#i am not okay with this fanfiction

[comically-callous]

stanlry barber from ianowt X gn reader cuddle headcannons please 🥺🙏

I am not okay with this MENTIONED!!!!!

Stanley Barber Cuddling Headcanons!!

A/n: My requests are open. And, y'know... If you wanna send in stuff for ainowt... That'd be cool

I'm sorry guys, but the first time y'all cuddle, it's PAINFULLY awkward 💀

He's shifting around while trying to get comfortable, he doesn't know where to put his hands, he doesn't know whether or not you want him to talk so it's just silent the entire time

After the first few times, y'all get the hang of it, though.

I don't think he'd be a spooning guy.

He's not opposed to it, but he won't be the one initiating it.

He likes holding you while you're facing him. That way you can either put your head on his chest, or shoulder, or he can just look at your face ❤️

He doesn't like cuddling in silence. So, he's either rambling to you the whole time, or you guys have music/a movie playing in the background

If he can, he'll play with your hair.

LOVES HAVING HIS BACK RUBBED

But, be careful. If you rub his back for an extended period of time, he's falling asleep

Btw, he moves around a lot in his sleep So, if y'all fall asleep cuddling together, do not expect to wake up in the same spot you fell asleep in

Guys I'm going crazy for this next one

He'll hum into your ear while you guys cuddle.

Why am I cooking?

If you guys are laying down and you get up to go get something he's like "wait, wait, wait, what do you need?" And he'll get it for you himself

If he's a high, he gets way clingier.

But, he's also real giggly. So, you guys will be laying together and he’ll just start laughing.

If you ask him what he's laughing at, it takes him a good minute to stop laughing so that he can actually talk.

And he just giggles out some random bullshit like "poison sandwich"

His silly, weirdo, loser rizz works on me 😋😋

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[whatkindofnameisella]

can you believe that we have fanfiction. that we have websites dedicated to fanfiction. that there is a place that you can go and read tens, hundreds, thousands and thousands of pieces of writing that strangers have made. people who are not "writers". people who come home at the end of the day and have feelings and say, i am going to put that into words. i am going to share those words. short, long, sweet, sad, horny, funny, wonderful words. we are all just human and we all love to make and remake and share that with others. can you believe that.

[ecstarry]

Always / a precious moment of comfort / @star4daisy

“I hate when we fight.” Regulus’ tears had finally stopped. He was used to arguments, confrontations, yet whenever he picked up the slightest change of tone in James, Regulus panicked. He felt a knot in his throat, and as if he had no control, tears streamed down his face.

“I know, love. Me too.” James pulled him closer, he lifted him just enough to place Regulus on his lap, he held him tightly. “I’m sorry for making you cry, I really am.”

Regulus rested his head on James’ chest and didn’t speak until his breathing returned to normal. “It wasn’t you.” 

"What do you mean?"

"It's not anything you say, it's just—James, I'm terrified of losing you. And that fear overwhelms me every single time." Regulus hesitated, afraid of revealing just how much he cared. He had grown accustomed to the warmth that James brought into his life, and the thought of the perpetual cold that his absence would bring was unbearable.

“You won’t lose me, Regulus.” James spoke softly to his ear, holding him as closely as their bodies allowed. 

"One day you might leave, and you might grow tired of fighting, or of me. James, what if you never come back?" Regulus' voice cracked, soft sobs escaping his lips. "I can't see my life without you in it anymore."

"Baby, will you look at me?" James gently lifted Regulus' chin, meeting his teary eyes with a gaze of absolute devotion.

"I will always come back to you."

Regulus' heart skipped a beat. For all of James' sweet offerings of assurance, this felt like the most precious one. "Really?"

"I promise, love." James intertwined their pinkies and, without breaking eye contact, kissed Regulus' finger.

Regulus finally breathed. He would always have James. He would always come back to Regulus.

[horsegirlsodapop]

uhhhh ponyboy going to college and feeling ashamed of his strong(er) oklahoma accent. watching tv and studying the way people's mouths move to try and erase it. him coming home and darry and soda thinking he sounds like a stranger. do y'all get it.

[blindmagdalena]

The Undone and the Divine

18+ 2k lady homelander x f!reader. pwp, wlw, loss of virginity, fingering, cunnilingus, dirty talk, pet names. written for an anonymous requester. 🖤

To kiss, to taste, to devour. Homelander is as close as the world will ever come to knowing what it's like to walk among gods. She's powerful, petulant, all consuming, and she knows exactly how to show you the pearly white gates of heaven.

Touching Homelander is akin to holding fire in your palms. It’s something that should be impossible, and yet time and time again she returns to you, her every muscle thrumming with the barely contained power of a god. There’s a ceaseless wonder to it. 

Even so, nothing could have prepared you for this. For seeing all of her. She’s radiant in her beauty, her body lithe and free of blemish. The light behind her head gives her blonde hair an angel-like glow, and the press of her lips on yours is nothing short of divine.

You’re both stripped bare on her bed, your respective clothes shed in a trail from the bedroom to her couch, where kissing became heavy petting.

The mirrors surrounding you make this feel like a shrine dedicated to the woman over you, and you whisper her name like a prayer between kisses.

“Your heart’s pounding like a drum,” she murmurs, kissing the salty-sweet sheen of sweat from your neck. “You’re all full of adrenaline. Don’t tell me you’re scared,” she says, her voice a feline purr.

“A little,” you admit breathlessly. “I’m not good with pain.”

She knows you’re inexperienced, though you’ve been purposefully vague on how inexperienced. Just thinking the word “virgin” is enough to make you cringe inwardly.

Lifting herself up to meet your gaze, she tilts her head, flaxen hair falling over her shoulder. “It’s not supposed to hurt,” she tells you, touching your lips with the pad of her thumb. “That’s a stupid lie told by stupider men. I won’t hurt you.”

You press a kiss to her thumb. “Maybe not every time, but… What about the first time?”

Understanding dawns in her eyes. You flush, averting your gaze.

“Is that how it is? Well, I’ll be damned. My sweet, pretty girl,” she croons, somehow both warm and wicked in the way she nuzzles at you, laughing softly. “My little virgin.”

“Stop,” you groan, covering your face with both hands.

“Ah, ah, there’s no hiding from me.” Homelander easily pries your hands away. She dives in to kiss you, coaxing your lips until they move with hers. 

“No shame. No fear. No pain,” she says, her palms sliding slowly down the length of your body. She settles herself between your legs, your knees hiked up over her hips. 

“Well… Unless it turns out you like a little pain.”

You bite your lip, watching her with a mix of thrill and apprehension.

“Here’s the thing, sweetheart.” Her middle finger drags a slow line down between your breasts, over your stomach, her lips softly parted in focus.

“Your hymen? It’s not a seal. It’s a liiiittle arc of tissue,” she says, voice too light and casual for the way her fingers are now traipsing down between your legs. 

“It doesn’t need to tear. It doesn’t need to bleed. Not if we take our time,” she says, eyes flickering up to your face. Her lips curl into a devious smile. “Not if we get you nice and wet.”

Your breath catches as she slides two fingers down either side of your clit, rubbing so close to where you want her to touch you most.

“It’s not just about the clit. Not about what you can stuff inside it. No one without a pussy is going to understand, but all of this”—she follows the outer curves of you, skirting your quivering cunt—“is part of the show.”

She swallows up your shuddering breath with a hungry kiss. For as long as you’ve known the taste of her lips, Homelander has been hungry. She’s a devouring force, always eager to envelope you. To hoard you for herself. 

What’s new to you now is the urgency behind her fervor, how she moves with jagged impatience even as her fingers stroke with maddening slowness.

The juxtaposition of the two is enough to have you writhing under her.

She slips her tongue into your mouth, beckons yours to move with hers.

“Touch me,” she urges, words hot and quiet between your mouths.

Your hands move to obey before you even process her words. You cup her face, push your hands into her hair, nails scraping her scalp for the way it makes her sigh in pleasure. You let your hands roam without rhyme or reason, stroking and learning every part of her.

Though her skin is satiny, the flexing muscles beneath are as coiled steel under your hands.

There’s nothing as thrilling as so viscerally feeling the strength of her in her every movement, and knowing through that just how unbelievably gently she’s handling you.

It makes your clit throb even harder, aching to be touched.

She leans over you, bracing her hand on the headboard, and you seize the opportunity to kiss her neck as she had yours, peppering kisses down her throat to her clavicle. She hums sweetly, cupping the back of your head, encouraging you with the scrape of her nails.

You suck her petal-soft skin gently at first, and then harder. You’d leave a mark on any other, but not her.

“That’s it, baby,” she sighs. “Use your teeth.”

You bite. Hard. For as gentle as she needs to be with you, you must be rougher for her to really feel you. You imagine it must be little more than a tickle for the sweet way it makes her laugh, the sound of it throaty and full of need.

“Atta girl,” she moans, tracing circles, teasing you terribly. 

You feel yourself clench around nothing, hyper aware of how empty you feel. How much you want those fingers inside you. That pulse between your legs is radiating throughout your entire body, turning every inch of you into a live wire.

“Please,” you keen, shifting, trying to angle your hips so that you might feel her where you want her most. “I’m ready, please.”

“Fuck, sweetheart. You beg pretty,” she says, leaning back. 

Her cheeks are flushed a pretty shade of pink, her hair disheveled by your hands. A lance of pride moves through you; it’s not every day a mere mortal debauches a god.

With a wicked curve to her kiss-bitten lips, she presses her thumb to your sensitive clit.

“Do it again.”

“Please!” You gasp, bucking under her touch. “Please, please, it’s so–I’m so sensitive.” 

By the time just the tip of her middle finger presses into you, the wet squelch of it is audible, even with your shuddering gasps. However, much to your dismay, she lifts her hand away.

You make a confused, indignant noise, but any further protests die on your lips as you watch her suck her two first fingers into her mouth, her scorching blue eyes dark with thirst.

She wets them thoroughly before returning her hand between your thighs, dropping back over you to kiss the faint trace of your own tangy flavor into your mouth.

“Even better than I imagined,” she says between kisses. You wrap your arms around her neck, so taken by the press of her lips that the slip of her finger catches you by surprise.

You gasp, but she hushes you.

“Don’t tense up on me now, pretty girl,” she says, her voice little more than a rasp. “Let me in.”

You nod, letting out a calming breath, fighting to let go of the tension in your body.

She focuses her attention on your neck, kissing her way down to the swell of your breasts. She nips playfully at your left nipple before taking it properly into the heat of her mouth. She gives a pleasant hum, the vibrations of her voice making you shiver with pleasure.

You push your hands into her hair, down her neck, cupping the back of her head to cradle her there, squirming between the skill of her fingers and her tongue. Her first finger slips into you with such ease, the curve of her finger pressing on your inner walls actually surprises you.

She was right. There’s no pain, just the sweet fill of her inside you.

“More,” you gasp, grinding down on her finger. “I want more.”

Though she doesn’t succumb immediately to your demand, she does distract you with the faintest scrape of teeth over your nipple. She sucks, swirls her tongue and pulls off with a wet pop only to descend upon your other breast. 

Goosebumps erupt across your body at the sudden temperature shift. You’re focused on that when she does slip a second finger in, and this time you do feel a slight ache for the stretch of it. Still, it’s nothing compared to what you had built it up to be in your mind.

It feels amazing.

“You smell so fucking good,” she all but growls, kissing and nipping her way down your torso. “I need to taste your pussy.”

She manhandles you effortlessly into position, shouldering between your legs and sinking down onto the bed. It all happens so fast that you barely have a chance to process before that same hot, velvet plush tongue is pressing against your clit.

Your whole body jerks, but she holds you in place with just one hand. Her fingers rock in and out, curling in on every deep plunge. Her mouth had felt good elsewhere, but it’s unreal between your thighs.

She laps and sucks at you, swirling her tongue in nonsensical patterns, drinking you down with abandon. The sound of it is obscene, easily heard even as you moan aloud your pleasure.

“Oh god, oh my god, god, please, I’m–” you bite your tongue, pushing and pulling at her hair before you settle on pulling her closer, losing yourself to the building crescendo of pleasure overtaking your mind and your body.

The pressure of it is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced before, an ache so intense that the pressure of it crawls all the way up your spine.

Your vision goes white. Your body locks up and your voice disappears somewhere far away, leaving you aware of nothing but the overwhelming release that crashes against you like the ocean against the shore.

The pleasure isn’t centralized to your clit the way it has been in the past: this orgasm spreads to the tips of your toes, your fingers, your scalp.

Homelander soothes you through it, her hand sliding up and down your inner thigh, her fingers fucking you slow and steady. She laps lazily at your clit while it throbs and throbs, nuzzling in with a pleased noise.

When you regain use of your fingers, you detangle them from her hair so that you can pet her head, the world around you still spinning.

“Oh my god,” you echo softly, the words slurred around the edge. “S’never… been like that.”

“That’s because you’ve never been fucked by me,” she says, head turned to kiss your inner thigh, her fingers motionless inside you as she savors the fading tremors of your orgasm. As if reticent to feel the loss of your warmth, she leaves her fingers where they are even as she settles next to you, slipping her other arm underneath you to pull you close.

When she kisses you now, there’s nothing faint about your flavor. It’s heady and salty-sweet, made all the better by how languidly she licks it into your mouth.

The two of you spend a long while tangled up like that, taking your time coming down from the high. When her fingers do slip free, you feel the loss of them as keenly as any other.

“Aren’t you lucky I got to you first?” She asks, smiling against your lips. “To think you could’ve had your virginity fumbled by some jackass jabbing your taint with his dry, sad–”

“Okay, okay,” you laugh, pressing your palm over her mouth. “Yes, yes, you’re right. And crude. Thank you.”

She takes hold of your hand and kisses your palm, nipping playfully at the meaty part just below your thumb. She nuzzles into your hand and sighs, looking every bit the proverbial cat that got the cream, her eyes falling shut.

A little sting of insecurity bites at you.

“I didn’t take care of you.”

Homelander’s eyes crack open, one of her arched brows lifting. “You want to?”

You nod eagerly.

She grins.

“Roll over.”

[chio-chan2artbox]

Commission for @inators

Perry the Platypus from the fic Proselytization by @inators

Thank you for your support and enjoy your commission!

Note: Background was provided by inators

[mikalilys]

How I feel trying to explain the marauders fandom to people:

“So you know the marauders map right?? Have you read Harry Potter?? Yes? Good. So in the prisoner of Azkaban yk remus and Sirius? Yes Harry’s godfather and professor, well they dated, no not in canon, but you’re going to have to learn to throw away canon if you want to understand this. Oh the marauders map? Right uhhh so!! Moony, wormatail, padfoot and prongs, they’re the marauders and the main guys of this fandom. Did you know that they’re names go on the map in reverse order to when they died? Well anyway!! Those are their nicknames, their real names are Remus lupin, yes Harry’s 3rd year professor, didn’t they go over this in the book?? You were to busy paying attention to the plot? Oh. Well!! The others are Peter pettigrew (the one who betrayed james and lily) Sirius black (Harry’s godfather) and James potter (Harry’s dad) There’s a whole fandom dedicated to Harry’s dad and his friends? Yes.

Anyway I haven’t even gotten onto the Valkyries yet!! Who are the Valkyries?? Well-”

[backtofiction28]

I have a head canon that elf Rook wants to say I love you to Lucanis but she can't because she's nervous and she doesn't want to impose on him how much she cares for him. So she says "Ar Lath ma, vhenan" which is I love you, my heart in elvin and she brushes it off and says that it means good luck. But when Rook gets pulled into the fade Lucanis can't help but replay the last words she ever said to him cause he feels like she wasn't telling the truth and so he goes to find Bellara or Davrin and asked them what Rook meant and he is heartbroken again when he finally realizes the truth.

[ultravioletbrit]

“purple” - Jegulus microfic - @into-the-jeggyverse - 292 words

Regulus is sitting on the couch leaning with his back pressed against the armrest and James pressed on top of him.

James is leaving a trail of open mouth kisses along Regulus’ jaw, moving down to his neck. Regulus tilts his head to give James more access and he immediately takes advantage of it; nibbling, sucking, biting. He finds that one spot that he knows Regulus loves—the soft spot right below his ear—and he presses his lips to it before he sinks his teeth in, pulling an obscene moan out of Regulus. James circles the spot with his tongue to soothe it then presses more kisses there before he lightly sucks making Regulus whimper.

Regulus knows it will leave the most beautiful mark; light teeth marks surrounded by the perfect shade of purple and red. It might as well say ‘mine’ across Regulus’ neck. Regulus moans again just thinking about it. Thinking about seeing that mark every time he looks in the mirror. Thinking about everyone else seeing that mark and knowing who Regulus belongs to.

He loves that he belongs to James. Because James belongs to him too. It might be a little possessive but it’s also pure and passionate. Regulus loves the way they love each other. Loves that James knows he can put as many marks on Regulus as he wants and Regulus will wear them with pride.

The thoughts racing through Regulus’ mind make him groan and he quickly pushes James up so he can straddle his lap. He instantly attaches his mouth to James’ neck to give him a matching mark.

“Mine.” Regulus practically growls against James’ favorite spot—the soft skin where his neck meets his shoulder.

“Always.” James answers as he grips Regulus’ hips hard enough to bruise. More lovely marks for Regulus to cherish.

[ghxst-bird]

((I will never shut up about all the parallels in jjk))

[mentally-unwell666]

Me: I love Hannigram they make so happy

Also me, on my 5th hannigram fanfic of the day:

[leviraaaaaa]

It'd been years after the war.

You no longer had to fight anymore.

The ODM bruises had started to fade as you don't have to tighten the straps anymore, so hard that they dug into your skin. You don't miss the familiar weight of the gas tanks and thunder spears around your waist.

No more recovering only the remains of your dead friend. No more running for your life. No more corpses, no more blood.

You don't miss that life.

You've found your peace, a life with Levi.

You would have never thought it was possible. Not just you and him, but the whole concept of it.

That finally, you can sleep peacefully, without being scared of an urgent call that a wall was broken through. Though you'd still have nightmares but still. And even then it was fine because you had Levi now, to help you get through it. You no longer hard to curl up to yourself and try to calm yourself down, hug a pillow and sob silently so none of your dormmates wake up. You had Levi now.

Or the mornings, you think. The odd sense of peace, the feeling of safety. You can wake up beside him and stay in bed for as long as you want. You don't have to get up and search for your uniform. There's no training to be late to. You just curl yourself around him and watch him sleep, peaceful. And you get to watch when he'd woke up, sleepy sleepy eyes peering through and then arms wrapping around you tighter. He looks so vulnerable then. But you're glad, you think. That he can sleep like that now. That he feels safe enough to, safe with you. His dark circles aren't so visible anymore and he doesn't look as tired as he used to. He still can't get a full rest, but the insomnia isn't that bad.

Life had changed. And for the best. Peace for him and peace for you.

But try as you may, and oh dear God did you try, you can't actually forget. Can't actually leave the life you had spent so many years living behind just like that.

No, the scars never faded.

Souvenirs, you think. Reminders etched into your skin, reminders of who you were and what you've done and all that you pray to forget.

Yours stopped bothering you at one point. It used to. Once. Severely.

You'd stare at the bruises on your thighs for hours or the livid pale slashes along your arms or your stomach. Rough knuckles and calloused fingertips, the constant usage of ODM had left marks there too.

It's more the memories than anything that comes with it.

You used to think, how could anyone possibly look at this marred mess you were and still love you?

Oh but Levi.

He never told you but you knew.

He thinks it's not enough. That he's not enough. That surely you deserve someone with all their fingers, and both their eyes.

And you think it's ridiculous.

But even now, after so many years, you'd sometimes catch a glimpse of him staring at himself into the mirror, fingers grazing his face.

The world had been so cruel to him. And he didn't know how to be kinder to himself.

Unlike you, who cried it out, he never learnt how to actually handle his emotions. So when it's one of those days, he merely shuts himself out. In his own dark little mind. And those days, you leave him alone, because he only curls into himself deeper if you try to get him out. And you learnt to give him space, for him to come out on his own. Though every inch of you wants to help him, but you don't know how.

And it was one of those days, you realized when you walked into the bathroom.

He was staring at the bathroom mirror, arms braced on the counter. So focused he didn't even hear you coming.

"Levi?" You called out gently.

He didn't answer, but his head tilts towards you, eyes shifting to meet yours. He only gives a slight nod.

"You... okay?"

"...yeah." He takes a moment but nods. "Fine."

And it was then you noticed how hard his fingers gripped onto the counter. And you noticed his expression, the look of guilt there. How he wouldn't even look at you properly.

Your heart hurt.

If only he understood.

You didn't say anything but walked towards him. And without a word, you slide on top of the counter, shifting so he was standing between your legs. You locked your legs behind him, pulling him closer. He was startled but he didn't say anything, his eyes downcast.

There was so much pain inside those gray eyes.

"Levi." Your voice gentle, soft. "Look at me."

At that, he only tilted his head, looking further away from you, eyes darting sideways.

"No, look at me." You held his chin, turning his head towards you. He flinched at your touch, but you could see the resistance breaking under your gaze. The walls coming down.

With that, you held up your hair, tilting your head to show him a slash that went up to your neck.

"See this?"

He looked at you, confused. And without a word, you tugged on your t-shirt, taking off the clothing in one pull.

"What are you... doing?" He asked, warily. Eyes on your face. Even after so many years, he still got shy.

"No, eyes here lev." You said firmly. "See this?" You pointed at a scar along your elbow, then towards the bruises that ODM had left on your chest. " And this?"

He only stared at you, expression hard. His jaw tightened.

"Tell me Lev." You sighed.

"Does these repulse you? Creeps you out? Do you think they're ugly? Do they make you love me less? Or not at all?"

Levi looked horrified. He was immediately shaking your head, desperate to deny the words. How could you even think that?

"No." He said hastily, eyes wide. "No, what are you saying? Of course not—"

"So why on earth," You gently cupped his cheek, shushing him down. "Do you believe that yours makes me love you any less?"

Your thumb pressed along the scars on his cheek. They were white now, no longer blood red and livid on his skin as it was back when Hange stiched them up. You swallowed, pressing your forehead to his.

"What made you think," You whispered. "That these makes you worth any less levi? "

He didn't pull away, but he stiffened. His face hardened but there was a look of despair beneath his eyes. "That's not the same—''

"How is it any different?" You cut him out, your voice firm. "You tell me, I'm waiting."

He hesitated, staring at you. And then he looked down.

"...I'm crippled."

"Your point?"

"You deserve someone younger. Someone whole. Someone who's more than me."

"There's no one that's more than you levi."

"I'm damaged. "

"We'll fix it. I'll fix you. So, help me fix myself."

"I'll hurt you. I've already hurt you. I don't know how to be better than this. I don't know how to love someone. "

"You're the only person who have never hurt me. You make me feel more worthy than anyone else in this world ever could. And holy shit, if you can't," You whispered. "If you can't, let me. God, I'd love the shit out of you if you'd just let me. So fucking let me in Levi, don't push me away. Don't shut me out. You've done that enough in your lifetime."

And Levi was still. He was made out of stone. So hard, so rough, the edges so sharp. He tries to soften himself for you, but it goes against everything he ever taught himself his whole life and he doesn't know how to do that. He tries, but somehow it never feels enough. Not enough for you. And he wish he could believe that you didn't love him because you do and he could feel it. He can always feel it . Like the way you were looking at him and he felt so, so exposed.

It makes him feel guilty. Someone like you doesn't belong with someone like him. And he wishes, for once in your life, you'd stop looking at him like that so he could convice himself that you don't want him and he could walk away.

And he knows he makes you feel like you're not good enough, because he sees your sad expression when he locks himself out. But it's not you, he wants to tell you. God, you're fucking perfect and it's never you. It's him. He's the fucking problem. The space inside his head was so dark he was scared that just might be enough for you to leave.

But you. The tempt of it.

The warmth of you. You were all softness and gentless and goodness, so so kind to him and it makes him want to hold you tight and never let go again.

But somedays it gets so hard.

He isn't used to this. To show his feelings. To feel so bare in front of someone. Instinct doesn't let him.

He isn't used to feel so loved.

But he thinks he'd try. For you.

Because now that it's you, he doesn't know how to go back to a time there wasn't you.

"Levi?" Your voice pulls him out of his mind. Like you always did. His saving grace, his angel. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling you closer and he can hardly breathe.

"Don't give up on me, Levi." You whispered to his ears. "On you. On us."

@sad-darksoul @anxious-chick @raginginferno267

[sunofpandora]

Virago smut in a nutshell:

Y/n: let’s fuck.

Neteyam: i'm rearranging her guts but into nice shapes like hearts and geometric patterns maybe

[kalpeavaris]

how my creative life feels at the moment

[gentil-minou]

Wei Wuxian licks his lips and leans forward slightly, walking his fingers across the countertop aimlessly toward Lan Zhan. “You know, Lan Zhan,” he drawls, “A-Yuan says we’re both in the book.”

“Mn,” Lan Zhan responds, tracking the path of his fingers intently, “I am apparently Hanguang-jun, the moral upstanding hero.”

“And I’m the devious Yiling Loazu, who led you astray,” he smirks, peering at Lan Zhan through his lashes.

Lan Zhan meets his stare, head-on, lit from within like molten sunshine. “No,” he corrects, “not astray, Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian tilts his head, waiting for him to continue. His fingers stop their dancing, resting just inches away from Lan Zhan.

Lan Zhan shifts his own hand, bringing them even closer, their fingertips almost brushing.  

“The Yiling Loazu did not lead Hanguang-jun astray,” he says, eyes piercing as they flicker between Wei Wuxian’s. “They were partners, and…”

“Ah,” Wei Wuxian breathes, “the decent romance?”

Lan Zhan doesn’t answer, watching him closely. The pupils of his eyes have grown so large there’s only the tiniest ring of gold around the edge. He can see himself reflected in the black. He thinks he likes the version of himself that lives in Lan Zhan’s eyes.

They’re standing on the edge of a cliff, waiting for the other to take a step forward, bracing for a fall.

It should be terrifying, this sudden drop into something completely new, something entirely unknown yet so familiar. But Wei Wuxian is filled with conviction that no matter what, Lan Zhan will catch him.

It's as electrifying as it is calming, this certainty that here, with Lan Zhan, he is safe.

Wei Wuxian tilts his head to the side in a way he knows sets the unmarked skin of his neck on display. “I’m sure it was more than just decent, with a handsome hero like Hanguang-jun.”

Lan Zhan quirks an eyebrow, his gaze resting on the curve of Wei Wuxian’s neck, just as he’d hoped. "Handsome?"

“Well,” Wei Wuxian responds, tapping his index finger so it brushes against Lan Zhan’s fingertips. His skin is soft and perfect, just like the rest of him. “He isn’t wrong. You’re very handsome, Lan Zhan.”

“Really, Wei Ying?” Lan Zhan says, voice quiet and deep.

“Yep, definitely worthy of being compared to the beautiful Second Jade of Lan.”

“Is that so?” Lan Zhan shifts closer, the smell of him filling up Wei Wuxian. He smells so familiar, like something he knows intimately. Sandalwood, Wei Wuxian realizes, with sudden clarity.

Lan Zhan continues, “I would love to hear more about your opinion on my beauty and prestige, Wei Ying.”

“You don’t know anything about me, Lan Zhan. Why would you care what I think?”

Lan Zhan tilts his head, only just. “Do I need to? To want to know how your brain works?”

I commissioned this lovely artwork by the wonderful @lotuslate of a scene from my fic, once upon a time, 很久很久以前 where the entire cultivation world is cursed to live in the modern world without their memories and abilities, but of course wangxian find a way to fall in love all over again.