#hangover writing

[pa-pa-plasma]

I know the concept of more supernatural/paranormal elements is cool but it will never stop being funny to me that in every series ever, when a ghost shows up the main characters have to do rituals & research the history of the haunted item or house or even whole town & use specific items like salt & incense & talisman to banish the ghost all dramatically & supernaturally, but in Danny Phantom this kid just shows up with nothing but his fists, a thermos, & pent up aggression. put em the fuck UP, you ectoplasmic son of a—

[swiftviolets]

the morning after a record number of sazeracs

[sakuraspoke]

in nomine amori • copia & his sorella prediletta ✨️ 1.5k words in slightly disjointed excerpts. copia x (unnamed) f!oc. a little soft, a little silly, a little spicy. angst-adjacent at points? he just has a lot of feelings.

He's not accustomed to being touched. At least, not in any meaningful way. The weight of hands upon him has always meant something else: duty and demand. An endless expectation.

But then there is her.

He lets her touch his face when no one else can. Lets her cup his jaw, trace her thumbs over the faded remains of old wounds. The paints don't shield him from her; she sees through them, straight to the man beneath.

Sometimes, when he's tired, she cleans them from his face herself. When it's late and the world feels small and safe she takes a damp cloth against his skin, gentle and slow, and watches the shape of him softening. Turning from Papa in to just Copia. Her Copia, the man who looks at her like she holds his heart in her hand. It's a transformation she alone gets to witness.

Her hands move with a devotion that matches the expression in her eyes, and he catches her wrist to press his lips to her palm.

"You need not look at me like that, cara mia."

She tilts her head, still focused on the lines of his furrowed brow.

"Like what?"

"Like I'm something more than I am."

She takes a slow breath, brushing her knuckles along his jaw, and meets his timid gaze.

"I look at you as you are, my love – nothing more, nothing less."

⸸

When she kisses him, it isn't hurried or desperate. It's measured almost to the point of hesitance. She touches him as though he is something precious.

He has spent years feeling like an afterthought. But in her hands – in her quiet, steady love – he is known.

⸸

On the nights he sits alone in his office, drowning in doctrine and demands – she appears. Not always to speak, sometimes only to touch his shoulder in passing. A quiet reminder: I'm here with you. She'll straighten the papers strewn across his desk into neat stacks, knowing well he will ruin them again, and pour him a glass of wine.

"For the nerves," she says, and he exhales, exhausted and grateful.

"For my sanity, more like."

⸸

The clergy doesn't notice the way his eyes follow her as she moves through the halls, the softness in his voice when he speaks her name, or how he hesitates when she leaves the room, reluctant to be without her. But she sees. She knows.

⸸

The first time he undresses her is a moment of reverence. All careful hands and roaming eyes, gentle fingers tracing along her clavicle as the fabric of her robe pools at her feet.

"Quant’è bella," he whispers to himself, voice hushed and edged with awe. His hands tremble as they settle on her waist. "You are..." he shakes his head, words failing him.

"Tell me," she pleads, shivering beneath his touch. "Tell me what I am."

He looks her in the eyes and brings her hand to his chest, guiding her to feel the undeniable pounding of his heart.

"Mine."

⸸

She stands behind him as he readies himself in the mirror for mass, straightening his collar and dusting off his shoulders. Her fingers linger at the nape of his neck.

"You belong to them," she says, meeting his gaze in the reflection, "but you come home to me."

He turns with certainty and a pride that fills his chest, and presses his lips to her forehead.

"Always."

⸸

An involuntary, almost imperceptible whine escapes him as he envelopes her nipple with his lips, and her heart aches at the sound. She holds his head in her hands, fingers tangled in his hair as he sucks and kisses and inhales the sweet scent of her. Snaking his hands round her waist, he grips her tightly, fingers digging into her skin as though she'll disappear the moment he lets her go.

"You are my lifeblood, tesoro. You know that, sì?" he asks, voice shaking, and she looks at him with a softness that stops him in his tracks. The weight of the moment hits him and he closes his eyes, unable to look directly at her.

She knows the answer to the question, but she's not sure he knows that right now. In these moments of insecurity, he sometimes loses himself, loses grip ever so slightly of the certainty of her love for him. He needs her to ground him back into reality again, to speak her love into the air, into his ears, right back into his weary spirit.

"I know, my love," she sighs, gently cupping his fallen face in her hands, guiding him to look at her and gently rubbing her thumb across his quivering bottom lip. "And you mine."

⸸

He sighs dramatically as she plucks the pen from his fingers.

"Vita mia, amore mio, luce dei miei occhi," he says, punctuating every term with a gentle peck to a different part of her face — her temple, her cheek, the tip of her nose. "I am very busy."

"You’re very grumpy," she counters, tucking the pen behind her ear. "And in desperate need of a break."

Copia exhales sharply, "I do not need a break, amore... I need my pen."

"Your pen will survive five minutes without you."

He narrows his eyes but melts as she sinks into his lap and pulls him close, the scent of lavender that clings to her skin calming him with each breath. "Fine. Five minutes."

"Five," she agrees, and kisses him slow and deep. There is no rush, and no intention of keeping track of time. When they finally pull apart, breathless and dazed, she attempts to brush her now disheveled hair behind her ear.

The pen.

She laughs softly, mirroring his raised eyebrow with her own.

"Huh. I guess it did survive."

⸸

He tugs at his vestments, grumbling under his breath as she watches on in amusement, letting his torment linger for just a little longer.

"Cazzo," he huffs, struggling with the clasp at his collar. "This stupid button—"

She steps closer, batting his hands away, and he sighs, tilting his chin up as she works the fastening with ease. "I swear, these robes are trying to kill me."

She smirks. "Dramatic. Besides, I think you enjoy me taking them off you."

His lips curl into a grin.

"Perhaps."

⸸

He grips her hips as she settles over him, the firmness of his grasp betrayed only by the trembling of his breath. Candlelight flickers across his face, catching the faint sheen of sweat on his skin as his chest rises and falls in shallow waves beneath her fingertips.

"Amore…" he exhales, eyes fluttering shut as she drags her hands over his ribs, tracing her hunger into the soft flesh of his belly.

She leans in, presses her lips to the hollow of his throat, feeling the way he swallows hard beneath them. He always gives so freely, always wants to please, but tonight — tonight, she just wants him to feel.

"Let me," she whispers, mouth ghosting over his pulse, her hips rolling slow and deliberate.

His breath staggers as his fingers tighten against her skin. "Oh," he gasps, head tipping back. "Cara, please—"

"Please, what?" she murmurs, trailing her lips along the curve of his jaw.

His restless hands run up along her spine, his voice just a whisper as he pulls her against him.

"I don't know how to let you."

She stills, just for a moment, adjusting herself so that she's leaning over him, face to face. "You don't have to do anything," she says, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Just be here with me."

He looks at her then, eyes dark and pupils blown wide.

"Only you," he breathes, voice shaking. "Sempre."

⸸

"Long day?"

Copia sits on the worn stone garden steps, head bowed and shoulders curved inward like a scolded child. He isn't startled when she steps closer, nor does he look up – only exhales in amusement as she sits down beside him. "Something like that."

She doesn’t ask for details, doesn't push for more, she just leans in slightly, pressing her shoulder against his. For a while they sit in silence, and she watches the way his hands rest in his lap, his right thumb absentmindedly scratching at the palm of his left hand.

"I had a feeling," she starts, slipping a hand through her habit into the pocket of her slip. "So I brought you these."

He turns to look at her, brows lifting in quiet surprise as she pulls out a selection of wonky, mismatched cookies wrapped in parchment. Some slightly burnt at the edges, the others perfectly golden.

"I think I overestimated my abilities."

"Tesoro," he says with an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head as he takes them from her. "They're perfect!"

"Shut up!" she scoffs, playfully swatting his thigh with the back of her hand.

He grins as he takes a bite. "I'm serious," he says, a touch of gratitude hiding behind the teasing. "These are exactly what I needed."

He wasn't accustomed to being loved, not in a way that is patient. Purposeful. Enduring.

And then there was her.

[wynnyfryd]

Robin gloats at him over a stack of smiley face chocolate chip pancakes while a beam of sunlight through the diner window does its best to drill a hole in his head.

Fucking hangovers.

"Never. Drinking. Again," Steve groans around a mouthful of waffle. He rubs at his eyes, heels of his palms pressed gently to the throbbing ache behind his lids; gets a little smudge of syrup on his temple and can't even really be bothered to care.

"I can't believe you did coke," Robin says.

"I can't believe you smoked weed."

"I know."

Steve hesitates for a moment; nibbles a slice of bacon; swallows a sharp piece. He hasn’t tried weed again since... "Was it okay?"

"Yeah," she answers seriously. "Yeah, it was okay. It was nice, actually." Then she perks back up; runs a finger through the whip cream smile on her plate and boops some onto Steve's chin because she's an asshole. "Anyway," she grins with pancake crumbs stuck to her teeth, "it's officially time for you to fess up."

Ugh. Steve slides a glass of water her way, hoping she'll take the hint and swish. "Fess up to what?"

"To me being extremely correct?" She spears another bite of food; gives her fork a victory twirl. "You two are sooo disgustingly into each other."

"Shut up," Steve hisses. He drops his voice to a paranoid whisper, "Also, no, it’s not time to do that because we were only talking about... about him being into me."

"Steve." Robin looks him dead in the eye. Soul searching again; God, he hates that. Makes his armpits feel all sweaty.

He darts his gaze around the room, and Robin lowers her voice to match his volume and leans halfway across the sticky table so he can still hear. "You were literally giggling with your nose two inches from his belt line last night. But whatever you say, Sweetheart."

"Okay, no." Steve wags a finger in her face. "No. Absolutely not, you’re not allowed."

Robin cackles and tilts her fork so the sunbeam hits him right in the eye.

—

this is a cut scene from “i don’t know, you figure it out” and takes place between the end of chapter 6 and the start of chapter 7

[sicktember]

Sicktember 2024 Prompt-Based Resources to Help You Get Started! 💚

**Sicktember 2023 prompt-based resources can be found [Here]

Hangovers

What is a hangover [niaaa.nih.gov]

15 hangover horror stories [buzzfeed.com]

7 ways to cure your hangover [health.harvard.edu]

How to Write a Drunk Character [allwritealright.com]

Over Indulgence

Dealing with Food hangovers [health.usnews.com]

4 Ways to Stop Digestive Discomfort  [michiganmedicine.org]

I Ate Too Much. Now What Do I Do? [osfhealthcare.org]

Is It Possible… Stomach Explode? [popsci.com]

Campus/Con Crud

Crushing the Campus Crud [hercampus.com]

So What is Con Crud  [granitcon.com]

Coming Down With the Crud  [bmhsc.org]

Rogue Organs

What Is Appendicitis? [hopkinsmedicine.org]

Gallbladder Removal [nhs.uk]

Tonsillectomy [mayoclinic.org]

Spleen Problems and Removal [nhs.uk]

Dizziness/Vertigo

Understanding Vertigo [on.bluecross.ca]

Types of Vertigo [acare.abbott.com]

Dizziness vs. Vertigo [cornerstonephsio.com]

Medieval Treatment

Medicine in the Middle Ages [ncbi.nlm.nih.gov]

6 Medieval Medical Practices [guavahealth.com]

Healing Power of Maggots/Leeches (Modern) [mountainview-hospital.com]

When Medicine was Humorous [merryfarmer.wordpress.com]

Mononucleosis

About Mono [cdc.gov]

Mono For Teens [kidshealth.org]

How to Test for Mono [mountsinai.org]

Sick People Food

What People Around the World Eat When Sick [businessinsider.com]

Sick Day Foods Across the Globe  [nyubiteclub.com]

8 Best Foods to Eat When Feeling Sick [forbes.com]

Toxin/Poison

Poisons and Toxins [sciencelearn.org]

Poisoning. What The Doctors Do [thedoctorwillseeyounow.com]

Common HouseHold Poisons [cincinnatichildrens.org]

FAQs Carbon Monoxide Poisoning [cdc.gov]

Brain Fog/Spaced Out

What is Brain Fog [everydayhealth.com]

Understanding Brain Fog [henryford.com]

Causes of Zoning Out [verywellhealth.com]

Aches And Pains

What Causes Body Aches When Sick? [uclahealth.org]

5 Tips For Writing About Physical Pain [louiseharnbyproofreader.com]

Hypochondriac tendencies

Illness Anxiety Disorder [my.clevelandclinic.org]

Signs You May be a hypochondriac [centerforanxietydisorders.com]

10 Health Anxiety Myths  [happiful.com]

How To Write Anxiety [writerscookbook.com]

Anaphylactic Response

What is Anaphylaxis  [betterhealth.vic.gov.au]

Anaphylactic Shock: What You Need to Know [healthline.com]

Waiting Rooms

What happens in the emergency department [advocatehealth.com]

Triage and Emergency Assessment  [ncbi.nlm.nih.gov]

Setting Description: Emergency Waiting Room [writershelpingwriters.net]

Summer Flu

Can You Get the Flu in the Summer? [verywellhealth.com]

Leisure Sickness  [avogel.ca]

Catching a Cold When It’s Warm [newsinhealth.nih.gov]

Heart Condition/Cardiac Arrest

Types of Heart Attacks [www.healthline.com]

Common Heart Conditions [summahealth.org]

What Does a Heart Attack Feel Like? [health.clevelandclinic.org]

How to Describe a Heart Attack in a Story [writingtipsoasis.com]

Pulling a Ferris Bueller

Define Pulling a Ferris Bueller [urbandictionary.com]

Ferris Bueller’s Day Off Summary [gradesaver.com]

10 Things Ferris Bueller Taught Us [dailyedge.ie]

A Note From the Mods [Tumblr Post]

Sick While Traveling

Take Steps to Stay Healthy While Traveling [cdc.gov]

Motion Sickness [sciencefocus.com]

How to Remove Vomit From Car Interior [wikihow.com]

Sick on Vacation Tips [apartmenttherapy.com]

Hospital Bed

How to Write a Hospital Scene [writersdigest.com]

Hospital Bed Components & Safety [robsonforensic.com]

9 Way to Help When Someone is Hospitalized [upstate.edu]

First Aid Kit

Make a First Aid Kit [redcross.org]

Travelers First Aid Kit [hopkinsmedicine.org]

Health Plan and First Aid for College [uh.edu]

Flushed Cheeks

Causes of Facial Flushing [verywellhealth.com]

What Can Cause Flushed Skin?  [medicalnewstoday.com]

Doctor's Note

Obtaining a Dr Note for Work [inhersight.com]

How to Get A Dr. Note for School  [solvhealth.com]

[radarsteddybear]

Writing fic set in the past is a constant struggle of "Wait, did that exist yet?" *checks Google* "NOOOOOOOO"

[laswells-ashtray]

Does Nik do anything for John the day after he visits his mother's grave?

The day after visiting his mother's grave John knows he fucked up. The big flashing "you fucked up again, moron" sign presents itself in the form of his head leaning over the toilet as he vomits for the umpteenth time that afternoon. He can see a little blood which means he's been retching hard enough to tear the inside of his throat, again.

Nikolai is being far more gentle than he should be. Instead of treating John like the idiot who fucked up again he's treating him with care. He brought him a glass of water a while ago and John knows there's a plate of crackers with two painkillers next to it on his nightstand.

He spits out another mouthful of bile, leaning back and slumping against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall before the smell leaves him gagging. There are hands on him in an instant, one brushing the sweat-soaked hair from his face as the other wipes around his mouth with a damp cloth.

"Are you done?" Nikolai questions him quietly. He can't bring himself to look in the Russian's direction as he makes a vague noise of acknowledgement. He has no clue and he doesn't feel like moving to test it out.

He can't remember a lot from the previous night and trying only hurts his head more. He went to his mother's grave, he went to a bar and then he woke up and dragged himself into their bathroom to spare Nikolai from watching him vomit on the bedroom floor.

He hasn't been this hungover since he was in his twenties and that morning he woke up on Mac's bathroom floor next to a pool of his own vomit that the Scotsman had been forced to clean. He had never apologised for that incident and he still wouldn't, that was the captain's fault for offering to pay for shots.

The hand that moves his head to the right is far more careful than he deserves. "Do you want to talk about it?" Nikolai's face is deliberately blank and it almost frustrates John. He wants to see the other man lash out at him, call him a stupid wanker and leave him to his suffering. It's the least of what he deserves.

"No. I don't- I can't." John's father would've taken a belt to him for how shaky his voice is, for cutting himself off in the middle of s sentence like that. Nikolai just nods and trails his thumb across John's cheekbone.

He chooses to believe that the reason Nikolai eventually turns his head away is to avoid getting vomit all over their floor and not because he cares but because one is much easier to handle in his current state.

He also chooses to ignore the hand that rubs his back because he isn't sure he can handle crying while hungover as a grown man,

[shitouttabuck]

oh my god nina!!! 8 for the bedsharing prompts if it takes your fancy <33

thank you sweet peach this scratched an itch !!!

bed-sharing prompts: whispering “Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up.”

Eddie’s not old—he’s not even 30, despite the near-constant jokes about his senior citizen-isms he seems incapable of shaking. And he wouldn’t even say he’s a man of creature comforts. He just likes familiarity, and routine, and his own goddamn bed.

Quarantine has brought a lot of change: being away from Chris, living in a single-occupancy apartment with three other people, and sharing a bed with all six-foot-two of Evan Buckley.

Currently, this means waking up at some wretched hour and squinting in the moonlight filtering in through half-open blinds, because the aforementioned best friend has stolen Eddie’s pillow from right under his head yet again.

Eddie groans quietly, easing his neck out of the crick it’s cramped in. He glares at the enormous lump snoring serenely beside him and pats the mattress blindly for his pillow. Eyes adjusting to the dark, he’s greeted by the same sight he’s woken to at ungodly hours thrice this month already: Buck with his gigantic thieving arms wrapped happily around Eddie’s goddamn pillow as he clutches it to his chest, dead to the world.

“Fuck’s sake,” Eddie mutters, reaching out and tugging the end of the pillowcase to no avail. Buck’s vice-grip doesn’t falter even in sleep. Eddie’s usually able to coax it out of his grasp without waking him, but it takes a minute, and their last shift had been a full-body workout from hell, and Eddie just wants to go the fuck back to sleep with a single measly pillow supporting his exhausted head. Surely that’s not too decadent a luxury to expect.

He tugs again, harder and meaner than he normally would. The pillow inches out of Buck’s hold, and Eddie grabs a firmer handful to yank it away, grunting triumphantly when it pops free.

“Hrmmph,” Buck grumbles, crease appearing between his eyebrows. Eddie stills, holding his breath as he gauges Buck’s proximity to consciousness. He thinks he’s in the clear, but then Buck murmurs unhappily and rolls ever-so-slightly towards Eddie.

“S’your turn to be th’ li’l spoon,” he slurs, and Eddie freezes even further. “’M th’ big spoon t’night.” He pats half-heartedly at the mattress between him and Eddie, jaw going slack again after a few seconds.

Eddie grins, just barely containing the snort that bubbles up at Buck’s sleep-talking. There’s enough distance from Ali and even Abby, post-train debacle, that means he can wring weeks’ worth of teasing out of this. Whichever one of them it is Buck’s dreaming of, Eddie thinks multiple nights of interrupted sleep allow him a little good-natured—if merciless—ribbing.

He shifts onto his back, shoving the pillow under his head and shutting his eyes with a sigh, but the movement has Buck mumbling again. His face is mashed into his own pillow, words barely intelligible when he says, “Y’re littler than me. C’mon, lemme be big spoon.”

The snort sneaks out of Eddie then, just a bit. He barely knew either woman, but he can’t quite picture them indulging Buck in this line of conversation. It’s—sweet, if deeply mortifying for Buck himself to know anyone else has heard it.

Buck snuffles discontentedly, forehead scrunching as he reaches out in search of the pillow, still asleep.

“Oh, you are going to be very embarrassed when you wake up,” Eddie whispers, wondering if there’s more entertainment about to be provided and if it’s worth getting up to unplug his phone and catch the tail end of this on video.

“Urgh,” asleep-Buck responds, patting the bed a little more insistently when he’s unsuccessful in his pillow-retrieval endeavours. “Wh’re—c’mere. Eddie. Y’re li’l spoon.”

This time when Eddie freezes, it’s such a sudden locking of every joint in his body that his neck cricks in the opposite direction. He barely feels it, singularly focused on Buck’s latest garbled complaint, because—is Buck awake? Is Buck dreaming about him?

He’s frozen so still he doesn’t realise Buck’s questing hand is now well in range of Eddie himself, and he jolts back into his body when Buck’s strong, calloused fingers wrap around his wrist.

“C’me back,” he whines, tugging at Eddie while shuffling closer at the same time. Eddie holds himself carefully still, hardly daring to breathe as Buck slowly but surely plasters his long, long body along Eddie’s side, hitching one leg over Eddie’s thigh before flinging an arm across his torso and dragging him nearer.

“Mm,” he hums, brow smoothing out. His cheek rests on Eddie’s shoulder, face smushed but seemingly satisfied. Eddie’s arm is trapped between his own side and Buck’s stomach, and he worms it under Buck’s body almost on autopilot, more to get comfortable than anything else. This leaves him basically cradling Buck to him, and Buck gives one final happy grunt before burrowing his face into Eddie’s neck and going limp, a dead weight over Eddie’s right side.

Eddie makes his fingers relax where they’re clutching the back of Buck’s t-shirt. This is—fine. Normal and fine. So Buck isn’t dreaming about cuddling an ex-girlfriend, he’s dreaming about holding Eddie. They’ve been living out of each other’s pockets more than usual recently, leaning on each other a little heavier through a global pandemic and missing Christopher. Eddie’s told himself it’s because of constant proximity, and maybe it is, but whatever the reason, if Buck’s subconscious is embracing that vulnerability in this way, that’s fine. He’s an affectionate guy, and while it’s relatively new for Eddie to be on the receiving end of that from another man, he’s not one to shy away because of someone else’s archaic ideas of masculinity.

And—hold on. Y’re littler than me? Was that what Buck said? Eddie huffs indignantly, and then huffs again for different reasons, feeling his cheeks heat. He doesn’t know why, but he pulls Buck a little closer.

It’s still normal and fine, he finds, turning his head to press his nose into Buck’s curls. That surprises him a little, that there’s no freak-out of any kind accompanying—whatever this is. Buck smells like vanilla, because he used Chim’s fancy shampoo that’s actually Maddie’s fancy shampoo because both of them are missing her something fierce, and he’s definitely drooling onto Eddie’s neck, and now that he’s not sleep-talking he’s back to snoring like a motorcycle, and Eddie’s slipping under before he can marvel any more at just how normal and fine it all is.

When the moonlight is swapped for sunlight, Eddie stirs to Chim singing along to radio in the kitchen downstairs. Buck blinks awake right alongside him, cheek imprinted with creases from Eddie’s collar and turning pink as he hastily peels himself away.

“Oh, um, sorry,” he says, voice rough with sleep. He contorts his body in surprise trying to roll off Eddie’s arm. “Did I—sorry, Eds.”

Eddie works his arm back under Buck, easy and deliberate. “S’fine,” he yawns. “It was my turn to be the little spoon.”

In his peripheral vision, Buck turns a brilliant red, and Eddie gives him a reassuring squeeze before taking great joy in telling him just how embarrassed he should be about the contents of his dreams.

(Buck’s mortification is blessedly short-lived, since the contents of Eddie’s dreams are equally embarrassing in the very exact same way, as it turns out.)

[imakatperson22]

OK, walk with me here:

So Buck and Eddie get married the night of the bachelor party as a joke but then the next morning they both have zero memory of it.

Jump to the season finale!

Buck and/or Eddie has to do something mundane but legally related (similar to how madney found out about their “tax fraud”) separately. They are confused the whole episode on why whatever they’re trying to do isn’t working and THEN at the very end of the episode one of them checks their mail and there’s a certified letter and they open it and it’s their marriage license and you just get an “oh shit” look and then fade to black.

DO YOU SEE THE VISION?

[b1mbodoll]

thinking about dom! wolf hybrid! momo, g!p.... she would be so cute in a moment and in the other?? oops... she is fucking the reader like crazy.....

pairings: hirai momo x f! reader

warnings: hybrids + g!p + creampies + breeding + knotting + biting + a/b/o dynamics

💌: so sorry for the late reply my love </3 i hope this is to ur liking and lmk if u enjoyed it !! ^^

it’s easy to forget momo’s not an overexcited puppy, her nature as an apex predator only showing when she fucks you.

she lets you get away with a lot of things because she’s a sucker for your cunt and soft pout when she tries punishing you. it’s somewhat laughable how whipped the wolfgirl is, but who can blame her for letting you off easy if it results in her fucking you within an inch of your life and you calling her “alpha”

“slow down, momo” you plead, cunt spasming around her length as she works it deeper, the tip kissing your cervix with each thrust.

she pays you no mind and continues her movements as she slots her face in the crook of your neck, sharp canines planted deep in your skin.

the pain causes you to squirm and she growls at you before slamming her hips against yours roughly in an effort to prove ber dominance.

“momo! alpha, calm down,” your whines only serve to spur her on, “it hurts.” you add.

she doesn’t let up for a second, not until you’ve climaxed at least three times and then you feel it.

her knot beginning to inflate drives you crazy, legs wrapped around her hips to pull her even closer as her semen floods your womb. “oh god, you’re such a good alpha. always makin’ sure im well bred n makin’ me feel so good.”

your praise goes straight to her dick and it makes her cock twitch inside of you as a content whine escapes her, the noise slightly muffled due to her teeth still stuck in your neck.

after reaching her orgasm momo begins to rut against you, her knot causing shocks of pain when she moves too fast and you know she’s far from done. she won’t stop til your cunt is gushing, her thick cum pooling on the bed as she fucks it out of you

[butteronabun]

diluc driving a car… protective diluc driving you home after a night of drinking with your buddies… diluc driving manually… diluc’s biceps flexing while driving… diluc reprimanding you for drinking too much when he knows your tolerance is so low

diluc having an unimpressed expression throughout but you can see in his eyes that he’s just concerned… diluc assisting you to help you get into your apartment… diluc gazing at you with such fondness when you apologize and drunkenly confess that you appreciate him so much, after he hoists you in his arms…

diluc huffing when you jokingly call him a grump… diluc allowing you to pinch his cheek during your rambles with a soft and tiny smile on his face as he takes you to the elevator…

diluc making sure that you’re comfortable when he gently drops you onto your bed…

diluc malfunctioning after you pull him close and peck him lightly on the lips, before passing out—

[elkkiel]

I'm so fucking exhausted today i'm having a hard time literally just operating my computer at work ;w; taking cuddle applications because I'm planning on hibernating for a year and it might get lonely :(

[diazsdimples]

Several Sunday Sentences

It's actually Monday but here's a tiny bit more of Dosed from my Sleepy Mornings Fic. I've started the second morning but it doesn't seem to be flowing as well and chances of me getting anything done before Tuesday or Wednesday what with my test today and birthday tomorrow, I figured I'd share a little bit more of this. Cause they're dumb and I love them.

Tagged by @spotsandsocks @evanbegins @smilingbuckley @thekristen999 @elvensorceress @rainbow-nerdss @wikiangela and @daffi-990 thank you friends!

“Whassthetime?” he slurred, fumbling for the alarm clock on his bedside table. Buck winced as Eddie knocked it to the ground, the loud bang as the plastic hit the wooden floorboards reverberating through his skull as if someone had clanged a pot next to his ear. “Too early,” Buck replied as he flopped back against the pillows. “How did we get here?” Eddie gave up on the clock and collapsed over the side of the bed with a huff of frustration. Buck turned his head and was met with the bare expanse of his best friend’s shoulder and back, the covers having slipped to just above Eddie’s waist. It was definitely the drugs and dehydration that made Buck’s mouth go a little dry. “I don’t remember,” Eddie whined as he slowly rolled back over to his back with a groan. “Last thing I remember was Athena bringing me home and someone throwing up in my bathroom –“ “That was me, sorry,” Buck winced apologetically. Eddie’s gaze rested on him, and he saw a flash of amusement through the sleepy haze behind Eddie’s warm, brown eyes. “Well, I figured it wouldn’t have been Athena, that would have been unprofessional to say the least,” Eddie smirked as he slowly pushed himself to sit, propping himself up against his pillows. Buck watched as Eddie took a few deep breaths, his face draining of colour as he swallowed thickly. Recognising the signs of someone imminently about to lose their lunch, Buck swiftly grabbed the trash can from the side of the bed, ignoring the way his own stomach lurched at the sudden movement, and thrust it in front of Eddie’s face.

Tagging @theotherbuckley @hippolotamus @watchyourbuck @thewolvesof1998 @disasterbuckdiaz @puppyboybuckley @bucksbackwardcap @fortheloveofbuddie @aroeddiediaz @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buckbuckgoose @exhuastedpigeon @cal-daisies-and-briars @wildlife4life @slightlyobsessedwitheverything @nmcggg @alliaskisthepossibilityoflove @kitteneddiediaz @epicbuddieficrecs @actuallyitsellie @spagheddiediaz @loserdiaz

[w1ngedsoul]

going on your honeymoon with phil...

warnings: mentions of sex, sexual themes

requests are open!

You both had booked the Bahamas as your chosen honeymoon. Soaking up the sun while sipping on a cocktail sounded like paradise, so why not go ahead and book it.

Alan had almost tried to come as well, he hadn't actually looked up the definition of honeymoon and assumed it was something that friends could tag along to.

Unfortunately, you had to break the news to him on the day that you were leaving even though you felt terrible to see his excited expression fade.

He even brought a whole suitcase as well 😭

Phil just told you that you did the right thing and that he was relieved he wouldn't have to spend the next week with a living man-child.

Before you had even arrived at your destination, you had dragged Phil to the plane bathroom, claiming you couldn't wait another ten hours.

During these plane activities, a flight attendant had knocked on the door and demanded you both step out of the bathroom.

Enter the walk of shame.

Getting to your hotel room was easy, except for the lift up to floor fourteen.

We don't talk about that lift ride.

As soon as you entered that room, Phil had you pinned you down on the king-size bed and ravished you for the first time of that evening.

Then you went to a nice little restaurant where you met the locals, although Phil cut one of your conversations short by taking you to the bathroom and ravishing you for the second time that evening.

And then for the third time, when the food was taking a little long to arrive...

Throughout the course of the week, you and Phil had turned off your messages so you'd have no distractions so you could full relax with each other.

Honestly, being on honeymoon with is a god send 😩

@bradleybeachbabe hope you enjoy! 🤍

[writing-intheundercroft]

February 1899: Precious cargo arrives in Cairo

“I have a feeling you’ve been waiting quite some time for this particular shipment.”

Posted the last chapter of my long fic, When We’re Older, to AO3 this past weekend! Thank you to everyone who has been with me along the way, and thank you thank you THANK YOU to @myokk for illustrating Theo and Seb’s reunion 🤍 You can read When We’re Older in its entirety at the link below!

[heavilycaffeinatedsblog]

reading tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow and I need a palette cleanser so mf bad…. expect something new within 48 hours