#i had a fic i've been wanting to write for a while abt that. maybe i could incorporate that into the au....

[wereh0gz]

Hmm

What if I make shadow go through black arms puberty in project: new moon

[hannieehaee]

First of all 'closer' is one of the greatest svt fics i've ever read. I could just feel all the wild butterflies aaaaaaaaaa and I still reread it from time to time

Also I've been thinking about mean dom jeonghan a lottttt. So can I request dom jeonghan x reader with like lots of nipple play (idk how you feel abt anal but if you're uncomfortable no need to add it!)

Feel free to scrape this if you're uncomfortable or simply not interested <3

18+ / mdi

content: softdom!jeonghan cuz im really bad at writing doms oops, nipple play, smut, dry humping, anal fingering and anal penetration, afab reader, teasing, jh is an asshole lmao, etc.

wc: 1427

a/n: thank u so much!!! thats my most popular fic haha i had no idea people would like it this much but it makes me so happy<33

a/n 2: also can u tell idk anything about anal oops</3

masterlist

"told you not to argue back, baby. now look where your bad behavior got you."

every word that left his lips did so condescendingly. had it been anyone else (or even under a different context), you wouldve argued back, protected your dignity.

but this was jeonghan. and you were sitting between his legs as you suffered through every one of his touches.

maybe suffering was a bit harsh, but that's exactly how it felt at the moment. his hands had not stopped their torture in the past hour, alternating between circling your clit and finding their way north and on your nipples, liberal in the way he pulled and twisted at them.

endless whines and breaths of frustration left you (meddled in with sounds of genuine pleasure), which you were sure went straight to the length currently pressed up against your back.

"you know this isn't the worst of it, right, baby?", he taunted, "wait til i get my hands to even more fun places. or when i finally put my mouth on you," you could hear the mischief in his voice.

and soon enough, he made good on his word. before even realizing what happened, you were on your back and your gremlin of a boyfriend was smirking above you as he leaned down to kiss at your chest.

it started off slow, soft, just as everything did with jeonghan. but it evolved into teasing and eye-watering. his lips wrapped around your nipple, eyes still on your face as he sucked at it. soft wafts of air were let out against your skin as he breathed through his nose, mouth too occupied on your tits.

"you're so fucking soft, baby. so pretty," and despite the teasing, he continued to be sweet to you.

the juxtaposition between the pleasure from his words and his lack of finesse while sucking at your tits made goosebumps form on your skin. your hand found his hair, pushing him closer, wanting more of both the softness and the harshness.

"love when i play with your tits, don't you, baby? naughty thing," he chuckled, finding your other boob.

meanwhile, his hips had been grinding into your own, molding against them while he entertained himself with your boobs. one of his hands laid itself next to your head to hold himself up while the other played with your neglected tit. you were thoroughly stimulated, yet you knew jeonghan would somehow try to go even further.

and you were proven correctly when his hand left your boob to find its way between your legs. but unexpectedly to you, instead of moving to play with your clit, he bypassed it to reach lower. your body followed with his silent desire, scooting up to give him access.

it was unspoken. his mouth remained occupied with your chest, leaving it more raw and sensitive by the second. his fingers found your hole while you were distracted by his mouth nibbling and pulling at your left nipple, gasping out at both the sudden intrusion and the bite.

"like that, baby? shit, so tight for me. can't wait to see how tight you'll be around my cock," he breathed out as if picturing it.

it didn't take him long to find that spot that had your eyes rolling back. and in usual jeonghan fashion, he made liberal use of it, taking turns in stimulating it and missing it altogether just to get you to cry out in frustration.

"god, you're so easy, baby. i can touch you anywhere and you cry," he chuckled, "such a sensitive little thing."

with his lips still on your chest, he mocked your moans between flicks of his tongue. it was too much. your breasts were overriding with sensitivity, but it felt too good to tell him to stop. you couldn't make a sound anymore. all that left you were hiccuped gasps or silent whines.

at every whine leaving your lips, jeonghan hummed into your chest, encouraging the sounds you made for him and even mocking you at times. it was so frustrating, so damn annoying, but it felt too good for any words of complaint to actually leave your lips.

"you know i won't make you cum, right, baby?", and his fingers suddenly left you. you could feel a smirk and the vibration of a cackle against your tit.

your whine of complaint was only met by a bite to your nipple, making you whine even louder.

"tsk, it's so hard having such a whiny girl begging me to touch her 24/7," he feigned annoyance, "but, maybe if you get on all fours for me, i might consider fucking you," he said it with a patronizing tone that made you want to sock him in the face, but you knew your body.

and so when he distanced himself from you, you willingly turned around, using your elbows for support as you lifted your hips up for him to take into his hands, positioning you against his crotch and teasingly grinding against you.

"see what a good girl you are? you deserve a reward, angel."

instead of reaching into the drawer for the usual condom, you heard the clacking of items as he blindly pulled out a bottle. you heard him struggle to open, letting out a few very jeonghan-like sounds as he opened the lube and squirted out a generous amount on his hands.

being the annoying tease he was, he made sure to slip his fingers in once again, muttering some half-assed excuse that he wanted to check just one last time to see if you were ready for him. your complains were met by a squeeze of your hips and a childish bite to your left hip.

"be good, baby. you were being so good, don't stop now," he tsk'd, "i'll give it to you now, okay?"

it wasn't often that jeonghan made use of your other hole. it was usually saved for special occasions. something about wanting to enjoy it as an extra treat every so often. some very jeonghan reason.

it was a bit of a struggle, but you were always reminded of how worth it it was when you'd hear his moans of struggle as he attempted not to cum within the first few seconds inside you.

"always so tight through here, baby. fucking strangling my dick," he sighed, "but you're ready for me, right, pretty? need me to fuck you now?"

you wailed at him when his hand rounded you, teasing at your clit as his hips began to move behind you. the angle must've been a little awkward for him, but he made it work. he made it work far too good.

"oh god, baby, fuckin' made for me, huh?", he groaned out.

the room was filled with jeonghan's occasional whining and the rhythmic slapping of skin. you were mostly mute, only crying out when he decided to hump at you extra hard in hopes of that exact effect.

"can never last when you're this tight," he whined, "so mean to me. always making me cum so soon," he complained in between thrusts.

he became frantic then, pushing you further into the bed, resulting in your head pressing up on the comforter and drooled. you were a mess, but you were comforted in the fact that jeonghan wasn't likely to be faring any better.

"hannie ..." was all you could mumble as your words muffled. you wanted to warn him, but he knew your body so well that he already knew.

"i know, baby, me too. let go, angel," he sighed out one last time.

you might've blacked out a bit. or maybe he did. perhaps both. it wasn't long til you found yourself lying on that exact same position, except jeonghan was no longer inside you but rather doing his weak attempt at flipping you over so you could cuddle him despite the mess forming between you.

"you make this so hard for me when you pass out," he grumbled jokingly, finally getting you to nuzzle into his neck.

his lips kissed at any area available, even ending up at your arm and sternum at some point. he didn't usually care as long as he was kissing you.

"then don't fuck my ass, you idiot," you bit at his arm, earning a 'wah!" from him.

"brat."

"says you."

he chuckled, giving you a peck on your lips this time.

"i'll give you five minutes before another failed attempt at cleaning you up," he warned.

"sure, old man."

and that earned you a bite in return.

[marthawrites]

Could you write smut for Aemond targaryen with the prompts 17,40,44,47,53 and 54 maybe with a targaryen reader? Just something gentle, sweet and soft <3 btw I’m talking abt this prompt list

I absolutely can! Apologies for making you wait since January for this. I hope you're still around to see (and, fingers crossed) enjoy it!

"Vok" (Perfect)

Aemond Targaryen x sister reader

Word count: 2.6k+

About: You and Aemond pledged to each other long ago. Tonight, beneath the blanket of darkness, you revel in each other's adoration.

Includes: SMUT. Featuring brother x sister incest, Aemond is soft but only to his little sister, dirty talk, female masturbation, guided masturbation, praise, unprotected vaginal sex, and a splash of breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! It's been a hot minute since I've wrote Aemond - the posters and trailers have me going (affectionately) insane! Triple warning: this fic is brother x sister targcest. If you do not like that KEEP ON SCROLLING. This is my first time writing this dynamic. Reader is implied to have silver hair, pale skin, and purple eyes. Everything else is up to you! As always, I hope you enjoy this fic! ❤️

-

To the realm, Aemond Targaryen was the cruel prince. Aloof, stoic, unforgiving.

To the realm, he was an ambitious and willful young man who rode Vhagar, the largest and oldest dragon in the world–the same dragon who helped Queen Visenya conquer Westeros.

To the realm, he was the second son of King Viserys. And, as such, would play the game of nobility by putting duty above love–marrying outside of his Targaryen lineage to seed dragons further into the world.

To you, his little sister and second daughter of King Viserys, he was your protector. 

Your secret.

A poorly kept secret in some corners of the castle; nosy servants and their obnoxious fucking tendencies. But, with Aemond’s less than idle threats about cutting the tongue out of anyone’s throat who would speak about it, it ended up being a well-kept secret.

The second son and second daughter of the Dragon King; who better to love, and cherish, and pledge to, than each other?

Aemond would sooner die than see you marry off to some lowly lord of a “great” House. You were the blood of Old Valyria. Everyone–no matter their feats–was lowly in comparison to you. And you, his sweet sister, deserved only the best.

Barely a year separated your ages. Neither of you remembered a life without the other.

Long before you gave your maidenhead to your brother you gave him your heart. And your heart he held.

-

The night was late. These dark hours were some of the only unadulterated times you had together. Aemond kissed you slowly, passionately, gently stroking along your cheeks with his thumbs as he did. You were tangled in his bed together. You, stripped down to only your shift, and him, stripped down to only his sleep trousers. One of your shift’s thin straps kept sliding down your shoulder, and each time it did Aemond’s warm mouth kissed over the smooth lovely skin. You panted soft sounds–each feminine simper jolting right to his cock–as he lavished you in affection. 

“You’re kissing me silly, lēkia (brother). My head feels full of bees and I’m hot. So, so hot,” you whispered against his kiss-swollen mouth. “Will you not feel for yourself?” He hadn’t yet made a move to touch you where you really, truly, wanted him; something that had you whining and pouting. While his hands alternated between stroking your face and groping your body–waist, hips, thighs–yours were buried in his hair. It was all down and free. The silken sheet of it spilled over his shoulders, spilled over you, and you relished the feel of it inside your hands. Against your bare skin. “Please?”

“Please what, hāedar? (little sister)” He asked, voice mellow with just the right amount of rumble from his chest.

“Please touch me,” you answered, back naturally arching to press your soft body against the hard planes of his own.

Another low sound came from him. He pressed a warm, wide palm up the perfect curve of your back until he squeezed into the nape of your hair. “Such a pretty word from a pretty mouth. Have my kisses made you ache with need, byka zaldrīzes (little dragon)?”

“Yes.” The single word, its single syllable, rolled off your tongue before your brain even fully registered his question. You stared at him desperately. One eye was so beautiful; so ancient in its color and proclamation, just like your own. The other reflected faceted edges of the sapphire he wore in place of his missing eye. You didn’t know which was more enchanting.

“How long can you go, hm? Without me touching you?”

“W-what?”

He laughed. A rumble beneath his pale, taut chest. “How long before you succumb to madness by me not touching your perfect cunny?”

“Aemond…,” you whined. Pitiful. “Not much longer! Please, lēkia, I need you, please.”

A serpent’s grin curved his mouth and darkened his eye as he shifted positions with you. Now, he sat upright with his back against his headboard and pulled you to sit in front of him. 

You nestled between his legs, your back flush with his chest, and his stiff cock rested against the small of your back. A blush bloomed beneath your cheeks. You knew lust ran as wild in his veins as it did in yours.

“Tell me, sweet sister…,” he started, whispering by your ear. Both his hands cupped and squeezed over your breasts. Their softness melted against his palms and he groaned at the sensation. Perfect. You were so fucking perfect. “Have you touched yourself to peak before?”

A stammer replaced the little mewl in your throat. “H-how do you mean?”

He laughed again, pinching your nipples. “Mm… are you sure?”

Lust and need and fire roared in your blood to the point of almost drowning everything else out. “I d-don’t understand,” you admitted. But, it was a lie. You knew what he meant. You could only hope he’d go easy on you so you wouldn't have to admit, prove, or say you knew what he spoke of.

“Why are you playing shy with me, hāedar? I think you know exactly what I mean. There is no shame in it,” he spoke sly, hands pushing the hem of your shift up until he held the material in a fist upon your abdomen. With his other hand he tugged your smallclothes down your bare legs, tossing them off. The flats of all his fingers ghosted over your exposed cunt. Testing you. Feeling you. He hissed an inward breath. “Fuck–”, he growled. “‘Tis a good thing I was born a prince. Gods know if I had this wet little cunt between my thighs I wouldn’t get anything done. Ever. For how often I’d fuck myself silly on my own fingers.”

Aemond’s vulgarity sent a coil of tension wringing in your belly. Slick arousal pooled hotter beneath his touch. Your clit throbbed–the little pearl silently screaming for attention. “Yes,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Yes, what?”

Your older brother wasn’t going easy on you. “Yes. I… I know what you speak of. And.. yes, I do. Sometimes…,” you admitted with a wave of embarrassment.

Somehow he grew harder against the small of your back. He throbbed. “Show me,” he demanded.

“What! Aemond, no. Please, please, please no. Don’t make me show you.” Mortification replaced your previous embarrassment. Yet, your spine quivered with another rush of liquid arousal.

“I would love nothing more than to see how you bring yourself pleasure. Do you think of me when you do, byka zaldrīzes?”

You nodded. Dizziness warbled your brain. 

“Such a sweet perfect thing,” he cooed. He'd felt that nervous energy tense you. He also saw the exquisite thrum of your pulsepoint beneath your neck, too. Two sides of the same coin: carnal desire. When he spoke again it dripped with wicked passion. “Don’t be nervous, I'll guide you through it.”

It had been quite some time since you last brought yourself to climax all on your own. Aemond was always more than eager to give you pleasure. Tonight, however, something was different. Idly you wondered what it could be. Before you thought about it too much, Aemond guided your dominant hand to that delicate space between your thighs. You gasped at the sensation of your own touch. Torture never felt so divine. Your little bud sang as you circled it, rubbed over it. You sighed sweetly. “How did you make me so wet?”

It took controlled effort to not spill himself across your back at that very moment. “Spread your legs for me, princess. Let me see and hear what you’re doing.”

You obeyed. With your legs spread wider, now, it was all the easier to resume your previous motions. Flicking and rubbing over your bud felt divine–excited little sounds already spilled from your mouth. You ached inside, too, wanting–needing–to be stretched around something. The memory of Aemond's long fingers pumping into you while his thumb claimed your clit had your face hot. You couldn't reach those same spots he could. You bit your bottom lip, whimpering.

Aemond watched from above with a hungry lecherous eye. Beneath your shift he could see your breasts, slope of belly… and then further below, your creamy thighs spilled wide open. Fuck–he was so hard his back hurt. Your girlish sounds sent his desire blazing. “Your little clit is so achy, isn’t it? I know how much you like it played with,” he said by your ear. “Do you ever go inside?”

You nodded, allowing your head to fall back against his shoulder. You stayed on your pearl, still, legs tensing with bliss as it warmed and tingled your blood.

“Show me,” he growled again. “Be a good girl. And afterward? Don’t worry, I'll take care of you. Promise.” 

Without hesitation you pushed two of your fingers into your warmth. Your body squeezed around the intrusion, inner walls flexing, trying to pull them in deeper. A gasped moan left your parted lips. “I-I’ve never done this before.” You’ve never shown anyone this before is what you meant. Aemond knew what you meant.

“I know. Shh… it’s okay, I'll guide you through it.” He gently touched the top of your hand and relished your little tendons flexing with the effort of your self pleasure. He pushed–coaxing your fingers deeper, silently urging you along. More. 

Soon the wet sounds of your hand against pink swollen flesh mingled with your moans. Lewd. Dirty. You tried to stay quiet. You really did. But it felt too good, and Aemond’s hand on yours guiding you along had your toes curling. Of course he would help you. Of course he wouldn’t let you do it all on your own. “Aem..!,” you whimpered, hips rocking with your movements. “‘M close.”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice heavy.

As soon as your fingers found that little patch of hidden nerves along your walls, you weren’t able to hold on much longer. The bliss, all at once, became too much. Tension snapped in your belly as colors flashed behind your closed eyelids. Your legs trembled at the tip of your peak, and as you crested downwards Aemond held you tighter against him.

“Vok (perfect),” he said as he watched you. How perfect you were with your silver hair framing your face. How perfect you looked when ecstasy became too much. How fucking perfect your eyes were as they opened and locked on his, bright and glassy with excitement. 

You carefully pulled your fingers free and began to turn around to face him. Before you could, however, he held you tighter against him. Confusion furrowed your brow and whatever you were about to say was cut off by his impatience.

“I’m greedy, byka zaldrīzes. Go on, one more time. I know you can do it. Show me again how you peak.”

Without arguing you again settled back against him. You planted your feet along the outside of his legs, spilling your thighs open wider than they were before. You angled your hips to the perfect position and this time a third finger joined your previous two. This time you fucked yourself without shame–not that you held on to it long in the first place.

Aemond all but snarled behind you, absolutely ravenous at the sight of three of your little fingers pumping and curling up into your body. He moved a hand downward, too, and the pads of those fingers worked over your clit in time with your pumps.

“Gods! Aem–!” You quivered against him. The addition of his lascivious attention had your hips squirming. Wanton moans, no longer trying to stay quiet, had your mind blanking. Nothing existed outside of you and Aemond. Nowhere existed outside of the spaces in which your bodies touched. Climax found you faster this time. Your second orgasm had you crumbling against him. Sweat sheened your brow. Your face bloomed. Sated. You were wholly sated.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Such a good girl. Giving me exactly what I wanted,” he kissed you, stealing your lips in a kiss that had you floating all over again. You could have fallen asleep right there in his arms and been the happiest thing in the realm. Breaking away, he added, “now I’ve a promise to make up to you, hm?”

Honestly, you’d forgotten about it. But, now that he mentioned it, your belly did a silly little flop.

With great care, Aemond moved from behind you and stood. Offering a hand to you, he said, “take your clothes off and lay on your back.”

And with that, you both finally shed the last pieces of your clothing. 

Laying like he said, you leaned back on your elbows to prop yourself up to still see your brother. Spilled messy hair, tall lean body littered with nicked scars, sapphire eye on full display…hard cock blushed angry red with need. They say Targaryen’s are closer to Gods than men, and with the hearth’s orange light reflecting on his ivory form, you believed him to be a God.

Aemond thought the same about you as you laid there bathed in the moonlight and hearthlight. 

“Spread your legs for your lēkia, I want to see you.”

As soon as you did–proudly showing off the slick mess of two climaxes, Aemond pumped along his rigid length. Despite butterflies twirling in your belly, your smile up at him was purely feline.

To Aemond’s credit, his voice only broke slightly when he said, “get on your hands and knees.”

You did. You dipped your spine as low as it could comfortably go, propping your ass up for him. As much as he loved fucking you with your legs wrapped around his waist, you knew he loved this position, too. “Māzigon va, lēkia (come on, brother),” you purred. “Keep to your promise.”

In an instant one of his hands squeezed harshly into the fat of your hip while the other spread the meat of your ass apart. He planted one foot firmly on the bed, and the other stayed rooted on the ground. The position gave him more leverage, and power, and control as he loomed above you. With a flex of his entire abdomen he pushed forward; the hot stretch of your body around him had both of you gasping. “I plan on leaving a babe in your belly tonight, hāedar. That way mother will have no other choice than to wed us,” he groaned, pulling backwards only to snap his hips against the smooth underside of your cheeks once again. And again.

You fisted the sheets as Aemond fucked you. You moaned your delight at his words, nodding. “Yes, please,” you panted. “Faster,” you begged.

His thrusts were precise and brutal. The slap of your smacking skin was utterly depraved and you hated–no, loved–how it made you impossibly wetter. Aemond did too. “Already squeezing around me? Fuck–I’m not going to last much longer,” he said, strained.

You began to push back against him, meeting his thrusts halfway with a frenzied need to make him release. “Fill me. Fill me up, Aem,” you still begged, breathing heavily. 

He rutted against you with the same need–a primal haze taking over as his stones began to tighten. His fingers dented firmly into your flesh as he continued plunging in and out of you. Instinct to spill his seed built by the moment and soon he became sloppy. He grunted and growled, and with a final shove–cock buried as deep as it could be inside your walls–he spent against your body’s end. Pulse after mighty pulse emptied his spend into you. Stray strands of hair stuck to a sheen of sweat upon his forehead.

You joined him in peak; left boneless and exhausted after three orgasms. Even at the top of your bliss, and his, he never eased until you were both done.

Aemond pulled his softening length out from you and urged you to fall forward upon his bed. You followed his motion and happily laid there. Naked, glowing, and full. You reached a hand out to pull him to you. “Avy jorrāelan (i love you).”

Aemond easily settled next to you, scooping you into him. “Avy jorrāelan tolī (i love you too),” he said between slow, satisfied kisses.

-

Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoyed, please consider a follow, and/or reblog, and/or letting me know as it all makes me vvvery happy! ♥

To be added or removed from the taglist, hit me up!

Masterlist

Main taglist: @watercolorskyy @melsunshine @girlwith-thepearlearring @arcielee @barbiedragon @targaryen-dynasty @succnfuccubus @fan-goddess @schniiipsel

Aemond taglist: @darylandbethfanforever9 @bellaisasleep @aemondsblog @khaleesihel @sirenofavalon @doublesparrows @aemonds-fire @nikstrange @abbyandizzysmum @rafeism @lost-and-founds @castellomargot @avidreader73 @snh96 @boofy1998 @connorsui

[aspergerasparagus]

Say have you ever thought on writing a fic abt human Frankies (and the consequences) and them for being like that for a day or two

Have a little bit of uh oh my rabbit bosses are now human, but still have ears. Oh and Henry is there. Just like Lucky's first meeting with them. Note there is 9 pages of this but I'll post the full thing to Ao3 as Real's part will lead onto a number of other asks I've recieved and that will not be posted here in full. For very obvious reasons. But regardless pls enjoy this little snippet. Link to the rest here.

Yawning Lucky made his way slowly up the stairs towards Frankie’s office the same as he did each morning, unless the rabbit decided to barge into his room to wake him up. The rabbit had mentioned he wanted to see him there bright and early as he had a surprise for him, which hadn’t filled the man with confidence. Any surprises Frankie had in mind would only spell trouble for him and he’d been trying to think of an excuse to get out of it. Of course he hadn’t been able to come up with anything that Frankie would have brought so here he was, climbing up into the unknown. Wished he’d at least gotten a coffee beforehand. 

As he neared the top he heard voices coming from behind the closed door. Pricking his ears up Lucky just just about make out Frankie’s voice but then another two. One sounded like Henry, which was unusual, the phone never really left his maze, and the other sounded similar to Frankie’s but a lot more aggressive. Puffball? How on earth was he there? There weren’t any TV’s in that room so maybe he could communicate through phones too? Frowning, Lucky went to knock on the door before the sound of sudden movement behind it made him wrench his hand back. Just in time too as the door was suddenly yanked open and an unknown man faced him.

“W-who-?!” Lucky had barely a moment to react as the man lunged at him. Instinctively Lucky jumped back only to slam into the railing behind him, his feet catching on themselves as he suddenly felt himself begin to topple over the edge. Yelping he tried to grab at the metal bars but he hadn’t regained his balance and soon felt his stomach lurch as gravity took a hold and he felt himself begin to slip over. 

“Lucky!” 

There was a sudden tight grip on his arm as he was forcibly yanked back over crashing to the ground in a heap. Gasping Lucky glanced up as he found himself surrounded by a group of unknown men, all of them looking down at him. Lurching away, he slammed his head against the railing earning a tirade of cursing as the men chuckled.

“Easy there Lucky. It's just us.” The familiar voice caused Lucky's head to snap up as one of the men approached him and knelt down in front of him.

“F-Frankie?” The man smiled, overjoyed that his little contestant still recognised him. 

“That’s right! I knew you’d still recognise me like this~” Taking his hand, Frankie pulled him to his feet and dusted his little contestant off.

Little might have been an understatement now. The 3 of the other men must have been at least a foot taller than him, making Lucky start to feel even more like he was surrounded by a bunch of hungry predators. Swallowing nervously he inspected them all properly, trying to gauge who was who. Of course “Real” Frankie, or The Other, had been the one to save him, so that was easy enough. The man, well actually, Lucky didn’t think he could call him that as now looking at him he took note of the large pair of rabbit ears that adorned his head, popping out of the magician’s hat like they used to when he was an actual rabbit. The same could be said about two of the other men, who wore similar hats with ears emerging from them and given the stark height difference between them both he assumed the taller of the two was “Monster” Frankie, while the shorter one (hell he was shorter still than Lucky even like this) must have been “Cartoon” Frankie. That only left the other man who was nervously standing back from the group, but with the familiar red suit Lucky guessed that he must be Henry. Damn, even being human he looked exhausted…

Lucky was suddenly pulled from his thoughts as Toon stepped forward, a condescending smirk on his face. 

“Seriously, you see a handsome man and you nearly fall to your death as a result. How embarrassing~”

“Oh excuse me for being fucking terrified of some random bloke launching themselves at me you twat! Speaking of which what the fuck is going on?! Why are you guys like…that?!” Lucky could only gesture towards them as Toon puffed up at the insult while Real just chuckled behind him. 

“Well the higher ups were working on these for us for a while now, seeing as you’re making us quite popular with those little streams of yours. So what better way to boost those viewership numbers then by making us some more…appealing bodies~ We do have a very specific clientele coming to the streams after all.” As he spoke Real made his way back in front of Lucky, presenting himself properly so his lucky contestant could get a good look, obviously hoping to impress them. Lucky being Lucky however he didn’t take the bait.

“So, you’re not human?” Scowling ever so slightly (a very strange thing to see from him seeing as Frankie couldn’t before), Real just sighed and nodded, a little put back that his money maker wasn’t playing this up like he’d hoped.

“No, still a robot just with organic-esque parts, hence how I was able to catch you.” Rolling up his sleeve he revealed the metal hidden beneath, coiled metal similar to how his old arms looked, if only more tightly compressed to give the illusion of a normal arm.

“...You guys look really creepy.”

“No we don’t you fucking asshole! You’re just jealous that we’re even better looking than you now!” Toon got up into his face as he spoke, poking him in the chest as Lucky just grimaced behind his mask. It was so weird hearing their voices coming out of these pretty, fleshy robots. Uncanny valley much. Real stepped in separating them both as Toon looked like he was about to start swinging, Monster just chuckled behind them amused by the whole thing while Henry just grimaced, obviously not pleased about the situation himself. This was starting to become a bit much so seeing his chance Lucky turned and booked it down the stairs.

“L-Lucky?!” 

“Nope I’m not dealing with all of this right now! This is way too fucking weird!” With that Lucky bolted towards the exit. He really should have gotten his coffee this morning.

[octoberautumnbox]

Happy Anni-box-sary!! :DDDD

Whew! It's been a year since I've started writing on this platform (and in general fsgsdjkfghjadskfh), and what a wild ride it has been. Ups and downs scattered throughout the year, but I really wouldn't have it any other way :uwuge:

All that said, let's move onto the box 2024 recap!

Yuri fics I've written: 8

Fly in the Night Trip

Love in the Night Train

Juicy Juicy

Friday

Adrenaline

Enjoy

I Got All I Need

Like It Like I Love It

buncha drabbles I didnt count, some of them fluff, some of them angst, all of them box 📦‼

Yuri fics other people have written: 6

@fillinforlater's Friends that can Keep a Secret

@birchleavesdawn's Bitter Taste

@xshadowdelta's Former Manager pt. 1: Back in Town

@usedpidemo's Cruel Flower

@prael's Reality

@leafostuff's Operant Conditioning

Non-Yuri fics I've written: 11

in my best attempt not to double count when there was more than one idol in the fic (lmao),

1 for soloist Chaeyeon

1 for Kiss of Life

2 for woo!ah!

2 for tripleS

2 for Kep1er

3 for fromis_9

Funnest fics to write:

Hell Week: despite not doing sins's prompt justice, I really did enjoy how I built Yubin and OC's character, even as the writer i fell in love with how sweet Yubin came to be, and while I do think the sex could have been fluffier, i do like how i wrote the ending :DDD

Cute and Caring Noona from Apartment 424: i think deep down inside i knew the apartment thing was gonna come back, even at the time, though i had to promise myself it wouldn't be a series. Yujin and Xiaoting are still a killer duo i'd love to write but it wouldn't fit that well with what i've decided on what the apartment fics will be, instead i'm going with the direction that The Sultry and Pervy Soda in Apartment 307 went and go from there

Like It Like I Love It: EASILY my top 1 from this year. it was everything reader box would have wanted in a yuri fic: a casual relationship, a possibility that there's something more in it, hot sex (literally), and just the right amount (maybe a bit too little) of showing off babygirl yul. i really hope this isn't peak box but going back to why i started writing in the first place, which is that i wanted to see more quality yuri fics, this was something that if i were still a reader would have sated me for at least another year. good job box!

Idols/Groups I've come to know:

Kiss of Life: I think they debuted before me? I noticed Natty first bc ofc I did 😭 but quickly fell in love with how Bobsky just vibes so well with them aaaaaaa

tripleS: I started paying attention around Girl's Capitalism but I knew of them since Generation. I still know only like ten of them and still need to look up whether they're of age or what number S they are but I've written the group thrice now so worth :DDDD

Kep1er: zozi was tough for wizones and I'm not exception, so there was a lot of animosity to this group starting out. I only really started loving this group because of choiyuj, and it was me falling in love with that tiktok that cookies n seggs noona was ever made and it's been upwards ever since

Collabs:

One Heck of a Joyride with @leafostuff: simultaneously this took way too long and not long enough LMAO we started in Feb and released in May, if u can remember Best Job Ever and Like It Like I Love It came out in May too so that was hectic for me. but it's my first and to date only long fic and I hope someday to surpass it in terms of word count and idol nuguness :sitt:

Prompts:

@i-am-lifeform24's Curated Companions: this first major prompt I took part in, where I wrote Dito Muna Tayo :nolookk: it got me attention I didnt know how to feel abt (I still don't tbh) but it was a major step in the right direction to temper my expectations of myself: it reminded me to write for me

@msafterhours's Seasons: this was a major L for me jfkgjslahhf I wrote A Little Goes a Long Way, misunderstanding the prompt "Seasons" for "Seasoning" and making a cooking fic instead. it was a great laugh with him tho, and a memory I come back to fondly

@mintwithchoco's Favorite Song: I wrote Orange-Tinted Sunset with Sticky in mind but promising mint I'd break Belle's heart lmao, at the time my current favorite song switched from that to Nothing and it all just fell in place. I had the idea a long time ago for Haneul but this was the perfect chance to broaden my horizons yet again, and to my dismay it proved @0cta9on right that I kinda was okay at all three genres of fics that touched on after all :bearlazy:

Growth:

can't remember if I said it out loud on the tl but im not a serious writer! that just means that I dont consciously aim to improve how I write and I'm totally fine with the skills and style I have now, and any exp gained or skills learned is has been passively achieved

that said, I'm really so so happy with Fly in the Night Trip and Love in the Night Train. In my first ever fic i said i wanted my next work to be a smut, and that i would be able to write more of what i wanted on my blog soon. Enjoy was both of those, and i even got to write so much more of my ult bias throughout the year and then some. you could call it self-serving, or as @capslocked so eloquently put it, unconsidered readers, all of you. :sitt:

thats why im really happy to be able to come full circle with another fluff in Love in the Night Train, because i feel like it concludes such an awesome year in such an awesome way. id tell 2023 box that just keeping at it wouldve worked out so well, but the extra effort to write just a tiny bit better, to listen to @midnightdancingsol's advice, to stick with it even though work fucked us up (and still does) is going to be well worth it

Hiatuses: 2

ok obviously im not as proud of this one. but each time i did, it was me reevaluating how I run the blog and what sort of stuff I'm getting myself into. it was well worth taking a step back from writing and just figuring out what exactly I wanted to do, and the breaks did wonders for how I paced myself.

these were me asking myself questions that struck the very core of how I conduct this cacophony of a kpop smut blog. it made me aware of arbitrary rules I was holding myself to, and gave me a chance to do away with them. everyone has to clear out their inventory every once in a while, and these were mine :DDDD

Everything else:

ive stopped tracking notes bc I learned since I occasionally write nugu and non-smut to never expect 100+ and I'm always pleasantly surprised when I get there slfjglah but yeah, there's better things to keep track of like what I did above

these are what really matter to me: yuri, writing, and the community i've become part of. while I do think the 1022 club is a fun milestone to celebrate, anything else is a bit more work than i care to make a separate post about (except maybe on bluesky lmao)

at my core, im a glassy, a true fan of the little ball of sunshine that is jo yuri. i keep saying that as long as im able to make one of you lovely readers a fan of her too, i'll know i'm doing good! so to all you box followers, all you honorary glassys, please tune in to yuri! she just released her tenth(!!!) OST entitled Spring Days Pass, will appear in Squid Game season 2 which premieres on Dec. 26 on Netflix, and is bound to have a comeback lined up soon :cuteplead: please join me in supporting her! :DDDD

Aaaaand that's it I think? A wild ride for sure, and I'm happy to have spent it here doing what I love. Hopefully all you readers also show greater support to my fellow writers and friends on here, and as always, stay tuned for more box fics in the future!

Thanks for reading, and see you all in October Autumn Box season 2!!

[joeloverture]

ok, more on this because apparently i have to say all of this. if responding to it makes the hate worse i honestly could not give less of a fuck about it than i already do. i am here to express myself so u best believe that is what my ass will be doing!!

this is gonna be a bit long and a bit winded bc ive been keeping this close to my chest for a while.

i genuinely don't fucking write for an audience. if i was writing for an audience you'd have never seen me post fair's fair. you'd have never seen me writing flesh currency! i write what i want. when i'm horny. when i want to make other people horny (i guess?). when i feel like it. when im healthy enough to do it.

no my fics are not the magnum opus. no they arent being strung up in the goddamn louvre. that isnt what im trying to do. i juice joy out of my fanfic writing and am KIND enough to put it on the internet for others to enjoy if they so wish. nobody is holding you at gunpoint to read my "shit writing".

fanfic writers either dont post enough or they post too much you really, really gotta pick one.

i spent like 5 months on hiatus in debilitating pain and was in and out of the hospital for a few weeks out of those months. i couldnt even write a goddamn diary entry. you have no idea how happy i am to have my creative voice back.

its... my winter break. of fucking course im writing lol i dont have anything else to do!!!! there's nothing else id rather be doing because i actually like this!

id rather write as a hobby than crank out anon hate, personally. maybe that's a me issue?

then, a bit more on identity and the role of identity in all of this

ive had to start counting the amount of anons i get with hateful slurs in them. since coming back i've been called the r slur. the f slur. the c slur. the b slur. everything in the fucking book. not only is it uncreative, its regressive.

y'all either dont like me because im annoying or blatantly showing autistic traits or outspoken abt being marginalized or bc you dislike my writing or because you have absolutely nothing better to do (the latter of which is particularly pathetic)

regardless you are weaponizing my identity to either try to terrorize me in general or drive me off of this site. think about how weird that is.

also so many of these asks are laden with an undercurrent of ableism. like, oh my god, the disabled girl is posting a lot ! woah! holy shit! call the fucking news outlets!

oh my god, the disabled girl is showing autism traits on main!!!! should we call autism speaks? should we invite sia?

this isnt even me defending myself, i feel no obligation to defend myself against these fuckers. i just did want to arrange my thoughts for the dash. sometimes talking helps me compose that sort of thing.

[healer-pop]

U know what I been thinking abt.....an aphrodisiac fic. I've got it all written out in my head, reader and Sloane are out camping. They are having a good day, set up camp and while gathering wood reader gets poofed in the face by a flower (sporess ooo). Sloane laughs their ass off, and reader is a little peeved getting spores all over themself.

Fast forward, dinner is being cooked and reader starts to feel weird. Hot, high, and really bothered!! They go into the tent to hide, and Sloane knocks on it saying dinners ready. Reader never comes out tho and Sloane goes in to see them sweating, hot and almost sick looking. Sloane tries to tend to them, a wet rag and asking what's wrong are they sick?? The second Sloane touches reader tho...they mewl. Almost a whine that creeps out of the back of their throat. Super sexy sounding. Sloane chooses to ignore it because they think reader is sick... it's just them being sick.. yes obviously.

Maybe Sloane helps them sit up to drink some water and the touch has reader grasping onto their leg HARD. Readers panting like a dog and got them bedroom eyes...

Was toying with the idea of Sloane and reader being best friends everrr with some huge unresolved romantic feelings. This is just the dam that breaks it all open. Obv all consent is given and gotten, and I think it was actually well talked out. Reader reassures Sloane they've wanted this for so long, but if they said no that they could forget it ever happened. I'm crazy insane I'm shaking the bars of my cage.

Googling, “can I sue the anon that wrote the hottest, absolutely most well thought out, mentally damaging fic in my inbox for emotional reparation?”

LIKE HOW DO U DROP THIS AND NOT EXPECT ME TO FROTH AT THE MOUTH???? Anon, I don’t know how you knew that sex pollen fics have always been my favorite but I do blame you for the fact that this kept me up last night!!!! mainly because this is so spot on and also why I don’t really get together fix with Venture, especially with my flowery writing, lengthy ass. That shit would be like 20K before you guys even touched. To me, Sloane is not the one to make a first move. And if you aren’t either, it’s just never gonna happen. Once you’ve actually gotten established, they’re super touchy and able to respect your boundaries, but before? They are wayyyyy too nervous, their biggest one being that they’re just overthinking your interactions with them and they don’t want to mess anything up. Unless you directly say, “I like you and want to date you,” it’s gonna go over their head.

And that would work perfectly for this fic, it would be such a desperate, hot sloppy mess for the both of you: With Sloane, trying to preserve your friendship and not mess this up despite their desire for you, how much this is actually you and how much of this is just the pollen and desperation. And you pleading with them, trying to get across that no, you have wanted this for so damn long and it sucks that it took some stupid horny flower to make you say it, but please, for the love of AURORA, Sloane, TOUCH ME. God I could imagine how red their face would be. They would keep checking in with you to make sure they’re doing it right for you, whether they’re sliding their fingers in your cunt or sucking on your tits!!! You’re almost tempted to go and grab that damn flower and shove it in their face so they can loosen up, but… the way they take care of you, trying every single position to quell your burning arousal…. so loving and tender… it’s honestly what you crave more. They have you on your knees, thrusting back onto their fingers as they encourage you, their beaded bracelets click with every motion, their hand on the small of your back, kneading your ass. On their sleeping bag, legs wrapped around their shoulders, eating you out like you’re as yummy as those s’mores they had earlier, telling you to wet their sleeping bag, they’ll just cuddle naked with you in yours while you put that one out to dry. And yes…. you CAN fall asleep with their strap in you, if it feels good. You can wake up at any time and fuck yourself on it. Sloane will be awake in an instant, helping you roll your hips back, digging into them because god, this has only been a dream. Feeling your flesh in their hands, being able to touch and hold and clench. Might keep a mental track of how many times you’ve cum. You know. For posterity.

And after you’ve been fucked through it? When you wake up with the worst bed head you’ve ever had, covered in sweat and bruises, naked and pressed against Sloane in your sleeping bag? Sloane will kiss your lips shut, guide you back down, and show you the most loving, intimate sex, you’ve ever had. You’ll feel like you have never connected with a partner more than you have right now. Whispers of love from Sloane, complementing how pretty you are, how perfect, how you were made for them, how good you are to them, how they want to see you every day of their life. Completely overwhelming, yet so needed, especially how you were held so helpless to your own lust. They make sure you know that they aren’t leaving. They’ll be here by your side through anything.

[dreamsofbroflovski]

HI ITS CRAIGNON!!!

HOW ABT A V-DAY STAN FIC???

inexperienced reader maybeee like romanticle !!1!!!

IK I REQ ALOT I JS HAVE THOUGHTS FEEL FREE TO IGNORE :P

with love

craignon

ALRIGHT, SO

I have been evil with this one.

Because THIS concept for a Stan fic has been in the back of my mind for a whiiiile now, but I never got to writing it because it just wasn't a priority. But then I read your ask, saw 'STAN' and I swear my mind lit up like a damn Christmas tree. Think immediate running to the Google docs to get some words down before I forgot them. (And yet I still managed to only finish it today...)

So it's not necessarily a V-Day fic? And it also doesn't involve an inexperienced reader because that wasn't on my original vision. But it IS romantic as all hell and actually made my heart so so soft while writing it

I'm sorry for self-indulging on what was supposed to be your request, Craignon jdkjsdkjsdkjskdjskdj but I really do hope y'all like this

Happy Valentine's day, everyone!

Stan Marsh x Reader - deep sleep

Also available on ao3!

Summary: The one where you and Stan take a relaxing bath together.

Warnings: Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content (everyone involved is above the age of consent), Established Relationship, Penis in Vagina Sex, Bathtub Sex, Cowgirl Position

A/N: Dude, am I exhausted. I stayed awake through the night struggling to write the last few bits and pieces of this so I'd have it ready for Valentine's day. Well, at least I did.

I have the understanding that I might've made Stan into a pathetic needy dude in this. However, I will not apologize for my actions - I've acted stupid for men way too much in my life, so the role reversal is very much in my best interests and I do not promise it won't happen again.

“I already told you, babe. It’s whatever, you can choose.”

The key to your apartment made an irritating noise, metal against metal, as you scraped it around the keyhole trying to get it in without looking. If Sherlock Holmes were to inspect it, he’d be sure that you were an alcoholic or having a seizure - but in reality, you were just looking over your shoulder the whole time, engrossed in a conversation with your boyfriend Stan.

“Well, then, what about seafood? There’s that place our friends usually go to…” The man behind you suggested, stretching his neck to see past you and notice what the difficulty was in opening the door.

“No way! Remember what happened last time we went there? I was sick for three days!” With an annoyed huff, you faced forward again and inserted the key into the hole with more pinpoint accuracy this time, turning it with a click and giving the both of you access to your house.

The discussion continued as you both entered, throwing your bags on the floor of the living room to give your tired backs a break. Having returned from your respective practices at university - yours cheerleading, his football -, you had taken the opportunity to invite Stan over, an invitation that he accepted with the same amount of eagerness a child would if invited to eat nothing but candy for a whole year.

He was still that eager, of course, except for one small issue. During basically the whole ride to your place, you two had been debating what to get for dinner, wanting to replenish your calories after the exercise, indirectly taking into consideration that you’d burn all of those as well later anyway. Actually, ‘debating’ might be a misused word - all of that time, you had continuously told Stan to just pick the restaurant you’d order from and acting like you’d be fine with whatever decision he made, only to react unfavorably to every single place he suggested, for one reason or another or none at all.

“Maybe we could go for that tex-mex place near the gym,” he commented, “I have some coupons for that we can use.”

“Nah, the lady at the counter there always looks at me funny.” He bit his tongue to not tell you that you’d be ordering from home and not seeing the lady at the counter at all - he just knew that wouldn’t mean anything for the final decision.

“What about that shawarma place we like?” “Hmmm…” If Stan had a dollar for every time he had heard that little prolonged sound in the span of the last half hour, he’d be richer than Tolkien. Twice that if he had another dollar for every time it came accompanied by some negative sentence. “Not really feeling that…”

Starvation made his stomach basically curl into itself the entire time, growling as if it was personally pissed off at him, and Stan was almost running out of places he knew off the top of his head for suggestions. He had half a mind to just take you up on the ‘you can choose’ offer, being held back only by an innate need to see you comfortable and happy and also a knowledge that he would have a less than stellar night if his choice wasn’t to your liking.

“Pizza, then?” Although it was still a question, this one had more of a hefty tone to it, an insistence; probably because your boyfriend knew that this was the decision that would end up taking root. Whenever you’d start going in circles over what to eat, pizza was always the safest option - one you chose a lot and had yet to disappoint.

And with the small ‘hm’ that you made and the way your movements slowed, Stan knew the discussion was over. “Alright,” you nodded, turning to him, “Same place we always do?”

An almost imperceptible sigh of relief left Stan’s lungs. Finally, this was over. He didn’t know what he’d do if today you also decided out of nowhere you didn’t want pizza. “Yep,” he gave you a short nod and picked up his phone in his pocket with a bit of urgency, as if not acting fast enough could cause you to change your mind, “I’m just gonna order real quick and then we can do something else.”

He shifted his attention to his phone and made a motion to sit, intending to relax while he placed the order - however, his back had barely touched the couch cushion before you started hollering and walking towards him, your hands tugging at his jacket, pulling him back to his feet frantically. “Hey, no no no! You’re not sitting there!”

“What? Why?” He wobbled a bit as he got back up, your frenzied actions startling him, but managed to keep stable.

“I just got it back from deep cleaning! You’re not gonna sit on it all sweaty! It’s gonna stink!”

With a small oh of realization, Stan remembered the situation he found himself in. The showers in the locker rooms were under maintenance, so he couldn’t get clean after practice - which just so happened to have been particularly hard and left him virtually drenched by the time it ended. He had changed out of his sweaty football clothes before leaving, of course, but the smell and the stickiness lingered in him, dried but disgusting all the same. It wasn’t like he wasn’t planning on showering at all, to be fair; It’s just that, with your whole conversation and the way you drew his attention, plus the fact that he usually showered at campus and didn’t tend to have this problem, it was easy to forget.

“What about you? Aren’t you stinky, too?” He made a gesture encompassing your whole body with his hand. The womens’ locker rooms were also getting worked on, so he knew for a fact you also hadn’t showered after your own practice.

“No way. Women don’t stink like men do.” You retorted playfully, sticking the tip of your tongue at him.

Stan rolled his eyes at your comment, but with the smirk that tilted his lips, it was clear he wasn’t really offended by the joke. “So you’re not showering?”

“Of course I am. I’m going before you.”

One of his eyebrows arched, the joking smirk faltering a bit to make way for genuine confusion. “And I do… what, exactly?”

“You order the pizza, like you said. It’s gonna be ready by the time I get out of the shower.”

“But then I have to go shower!” 

The playfulness in his voice had returned as he noticed where you were coming from, and you reflected his smirk. “Yeah.”

“So what you’re saying is, you want me to order food for us while you shower, and then wait for it to arrive, on my feet the whole time, and then after that you get to eat by yourself while I shower?” He chuckled, feigning incredulity.

You shrugged in mischievous nonchalance. “Exactly. Good to know you’re on board.”

You almost turned to leave, but Stan’s hand quickly got a light hold on your wrist, stopping your movement. “No way!” he called out amidst both of your laughters, “I’m not gonna pay to eat cold food!”

“Look, if you’re that bothered, say…” Your free hand moved as if adjusting something on the collar of his jacket, despite there not being anything to adjust, “How about we bathe together? That way we both get that sorted out and we can order dinner after and nobody gets cold food.”

Hunger seemed to fade instantly from his needs as soon as those words left your mouth, and his own went dry, his hold on your wrist letting go. Playtime was over for him; even though the situation practically begged for a smooth and sexy response, his brain went blank on all of those due to your forwardness, and all that was left was…

“Ah- Uhm-… Okay, we can do that, yeah,” he wished he could just claw at his own skin and die with the stupid stuttering that was his reaction - ‘we can do that’? Really?

Whether you hadn’t realized his fluke or had deliberately decided not to mention it, he was thankful anyway. With a smile and a nod, you concluded the ordeal - and allowed him to not crack under the weight of his own embarrassment - by saying, “I’m gonna get things ready then. You can leave your stuff in my room, I won’t be long.”

While you went to prepare said bath, Stan went alone through the very well known path to your bedroom, shedding himself off fully of his dirty clothes in unnecessary haste before realizing that he was not at his house and couldn’t just throw them on the floor to make them a later worry. Being careful not to sit or lean against any of the available surfaces, his only option was to awkwardly stand around naked with his clothes in his arms and his phone in his hand as he waited for you to finish whatever you were doing. About ten minutes in, just as he was starting to wonder if he should just go anyway, you called his name, making him let go of the device and rush to meet you. 

The first thing he noticed as he slowly opened the door to your bathroom was a light scent of something pleasant, drawing him in - not like an overpowering sensation, more in a gently inviting manner. It felt herbal and flowery, but that was where his knowledge of it ended; he was not a flower guy by any means, so ‘pretty nice’ was as good of a description as he’d come up with. He looked around the room to try and find the source of that perfume, realizing it almost right away, the lilac color of the water inside of the bathtub making it pretty obvious. Kneeling by it were you, fully naked with your back to the door, absentmindedly playing with the colorful liquid by swishing your hand around leisurely inside of it.

Trying not to get distracted himself with staring at the dimples on your lower back and the soft curves of your silhouette, Stan took a step inside and cleared his throat to draw your attention, his heart skipping a beat when you turned your face over your shoulder to catch his eyes, a smile on your face that seemed to shine pure levity and comfort onto him. “Hey,” his greeting was quiet, unwilling to break the moment.

“Hey,” you greeted back just as softly, hand steadying yourself on the edge of your bathtub as you slowly rose to your feet, turning around and gracing his sight with the front view of your nude body.

And he was suddenly extremely grateful for the decision to bathe before dinner, otherwise all of that pizza would’ve immediately turned into a disgusting pile of puke on the floor that would’ve soured the whole mood. Truth was, the butterflies that Stan always got in his stomach ever since the first time he saw you never quite left or calmed down; they were permanently there, growing and multiplying and flapping their wings around at the mere mention of your existence. He was no stranger to your naked form, but it always made him feel that way, dumbfounded with how gorgeous you were, smitten and falling in love all over again - and strangely self conscious, too: for his mind still could not comprehend how a goddess like you could lend yourself so eagerly to a meager human such as himself.

“Bath bomb?” Trying to shake himself off of the daze, he gestured towards the purple water with one hand while closing the door behind his back with his foot. “What’s the occasion?”

You made a small hum in agreement. “It’s chamomile and lavender,” the explanation would’ve told him nothing if you hadn’t added, “Supposed to help with sore muscles and stuff like that. Could be nice for us.”

If it works, Stan thought. Saying he was familiar with bath bombs would be a lie - he’d always dismissed the stuff as a ‘girly’ kind of deal, not really bothering to find out if they worked for anything besides making the water colorful and, in some cases, staining your bathtub. Of course, he had taken many a bubble bath when he was younger, but those were more fun pastimes instead of having any actual relaxation purposes. But he wasn’t about to ruin your fun, and it wasn’t his bathtub to clean, so he wasn’t mad about it, either.

“But what took so long?” He asked as he dropped his dirty clothes in your laundry basket, “I mean, you just drop it into the water and it dissolves, no?”

“Well… I like to watch it fizzle,” you explained meekly, turning your eyes to the bathtub again. “I know it’s stupid.”

It wasn’t stupid at all - if anything in that room was stupid, it was him for not having stayed with you, not participating in that small thing that brought you so much joy. He’d have bought the whole Lush store and thrown it into the university’s pool, swim team practice be damned, if it meant seeing that sweet expression of yours again.

“No, no… It’s not, really,” he shook his head slowly and stepped close to you, taking your hands in his and intertwining your fingers, “It’s… Pretty cool. For real. Thank you.”

He didn’t quite feel like he had salvaged himself from the dismissive comment, but no extra attempts at deliberation were made, because the way you looked up at him so kindly showed that you hadn’t taken it to heart. “Let’s get in then,” he was quick to nod once you murmured that, “Relax a little bit.”

Contradicting normal rules of chivalry - would they even apply in this situation? - Stan stepped into the bathtub before you did, sinking into the warm water with a deep exhale of relaxation. Scientists might’ve said something about how cold baths are actually great to help recover from strenuous exercise, but at that moment, the warm water was the real blessing to his exhausted muscles, calming down pain he didn’t even know he was still feeling and melting away his problems.

Once your smaller foot broke the water surface, his legs spread as far as they could go on the bathtub to make space for you, allowing your body to settle nicely between them. Stan resisted the temptation to immediately wrap his arms around your body, not yet wanting to burst the gentle bubble of tranquility you had worked so hard to form in that tiny corner of your house.

“I think it’s working,” he mentioned after a moment, “The bath bomb, I mean.”

“It’s too early to tell, silly,” you giggled, “We gotta soak in a bit more before it really works.”

No arguing with that. Stan leaned back with his head on the headrest, his arms over the edges of the bathtub, not moving at all - getting entranced as he watched you peacefully capturing some water on your hand and dropping it on the non-submerged parts of your body, rubbing it all over, looking every bit like a fairytale princess washing under some sort of magical waterfall.

Reaching out for the bar soap on the corner shelf behind you, you frowned slightly when your fingers curled around nothing. Your boyfriend had picked it up before you did, locking his eyes onto yours once you looked over your shoulder to see what had happened. “Let me,” he offered, his voice carrying a hint of hope - a hope he didn’t need, considering you accepted the request with a heartfelt readiness.

Your loofah rested in its little hanger, damp only from the steam that rose from the warm water, while Stan’s hand did its job of spreading the soap thoroughly over your wet body. The bar of soap he held slowly glided over your skin with a reverence that bordered on fearfulness, as if even the slightest more pressure would have you disintegrating into a million fragments - atom-sized pieces of you mixing with the water, seeping through his pores, cleaning his soul as well as his body and leaving a lather of love that he could never, or would never, wash away.

Hell, maybe he should really just let you do that.

He tried not to spend much time with his hands on your breasts, knowing that he’d surely be unable to contain himself if the soft perky flesh were to fill his palms. But that battle was lost anyway, since with every inch that his hands drifted down your body, the way his breathing would grow heavier and more tense became harder to ignore. You had relaxed almost completely against his body, watching quietly as he washed you; the longing tension you felt only noticeable by the steady increase in your heart rate, mirroring Stan’s own as his heart thumped against your back.

Once his hands got to your hips, however, there was no avoiding it anymore. His movements ceased briefly as he attempted to compose himself behind you, trying to focus on his task; however, that tiny curious noise you made with your throat when you tilted your face towards his a bit to check on him almost had him unraveling. His lips soon found your jaw and you faced forward again while he kissed the side of your face, starting small at first, giving plenty of time for you to pull away. When you just sighed, closed your eyes and leaned with almost your full weight against him, he left the soap on the edge of the bathtub and let his fingers inch down to your inner thighs, then closer and closer towards your pussy.

“Just let me… wash here real quick…” His kisses to your jaw and earlobe grew sloppier as his fingers made their way to your slit, index and middle nestling between your pussy lips and gliding up and down with ease. Your building excitement was undeniable - even underwater, he could still feel your arousal against his fingertips when they brushed against your entrance, that familiar warm slickness that suddenly felt wasted to him when it mixed with the lilac bath water once it left your cunt. Perhaps he’d ditch the pizza order and just eat you out for dinner instead.

Slow ripples began to break that water’s surface with the movement of his submerged hand when he zeroed in on your clit, well-taught fingers circling that pleasure point with a precision that contradicted how worked up he was on the inside - but the small moans that began to spill from between your parted lips once his touched focused on that part of you really tested that focus, while at the same time keeping his mind rooted on that moment, erasing all possible outside distractions. His cock steadily grew to full hardness, throbbing against your lower back with insistence, the slight pressure the weight of your body created clearly not enough to sate him. 

As the pleasure built inside of you, Stan’s efforts grew sharper to match. Those ripples on the water turned into small splashes against the walls of the tub as you started to actively rock your hips towards his hand, trying to intensify friction of your own accord. The added erratic movement made it harder to keep his touch steady on your clit, but he maintained a soldier’s discipline, finger pads pressing more firmly against the sensitive nub, not wanting to let them slip for even a moment and risk denying you of the sensation that was getting you so lusciously winded. 

One simple thought kept on creeping back to the forefront of your boyfriend’s mind as he touched you, one he had to continuously force away; with you almost fully on his lap like this, at the mercy of his arms, how easy it would be for him to just pull you up like you weighed nothing, get your entrance in the perfect position to slip his cock into your cunt with one sharp thrust upwards. Stan’s need for you toed the line into thorough desperation, the primal part of his brain threatening to go absolutely berserk if he didn’t have his way with you soon, being held back only by the sliver of rational thought that hadn’t been blown into the humid air by the shaky breaths you were emitting.

That question, the request to be buried inside you, almost crossed the veil from intangible thought into audible words; But then he didn’t need to. When you suddenly snapped your thighs together - stopping the movement of his fingers and your hips - and turned your head back to the best of your ability, there was barely any blue left to be seen in his irises, pupils completely blown over by desire.

“Stan, I need you,” your voice was thinner with that very need, “Please.”

As you shifted position over him, turning around to straddle his lap, his hands moved to your hips - a move meant to seem like he was helping you settle, but that in reality was also a way to ground him; because, as beyond humiliating as it was, he could’ve finished right there just from hearing you beg for him like that.

“Mmph... Yeah, fuck yeah,” it felt almost ridiculous to be giving you that ‘permission’ when he was just about to plead for you as well, had strained himself mentally with the effort to not do so. But any thought of that irony was gone once your hands had sneaked to the back of his head, bringing him away from the headrest and physically towards the softness of your lips to mirror the pull it had on him emotionally.

The kiss, just like his touches earlier, started off soft, picking up momentum once the sensation of your bodies pressed together made you both burn with the yearning to be closer, to melt together - when Stan’s tongue got to the inside of your mouth, that was exactly what he wanted to do. There was a possibility that the vapours from the bath were tricking his brain, because he swore he could feel the taste of your strawberry-flavored lip gloss, even though he had made sure to rid you of all that during a particular stolen moment before practice. Or maybe you just tasted that way naturally - he would’ve believed you if you told him that. He started roaming your body with his palms again, calloused fingertips from years of playing guitar spreading goosebumps on your skin despite the warm water you were both covered in. His touch had more depth this time, more pressure; not feeling like he was afraid you’d crumble anymore, for if you did, he’d be right there to hold you together.

Your boyfriend’s eyes snapped right open as soon as he stopped feeling the rake of your nails on the back of his scalp, and the small groan of disapproval he hadn’t bothered to restrain as you pulled back from the kiss had you giggling. The exploration of your skin ceased and his hands settled on your sides once more when you lifted yourself the tiniest bit off the water, positioning his cock with one of your hands, his tip kissing your tight entrance. He was vaguely aware of how useless he was being right then, just laying there and watching, but it felt too challenging to seize control from you when you started sinking so deliciously down on his dick, those velvety walls squeezing inch by inch of his dick.

A deep groan rumbled in his chest as you bottomed him out inside of your cunt, gentle curvy hips flush against his harsh strong ones. In his younger days, he used to feel a lot of unneeded anxiety about his average size, wondering if it was really enough or if bigger cocks were more satisfying; yet now, every single time he felt your tight walls stretching to accommodate his girth, putting pressure in every single inch of both your sensitivities, he always felt like the biggest motherfucker in the world - in more ways than one.

“Babe, you alright?” Your sweet voice snagged him back into focusing on you instead of his own sensations, and he found that awareness much more appealing.

“Yeah, yeah, just…” And suddenly he didn’t even know what he was thinking about, kicking himself mentally for even daring to not pay attention to you for even the shortest amount of time at that moment.

“You were thinking,” your lips found his in a chaste peck then curved into a gentle smile as you pulled back, pretty hands placed on both sides of his chest, “I know. It’s okay.”

He still felt stupid for having gotten distracted. But then all ties to the external world, even those inside of Stan’s mind, were severed as you lifted your hips away from his slowly until only his leaking tip remained inside before bringing yourself back down with just as little rush. The languid movements you started off with were both Heaven and Hell to him; Heaven because he could feel every single ridge in those tight walls when they dragged up along his shaft, and Hell because, with the way he so desperately needed you, it felt like torture to be at mercy of such a pace, his aching cock throbbing inside of you like it was personally angry with the situation. But maybe slow and loving was all that he needed - there was no confirmation he’d last very long if you did go rough on him, and the setting was so peaceful he felt like he could just make love to you forever.

“Wow,” an unnecessarily amazed chuckle left his mouth, “How are you always so fucking tight?”

A few breathy moans preceded your answer, making your boyfriend’s fingers dig a bit more into your flesh, not enough to cause pain but enough to let you feel his want. “I guess it’s… It’s just for you,” you murmured, “I need to be perfect… For you… Everywhere…”

Damn, he should’ve written his will and put you on it before this. Because you were going to be the death of him, and it would’ve been unfair to not leave all of his admittedly-not-many possessions to such a wonderful killer.

“You’re always… Perfect,” it was his time to let out a choked-out moan when you started going a bit faster on top of him, his words fuelling you up like gasoline to a flame. “Too much… Too fucking perfect… All the time…”

Your hands found stability on his shoulders as you leaned with your chest fully against his, the softness of your breasts squished up against his becoming another of the focal points of warmth in his body that have nothing to do with the water. Then your head settles in prime position to send into his ear those downright sinful whimpers that start coming out of your mouth, and he understands - your clit was now constantly pressing against his lower abdomen, turning that friction into even more pleasure. His hands got even more of a firm grip on your hips, almost as if trying to press you down further, help you out in the pursuit of release in any way he could.

Even the perfume of lavender that still wafted powerfully from the bath water couldn’t mask the alluring scent of your skin, which overpowered Stan’s senses once he traced the crook of your neck with his nose, clouding his senses even more and making him hyper-aware of the feel of you. His hips began to surge upward, meeting your thrusts halfway; he needed to set his own pace, take more than what you were giving him. 

Luckily, you were keen to meet the demand - bouncing more fiercely against him, purple water splashing all around you and on the floor when your hips met his, that obscene sound of skin slapping on skin audible on the tiny bathroom even with the underwater muffling. Just when he thought he couldn’t love you any more, you did shit like this - made full use of the fiery chemistry you both shared, showed you ached for him just as much as he did you.

“Fuuuuck, Stan…” Even your cursing sounded cute to him when it conveyed how horny you were. “Feels so good…”

“You… You like it like that, baby?” He breathed out, using the strength of his arms to pull you down hard onto him, feeling your body tense up briefly in his arms when you gasped. “When I do you like this?”

“Yeah… Fuck, yes… “ He kissed your neck through your babbling, the tip of his tongue sneaking past his lips to trace a line on the sensitive flesh there, giving his taste buds just the faintest hint of soap, unidentifiable bath bomb water and that ultimate flavor of your skin. ”Keep going… Just like that… Please…”

Oh, he had no intention of not doing so. Not when you were so gorgeously melting on top of him, making yourself even tighter around his cock with every brush of his tip against your G-spot. His already exercise-strained muscles began to burn with the effort of fucking up into you and supporting your weight, but he pushed through it with little more than panting breaths through his mouth. You had begged for him - who on Earth was he to deny you anything?  

A blazing sensation in Stan’s lower abdomen that made his abs instinctively tighten eventually warned him that he was nearing his release, and finally a coherent thought graced his brain, making him more alert - a determination to not come before you did. He needed to be attentive for that, to capture the moment when you unraveled, and there’d be no doing that if he lost himself in that haze. Plus, he knew you were close, too; he knew your body like he did his own, and the way your cunt fluttered repeatedly around his cock, that small arch your spine made towards him and how your head was slightly tilted back were visible indicators of an experience that he absolutely adored partaking in.

But damn if it wasn’t fucking hard to hold back. He almost forgot himself when you pulled back and stared deep into his eyes with that needy desperation plastered onto your face, parted lips trembling as if you needed to get the words out before your brain turned to mush. “Stan… Baby, I need to… I’m gonna…”

Quickly, your boyfriend pulled one of your wrists from his chest, intertwining his fingers with that hand and holding a tight grip on it - the most soothing act he’d manage in that moment, a symbol of his encouragement. “Yes, yes baby, just do it, I got you,” his urging, supposed to be controlled as to bring reassurance, came rather strained from his mouth - he needed you to do it, maybe even more than you yourself needed that release, however selfish that thought might be. “Please, just cum for me…”

And then Stan was king of the world when his request did make you finish, shaky whines that seemed to turn into sound the shocks of pleasure in your body leaving your mouth as you came. With sheer fascination he witnessed you, letting you use his cock and ride it through your orgasm; holding on for just a little longer before his own loud cry echoed inside of the bathroom, jerking his hips in small stuttery thrusts as he emptied his balls inside of you finally, the white lights of the bathroom having apparently made their way to the inside of his brain, overwhelming his eyes with brightness that coursed through his veins.

The weight of your upper body fell against his chest as you tired yourself out, but to him it was no heavier than a feather; all he could feel was your softness anyway, on his thorax and around his throbbing cock while it willingly gave the last drops of his cum to you. Your heavy breaths ghosted his neck, while his own were off to the bathroom air, his face turned to the ceiling as relaxation finally washed over him. 

The only thing he didn’t allow to relax was his hand on yours, kept tight throughout your climaxes and still with no intention of letting go - staying like that even when you finally shifted position again, laying on your side, on top of his body with your head on his shoulder. That was when he looked at your angelic face again, resting over him like the most comfortable mattress, a delicate smile curving your lips. His softening cock had slipped from you when you moved, and your combined releases were now certainly mixing with the bath water, but Hell would freeze before he gave a fuck about that -  not when he was so completely consumed by his love for you like he was at that moment.

Although the lighting in the bathroom was harsh, the way it shined on you was smooth and pleasant; or maybe it was just you that were glowing, your sated expression radiating a more beautiful light than any star and bringing a thousand new colors to the spectrum of his eyesight - while at the same time calming the self-doubt monster inside of him by showing that he had made you bloom like this, he was the one that made love to you and held you once you beautifully toppled from those edges of pleasure.

He could only follow with his eyes as you sat up in the tub again and straightened your posture, letting go of his hand while stretching your neck in a circle slowly. “Well, time to finish up before the water gets cold.” How the fuck did you still have any energy left to think of that after what just happened? He would’ve astonishedly questioned you if his vocal cords didn’t feel so damn lazy.

One of his arms rose above the water, but almost instantly fell back in with a splash, all four limbs feeling like overcooked spaghetti attached to his spent body, floppy and mushy and difficult to control. “We can chill some more,” his voice was raspy and tired in that murmur, and he looked around the bathroom lazily, not really acknowledging the environment.

“You still need to get clean,” you reminded him, trying to pick up the soap bar and bring it to his body as well - but he just forced himself to lift his arm again and pushed your hand away gently, urging you to let go of it.

“Just… Five more minutes,” his eyelids fluttered with the effort to stay open, “Then I’ll do it…”

The end of those five minutes didn’t quite come. Because, before it could be called out, the both of you had already drifted into a peaceful nap inside of the tub, enveloped by the calm scents and the comfort of each other’s bodies, waking up only one or two hours later feeling very dazed and twice as hungry. The now cold water seemed to mock you as you then had to hurriedly wash up in it, but Stan didn’t mind - he still felt completely warmed up from the moment you two shared.

He never did find out if the bath bomb’s soothing properties really worked or not. Because the ultimate relaxation agent that worked for his body would always be you, and he’d long vowed with his life to make sure you’d never crumble or fizzle out.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[lanaxoxoxoxoxox]

SO. ANOTHER. steal my girl by 1D.

this could probably be fem!reader

ranboo and reader have known eachother since they were about 15/16, and he's ALWAYS loved her. ALWAYS. once they finally start dating, maybe once they're both 17/18, ranboo starts steaming, chat says stuff along the lines of "y/n could do better" or "she deserves better than ranboo fr" or "i could get y/n EASY" so ranboo goes out of his way to say "no one can steal my girl, nor does she even WANT any of you." SOMETHIN ALONG THOSE LINES!!

literally SCREAMED at this bro , you have no idea

, my girl !!

☆ ranboo x fem!reader

warnings: she/her pronouns, fem reader, chat being a dick, protective ran (drives me crazy /pos), ran + y/n are both 19 in this fic, ran's pov entire fic ☽

☆ a/n: utterly obsessed with this ask !! lovely @heiijoy actually sent me a whole bunch of other amazing fic ideas in our messagesand i was screaming and giggling and kicking my feet the entire time !! yall dont know how excited am i abt being able to write this and have such amazing moots oml

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

ranboo pov

I've always admired Y/n. I did then, and I still do.

Since I first saw her at the locker next to me in sophomore year, something just, clicked inside of me. At first, I originally saw her as a locker-hallway crush only, until classes got changed due to a teacher leaving. Suddenly, the hallway-locker crush turned into same-classes crush. For some odd reason, the teachers would also often pair us in the same partners and groups, and we would sit near or next to each other sometimes. I kind of just played it off as pure luck on my part.

I would see y/n in about 90% of my classes, but we were assigned permanent partners one day in English for the rest of the year. I got to talk way more to her in class, and we even hung out a few times. I eventually did get her number and we started to hang out more, but not just for study sessions. We eventually had a really strong friendship, but I still admired her.

Time skip, but one of my friends who was dating y/n's best friend told me that y/n actually liked me back, and she had for a while. At first I didn't believe him, until y/n texted me to meet up at the stargazing hill we always went to and told me she liked me.

After that, we started dating. I started my Twitch and YouTube around then, and started blowing up very quickly. Y/n was always there to support me and what I wanted to do, and I was eventually invited to the Dream SMP, which also quickly raised my following and reputation even more. When I got an invitation from Toby and Tommy to meet them in the UK, Y/n also came with me. She's always been at my side, streamer or not.

present day

"'Just Talking streams never end well'? Damn, you guys are mean!" I said, laughing and flipping off the camera.

I spinned my chair slightly to the left, focusing my eyes on the other monitor that showed StreamLabs and the chat. I scanned my eyes over the chat, and a few messages caught my eye.

user4531: hi everyone!

user78787877: y/n could do better tbh

ranboofan69: @user78787877 frrr she deserves more than ranboo

rainbow4eva: i love your shirt!

socoolfan: @ranboofan69 yeah i could get y/n SO EASY bro

I sighed loudly enough for the microphone to pick up. I looked back over to chat and saw moderators turn off chat to send a warning message and put it chat onto "emotes only" mode.

I laughed. "The fact some of you guys are so confident in stealing y/n from me is actually very funny." I stared into the webcam. "Y/n is my girl, nor does she even want any of you all."

Let's just say y/nboo and that clip was trending on Twitter for a little while.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

kinda a short but fic but i hope u guys liked !! thanks @heiijoy for the lovely req <3

please support me by liking, following, replying or reblogging! my inbox is currently CLOSED, so no requests for the time being or they will be deleted. thank you!

love u all mwah xoxoxox

[alwaysxlarrie]

fav fics of 2024 !!

i didn’t read as many fics as i wanted in 2024, but i did manage to put together a list of 25 so here they are, separated by fandom !! the dair fics i've read helped give me sm inspo -- enough to start brainstorming again for my cult leader louis fic AND start my first dair fic, so big s/o to the dair fandom -- we were so robbed & somehow y'all still continue to give !! anyway, big thank you to all writers for continuing to bless us all w your creativity — readers, please remember to leave kudos & comments on fics you enjoy !! as always, fics are in alphabetical order <3

(also a moment of silence for @harruandlou who introduced me to dair & therefore had to listen to me talk abt nothing besides them for the last ~3 months)

dair fics:

an utter lack of self-preservation instincts by nevertothethird / @scabopolis

There are many things Blair Waldorf needs: the new sustainable division of Waldorf Designs to be successful, a fresh manicure, and maybe a weekend away with her best-friend.

What she doesn't need is a pretentious Brooklynite with no experience working in the fashion design industry to make her life harder. Or to bring her dinner. Or to look at her like she might be the best thing he's ever seen.

checking it twice by womanaction / @womanaction

Blair creates a checklist for her "perfect man", but someone surprising happens to match up to her demands.

flappers and philosophers by bookishandbossy / @bookishandbossy

Dan Humphrey first meets Blair Waldorf at a party he's not invited to. He doesn't mean to write a story that's all about her, but somehow it happens. Blair Waldorf has every intention of giving an aspiring writer a sharp talking-to about the character he's based on her. She doesn't mean to get fond of him, but somehow it happens. (1920's AU)

god help the girl by secondaudrina / @firstaudrina

At nearly three a.m., the idea of murdering one's neighbor starts to get just a little too appealing.

good night bad morning by secondaudrina / @firstaudrina

Blair refuses to be so hard up that she's giving Dan Humphrey the eye.

hang up and run to me by mysteriesofloves / @mysteriesofloves

“Keep talking,” she says. “I like your voice.”

“Oh,” he says, then, brighter: “oh. Okay. Well. Ha. That’s funny—not that, that’s not funny, that’s…nice, it’s just funny that I can’t stop talking until you ask me to not stop talking, then I can’t think of anything to say.”

“Would you like a prompt?”

“Sure. Yeah. Give me a prompt, Waldorf.”

“What would you do if you were here?”

His breath over the line is like static. “Um. What?”

i knew you’d come back to me by communitys

“Okay,” Dan says. He looks to the side, to Alessandra and the people bathed in the cold bright glow of the party, and feels so removed from them that his conversation with Blair might as well be happening in a different universe. “Okay. So, you’ve been hung up on me all this time”—he ignores her eye roll, like she doesn’t know what she’s doing—”and you’re divorcing your husband, who you only ever married for practical reasons, and what, exactly, do you want from me?”

or, dan writes a book about his relationship with blair, she shows up at the signing, and no one else is in the room for a while after that

just like in the movies by stapler_stealer / @anevildictatoroftaste

“I have five words for you, Mr Humphrey—,” Blair leans in with both palms laid flat on the counter, a triumphant smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “—The future…is online streaming.”

“And I have four words for you, Miss Waldorf,” Humphrey replies, with a mocking smile. “Get. The. Fuck. Out!”

Or, Blair Waldorf is a ruthless media executive looking to acquire an indie video rental store, seal that damn deal and score that sweet, sweet promotion.

There’s just one teensy little problem that stands in her way — a stubborn, curly-haired store manager by the name of Dan freaking Humphrey.

returning the favour by thestartofnothing / @mrs-nate-humphrey

After Georgina takes Milo away, Dan isn't expecting is Blair Waldorf at his doorstep with a plan to make him feel better.

He certainly isn't expecting her "plan" to involve having kinky sex, for fun.

somewhere you feel free by lizwas / @terrainofheartfelt

Four years ago, Blair had gotten married and fallen off the face of the earth. Dan had already fallen the year before.

Dan keeps Milo. Blair marries Louis. Years later, she returns to New York, divorced and determined to start a new life, beginning with finishing her degree at Columbia. Also a Columbia student? Single parent Dan Humphrey.

sweet comic valentine by mysteriesofloves / @mysteriesofloves

She hates Dan Humphrey. She really does. Any gut punch of a reaction to seeing him calmly wrangle rowdy children is purely biological.

the kind of opposites who do not attract by stapler_stealer / @anevildictatoroftaste

Blair Waldorf doesn’t like being reminded of Dan Humphrey. But that gap-toothed, curly haired man certainly had a knack for being completely unavoidable.

Firstly, the man was her best friend’s husband.

Secondly, he was a journalist, so she was bombarded by constant reminders of him.

That insufferable social climber was everywhere. She couldn’t even check her phone without scrolling past his selfies with Nate Archibald on her Instagram feed. Talk about the ghost of boyfriends past, haunting her ad infinitum.

In other words, Blair Waldorf doesn’t like being reminded of Dan Humphrey, because it's like being reminded of a life she could have had with him.

the pretentious classical music au that no one asked for series by lizwas / @terrainofheartfelt

Her first gig directing at a summer festival, and she gets stuck with Greenwood Lake’s Benedict Arnold.

this city screams your name by illicitaffair / @eyescllsed

The fact that her first audition with Humphrey was an accident would make great PR for the studio. Blair can see it already: headlines boasting Waldorf and Humphrey: Accidental Match of the Century! An Academy Award winner unknowingly instigating a fight with an up and coming actor that a casting director just happened to see, proving their “undeniable” onscreen chemistry? It was the stuff of legends.

Unfortunately, Blair doesn’t see it that way.

alternatively; dan and blair star in a film. it goes about as well as expected.

the milk and honey extended universe by mysteriesofloves / @mysteriesofloves

She wishes Dan Humphrey had never taken a seat across from her their first week here. She wishes she didn’t have to contemplate the way she feels about him at all.

[or, Yale AU].

write this down by mysteriesofloves / @mysteriesofloves

“I am so going to regret asking, but—what exactly are you getting at, Blair?”

Blair takes a deep breath, sitting up straight, and lets it all come out in a rush: “Come with me to Paris and pretend to be my boyfriend.”

you could call me “babe” for the weekend by pentaghastly / @kendallroynsfw

B. WALDORF, the card says, embossed in silver print, and Dan commits that to memory. He’ll probably never see her again, but even so, B. WALDORF etches a space in his brain ten times larger than any five-foot-two socialite should be able to.

He’s surprisingly okay with that.

(or,

Dan is a bartender and Blair is the obnoxiously rich customer who keeps coming in to see him and it's casual, okay, it definitely doesn't mean she's in love.)

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

larry fics:

endgame by brightgolden / @brightgolden

Harry has been told all his life how grateful he should be for being born as a male omega, and how blessed their people were because the heir to the throne would be carried by The King.

What they neglected to tell Harry was what would happen if he failed to become pregnant.

OR

Where omega Crown Prince Harry Styles is trying and failing to get pregnant for four years, but all that is about to change when courtesan alpha Louis Tomlinson comes into the equation.

howls like a beast (you flower, you feast) by indiaalphawhiskey / @indiaalphawhiskey

France, 1754.

Château de Versailles.

“You don’t love me,” Louis had said, utterly blasé as he callously fractured the heart of a Harry that was just barely eighteen.

“I do,” Harry had insisted pleadingly, green eyes already watering.

Louis had rolled his eyes, exasperated and flippant in the way only beautiful, young boys could be when faced with the affections of a baby prince. He had run his finger down Harry’s cheek then, had forced him to look into his eyes as he delivered the final blow.

“You’ll change your mind once you’ve seen more of the world,” Louis had teased, pressing a brutally delicate kiss onto Harry’s lovely, pure cheek. “Once you’ve been properly defiled.” He had whispered filthily, delighted by the gasp he heard, the frantic pink blush that had rested high on Harry’s cheeks, the power he had felt at knowing he could make the Crown Prince squirm.

groupie love by cuckootrooke / @larrydoinglaundry

"Now, Louis is only a human. He'd be lying if he said he has never considered his fans attractive but it's not something that happens regularly. Many of them are a little too young for him to look at and those who aren’t so young are rarely squished at the barricade for him to admire. So, seeing a woman like her right at the front is a rare and remarkable surprise for him.

And God does he want to keep looking at her."

In other words, Louis is a rock star on a world tour and Harry is a regular attendee. They could never work.

kitten’s first client by anonymous

Harry settles on his knees, legs together and hands resting gently on his thighs. He looks up at Louis through his lashes, his eyes big and innocent.

"Please, Sir," he says, in a sweet little voice. "May I have permission to suck your cock?"

~

Harry is a kitten hybrid who just started working in a whorehouse. Louis is his client.

pure, pretty, obedient by anonymous

Louis' hand settles on Harry's hip, making him draw in a sharp breath. No alpha has ever touched him there before.

"Aren't you just a lovely little thing," Louis murmurs. "Gonna be so good for me, aren't you, darling?"

~

It's time for Louis and Harry to consummate their marriage. Harry doesn't know much about what's meant to happen on his wedding night. Lucky for him, his new alpha doesn't seem to mind.

ride my sleigh tonight by kingsofeverything / @kingsofeverything

In exchange for free food and drinks at Liam’s office holiday party, Harry pretends to be his boyfriend.

But this is not that story.

staring at the blank page before you by livelaughlovelarry / @loveislarryislove

“Can I ask you a favour?”

Harry blinked. “Um. Depends?”

“It’s nothing weird,” Louis said quickly. “Well. It’s a little weird.”

“Very illuminating,” Harry deadpanned. He had no idea what Louis was going to ask, but he had a pretty good idea that he was going to say yes regardless. Louis had that effect on people.

Louis chuckled. “It’s just – God, bodies are fucking stupid and I can’t visualize the physicality of this fight scene, so I was wondering if I could. Well. Use your body.”

Or, Louis is trying to write his book, but he sometimes has trouble with deciding how the characters should move. Fortunately, his roommate Harry is willing to help him act scenes out. Unfortunately, the line between acting and reality is getting very blurry. Or maybe that's fortunate too.

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

phan fics:

ruby woo by phandomsub

Dani is dealing with yet another break-up, and Phil just wants to be there for her best friend.

[uriekukistan]

HI I BRING INTERACTION pls feed me megu headcanons if u feel so inclined,,,,

hii ty for the interaction :D ofc i am always inclined to megu hcs! he's in my brain 25/8...megumi my beloved <333333333

megumi's always been a light sleeper/had a hard time falling asleep. even when he was a baby, he'd be up like 37 times in the night, so toji and mamaguro would take turns pulling all nighters because what's the point of going to sleep when baby megumi is just gonna start crying 10 minutes later...even when he's older, he still wakes up several times in the night. it's too hot, it's too cold, i'm thirsty, the door slammed four apartments down, etc. of course this only gets worse after the detention center because he starts having nightmares :( dw, this opens the door for some cute itafushi moments down the road im writing a fic abt this

he also wakes up reaalllly early because of this, like 5am...that doesn't mean he's a morning person though. he's very grumpy and almost completely unresponsive to anyone trying to talk to him. not that anyone else is really up at 5am with him...maybe yuuji, but he's on the other side of his sleep cycle (hasn't gone to bed yet, was binge watching a new series) and probably equally zombie-like. anyway, megumi is the epitome of "don't talk to me before i've had my coffee." gojo got him a mug that said that once...

megumi didn't eat breakfast (much to tsumiki's chagrin) until he met yuuji, but that's mostly because he doesn't want to waste yuuji's efforts food :)

to add on to that, he has a pretty small appetite, my personal thought is this comes from when he was younger. he and tsumiki struggled to get food between when their money ran out post parental departure and when gojo came into their lives, so he just got used to not eating a lot...but for the same reason he'll never leave food on his plate. lingering fear that he'll wake up with nothing to eat one day (SORRY i had to make it angsty bc that's just Who I Am 💔💔💔)

um. to end it on a lighter note :) if megumi wasn't a sorcerer, he'd work at an animal rescue facility or a no-kill shelter and he's all the dogs' fav employee :))) (ik a lot of people like vet megumi, but i feel like he'd get too sad when he had to put an animal down bc he couldnt save it........). if he wasn't into that, he'd be interested in ecology and habitat preservation for endangered species.

um i was gonna do a Day In the Life of Megumi but the first points got sooo long so uh. stopped after breakfast.

(the way i write abt him all the time and still had to take a while to write this,,,had to separate au megumi from real megumi)

[briankang]

Hiiii, canon comp skz fic anon here, thank you so much for answering my question over with chanrizard :) Coming off anon because I have more questions if I may, please. Do we know if chris/felix/jisung/jeongin shared a room in the dorm too, or were they more evenly distributed across those three rooms that skz ended up taking over completely in ep 2 of the show? My understanding was that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Seungmin were also already around (basing this on how long they said they were trainees for from ep 1), tho presumably in a different dorm I guess? And that Minho joined as a trainee last... Sorry, just trying to get my timelines straight here before I write too much more fic *sweatdrop*

omg no problem of course!!!

based on what we see in the show, those 4 are already at the dorm space they seemed to keep until 2022-ish. this is what it looks like when we first see it:

they all end up moving their things around so i don't think they shared rooms necessarily, but definitely the dorm itself! i know for sure chris used to room with young k of day6 (and roomed with him the longest, i think they said abt 5 years), and if memory serves i believe bambam also shared with them (fun fact, they used to steal young k's mattress off of his bed and drag it around to eat fast food on)

i don't think it's ever really said by anyone, but i personally have always assumed people that live in seoul sort of used the dorms as needed if they're staying late (which was...a lot), but those who had come from overseas or other parts of korea that were too far had more permanent spots in the dorms (of course), or maybe had separate ones even based on that distinction.

i think they also tried to keep them pretty close to each "debut group", but not necessarily stuck to it, but for reference the original debut group for skz was chan, allen (now in cravity), jisung, changbin, steven (now in luminous/ahof), hyunjin, jeongin, yao chen (former r1se member now a soloist), seungmin, felix,🤢woojin, and minho at the very tail end. cute pic of (most) of them all here (p sure thats minho in the very bottom lmao)!

which if u want a brief history lesson for some backstory:

yao chen ended up going to a chinese boy group called r1se (that...no longer exists but he's v successful solo now! i do wonder if he was actually meant to be in boy story but was perhaps a bit too old/concepts were changed? their oldest are 04 liners LMAO) and allen was actually meant to be in it as well but apparently didnt like the idea so he ended up going to starship and minho ended up taking allen's spot in the group and show despite being there like barely two months (p sure allen had been in there for a WHILE). steven's never said anything about why he left jyp, but he was on produce 101 and i'm p sure left sometime after that (common).

there was an additional almost member named john aquino who ended up moving back to america, but he's met up with them before on tour and also put up one of the funniest instagram stories i've ever seen of him putting bottoms up by trey songz to the my house cover chris did calling him mr.stealyourgirl because he "has that kind of vibe about him" (also realized getting this tweet the Youth™️ do not know abt this song and have proceeded to make a big deal abt it and taking it as like....Fact and serious bc they didn't live through the swag era like some of us). here's another funny ass tweet w/ some posts. i think this is the funniest way i've ever seen somebody refer to him as being sexy by saying he could take anyone because he's so hot and charismatic (it's also soooooo late millennial/early gen z of him sLKSDJGLKSD john reminds me of young k's old friend from toronto terry actually)

other boys who were considered i believe at some point: yuchan and byeongkwan, who both left in abt 2016 to go to beat interactive and debuted in a.c.e (yuchan and chris were the treadmill zombies in the twice mv for like ooh-ahh!) and daehwi and woojin from ab6ix!

all that to say i have to assume all these boys were in these dorms at one point given they were all overseas trainees (yao chen from china, steven from sydney, and allen and john from the us), so if anyone was bunking there it was them, which would also explain why those beds were empty now since they were no longer part of the debut project. i wanna say maybe allen and chris shared a room at some point but i can't put fact to that, but allen has a lot of stories about chris's mom so they were close! if you want the order of who joined:

chris (2010), jisung (2014-2015-ish), jeongin, hyunjin, changbin, woojin (2015-2016), felix, seungmin (2016/2017, seungmin passed an open audition, felix finished out his school year), minho (2017)

lmk if this helps any!!! old jyp lore is my favorite topic 😊

[diagonal-queen]

HI HIIII

just poppin in with a little request?

Could i please request chuuya with a reader who’s in the ada?

Like maybe they were in the mafia with chuuya(having been there abt as long as dazai) and then they get closer to him than dazai? But they also leave the pm when dazai does (for the same reasom dazai does?)

Maybe they try to keep contact with him after they leave? And they finallY meet again after a while?

And maybe reader has the same personality as the reader from your first kiss fic?

Idk if this is too specific but please ignore any of my details and write what feels right to you if you accept this request?

I hope this isnt too much to ask? And thank youuuuu

(Also sorry I fell asleep{exams hv me ass beatt} loved your analyses on dm!)

-jaya

jayaaaaaaaa this is a great req! i've already sort of come up with such a scenario in my head i just haven't had a reason to write it UNTIL NOWWWWWWWWWW also my gosh, i can imagine how tired you are. make sure to get plenty of rest and take care of yourself hon! 🌺 (i appreciate you sending karl to gimmie some toilet papers (all raccoons are karl now))

Calmer Waters

♡ pairing: Chuuya Nakahara x gn!Reader

♡ synopsis: You secretly meet up with your ex-colleague Chuuya after a long period of not having seen him after leaving the Port Mafia. You two have a lot (of feelings) to talk about!

♡ wc: 2.3k

♡ cw: Swearing, mentions of death and spooooky mafia stuff, for this fic we're assuming that reader was also kinda friends with Odasaku, mentions of Mori Ougai, lmk if I missed anything

note: Don't worry about being too specific, I actually prefer when reqs are more specific so I have an easier time catering to the reader's preferences and writing a better piece lol 💓 Apologies for errors and I hope you enjoy!

Standing still was pure torture. You had to release your nerves somehow, but you didn't want to appear weak by twiddling your thumbs, or tapping your feet on the wooden planks of the pier. You were frightened, ashamedly so, but still very much frightened.

You couldn't imagine how he must truly feel about you now. You couldn't blame him at all- if he'd disappeared just as suddenly as you and Dazai had all those years ago, you'd be pretty pissed. You and him had been in very unstable contact for the past four years, but you didn't think you could trust that as an actual indicator of his feelings towards you. Such was the reason you had invited him to the place you both used to frequent together.

Chuuya was once your best friend. At the time you'd had good faith that even though you were leaving him, he wasn't really alone. There were others who cared for him there. You didn't have a choice but to leave. Whenever you felt otherwise, you remembered the look in Dazai's eyes when he told you that it was time to go. Unlike any other.

You were so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't notice him approaching.

"Hey," he said from behind you, and you jumped.

"Oh, my god." You breathed, your hand racing to your chest as you turned. It was unmistakably him- the fiery hair, old fedora, black coat draped over his shoulders making him appear fierce and grandiose. Chuuya Nakahara. "You scared me."

"I'm not that frightening," Chuuya gave you an ironic smile. You missed that face of his. That comforting aura. "At least, I didn't think I was to you."

"No- it's..." you suddenly felt like you might cry. You hadn't actually seen Chuuya in person for four long years, only scarcely communicating with him through far too complicated means, ranging from anonymous phone calls to actual paper letters. It was too difficult to directly talk to him when not only were you now in a company that directly opposed his organisation, but you were also almost always by Dazai's side.

You both stood under the moonlight, Chuuya several metres back on the pier and enveloped in shadows. The only sound was the ocean, and even that felt more muted than normal. You huffed, before racing towards him and throwing yourself into his arms.

"I missed you," you said to him, squeezing him as hard as you could. "I missed you, Chuuya."

You hadn't been expecting him to squeeze you back with such firmness that he almost lifted you off the ground.

"Damnit, Y/N. I missed you, too."

You two didn't let go of each other, allowing your fingernails to sink into one another's backs and bury your faces in each other's necks. Chuuya's aroma, musk and cologne and smoke, acted as respite from the salty scent of the sea.

"I don't..." you began, in a whisper. "Don't wanna let go."

"I know, but..." he answered just as softly, before slowly pulling from the embrace. He still kept your hands in his though, clearly feeling the same way you did. You were worried that he'd vanish if you were to let go of him again. "There we are."

"You look great, Chuuya," you told him, giving him a once over. "Still got that hat, I see."

"You don't look too similar at all, yourself. But...you feel the same."

"Does that balance it out?" You grinned, and he nodded. "Good...yeah. I'm glad to see you."

"Yeah, me too." Chuuya told you. "I was pretty fuckin' surprised when I saw your offer, y'know. I wondered why whatever you wanted to say was important enough to warrant an in-person meeting."

"I was equally as surprised just now when you showed up!" You replied, leading him to the edge of the pier and taking a seat, allowing your legs to dangle over the almost-statuesque ocean. "I thought that you either wouldn't come or you'd send someone else in your place. Y'know, to kill me, or something."

"...yeah." Chuuya paused for a minute, almost surprised by such a statement. You glanced at him, concerned, but quickly resumed your conversation.

"I know...there's things you wanna ask me that I wasn't able to tell you sooner. And I made sure Dazai doesn't know I'm here, either. So I'm all yours to talk to, so long as you keep it between us, and-"

"Why did you two go?" He asked, for what must have been the hundredth time. Though, it sounded rather different now that it was coming directly from his lips. "That's all I've been wanting to know. Why did you leave? ...I won't tell anyone else." You were fully prepared to answer, but now that the time had come, finding the words was much harder.

"...I knew you'd ask this," you chuckled, averting his gaze. "Ah, okay. So, do you know Oda Sakunosuke? Or...did you know him?"

"Heard about him from Dazai. Why?"

"When he died...his last wish was for us to...uh, help people..." you explained, a little nervously. "Save some orphans, he said. According to Dazai, anyway. That's how we got A- the weretiger."

Chuuya said nothing for a minute. You swallowed nervously, your mouth feeling dry.

"I thought at the time that there wasn't much worse than disrespecting the last wish of your friend who died. I knew how much he meant to Dazai especially-" you cut yourself off with a solemn sigh. "I thought if Dazai was going I didn't have a choice but to go with him. When I joined the Port Mafia, he was the only person my age, or...who was really willing to take me under their wing. Besides Mori, obviously, but I don't have Dazai's intellect, or...great personality."

To your fortune, you managed to make Chuuya smile with the sarcastic comment. You felt a little better knowing that he hadn't changed that much.

"I'm glad it's not because you really just hated me," he said, his voice softer. You faced him with a confused frown.

"What? No! I've never hated you. Do you hate me?"

"I hate Dazai, not you."

"So some things don't change..." you murmured, jokingly. "If you were curious, he also still hates you."

"Boohoo," he rolled his eyes. "...but that's what I was really worried about. I thought you left because of me. I thought that bastard must've told you some twisted things about me and convinced you to leave."

"Nah, nothing like that," you waved a dismissive hand. "If that were the case I wouldn't have wanted to see you, would I?"

Chuuya pursed his lips. "Fair point. Speaking of, though...why did you call me here? I mean, I know you wanted to tell me why you left, but that can't have been it. I can tell."

How annoying it was of Chuuya to have been so attentive towards you back then- he maybe knew you better than you knew yourself. Maybe if you'd kept your distance from him, leaving the Port Mafia would have been easier.

"...this is gonna sound stupid to you," you began, cautiously, "but I really wanted to see you. That's all."

"Is that right?" replied the redhead. "Why'd you wait so long, then?"

"Lots of reasons, actually. First, I just assumed that you absolutely wouldn't wanna see me. I mean, I did sorta just...disappear without a word. I felt terrible about it and I knew it would have upset you."

"It did," he affirmed, quietly. You felt a pang of familiar guilt. Chuuya was, to you, a kind man, but he was also honest. You really did appreciate that trait, but it had its cons, too.

"...second of all, I didn't wanna put the two of us in danger, y'know? We both know how formidable the Port Mafia is. There's only two ways of knowing, and that's either to be a member or to be an enemy. And I've been both."

"You know, though, that I'd have been able to keep you safe, right?" He asked. "That moron Dazai would have been willing to keep you safe too, I reckon. I know that he also cares about you."

"I guess, but I was just scared. It was hard, back then. I was confused about everything. I had to sort through my feelings, and I knew that I couldn't do it if I saw you."

"If you felt that bad, you shouldn't have left. I get that Dazai wanted you to, and your dead friend wanted it too, but it's not up to them what you do, Y/N," he said. You almost flinched, but resisted the urge.

"...I know, yeah. At the time it felt like the right thing to do. But those aren't the feelings I was referring to. That's an entire other can of worms I don't feel like opening again right now." You rubbed your face, already rather emotionally exhausted. That being said, this exchange had gone much better than you'd anticipated.

"What feelings, then? Grief, or somethin'?"

"No- well, yeah, but not necessarily. I was just really sad because I liked you a lot, and I was hesitant about leaving 'cause I wanted to stay with you." You thought you'd be nervous telling him that, but it was really a relief to get such a heavy weight off your shoulders. You glanced at him, but his expression hadn't really changed.

"You didn't want to leave...because you liked me?"

"I've always liked you, dumbass. Like, pretty soon after we met. You and Dazai were too busy fucking with each other for you to notice, though," you chuckled. "Once I knew I was leaving I figured that telling you wouldn't do any good."

"No, I knew. I was mostly just pissed because you vanished before I could tell you that I wanted to date you," he told you, casually. Your eyes widened. "Plus, I kinda just thought that you liked Dazai if the two of you disappeared together."

"You're kidding me," you looked at him, dumbstruck. Chuuya shrugged with a despondent smile.

"I wish," he scoffed. "I was pissed. Thought it wasn't fair of him to basically take you away like that, because I knew he knew I liked you. Like I said, I thought he lied about me."

"He did say to avoid you where I could, but I think that was just because you're a mafioso. And a pretty strong one, at that," you noted, matter-of-factly. "And I don't have a strong ability like yours or his. So I got that, obviously. But other than that...nothing, really."

"Huh. That's...pleasantly surprising," he nodded slowly, in acknowledgement of this revelation. "So your leaving had...nothing to do with me at all?"

"Nope."

"...huh," he said again, this time with a smile. "...that's really..."

"I'm sorry for making you think that for so long," you apologised, clasping your hands together in your lap. "I didn't want to hurt you. I would...I would cry right now, but I can't cry anymore about this, I don't think."

"...I understand." Chuuya shifted closer to you, taking one of your hands. "And I forgive you. You forgive me?"

"Forgive you for what?"

"For not..." Chuuya stopped, then turned towards the moonlit sea. "...not trusting you."

You could practically sense Chuuya's slight slouch next to you. It felt so strange. He used to slouch a lot of the time when you two were kids, so much so that it barely even felt like he was sitting. You hadn't really noticed how much better his posture had gotten until that moment. Feeling a little awkward for noticing such a trivial detail, you sadly brushed off the thought.

"...Chuuya," you muttered, reaching over and tucking some of his red hair behind his ear. Such a gesture provoked a lot of nostalgia right then, momentarily surprising you. His hair was still so soft. You took a shaky breath. "That wasn't wrong of you to do. I wouldn't have trusted me either, even if I did like me. I'd have hated me, honestly."

Chuuya faced you with a firm expression. "I wouldn't hate you, ever. I like you, remember? Actually, forget that crap. I love you, stupid. If I didn't, then I wouldn't have come here and talked to you. Y'know, for a former mafia member, you're so dense."

"You're the dense one for thinking that I'd actually leave the mafia because of you," you retorted, though your heart was beating a mile a minute. Though you and Chuuya had a well-established close bond back then, he had never outright told you that he loved you. You sighed. "...I love you too, you idiot."

Chuuya didn't reply to that immediately, he just beamed at you. Looking at him in that moment felt like a reset in your brain- as well as your confession moments prior. You'd tried so hard to forget about him for four years, you really had. But Chuuya Nakahara was beyond compare, and even though all of that effort had been for naught you couldn't care less.

He leaned over and planted a kiss on your cheek; chaste and shy, unlike himself. You turned to him, feeling your face heating up. He stared at you in anticipation, before faltering under your astonished eyes.

"Sorry, it-...it just felt like the right time. To do that, I mean," he explained in a crestfallen mumble, averting his gaze.

"Well, I mean, if it's the right time.." you began, piquing his interest again. "...we should do it properly." After hearing that invitation, Chuuya wasted no time cupping your cheek in his hand and finally pressing his lips to yours.

i gotta love how chuuya is certainly the most requested character i write about lol but i get it- he really is just...the man ever. and he's actually really easy to write tbh because all i need to do is make him The Best™ and i'm set. thank you @gettinshiggywithit for this request- i enjoyed writing it alot!!

[coolunclebruno]

A Funny Coincidence

“Miguel, I didn’t understand Shakespeare when he said ‘love was a smoke made of sighs’,” Bruno said to thin air, holding a silver ring. “But when I met you, I started to get it.”

“You make me feel…uh…you make me…” he trailed off, eyes falling to the brand new shoes he had bought yesterday. 

He turned to one of his rats, Roberto, sitting on his bedside table and watching him in fascination. 

“Is there a word for feeling like you’re about to poof into a cloud of mist and be whisked away by a light breeze, but, y’know, in a good way?” Bruno asked, tugging on the collar of the short-sleeved, red button-up he had on only for special occasions. 

The rat just sniffed and started cleaning himself in response. 

Bruno plopped down on the bed, head held low, rolling the ring around in his fingers. 

The idea of marriage popped into his mind a couple of weeks ago. At first, the thought scared him. After all, when would he have ever considered marriage? Marriage was never meant for him. Someone who had an entire horde of rats as their pets and can’t maintain eye contact for more than five seconds isn’t exactly marriage material. It was just a far-off daydream, that was all it was going to be, but then he started to think about it. 

Marrying Miguel…it was so easy to think about. They were practically together all the time, so why not take the next step and make it official? Bruno loved Miguel, he knew that already, he loved how he took pride in his job, how he always kept whatever little trinket Bruno would give him, even his little idiosyncrasies. Like how he had to leave the room whenever Bruno ate ajiaco, how he would purse his lips whenever he was deep in thought, or how he would talk to the rats just like they were family…

So, yeah, he knew he wanted to marry this man. He knew it had to be perfect, with rose petals floating in the air, a beautiful sunset behind them, and a violin playing nearby.

Okay, maybe he didn’t know anyone who could play the violin, but there would be one in his head and that was enough for him.

So, when he saw that ring up for display, practically calling his name, he knew it was meant for Miguel.

But now, that tiny little voice in the back of his head that had been whispering these last couple of weeks had gotten louder, telling him that he was making a big mistake. He tried to ignore it, to focus on the positive, but he couldn’t stop his stomach from tensing with anxiety and his brain from flooding with those thoughts. 

What if something goes wrong? What if he thinks it’s all a big joke? What if I trip and fall and break my nose? What if I get a sudden vision? What if he says no? What if-

Tak Tak Tak

A sudden knock on the door pulled Bruno out of his spiral. 

“Bruno? I need to talk to you,” Julieta’s voice could be heard from the other side. 

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SOOOOOOO...IM BACK....

I have not been giving this blog that much attention and I'm sorry abt that. I've been busy juggling college with a whole bunch of other stuff, plus, I'm just not as big of an encanto fan as I once was. I don't want to say that I'll never post here again, I might post here every once in a while, write an encanto story here or there, but i'll definitely end up posting less and less. But that's ok! Change is a part of life and I'll still always love encanto, this scraggly old rat man has changed my life in a lot of ways. without him, I don't think I'd be writing and posting my stories as much as I do now.

I've been writing this story on and off for the last two years, losing interest and then regaining interest. I wanted to make sure this was as good as I could make it to be. Am I a perfectionist? Absolutely, thank you for noticing!

But anyway, below u can find the rest of the story, and other fics by me starring Bruno and his...well I don't want to spoil the ending of the story for you. Enjoy!

[caffeinefafnir]

TL;dr: how a simple hobby keeps me from collapsing (bc we really don't pay enough attention to mental health as a society)

So earlier this year I was writting a fanfic and that's been like, the only anchor to sanity I've had for a long while. I started out on a whim one night and spewed out around 10 pages in one night. I've started at 11pm and stayed up till 5am writting. It's been such a fucking nasty year (bc all the shit started last November actually) where I've been struggling with family issues, health issues, being unemployed and struggling financially, and then the feeling of being left behind when my partner got a job and I didn't, and a lage etc. Suddenly in May I got posessed by this supernatural impulse to write a fanfic after what felt like a lifetime (around 13 years). Days turned into months, one draft became 5 separate stories abt the same characters, I discovered what whump was thus rediscovering something I was really adept to without even realizing it, followed closely several challenges althougth never pressured myself to participate (bc deadlines and I don't get along) and on top of that I started a completely new story of a genre I had never dreamt of exploring before.

Around June I was writting a super emotional scene of my side fanfic. My fave character had attempted suicide and failed, and it was a super heavy scene where she talked about this with a friend in the most nonchalant way (at first) and he was completely shocked and devastated. I was writting this at a cafe, my favorite one, and had to make a real effort to keep a straigth face while typing out bc I tend to act out the feelings as I describe them and my eyes were getting all red and wattery. But everything was fine and I got the full scene toghether. And... I felt so incredibly lighter and happier after that.

I've been trying to find an explanation for it since then. I've been battling depression since a long time now, 10 years, but I hadn't felt suicidal since a long long time ago. But I know too damn well the feeling of the symptoms of depression going away, and BOY what I felt was like a MIRACLE! The floating sensation? Just knowing everything is going to be better? Damn I missed that. I had felt it before a few times in prior years when something significantly good happened, when I went regularly to therapy, etc.

The weirdest part is that things weren't even particularly bad at that point, and even when they were the absollute worst around February I hadn't seriously thought about suicide not even once. It was more like homicidal rage at that point haha, but nothing about harming myself. I keep thinking about it ever since, how optimistic I was for the next month or so before my mood got worse due to environmental reasons. And I still went to that part over and over again to correct, add details and overall finishing the rest of the fic but this proved to be a difficult feat since I never could get myself into the same mood again.

And I'm like... what?? Why did this particular scene caused that blissful effect on me? I've never ever been in that exact situation, surely I fantasized about it (we all do at some point) and I know I'm far from cured of the depression for I still feel some of the indicators of its presence, but the change in me since I wrote those pages was explosive and intoxicating. Maybe I was channeling everything through my blorbo in ways I didn't knew I could, maybe it's just the fact that she got listened at without judging or being accused of faking it/being a failure/blowing it out of proportion, maybe bc she was feeling as lonely and unseen as I currently feel to the point you can disappear for days and nobody would notice (or at least that's what you tell to yourself)

I'm worried that if I tell all this to my therapist she'll institutionalize me haha. For real. I dunno what they normally do in these cases lol. Also I don't want to tell her yet that I write fanficiton since I´m not ready to explain an Xgen-er what is it and why my generation hype so much abt it

[dearreaders-things]

rambling directors commentary of my vampire!au julian x mc fic? yes? yes.

i mentioned it on ao3 but: inspired by the lovely vampire headcanons post from @iliveforyouilongforyouvesuvia bc who doesn't love a vampire's s/o offering their blood to be drunk?

title! bittersweet ugh this one absolutely fell into place while i was writing, i loved it and immediately went in to make sure it was like a recurring motif through the whole fic

i did consider spelling it bittersuite, shout out billie eilish, but ultimately decided against it because the "suite" doesn't quite fit or make sense with the story. however i LOVE that song and listened to it a lot while writing. probably the vibes match.

that one tumblr post abt julian saying upsy-daisy when someone's fallen? yes.

but i love writing him as like a Doctor!! that man is a Scientist and i'm tired of ppl pretending he's not! all the talk of recessive genes and unfalsifiable hypotheses and scalpels, yeah that was a nice lens to look through

dude maybe the most fun part of writing vampire stuff is deciding what lore to fold in. completely disregarding things if you feel like it and getting to add whatever you want? very cool. i mean, such is the nature of folklore :D

i think the vampire backstory of this was also inspired by ali hazlewood's novel bride. shout out to that.

the "metal burns you" stuff i'm pretty sure is from fae stuff? anyways that was a cool association. i also really liked finding a reason to give astrella, my oc, scars in this au. i feel like my fics lately have been a big flashing sign saying "author has dermatillomania!!!" but anyways

also the symbolism with astrella touching something she shouldn't?? mhm mhm that was such a good moment when i noticed it

also also it gave me a reason for her and julian to have matching gloves, which is an image that held over from a different fic of mine (obv in that one it's canonverse so the reason for it was they were both plague doctors. but still.)

sensory description is big in this fic and i love it. also the different kind of levels of mental awareness, going from kinda sixth sense for heartbeats stuff in the beginning then going into the full on psychic bond by the end? chef's kiss. i got a chance to use sooo many tasty words.

“Even before you knew what I am. How many times have you offered up your neck for my teeth?” was the first line i had in mind for this fic. i mean you can see why. look at it.

ok if you made it this far thank you for coming to my ted talk, can you tell i had so much fun writing this

let me know if you enjoyed this rambling, i might write up some more thoughts on the other fics i've written recently! (they probably won't be anywhere near this long lmao i just have feelings)