer striking the fragile foundation of whatever was left between you two. Your footsteps were quick, determined to leave him and everything he represented behind.

Logan’s grunt was more animal than man, filled with a rawness that made your heart lurch. “Peach, I swear, get back in the fucking car!” His voice cracked through the night, a desperate command that echoed around you.

But you didn’t turn back. Not this time. “No! And stop calling me that, that’s not even my name!” You shot back, your words slicing through the tension like a blade, final and unyielding.

As you thought you’d finally put enough distance between yourself and his truck, something shifted beneath you—your feet were no longer pounding against the pavement. You shrieked in surprise, your arms flailing as you tried to break free. But before you could fully process what was happening, you were momentarily released, only for Logan to scoop you up again, this time slinging you over his shoulder with a grunt of determination.

"You're not going anywhere, not even in that dress," Logan growled, his voice rough and unwavering, sending a chill down your spine. You writhed in his grasp, pounding your fists against his broad back with all the force you could muster.

"Let me go! Please! Help, someone!" Your voice rang out, desperate and frantic, but the night offered no solace. The street was eerily quiet, not a single car in sight, no one to hear your cries. The only response was the echo of your own voice and the steady, unyielding pace of Logan’s steps as he carried you back towards his truck.

Logan wasted no time strapping you into the passenger seat, his hands moving with a practiced efficiency that left no room for protest. The door slammed shut with a resounding thud, and before you could unbuckle yourself, he was already climbing into the driver’s seat. Your frustration bubbled over, and you flailed your arms, grunting and throwing a full-blown tantrum like a five-year-old denied their favorite toy.

But then Logan’s voice erupted, filling the car with a booming authority that silenced you instantly. “ENOUGH!” The word hung in the air, heavy and final. Your arms froze mid-motion, and you stared at him with your brows furrowed and lips pouting, the anger in your eyes now mixed with a hint of confusion.

Logan’s gaze softened just a fraction, but his tone remained firm as he continued, “I’m just doing what your dad wants me to do here, Peach. So help me God, if you wanna go hang out with your friends past curfew, fine, I’ll let you go. But not this one!” His voice was low, edged with a protectiveness that made your heart skip a beat. “I’m not letting you go out there to that fucking stupid party where you could probably get drugged or have alcohol shoved down your throat without your consent; no fucking way.”

The weight of his words settled over you, and for a moment, the car was filled with nothing but the sound of your heavy breathing, the tension between you both palpable.

Logan’s eyes flicked over to you, taking in the way your chest still heaved with heavy, frustrated breaths. He understood why. The anger bubbling inside you wasn’t just about this moment—it was about the bigger picture, the suffocating sense of disappointment that came from a reality that refused to bend to your desires. You craved freedom, the kind that seemed to come so easily to everyone else.

All you wanted was to be like the others out there, those who could breeze past curfew without a second thought, who laughed and danced through the night without anyone holding them back. Hell, they didn’t even have curfews anymore, not since they turned twenty-one. But here you were, feeling like the world was passing you by, like you were missing out on all the big, exhilarating experiences that came with being young and reckless.

You’d never touched alcohol, never gone to a party where the night stretched into the early hours, never done anything that could be described as recklessly fun. And it gnawed at you. The longing for that freedom, for the chance to let loose and live a little, was a weight on your chest, one that no amount of logic or concern from Logan could lift.

Logan watched you quietly, his grip on the steering wheel tightening as he saw the storm brewing in your eyes, the conflict between the person you were and the person you wanted to be. He knew he couldn’t give you the freedom you craved, not in this moment. But he couldn’t ignore your pain, either.

Logan leaned over, his movements deliberate as he unbuckled your seatbelt. You watched him, confusion flickering in your eyes as the sharp edges of your anger began to soften. His gaze met yours, steady and calm, as he murmured, “C’mere.”

Before you could fully process what was happening, his hand found your thigh, firm yet gentle as he lifted you up and guided you to sit on his lap, sideways. The shift in position felt unexpected, your body tensing for a moment before you let yourself relax into the warmth of his embrace.

Logan’s strong arms wrapped around you, guiding your body to lean against his chest. He carefully positioned your head on his shoulder, his touch tender as if he knew exactly how to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the solid feel of his chest rising and falling beneath you, gradually eased the tension from your muscles.

In his arms, the world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in the quiet, shared space. The anger and frustration still simmered, but now, in Logan’s embrace, it felt more manageable, less like a storm and more like a lingering cloud.

Logan's voice rumbled softly against your ear as he spoke, the firmness in his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’m taking you home, alright? Whether you like it or not, I don’t care. But if you want to go out with your girlfriends tomorrow night doing other things than PARTYING, you bet your ass I’m gonna lock you in the house myself. Deal?”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of his words settling in as you considered his offer. It wasn’t exactly what you wanted, but it was better than nothing. The compromise, though not ideal, felt like a small victory. So, without saying a word, you nodded your head against his shoulder, accepting his terms.

Logan seemed to take your silent agreement as enough, his arms tightening around you in a way that felt protective rather than restrictive. The frustration still lingered, but there was also a sense of relief in knowing that, at least for tonight, you didn’t have to keep fighting.

“Okay,” Logan murmured as he turned the key, the engine of the truck rumbling to life. You instinctively started to shift, ready to slide off his lap and back into the passenger seat, but his hand on your thigh halted your movement.

“Whoa, whoa, where are you going?” His voice held a teasing edge, but there was no mistaking the seriousness in his eyes as they locked onto yours.

“But, you’re about to dri—” you began, but Logan cut you off with a grunt.

“I don’t care,” he said, his gaze intense, the authority in his tone leaving no room for argument. “Make yourself comfortable and sit on my lap like a good girl, no more tantrum.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine, your breath catching in your throat as you met his stare. The tension from earlier was still there, but now it was mixed with something else, something that made your pulse quicken. His grip on your thigh was firm, but his touch was still gentle, almost reassuring.

Slowly, you settled back into his lap, your body leaning against his solid frame as the truck began to roll forward. There was a strange comfort in the way he held you, the familiar scent of him filling your senses. The fight had left you, replaced by a quiet acceptance, your earlier anger melting away as you rested your head against his shoulder.

The ride was wrapped in a comfortable silence, the kind that didn’t need to be filled with words. For some reason, being around Logan soothed you in a way that nothing else had for a long time. It was a feeling you’d longed for, a sense of security and warmth that you hadn’t realized how much you missed until now.

Even though you had your dad, it wasn’t the same. You were never really close with him. The glue that held your family together had always been your late mother, the one who bridged the gap between you and your father. But when she passed away from that illness when you were seventeen, everything changed. The dynamic between you and your dad became something different—just plain family.

He loved you, you knew that, but it was a love that felt distant, like an obligation rather than a connection. And you loved him back, but only just enough. There was a gap, a void left by your mother’s absence, that neither of you knew how to fill. You’d drifted apart, existing in the same space but not truly together.

But with Logan, it was different. Even in the quiet, even without saying a word, there was a comfort in his presence that made you feel like you weren’t so alone. The steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth of his body against yours—it was like a balm to the aching loneliness you carried.

The warmth of your house greeted you as soon as you unlocked the front door, a comforting contrast to the cool night air outside. You stepped inside, the familiar scent of home wrapping around you like a blanket. With a tired sigh, you tossed the keys into the bowl on the console table, the clatter echoing in the quiet hallway. Without a word, you made your way upstairs, leaving Logan standing in the entryway, the silence between you stretching out once more.

Logan watched you disappear up the stairs, a heaviness settling over him. With a resigned sigh, he headed straight for the kitchen, his boots thudding softly against the hardwood floor. He grabbed a bottle of scotch from the cabinet, the glass container cold to the touch as he unscrewed the cap, pouring it down the glass.

Taking a generous sip, Logan flopped down onto your couch, the cushions sinking under his weight. The remote was within reach, and with a flick of his wrist, he turned on the TV. The soft glow of the screen filled the room, casting flickering shadows on the walls.

But even as the TV droned on in the background, Logan’s mind wasn’t on whatever was playing. He took another sip of his beer, letting the quiet comfort of your home settle around him, a stark contrast to the tension that had filled the night.

After slipping into more comfortable clothes, you hesitated at the top of the stairs, hoping that Logan was still there. The night had left you feeling unsettled, and the thought of him being gone added to the unease. Slowly, you made your way downstairs, the soft fabric of your clothes brushing against your skin, grounding you.

As you reached the living room, you cleared your throat, the sound breaking the stillness. Logan, who had been staring at the TV without really watching, turned his head towards you, his eyes meeting yours. There was a flicker of something in his gaze—concern, maybe relief—before he watched you walk towards him.

Without saying a word, you sat down on the couch beside him, the space between you feeling both intimate and vast. You looked at the glass of scotch in Logan’s hand, your curiosity piqued. “Can I try?” you asked, your voice soft but eager.

Logan glanced at the glass and then back at you. He simply handed it over without a word, his expression neutral. The amber liquid sloshed slightly as you took the glass from him. The warmth of the scotch felt foreign in your hand, but there was a sense of anticipation as you held it. Logan watched you silently, his gaze steady as you prepared to take your first sip.

You raised the glass to your lips, the rich, amber liquid catching the light. With a deep breath, you took your first sip. The taste was immediately intriguing—complex and smoky, with a hint of sweetness that lingered pleasantly on your tongue. It was unlike anything you’d ever had before, a unique blend of flavors that seemed to dance across your palate.

The warmth of the scotch spread from your mouth down your throat, a slow burn that settled into a comforting glow. You took another sip, savoring the taste, letting the sensation wash over you. The flavor was bold and sophisticated, a little bit of adventure in a glass.

“You like it?” Logan asked, raising one eyebrow and giving you a half-smile. His gaze was curious as he watched you take in the experience.

You folded your lips, glancing down at the glass before meeting his eyes again and nodding. “It’s not bad,” you admitted, a hint of a smile playing on your lips.

Logan chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Would you trade your life for this or for your peach soda?” he joked.

You giggled, the scotch giving you a carefree lightness. “Peach soda for the win,” you declared with a playful grin. But then, without hesitation, you raised the glass to your lips and chugged the rest of the liquor in one swift motion.

Logan watched with a mixture of amusement and surprise. “Says one who’d trade her life for the peach soda,” he remarked with a scoff, shaking his head in mock disbelief.

He grabbed the empty glass from your hand and, with a quick motion, poured another round for himself. The scotch swirled in the glass as he settled back onto the couch, the warmth of the liquor evident in his relaxed demeanor.

“I want one again,” you murmured, a pout forming on your lips as you looked at the empty glass.

Logan sighed, giving in with a resigned smile. “Fine, here,” he said, pouring another generous measure of scotch into the glass. But instead of reaching for the glass, you snatched the bottle right from his hand.

“Wha—hey whoa, Peach,” Logan started, surprised.

“I have my limits, don’t worry,” you replied with a mischievous glint in your eye.

Logan frowned, his hand reaching for the bottle. “Right, considering this is your first time and you like this more than your peach soda, I think that’s not a great idea. Come on, give me the bottle.”

With a shriek of playful defiance, you pushed yourself off the couch and stood in front of him, waving the bottle mockingly. “Watch me,” you smirked, lifting the bottle to your lips.

You took a generous sip, the rich warmth of the scotch flowing smoothly down your throat. Logan watched, amused. The newfound confidence in your actions only seemed to grow with each sip, the scotch emboldening you in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

As the minutes ticked by, you began to feel a subtle shift within you. The warmth from the scotch seemed to spread through your body, making you feel more alive, more fearless. It was as if the world outside had softened, the edges of your worries and reservations blurring into the background.

“Hmmm,” you hummed contentedly, taking a step closer to where Logan sat. With a playful glint in your eye, you placed the bottle on the coffee table and then gracefully straddled his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck.

Logan’s expression shifted subtly, his initial concern giving way to something more intimate. His eyes softened, the playful warmth of the moment casting a new light on his face. He adjusted his position slightly to accommodate you, his hands resting gently on your hips.

"I'm sorry for the way I acted tonight," you murmured, looking down to his lips before gazing up to his eyes. "Will you forgive me... Daddy?"

Logan looks at you surprised, he couldn't believe what he just heard. It's something he has never heard anyone addressed him with that before. The tension wasn't comforting it was rather more, sensual. Logan slowly leans forward inching closer to your face, he looks down to your lips before murmuring, "What did you just call me?"

You giggled, "Daddy." You repeated. "You're more like a dad to me than my dad ever was," you giggled. "The only difference is, I wanna fuck you." The scotch is now talking. "You were right, all those times you've caught me fucking myself with my fingers through my window, I wanted you to watch me," You stare at him with doe eyes. "And thank fuck, you watched me."

Logan groaned from listening to you talk like that. His hands gripping your hips, throwing his head back against the cushion. "You promised me you wanted me to feel your cock," you pouted, starting to move your hips, rubbing your clothed cunt against his denim jeans. Inching your face close to him, you whispered against his lips, "So give me your cock, Daddy."

Logan grumbled something under his breath, his gaze darkening as the playful tension between you ignited into something more intense. Without warning, his hand moved to your throat, not with force but with a possessive firmness that sent a shiver down your spine. In one swift motion, he pulled you in, crashing his lips against yours.

The kiss was searing, filled with the passion that had been simmering between you all night. His lips moved against yours with an urgency that took your breath away, the earlier tenderness giving way to something more primal. The heat of the moment enveloped you both, and you felt your heart race as the kiss deepened, becoming more feral and uncontrolled.

Logan’s hands tightened around your waist, pulling you closer as his mouth claimed yours with a hunger that made your head spin. The kiss became sloppy, desperate even, as the two of you lost yourselves in the intensity of the connection. You struggled to keep up, your breath hitching as you tried to match his pace, but it was overwhelming, intoxicating. The world around you seemed to blur, your senses consumed by the taste of him, the feel of his hands on your body, and the way his lips demanded everything from you.

You never stopped grinding your hips against his clothed cock as both of your lips were dancing with each other. The bulge in his jeans kept growing bigger and bigger until he decided it's finally enough to torture him; he broke the kiss and lift you up before his hands went to undo his jeans.

You watched the way he swiftly pulling down his jeans along with his boxers, his cock slapped against his abdomen. Shit, you thought. He's nowhere near small, he's big and fat. You wonder if it's going to fit in your small cunt and your small mouth. Logan noticed your demeanor has changed as he smirked to himself.

"Don't worry, Peach. I'll show you how." You looked at him confused. "You're gonna put my cock in your mouth first," You inhaled sharply before nodding your head, Logan smiled at you, happy that you're obeying to what he wants you to do. "Good girl, get on your knees."

Logan walked you through it, by telling you to grab his cock with both hands. "Give it a kiss." He urged, nudging his chin cockily. You hesitatingly kissed the raging red tip of his cock that has his already pre-cum leaking from the tiny slit. "Lick it, peach." He commanded, you obeyed. Dragging your warm tongue out from your mouth and made contact with the skin.

Logan watching you so innocently making out with his tip, makes his heart beat faster, eager to slide his cock down your throat and fuck your stupidly innocent face. "Thaaaat's good, peach. Put 'em all in your mouth." Before you do that, you fixated your gaze on Logan before moving away to inch your face close to his heavy balls.

You decided to improvise and see if he'd like that, Logan watches you intensely and groaned as you drag your tongue from the bottom of his cock upwards to meet his tip before putting him all in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, and teasingly rolled your eyes close to show that you're enjoying it so much. And it did sent Logan to heaven, watching his little peach enjoy sucking his girth.

"You like my cock, peaches? .... Yeah? .... Well come on, put them all in ya." Logan muttered as he raised his hip slowly upward, pushing his cock into your mouth further to reach your throat. When you gagged, Logan moaned. You thought that was a good sign, especially when you couldn't control your saliva as it drips down to his pubic hair and all. "Fffuck." Logan cursed watching you bob your head and up down his cock.

"Feels s'good.. Peach, god." Logan rolled his eyes and lean his head back, his hand rest on top of your head, fisting your hair. He grunted, "'want more." He murmured under his breath before he decided to take control. He bobbed your head up and down, increasing the speed while also thrusting his hips upward, fucking your throat.

"Fuck yeah, you better think twice before you talk back to me like that in the car." Logan grunted, watching you struggle to breathe, your eyes getting teary and choked on his cock. Logan laughs rather maniacally, watching you struggle turns him on even more.

"You wanna feel how it feels like to have a warm cum slides down your throat, peaches?" Your eyes widened. "Yeah.. I'll show you. 'M gonna cum soon, Oh.. So good, peach." Logan moaned, eyebrows scrunched together with his eyes closed.

Placing your palm on his thighs, you tried to at least breathe a little. You didn't want to pull away as you don't want you disappoint him. You can feel Logan's tip twitch in your mouth, you take it he's about to cum soon.

Without warning, Logan let out the loudest moan ever, spilling his warm cum down your throat. His hips stuttered a little, giving you one final thrust to make sure he emptied everything in your mouth. And you gladly took them all. As Logan pulls his cock out from your mouth, he watched you swallow his everything down your throat as he smirked in proud.

You watched him with your famous doe-eyes when you want something but Logan just laughed at you, mocking.

"You think after you pulled that stunt on the road you deserve my cock in your pussy? Hell fucking no, peach. At least not tonight, now get to bed."

thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it! if you love my writing feel free to check my other works here

support me by buying me a coffee! 🤍

[dewdr0pz]

Ok hear me out… scare actor reader and Wilbur who just wanted to go to a haunted house and then boom he’s like “oh no. The serial killer is pretty” you can use ur imagination for the rest this is just the caffeine talking to me with fanfic ideas :)

🔪 Is That Too Scary for You? 🔪

Summary: Headcanons about how Wilbur would act if he saw you, the reader, being pretty & a fake serial killer in a haunted house

A/N: HOLY SHIT. I LOVE THIS IDEA! Again, very sorry that it's only headcanons (idk if I'm even using the right term anymore lol), I'm extremely burnt out & tired rn. also tysm for the asks! it's been keeping me busy af & i love it! Also, the title was based off of the song I Think I'm Okay =)

pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!actor!reader

pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers

tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)

warnings/cw: scary stuff, reader is a scare actor (you're basically a fake serial killer), fake blood, the people with Wilbur & Tommy on the vlog getting jumpscared, reader pretending to k!ll Wilbur, Wilbur having a dream about the reader

genre: fluff/horror

Wilbur would probably be accompanied by the Sorry Boys for a Tom Simons vlog

Wilbur probably wouldn't want to go in the first place because he;d get scared easily

So when they do get inside the haunted house, they learn that everyone who's in the haunted house now becomes part of a challenge. They now have to escape the haunted house without being killed by any of the creatures/ghosts or you, the serial killer. It's basically just an escape room

When he first hears your menacing voice behind him, he stops walking. Not out of fear, but out of awe.

↑↑ You laughed creepily. "It seems I have some visitors here today..." Wilbur stopped in his tracks & Tommy turned the camera towards Wilbur. He was staring at you in awe. "Wilbur, stop being a simp & run!" Tommy laughed, pulling Wilbur away from you. "...Tommy, the serial killer's hot."

He basically tried to find any way to bring the group closer to you. He thought you were really pretty.

Would definitely 'die' first just to hang out with you

If you pinned him to the wall to 'k!ll' him, he would be so fcking flustered

↑↑ "Nowhere left to run..." you chuckled. You stabbed two of your fake knives into his shirt sleeves to pin him to the wall. "Any last words?" & Wilbur would be crushin' & blushin' so damn hard as he said, "Honestly? Uh you're really pretty & I kinda want your number if it isn't too much to ask-"

He ended up letting you 'k!ll' him so that you could bring him to where the people who were eliminated stayed until the attraction was over & you two just talked for an hour or so

& then you were stabbing him to death in his dreams <3

[waiting-eyez]

If there were no girls like them in the world, there would be no poetry

(Willa Cather)

[rubywonu]

𝗹𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 𝗮 𝗳𝗹𝗮𝗺𝗲

“in your heart, i will light a flame.”

summary: in which you fell in love with the most infuriatingly handsome person you knew, joshua hong.

pairing: joshua hong x fem!reader

genre: he falls first and harder, royal!au, childhood enemies to lovers.

warnings: mentions of big crowds, alcohol, kinda rushed at the ending.

w/c: 1.7k

nia’s notes: this is for the caratsland event on seventeen songs, im so excited to be apart of this. (@fairyhaos this one is for you)

the esmerald gala. the biggest ball in history. it was held by the royal family of esmerald, which you happened to be a part of. you were the heir to the throne and this year's gala was a set up for you to find your husband. 

every man above the age of 23 and below the age of 40 was a candidate for you, apart from one man. joshua hong, the prince of catheral, your parent's best friend's son. 

you glanced around from the top of the staircase making sure that no one could see you. the ballroom was filled with important people and their partners.

you were startled a bit when your bodyguard crept up behind you. "it is time, your highness." 

you stepped back and went to your position, trying to calm your nerves. taking deep breaths was all you did until you heard the guard announcing your entrance. "princess yn esmerald, heir to the throne." 

a magnificent orchestra played in the background as you gracefully walked down the stairs. your eyes darted around the room, trying to find a familiar face to talk to and then you caught the eye of the person you were planning to avoid the whole day. 

the whiskey-coloured eyes that displayed authority devoured you. a small smirk made it on his face and he raised his champagne glass, the annoyingly hot smile still plastered to his face. 

you broke off the eye contact and tried to refrain the act of rolling your eyes as you reached the base of the stairs. people already rushed up to talk to you or to sneak a glimpse of the heir to the throne. 

almost immediately you were thrown into conversations with political authorities or kings and queens of other kingdoms. it would be like this until your parents' entrance would be announced, which you assumed would be quite a while. 

you shook hands and people brought you hugs. just as you were about to start another conversation with a very boring minister, the familiar orchestra played after the guard announced your parents' arrival. 

the duo walked down the stairs, waving their hands and smiling at everyone. no wonder your parents were the most loved rulers of the country. hand in hand, your parents were thrown into more conversations and hugs than you were brought into. 

and you were finally left alone. quickly you gathered your ball gown and you made it outside to your favourite place in the whole palace. your balcony. it offered a scenic view of the capital city of your country and you often found comfort in it. 

"yn esmerald. fancy seeing you here." the agitating voice cursed your silence and you closed your eyes in irritation. you turned around, not even bothered to smile. 

"joshua hong. pleasure is all yours." joshua dipped his head down to try to hide his growing smile. 

joshua wore a perfectly fitting white silk shirt and a black fur coat. his hair slicked back and a few strands falling out. if he wasn't as frustrating to be with, you were sure you would have asked him out. 

once again, the two of you held eye contact. and it felt like it was only the two of you in the whole world. the sound drained out and the surroundings faded away. the mischievous glint in joshua's eyes trapped you and you found yourself wanting to explore it. something you should not feel started to flow throughout your body. intrigue. 

you snapped out of the inviting gaze when a waiter offered the both of you another glass of champagne, which you took with no hesitation. you realized you would need some alcohol in your body if you were dealing with joshua. 

"so, what are you doing here?" you raised an eyebrow at his question. "i mean, what are doing out here instead of your party?" 

you scoffed. "it's hardly a party." you looked back at the view. "needed some air, and this seemed like the best place to do that. i can sense you came out here to do the same." 

instead of answering, joshua nodded while mimicking your position near the railing of the balcony. the silence once again enveloped the atmosphere and for a second you found yourself wanting to break it. 

joshua was entranced by your behavior. ever since the first ball he had attended, you were the diamond in his eyes. the way your eyes crinkled when you smiled or your heavy esmerald accent left joshua wanting to experience them first hand. he wanted to be the reason you smile and the reason you speak with a unique tone. 

your banter started with a small competitive behavior initiated by you. and joshua being the lovesick puppy he is, continued the banter to make you satisfied. 

he would love to see the deep red flush that would spread across your neck and face when he would subtly flirt with you. he'd love to make a reaction come out of you. especially when he would ask you for your hand in marriage. ever since he was 10, joshua asked you out every ball and you declined each year. but this was the year you would shock him. 

the both of you were disturbed by the loud sound of the bell back in the hall. 

"the dance is about to start, let's go." by the time joshua registered what you said, you were already way ahead of him and he rushed to your side, the familiar scent of honey and vanilla inviting him. 

the both of you made it into the hall at the correct time and the kind and queen of esmerald were dancing to kick off the event. soon later the monarchs of all the kingdoms present there were at the centre. and then it was time for the others to dance. 

you and joshua walked on the opposite side of the hall, meeting worthy candidates for the first dance. the first dance was very important to the ceremony, especially since now you were supposed to find a man to marry. the tradition was the person who you danced with first was the person you chose to marry. you had to accept the dance proposal first and that didn’t prove to be an easy task.

throughout the search, you and joshua sneaked glances at each other. it felt like you were little children sneaking glances at their crushes. you liked joshua and joshua liked you. the whole world knew that only the both of you didn't realize it. 

once again, you looked up to sneak a look at joshua only to find him out of your sight. you furrowed your eyebrows as you looked around the area to search for him. completely disregarding the balding man in front of you who had tried to ask you to dance.

just as you were about to walk away, you felt a hand come in contact with your wrist. you were spun around, your ball gown fluffing around you. your other hand was placed on the person's chest as support. 

you looked up and the blush took over your face. seeing that joshua smirked, internally partying because he made that reaction. your eyes were wide with shock and your heartbeat was so fast that you were sure everyone at the whole ball could hear it. "what do you think you're doing?" 

"taking you to go dance." joshua's response was simple. his deep voice sent shivers down your back and he leaned forward to your ear. "do you have any objections?" 

you were rendered speechless. your mouth went dry and anything you wanted to say left your mouth. "shouldn't you ask me first?" you were finally able to get something out of your mouth but it was still weak and quiet. 

"well, then." joshua pulled away from your body and you immediately missed the warmth. joshua grabbed your hand and bent down a little. "princess yn, will you take the honors and dance with me." 

you tried to hide your smile on your face but failed miserably. "if this your idea of a marriage proposal, hong, i will leave you.” you were going to marry joshua hong. the both of you knew that.

you and joshua walked towards the center of the ballroom and your partnership invited whispers and gasps from the crowd. from the corner of your eyes, you saw your parents and they nodded with small smiles on their faces, clearly happy with your choice.

the sensual trumpet in the background was the only sound that you heard, neither of you heard the hushed whispers between the guests and you didn't see the envious glances that were shared and they didn't matter. 

all the uncertain feelings were understandable now. you didn't like him, oh no, you loved joshua hong. 

joshua's heart fluttered when your cold eyes melted to a gaze filled what adoration and curiosity. he waited for this moment for a long long time and it felt more perfect than he ever dreamed of. 

his heart was burning with the passionate flame that was you. joshua looked at you like you were the person who had created the universe. 

once again, joshua moved closer to your ear. "in your heart, i'll light a flame." he made eye contact. "just like you did in mine."

"there's no need." you grabbed the nape of his neck gently. "you've already blazed upon my heart." you smiled at joshua who was speechless. 

"i thought you hated me," joshua asked you. he knew the answer but he loved to tease you.

"hate is such a strong word. isn't it?" your response was expected by joshua, the bright red colouring and the shivering.

neither of you realized how passionate your love would be. and all it took was to light a flame. 

tagging: @kflixnet . @caratsland . @pixieskie . @xomingyu . @bangchansbae .

[oconist]

parallels during the 2019 season, esteban & pierre

Vievee Francis, The Shared World / Adonis, Song / Margaret Atwood, The Blind Assassin / Lucille Clifton, Climbing / Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games / Anais Nin, Mirages: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anais Nin, 1939-1947 / Carrie Fountain, Burn Lake / Rachel McKibbens, Blud / Gabriel García Márquez, Of Love and Other Demons / Franny Choi, The World Keeps Ending, and the World Goes On / Louise Glück, The Triumph of Achilles / Willa Cather, The Basket / Sarah Rose Etter, The Book of X / Amy Hempel, Cloudland

inspired by @unabashedlycasualangel's elle me dit, specifically chapter 5, which made me remember what este & pierre were doing during 2019. go read the fic, it's amazing in all the great ways and it hits so hard.

[wil-dearest]

cathers-world asked: NSFW stalker!wilbur?

yeah why not, i always love a good stalker, me.

trigger warnings: 18+ for sure. stalking, duh, but still, be careful. gender-neutral reader. non-con, because you're asleep, so again, be careful while reading. leaning into simpbur. sorry. also mentions of suicide ideation, so there's that.

wil-dearest presents:

The Angels Made You For Me

If he'd been counting the days since he's started following you home, he would say it'd be a problem. But since his nasty habit began, he could confidently say it's been going on too long, perhaps, without much to show for it. He knows everything about you, about your schedule, about your habits, your friends- fucking. Everything.

He would consider trying to be more subtle about it but several times you've seen him, made direct eye contact with him and smiled, and yet nothing. He hasn't been arrested, hadn't been tackled by a concerned friend. Nothing has happened. And despite his lucky track, he still wanted more, wanted more from you.

He saw you first in the spring, when the flowers were blooming and he'd been in the park like you, except it was supposed to be his last day. His last day to live because, quite simply, nothing was really that fucking worth it anymore. Not the media, the music, definitely not the people, nature wasn't his last chance to convince him everything would be peaches and rainbows, it was his last meal. (Not physically, he'd ate two days ago and he could almost feel his ribs.) This was his last peaceful moment. He hadn't been entirely sure how he was going to go out, by gun or by jumping or by a vehicle- the possibilities were endless and with some sort of end in sight, it was easier to breathe in the park air and look around.

There you'd been, sitting with on a picnic blanket with a dog, bathing underneath the careful sun and soaking the day in. He had a brief moment of euphoria when you opened your squinting eyes completely and smiled, waving hello at him. Your smile froze him in his spot, where he'd been walking down the path and you tilted your head as he continued to stare. He started walking again, head forced to look straight as he tried to will away the blush dusting his cheeks and ears, as his mind couldn't focus on anything but your smile and the way you looked so damn... happy. Peaceful. Downright angelic, even.

Light footsteps crunch on the gravel louder and louder until they stopped behind him and he feels a tap on his shoulder. Turning around, it's you, your smile not as bright but just as genuine as your hand held out a phone. He sucked in a breath from his teeth, reaching out to take out the familiar device. He hadn't meant to but his fingers grazed your own and he couldn't help the way his heart leapt into his chest. Why was he feeling this way? Why was his chest contracting and why couldn't he breathe any easier? You said something and he feels almost bad when he asks you to repeat yourself.

Your smile widens as you glance downwards at your feet before looking up at him, "I said you better be careful with that thing, people won't always return it, you know." He nods.

"But you did," he says, rushed like he hadn't meant to say it at all.

Your smile doesn't dim, doesn't shrink, it deepens and he can see the beginnings of a laugh bubble inside of you. "I almost didn't." You say, and a hand reaches up to cover your mouth as you back up, laughing. Then you wave and you say goodbye and walk away back to your dog and your picnic blanket.

An old movie scratches inside of his head and it's as if he was transported back in time, listening to the music play and watching you sit back down, scratching the dog's back.

So this is love.

This particularly night, yes he lied he kept count, marks the six month since you had saved his life. Truly, without you, he would've been dead. He would've been another person to sink into the earth, forgotten and rotted. He would've taken his life and parted everyone with but a stench to his name.

There are days he regrets it but when he sees you again, it puts things in perspective.

So, he wants to do something special. He wants to be near you again. Following you home doesn't necessarily mean anything if he's more than a block away, keeping to himself and making sure no one else fucks with you. (If you deserved anything, it would be a peaceful, uneventful walk from the gas station to your home. And he would make sure of it a hundred, thousand times.)

It doesn't take much planning, he already knows so much about you already, if anything, slipping into your house feels... easy. Natural, despite it being anything but. In the end, it doesn't matter because your home is warm and smells so good, he knows you cooked before bed. Stepping lightly, he traces the walls with his fingers, taking in every detail he couldn't before, the photos framed on the wall, the decorations that, yes may be early, but you deserve happiness where you found it. Fall and Halloween, though already on the cusp of falling into season already, would have to be an everyday thing with how much you loved it so much. He wouldn't mind. He would never mind.

Your door already half-way opened, he peered around the edge, eyeing the form in your bed. It was you. You never took anybody home. (As if you knew he would be yours in the end, his mind whispers, logic bending and melding to his rose-colored feelings.) Never slept in anything more than a large, loose shirt. He doesn't immediately step in, watches as your chest rises and falls with every passing moment. You're... bewitching. Being near scratches an itch he only recently figured out. Being near you is so peaceful and so nerve-wracking at the same time, heart pounding, beating against the cages of his ribs, begging to tear its way out and settle into your hands, that were of no doubt, softer than any fabric the world could manufacture.

He steps into your room, hands shaking as they come up to lightly graze the walls in there too. With every step he takes closer to your bed, the more his hands shake and the more he chokes on his heart. There are thoughts racing inside his head, begging to leave and begging to leave you forever but how can he leave when you've done so much for him already? How can he leave right now, right now when he's come so far? He's lived without you for so long, he's not sure he can accept a life without being near you again.

The intoxicating scene of your room dizzies his head, spins his vision till he almost collapses over you, managing to catch himself after his knees buckled under his weight. You breathe deeply in and with every bated breath, he watches as you sigh out, shuffling in your sleep as your neck extends the other way, leaving it bare to him.

His head spins further as he releases a stolen breath, choosing to stand stock still, eyes catching onto any new detail he could see now, even in the dark. His fingers come over the edge of your bed and they burn when they touch your bare arm. Warm, soft. Just like he'd thought, like he remembered. His free hand comes up to cover his mouth, imagining it as yours and imagines that you've caught him, that you flip him onto the bed on his back, straddling his hips and pressing with a warm hand into his underwear, whispering sweet things into his neck and before he realizes it, his hand that had touched you- it had retracted back to his body, slipping underneath his pants and briefs, and squeezes around his cock. He almost couldn't contain himself, feeling the hardest he'd ever been, wanting nothing more than to sink the tip between your lips and send his seed down your throat. He wanted nothing more than that. The hand that covered his mouth lowered down, reaching out to brush the hair away from your neck, out of your face.

He leans down and inhales, soaking in how close you are, how you overwhelm his senses completely. His tongue darts out to wet his lips when an idea flashed in his head. It's there for a second before he leans closer, his tongue relishing in the taste of your skin, how hot you burn and how you sign against his touch, almost arching into it. He presses a kiss there and you move in your sleep again, almost hitting him in the process of batting whatever the hell was tickling you.

It's too much, too fast. His come coats the inside of his underwear and he has to pull away before he groans right into your ear.

He can't get any closer without waking you but you were nowhere near being ready for him. He slips out of your bedroom door, lips burning from where he kissed you. Yes, he kissed your sleeping face, from your forehead and cheeks, nose and chin to your lightly parted mouth. It didn't even last three seconds before he had to pull away, dragging himself out of your home and towards his.

His heart is pounding inside his chest but he knows you hold it, even whilst sleeping. And he hopes to one day hold yours.

And with hope and love, it could be soon.

[margareth-lv]

☕️ Small morning pleasures ☕️

There is nothing better than waking up on a dark and cold November morning and seeing a new photo of an enamoured couple, two legendary lovers, a man and a woman entwined in an embrace of love, publicly demonstrating their affection that will not go away.

🤮🤮🤮

And then there are the comments under the photos… The dedicated fans raving about how happy the World's Weirdest Couple are together, how good they look together, how happy and content Caitríona looks as she stands next to her PA.

🤦🏻‍♀️

No, she does not look happy or content with life. Her face cries out for help. For rescue. Immediately! In these circumstances, it's a good thing there's an "X" (formerly Twitter):

*** And then there's the ever-reliable Cather:

*** I'd also like to point out that I'm not sure the chapeau is new and unused. I have the impression that I saw this hat on Caitríona some time ago.

What do you think?

[November 30, 2023]

[cathers-world]

Stole this from @writingduhh @lvrj4mie

But what do you guys think I look like?

Ex: skin color, height, hair color etc

[woman-respecter]

https://www.tumblr.com/spacelazarwolf/773390696720809984/if-you-look-at-something-that-has-been-renamed-or?source=share

"if you look at something that has been renamed or restructured in some way to be inclusive of trans people and go “ugh women can’t have ANYTHING anymore” you need to sit down and think about why you believe that including trans people in a way that doesn’t affect women in the slightest is somehow taking things away from women."

Istfg smol bean mras ALWAYS do this shit on which they try to guilt women into accepting their blatant erasure In their own fucking movements! How was the name "Women's March" exclusionary of Trans Women?? And it does affect us because "Women's March very clearly sends the message that it's a women's rights movements meanwhile "People's March" tells you shit other than maybe generic world peace if that??

"B-But there are people who aren't women who deal with similar issu-" CREATE YOU OWN SHIT 🗣️🗣️

Why? Why do women's rights and movements *specifically* have the moral obligation to cather to everyone? Mfs never demand BLM include all races or disability rights include therians and shit

exactlyyyy like how is the name “women’s march” exclusive of trans women. jumblr’s top mra is just mad that the title (and not even the march itself, like the march always cared about issues other than misogyny as well) doesn’t center men enough.

[robhorninginternalexile]

2024 Book List

January

1. Trances of the Blast, Mary Ruefle

2. Falling Star, Patricia Moyes

3. Labyrinths, Jorge Luis Borges

4. Introduction to the Work of Marcel Mauss, Claude Lévi-Strauss 

5. The Sweet Dove Died, Barbara Pym

6. The Prison-House of Language, Fredric Jameson

7. The Order of Things, Michel Foucault

8. Illuminated Manuscripts, Tamara Woronowa and Andrej Sterligow

9. Structuralism, John Sturrock

February

10. Immediacy; or the Style of Too Late Capitalism, Anna Kornbluh

11. The Dark Frontier, Eric Ambler

12.  Macbeth, William Shakespeare

13. Michel Foucault: Beyond Structuralism and Hermeneutics, Hubert Dreyfus and Paul Rabinow

14. Don’t Look at Me Like That, Diane Athill

15. The Most of It, Mary Ruefle

16. The Archaeology of Knowledge, Michel Foucault

March

17. Henry IV Part 1, William Shakespeare

18. A Murder Is Announced, Agatha Christie

19. Shakespeare, Johan Gottfried von Herder

20. Literary Theory for Robots, Dennis Yi Tenen

21. Henry IV Part 2, William Shakespeare

22. Richard II, William Shakespeare

23. Lucy Gayheart, Willa Cather

24. Henry V, William Shakespeare

25. Mimesis, Expression, Construction, Fredric Jameson

26. Four-Legged Girl, Diane Seuss

27. Death of a Nationalist, Rebecca Pawel

28. The Flight From the Enchanter, Iris Murdoch

29. The Purloined Clinic, Janet Malcolm

April

30. King Lear, William Shakespeare

31. White Butterfly, Walter Moseley

32. Humanism and Antihumanism, Kate Soper

33. The Illusion of the End, Jean Baudrillard

34. Discourse on Method, René Descartes 

35. Meditations on First Philosophy, René Descartes

36. Cambridge Companion to Descartes, John Cottingham ed

37. The Ordinal Society, Marion Fourcade and Kieran Healy

38. Much Ado About Nothing, William Shakespeare

39. Primer, Bob Perelman

40. As You Like It, William Shakespeare

May

41. A Midsummer Night’s Dream, William Shakespeare

42. The Ballad of Peckham Rye, Muriel Spark

43. Preface to Shakespeare, Samuel Johnson

44. The Weariness of the Self, Alain Ehrenberg 

45. Harmonium, Wallace Stevens

46. Mr. Scarborough’s Family, Anthony Trollope

47. Computing Taste, Nick Seaver

48. Hamlet, William Shakespeare

June

49. On Shakespeare, Northrop Frye

50. The Taming of the Shrew, William Shakespeare

51. The Double Shift, Jason Read

52. Romeo and Juliet, William Shakespeare

53. La Vendée, Anthony Trollope

54. Mirror Worlds, David Gelertner

55. The Commercialization of Intimate Life, Arlie Hochschild

July

56. In Our Own Image, Fred Ritchin

57. Bending the Frame, Fred Ritchin

58. After Photography, Fred Ritchin

59. Cue the Sun!, Emily Nussbaum

60. Appointment With Death, Agatha Christie

61. The Friend, Sigrid Nunez

62. Libra, Don DeLillo

63. The Interpretation of Cultures, Clifford Geertz

64. Mimesis, Erich Auerbach

65. Julius Caesar, William Shakespeare

August

66. Antony and Cleopatra, William Shakespeare

67. Nonrequired Reading, Wisława Szymborska

68. Traveling, Ann Powers

69. Annie Bot, Sierra Greer

70. Regency Buck, Georgette Heyer

71. Coriolanus, William Shakespeare

September

72. Troilus and Cressida, William Shakespeare

73. Fools of Time, Northrop Frye

74. Bel Canto, Ann Patchett

75. Measure for Measure, William Shakespeare

76. William Shakespeare, Terry Eagleton

77. Shakespeare’s Problem Plays, E.M.W. Tillyard

78. Twelfth Night, William Shakespeare

79. The Merchant of Venice, William Shakespeare

80. Othello, William Shakespeare

81. AI Snake Oil, Arvind Narayanan and Sayash Kapoor

82. Passage of Arms, Eric Ambler

October

83. All’s Well That Ends Well, William Shakespeare

84. The Book of the Courtier, Baldesare Castiglione

85. Fables of Aggression, Fredric Jameson

86. Intermezzo, Sally Rooney

87. The Pleasure of the Text, Roland Barthes

88. Liars, Sarah Manguso 

89. James, Percival Everett

November

90. Aesthetics and Politics, Bertholt Brecht, Walter Benjamin et al.

91. Protocol, Alexander Galloway

92. Sartor Resartus, Thomas Carlyle

93. The Unaccountability Machine, Dan Davies

94. Timon of Athens, William Shakespeare

95. Machines Who Think, Pamela McCorduck

December

96. Henry VI, Part 1, William Shakespeare

97. Henry VI, Part 2, William Shakespeare

98. The Triumph of Achilles, Louise Glück

99. All Shot Up, Chester Himes

100. The Saint-Fiacre Affair, Georges Simenon

101. Henry VI, Part 3, William Shakespeare

[lillylvjy]

I’m making another post and tagging the Wilbur soot tags because fuck this.

cathers-world does not deserve to be worshiped and praised for the terrible shit they do. STOP IT.

[dewdr0pz]

Wilbur talking about YN at a concert and YN just happened to be streaming and chat told her. Then once wilbur gets back from tour (theyre roommates) YN mentions it and wilbur gets all flustered 🤭

💬 Everybody Talks Too Much 💬

Summary: Wilbur was talking about Y/N at a concert and Y/N happened to be streaming & her chat told her. Then, once Wilbur gets back from the tour, Y/N mentions it & Wilbur gets flustered AF

A/N: guys go follow @joviepog, they're basically one of the reasons you guys get fanfics. Also, this title was based off of a song called Everybody Talks :p

pairing: CC!Wilbur x afab!musician!reader

pronouns used for reader: She/her/hers

tags: @vibestillaxxx @joviepog @ax-y10 @themonsterunderurmom @wilburstan @smolsleepykitten @funnyreally2009 @crows-death @thewheelersgaygaragelights @dykepunz @aresriiots @0miamor0 @cathers-world @defonotval @chipch0p @mazzistar16 @unmellowyellowfellow @justalittlebitofchaos @thosecolorfulsheets @vopix @taylors-version-from-the-vault @aine-lasagna @merianakross @veeislost @urfav-sapphic-siren (pls let me know if you do/don't want to be tagged!)

warnings/cw: reader & Wilbur getting flustered, swearing, mentions of whimpering audios

proofread?: *aggressively shakes head*

genre: fluff

word count: 455

"Do we have to steal Wilbur's YLYL rules again, chat?" You said to your chat with a laugh. "It seems like Wilbur's the only one who can tame you feral fuckers." You were doing a YLYL stream & your fans thought it would be a funny idea to try & send whimpering audios through MediaShare. You were not amused. Just then, a different video had been sent in. You were very prepared to pause the video or have the mods remove it, but you then saw your roommate Wilbur in the video.

"What's this?" You asked with a raised brow. You read the caption of the video, which read, "Wilbur was talking about Y/N during one of his concerts!!!!" You felt your face get hot.

In the video, Wilbur had just finished a song & he said to the crowd, "Guys, I forgot to mention, but shoutout to my roommate Y/N, because they stuck around even though I forget to pay rent half of the time & I bother her with my dumbass rambling! So, yeah, respect for my pretty hot roommate!" He said it so easily as if it were nothing. As if he didn't just call you hot.

"...interesting," you mumbled. The chat was blowing up with 'lol' messages & comments about how red your cheeks were. You didn't really care because you heard a knock at your bedroom door. You were home alone.

"Uh...come in?" you said to the knocking at the door. Wilbur then opened the door. "Wilbur?! You're back from tour?"

"Yeah," he smiled. He became Beardbur again during the tour & he looked very tired. "Sorry, I didn't tell you. I wanted to surprise you."

"Nah, it's fine," you said. "I was too busy to pick you up anyway."

"Wow," Wilbur said sarcastically, placing a hand over his heart & scoffing. "I can't believe that you would prioritize your streams over me!"

"Oh, piss off," you laughed.

"What're you doing?" Wilbur asked, looking at the webcam. He looked at the video & raised a brow.

"We're doing a YLYL stream," you said. "& my chat sent a video of you talking about me during a concert."

His usually pale face went ten shades pinker. "Th-that must've been edited or something-"

"Wilbur, it's fine, I know you're madly in love with me," you said jokingly. He laughed awkwardly.

"Oh well, I'll leave you to your weird chat," Wilbur said as he quickly got up & left the room. You waved goodbye & saw that someone had subscribed & left a message along with the sub.

"WILBUR LIKES YOU! HE SAID SO DURING THE SHOW! I JUST DIDN'T SHOW YOU THAT PART!" The message said.

"...what?" You said softly.

[waiting-eyez]

All the intelligence and talent in the world can't make a singer. The voice is a wild thing. It can't be bred in captivity. It is a sport, like the silver fox. It happens.

(Willa Cather)

[mysticalsoot]

this is probably stupid but I feel the need to explain why I have blocked people so if someone asks why they're blocked by me, just send a screenshot of this post, thank you. i shouldn't have to justify this but I feel the need to. yeah this probably makes me problematic but, the block button is meant to be used and it's better I block and stay then delete my account.

vibestillaxx; interacted with cathers-world as a minor (not their whole fault but made me uncomfortable), excessively sought my attention and in general made me uncomfortable, after I blocked them here they went to my agere account and did the same. this was more so for me than anything, I wanted to be comfortable in my space so I blocked them.

haunted-headset; same situation with cathers-world which made me uncomfortable. I simply just needed space from it.

cathers-world; this one's self explanatory but I'll give background. interacted and talked to minors repeatedly about sexual topics without thought on what they were doing, writes really gross shit sometimes, supports ddlg and reblogs things of the like.

ogelizasoot; made me uncomfortable as well as I believe interacted with minors on adult topics as well but I think that was brief yet still public sooo.

drop-of-void; personal issue. still think they're a cult leader but that's just me.

wilbursprincess; the recent issue of letting minors in their nsfw server and not doing anything about keeping those minors separate from the content.

you can block me or unfollow me, I don't care just please understand if someone is blocked it's for a reason. i don't just use the block button willy nilly, I promise. if you can't figure out why you're blocked, do some introspection and kids PLEASE be safe!!