#i suck at tagging and am lazy to tag oh well

[lilowoof]

ngl gamers, I think I'm gonna inevitably lose to the hormones and depression in the near future XD

Can't bring myself to be active cause I'm using a lot of energy to not vent post all the time. But fuck it, into the tags I go!

[thedevotionaltour]

I SHOULD HAVE GONE INTO RADIOOOOOOOO

[satoruhour]

thinking of full nelson with geto right in front of a mirror while he plays your pussy and then decides to bring in his favourite vibrator and overstimulate you while praising you for taking him and the vibe so well OH MY GOD 😣😣

a/n: WOAAAHH im back ??!! this was so hot and im on my second day of my period and i am HORNY!!!!!! also technically over 2k but im lazy to make it a fic bc fics need LORE and i hardly did anything with this / tagging @na-t0 @crysugu @shotorus @slttygeto @suguruplsr ♱

warnings: non-curse au but geto still adopts miminana, feelings of insecurity from reader, soft dom! geto, fem!reader, oral (f! receiving) / cunnilingus, fingering, clit stimulation, multiple rounds, unprotected sex, use of toys (specifically a vibrator), praise, pet names, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

you always knew geto liked to decorate — whether it’s your room after you moved in with him or the girls’ playroom after he took them in. he knew a lot of differences between marble and parquet, or whether you guys would use a bathtub or a cubicle more. geto liked you to accompany each time he planned to upgrade the girls’ room, which turned into rooms, after mimiko complained her sister kept messing up her books and nanako only commented on how ‘mimiko’s depressing state made the whole room look like a confessional booth’.

you both laughed and kissed their foreheads after because you know they’ll make up in no time, and you know that you wouldn’t have this life any other way — geto, a high-school sweetheart who’s now a teacher, taking care of your girls who you both took in willingly at a young age.

but you’ve always wondered why he liked having mirrors on his ceiling — whether it was his questionable design tastes or whether it was a dare from satoru, you never understood why he’d want to have him staring back at himself whenever he woke up or went to sleep. you should’ve known geto would want to use it for this.

“su—” your eyes are scrunched close, not bearing to look at your nude body from above you. he swore it was everything he ever loved, from your pretty tits to the way you stomach heaves at his hands and it was perfect timing for him to make you appreciate yourself in all your glory as he eats you out—

“aht, no, baby,” his tongue on your clit halts, your hole clenching around his fingers for more stimulation again, “eyes up at yourself.”

“but . .” you prop yourself up on your elbows and pout down at him and you think the mirror should be used for your lover instead; hair tousled, fringe falling all over his face, bottom half of his face soaked with your cum, the smile he gives you makes you clench again and his smile is so teasing you feel embarrassed again.

“but what, baby?” geto moves his fingers slowly, pumping them into you as they reach deep in you and your argument fades from your mind and lips, words descending into moans as your hips move against him. “weren’t you the one telling yourself you weren’t beautiful?”

he doesn’t wait for your answer, latching his mouth back on your puffy clit and sucks and sucks, loving the way you lose all strength and fall back onto your upper back. your whines reverberate throughout the room, one hand tangled in suguru’s long hair while the other holds onto the sheets and you feel so lightheaded. your pussy’s squelching so much and the way he eats you out is just filthy, slobbering over your juices while his fingers stretch you out.

“mhm— sweet fuckin’ pussy,” he moans into your cunt, feeling the bed move beneath you and you just know he’s grinding into the bed from how much he loves your pussy, “look at yourself, princess.”

“i— i am,” you whine softly, looking at your body writhe under geto and your mouth opened in sensuality. you’re still on the fence about it, “i am.”

geto hums into your folds, eyes closing once knowing you were obeying him, continuing his assault on you with a relentless tongue and even faster fingers. by now you can feel yourself getting close, as with geto since he knows your body so well that praises fall from his lips and you only tug harder on his hair.

“close?” it’s quick, the question, because he can never get enough of you and your sweetness and just has to get back to it right away, cracking open an eye just for a moment to see your pleading eyes. he knew you’d be looking at him, a cute little pout on your face and big doe eyes, begging.

“y—yeah, suguru . .” you mumble, other hand finding his hair, too, before grinding your hips into his mouth. a distorted moan leaves your lips when you feel him curl his fingers in you, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you struggle to get a grip on reality. “f-fuck, su— w’nna cum, pleasepleaseplease!”

“gettin’ to it,” he’s mumbling now, words muffled by your pussy as his tongue and fingers increases in speed, the noises of your cum adding so much to the experience that you’re endlessly whimpering, mantras of his name added to the echo of the room, “cum for me, baby, you can do it.”

“fuuuck, suguru—” your moans reach the heavens, mind spiralling with the way geto was making you feel. his jaw hurts, your legs tremble, your head spins and you’re cumming into his hands, reflections of your pleasure reflected back at you from above. your back arches off the bed as you coat his fingers with your juices, tongue licking and flicking your clit through the mind-blowing orgasm, and all your boyfriend does is smile at your sensitive state once you come down.

“noisy little girl,” he teases, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh.

you frown in faux sadness, “’cause of you.”

geto only hums, trailing up your body and catching you in his embrace, easily helping you atop him. from there his head pokes out from behind your head and you give a small smile through the ceiling mirrors.

“hi.” you say softly, shy at how exposed your body was and how shameless he seemed to love it.

“hi, baby.” your chest still breathes hard, body heating up from the way geto treats you, “you still think you’re unattractive?”

it was a trick question; it was the thing that got you here in the first place, or even the first thing that inspired geto to install mirrors — and you’re confident you’re in for a long ride no matter what your answer may be. but the one thing you both established was to always be honest, and you’re not too fond of yourself today. you’d take your chances and lie, but geto would see right through your lies, hesitance and flustered demeanour and all that.

“a little, su—” you frown at him through the mirror, and you find that what they say is true. saying it is equal to internalising it and you find now that your body looks a little weird and your hair frames your face in an unnatural way; geto stops your thoughts from worsening almost immediately.

“look at me,” you think he’s referring to his reflection but he turns your head towards him easily with a small chuckle, “no, the real me.”

“you’re the prettiest little sweetheart i’ve laid my eyes upon, ever.”

you blow a raspberry, “you’re lying.”

“i’m not!” geto laughs again, letting you turn your upper body toward him, “being as truthful as a boys’ scout, cross my heart.”

you hum, letting your boyfriend take you into a sweet, slow kiss to calm you down. before long you can already feel his pulsing bulge below you, begging to be let out of his constraints.

“i’ll trust you.” a little grin shows on his face at your words, pressing one last kiss to your turning face and looking at you through the mirror.

“i want you to.” he mumbles, distracting you with feather-like kisses on your neck as he uses his hands to pull down his underwear. he lifts both his hips and you easily, strong like that before you feel the slap of his cock along your legs and a soft apology. “i want you to trust me with every fibre of your being when i tell you you’re the one i want for the rest of my life, when i tell you you’re the most stunning. do you trust me?”

“i trust you, suguru,” you swallow when you feel him drag your tip along your folds, collecting your slick with mouth opening in a silent moan. geto takes that opportunity to crash his lips into yours, nudging his tip just past your tight pussy and you just need to do something, clutch onto something, fingers tightening around his forearms.

“feel that?” suguru breathlessly asks, short breaths leaving his mouth and warming your neck, “feel how your pussy was made for me?”

“y—yeah,” you mumble and whine, head tipped up against his neck before his hands naturally go under your knees, spreading you so he’d go deeper, “s’full . .”

inch by inch, he eases his cock in you, so wet that he doesn’t need to prep you again and he groans continually at your walls snugly hugging him, “i know you know the feeling, baby, but now i want you to look.”

you reluctantly turn your head from the safeness of his neck, looking towards your reflection and then where you two was connected, to his cock buried deep in you. he‘s not even fully in, finding that he was staring at you from below you.

“prettiest girl with the prettiest cunt, hm?” his talk is dirty always, letting his hips grind into yours from below. geto likes dirty, just as he brings your legs closer and closer to your chest and hears you moan out his name. he looks drunk off your pussy, hooded lids and parted lips and all, whispering, “i hope you know that.”

your lover doesn’t give you time to breathe, making your jaw drop open when he thrusts up into you from below and loving the way your eyes widen in your reflection. geto does not know where to stare more: your pussy sucking him in so well or your expressions, switching between the both as he makes you sob and cry on his cock.

“sugu— s-shit . .” you’re lightheaded already, knowing he‘d want you to keep your eyes locked on the mirror as you get fucked senseless, cock driving into you so violently with every snap of his hips. they set an animalistic pace, spurts of your cum spraying everywhere.

“doing so well,” he swears under his breath, before he’s pulling your legs towards him even more, “bend a little more for me— yesss . . that’s it, sweetheart.”

your mewls reach an all time high once he’s got one hand secured on your nape, pulling you into a full nelson that your head even struggles to look at your connected bodies in the mirror, but you can just almost see your face morphed into pleasure: tongue out and cunt so pliant for your boyfriend, until you’re spotting geto’s other hand moving to your clit. he knows you’re close already, driven to the brink of sensitivity once he rubs at your bundle of nerves, and your right thigh starts to shake.

“clenching around me s’hard i can hardly move, f-fuck—” he laughs softly, hips still pistoning in you, hand rubbing violently along your clit over and over and—

“suguru— cum— cumming, cumming—!” you clench the hardest you’ve ever done, orgasm hitting you like a freight train until you’re shivering in his hold, neck hurting from being in full nelson but your boyfriend doesn’t stop his thrusts, not when you’re moaning so nicely for him. your mind’s blank except for suguru, countless whines of his name escaping your lips.

“there we go . .” he hums, focused on your pussy twitching as he rubs you through your orgasm where your entrances stretches to accommodate his fat cock — all he does is give you a little of a break and slows down, releasing you from the position briefly. until you can hear the drag of the bedside drawer; with his hands he takes out a vibrator, the one thing you simultaneously love and hate.

you know with how much you beg with your eyes, geto will still eventually use it on you, but you’re always tempted by his words.

“i’ll be gentle, i promise.” “just relax, baby.” “i’ll try not to overstim you.” he’s said all these before with a sly grin and you know he just can’t control himself when it comes to you.

“hold your legs for me, my darling.” he whispers and you obey his rasp, exchanging glances through the mirror when he starts it up and the buzz gives you an initial shock — geto laughs, you pout.

“why’d you laugh,” you huff, momentarily forgetting he has his whole cock in you.

with one arm, he wraps it around your middle while the other just presses the vibrator dangerously close to your puffy, aching clit, and he starts his hips again, bullying his throbbing dick into you with little effort.

“su . . do we really gotta?”

“’course,” geto grins, pressing a kiss to your neck, “wanna see you absolutely ruined because of me.”

“yeah, but you can do it without the vibe.”

your boyfriend only hums, “nah.”

geto liked teasing, way too much, giving you a brief warning of keeping your legs spread for him before he slams into you, hand pressing the vibrator into you and you sob out his name. the fast buzz of the toy has you squirming around on his front, arms already losing the strength to hold your legs up.

“suguru—!” you’re moaning loudly, your cum making the scene even more lewd with how wet you were. “s-sensiti—”

you can feel him grin into your neck, pressing the strong vibrator deeper into your clit which is starting to turn numb, mind muddled with the thickness of his length stretching and spreading you. every slap of his balls upon your ass is noisy and loud but your moans are even louder.

“sloppy fuckin’ pussy,” he rasps out, eyes trained on the way you limply hold up your legs like a good girl and let him use you like a ragdoll, “so goddamn wet for me.”

geto increases the speed of the vibrator and you jolt in surprise, mouth dropping open in surprise. he smiles at you through the mirror, admiring your body on display as you take him well time and time again, so satisfied with his investment in mirrors on the ceiling.

“cream on my cock, baby,” geto mumbles into your ear and you whine, fingernails digging into your own skin they might as well bruise and create marks, but you need suguru in some way — you let go one of your legs, blindly finding his fingers with yours and twining them.

“c’mon, c’mon, i’ve got you,” he reassures you from below, creating hickeys in the safety of your neck while his hips do the sinful opposite, thrusting into you in an unforgiving speed. “want to feel you cum all over me, pretty girl.”

the praise is through the roof, making you writhe in his hold just to get away from the ruthlessness of the toy and his dick, too sensitive from all the sensations. but you love it all the more, wanting to do everything geto says just so you’d hear your name from his lips over and over.

“i’m cumming— haaah . . ” you’re jerking in his hold, “su— su, i’m c—” but you’re already orgasming, legs not even able to be held up that you let go of them so they can freely tremble and you can squeeze your eyes shut. you’re clamping down so hard around suguru that he has to moan too, holding one leg for you while the vibrator still goes on, sending you into overstimulation quickly. “suguruuu . .”

little short pants leave you, rendered utterly speechless as you ride out your orgasm, although your boyfriend doesn’t stop. his thrusts turn sloppy, now, hips fatigued and brain turned to mush by your gummy walls.

“cumming— g’nna give you a big load, baby—” geto grunts out, tossing the vibrator to the side and grabbing both your legs to fold you deeper, tip brushing up against your sweet spot that you whine lewdly again, and that’s all it takes before he’s shooting his cum deep in you, painting your insides white. it’s so hot and heavy, paired with the deepness of his voice rumbling beside your ear that it makes you moan softly, feeling fuller and fuller by the second. “oh . . fuuuck—”

“t-take me so well, don’t you?” suguru murmurs, purposely propping his hips a little higher, “watch my cum drip out of you.”

he was disgusting, and yet you turn your eyes towards the mirrors, hearing and seeing the soft shlick! that sounds out when he removes his cock before white spills out and you bite your lip at the sight.

“she likes to be bred, huh?” you hum softly at the question, drunken expression taken in by the other as he also gives you a slightly tipsy smile.

“shut up— shit’s embarrassing.”

geto grabs your chin, squishing your cheeks together and whispering against your lips, “then i’ll fuck you full of my cum until it’s not, until you know you’re the most beautiful in my eyes, yeah?”

yeah, you could do that.

[spitdrunken]

i am absolutely insane about your headcanons with the vee's, my mind is so full now... this is exactly what i was hoping to find when searching through the hazbin x reader tag after watching the episodes 👁️🙏🏻 please i'm so!! the being a writer for the vee's imagine is such a good idea, val and his.. comment especially got to me..

also, for your consideration:

Val — or all of the Vee's, really —, but, in the beginning, he's really not convinced about the quality of your dialogues, despite all the lines he's read (or, well, has had Vox read to him), so naturally you have to read your previous stories out loud to him, cheeks flushing and squirming when it gets to particularly graphic scenes and his gaze on you is so very heavy, smoke caressing your jaw while you stumble over your words.. It's worse if you've written about them and a character who resembles you, and Val's smile widens when you skip from story to story, mentioning the character — definitely not you — sucking Vox off, bending over willingly for Val and begging for Velvette to touch her, or even take all three of them at once, greedy...

Also the. love potions Velvette makes have me feeling things.. Her or Vox but they might end up putting a drop or four into your glass — purely accidentally, of course! —, and...

this is terrible.. my mind is too full now... i might have to post writing for hazbin now and it is your fault alone.. (affectionate; truly, I've enjoyed your thoughts so very much!! thank you for sharing!)

I'm glad you enjoyed it so much :D!! I had an absolute blast writing it myself, and I've been thinking about it lots!! Your ask made it even Worse (/pos) and I simply had to write more!! Please please please let me know if you write something for Hazbin, I can tell from your ask already that it'll be wonderful! And if you ever wanna chat about these guys, feel free to message me again, haha.

Notes: power imbalance, sexual harassment, heavily dubious/noncon due to love potion usage.

The fact Vox even bothers at all to take the time to sit Valentino down and read to him is already a show of your quality— He really wouldn’t go through wrangling him like that for just anyone, especially not with Val getting a bit pissy when being reminded your works were being compared to his. He needs to be told that, obviously, Val, some mere written words are never going to compare, especially not in earnings, to his creations. This placates Valentino. But all Vox gets for his efforts are a lazy flick of one of Valentino’s four wrists, his eyes not even looking at him. “Look, I still think it fucking sucks. But if you wanna hire them so badly, whatever. I’ve got better shit to do than listen to daddy’s horny story-time.” Suffice it to say, he becomes a lot more… Amiable (poor you) once you’re actually working there, and he has a face to attach to the stories. He can tell upon first glance that you’re one of those pathetic little hermits, too scared to leave your own shitty apartment, barely scraping by— He’s recruited plenty of those types as whores, after all. So easily pushed around that it shouldn’t give him nearly as much satisfaction as it does.

When Valentino practically demands you join him in his room and read your previous work to him, you sputter out protests, heart skipping a beat. Every employee in the company has something bad to say about this man, and so he’s about the last person you want to be caught alone in a room with. Especially not his bedroom.

“Ah, sir, I’m not really sure—“ But he’s already wrapping one of his arms around your shoulders, pulling you flush against his side as he drags you through the halls. The first thing that strikes you is how different the texture of coat is than you were expecting. It doesn’t even feel like anything at all. “Oh, sweetheart, call me Valentino. No need to be so unfamiliar with each other.” He practically purrs, a single finger tracing up the contours of your chest. “I feel like we’re going to get quite familiar.” If all the alarms weren’t ringing in your head before, they most definitely are now. But there’s nothing you can do. His grip on you is tight and, underneath his red coat, you can feel the hard metal of a pistol pressing against you.

He takes you to his room, walls covered with posters featuring himself, and you hardly have the time to look around before he sits you down on one of his red couches, still caught underneath one of his arms. It’s hard to think, much less speak, as Valentino starts to prod you to pull out your phone and start reading. “No need to be shy. You’re such an artista, aren’t you? Don’t keep me waiting.” It’s easy, at first. When the scene hasn’t grown explicit yet, and you can pretend you’re only reading the text out loud to yourself like you always do, making sure the sentences sound right. But Valentino makes it hard for you to distract yourself entirely. He rubs circles on the skin of your thigh, and the smoke from his pipe has long since been the only thing you can smell. The red smoke makes your head a little hazier, tongue a little looser— Though that all just might be because you’re not getting enough oxygen. Your every muscle is tense and, you think, this is what being a prey animal must feel like. The first time you stutter out the word ‘cock’, Valentino barks out a laugh, loud and sudden, entirely contrasting with the sultry demeanour he’s been putting on the whole time. You jump, gaze flickering from the screen to his face, before continuing. It gets worse when you realise exactly what story you’re reading out loud to him, one of the ones you’d never even posted anywhere, so utterly self-indulgent and poorly thought out that you regret it with every ounce of your being. (Unbeknownst to you, Vox has already read every draft you’ve ever typed up, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“Sorry, can I maybe, um, read a different one?” You practically squeak out. “I realised I have some better drafts, and…” “No,” Valentino shuts you down, tone temporarily harsh. “Don’t get too fucking cocky now, you’re already taking up enough time as it is. Shit’s about to get interesting, finally.” He’s saying all of this as if he wasn’t the one to drag you there in the first place.

So you trudge onward, reading as fast as you possible can, just trying to tough it out. As you read about a scared, unaccomplished demonic main character catching the eye of a trio of some of the most famous demons in town—through entirely unrealistic circumstances—you can see his grin grow wider from the corner of your eye. His nails dig into the flesh of your thigh, the smoke surrounding your face turning to caress your cheeks.

“So, let me gets this straight… You wrote about a trio of powerful demons with matching names, taking turns fucking an absolute nobody silly. One of them’s a pimp, the other a fashion designer, and the other a business man.” Valentino doesn’t give you the chance to respond. “Greedy little slut. You even chose this one specifically to read out to me, huh? Seems I got you all wrong,” he hisses out. “This must be a dream come true for you, isn’t it?”

Let’s just say that you got enough ‘material’ to write another four or so stories, just from that line alone.

----- A drop of love potion, and models always behave the absolute best, or so Velvette thinks! (As long as you don’t put in too much. It’s very hard to take good pictures when the girls keep trying to kiss you.) No bitching, no whining, only an easy to pose, cute demon to work with. And if she dresses you up in clothes that reveal more than they obscure, purely for her own enjoyment and usage, who’s going to blame her?

Certainly not you. You won’t remember a single damn thing. Not even the parts where you babble on about how pretty and gorgeous and cool she is, and how you’ve admired her for so long— All things she’s heard a million times before. Normally, she wouldn’t care less about it, but such words coming from someone with only a drop of her potion in her system means they’re all the absolute truth. She thinks it’s almost cute when it’s coming from you, really. ------------ Vox, on the other hand, would be more likely to use his hypnosis on you than a love potion. Just to have a few minutes in the middle of a meeting where you’re practically putty in his hands, all of your usual anxiety and shame having slid right off of your shoulders. He doesn’t feel any guilt about it whatsoever. Having read all of your works, he finds it safe to say that this is the exact kind of scenario you would enjoy…

And even if you didn’t, he still would. He gets a bit of a thrill out of the loopy, relaxed smile on your face as you nuzzles your cheeks against his arm, professing all of the thoughts you had about him before working at VoxTech, and the ones you still have today. It’s during one of these exact moments, that he’d likely find out that Valentino had fucked you already, something he hadn’t found necessary to mention. They’ll have a bit of a discussion about that later!

[toruro]

euphoria

genre: smut ish idk(18+ / mdni), college au, asshole seokmin ...

tags: oral (m receiving), pet names (sweetie, baby), idk. he's kinda condescending lol

w/c: 2k

a/n: @cryoculus U SENT AN ASK ABT SOMETHING LIKE THIS LIKE A YEAR AGO IM CRYING T-T i'm sosorry if this shit doesn't make sense i wrote the whole thing while high idk what happened to this .... it's a little different from what u asked but i hope u enjoy!!! also thanks to em for reading this over for me (i didn't trasnfer any of the edits she gave me because i'm lazy but it's the thought that counts <3)

[11:41 PM]

You have a feeling you're going to get an earful from your friends the next morning, but as Seokmin's warm fingers wrap around your wrist and tug you through the hall, you can hardly say you care.

It's not a big deal! You swear!

It's just ... you might have boasted about not being a victim of the thirteen heartthrobs of campus a few nights before. And ... you might be heading off to a fun, fun night, hand in hand with one of such proclaimed men.

Fuck.

It's not like you intended to end up in a bed with Seokmin tonight but also ... everyone knows Seokmin's different. Isn't he?

He's a sweet boy with a sweet smile and a sweet mouth. Girls loved him, boys loved him, professors loved him—everyone damn person on campus loved him, and maybe you kinda loved him too.

It just happened so naturally, you swear! Catching up over a beer and the blaring techno—you two were partners in one of your first labs, and you think it's just on brand for him to still remember you years later—casual pleasantries and greeting hugs soon turned into sly remarks and hot, brisk touches.

He was leading the way before you know it, out to his car and to his place and—okay, you get it! You get it! Everyone knows you aren't fond of those 13 boys but, you mean—this is Seokmin. There's no way he could be an asshole, right?

[12:05 AM]

Your skin is on fucking fire.

Pushing you against the door as soon as you get into his apartment, Seokmin's lips are on yours and you swear you're in heaven. Plump lips sucking against yours, tongues kissing in your hot mouths as his hands run all up and over you. Grabbing at your skin, massaging the soft flesh of your waist, thigh slowly slotting between yours and something inside of you just melts at the thought of what's going to happen tonight.

Because holy hell, Seokmin's a nice guy, but something about the way his fingers are firm on your skin, teeth clashing against yours as he kisses you deeply as he presses you into the door ... shit, you might just go crazy.

He's whispering in your ear—all that "tell me when to stop" stuff—and then you're nodding, tellin' him that you "need him now," and so Seokmin wastes no time before tugging you into his room. He gently pushes you toward his bed, the back of your knees hitting the mattress and crumbling against the sheets. Standing by the door, under the dim light on his nightstand, you catch the golden glow of his skin and something in your core quivers.

"You look ... really fucking hot," he says all breathy and all, walking closer to you at steadfast pace that increases along with your heartbeat.

Fuck, he's really hot. Veins all big and bulging as he gets nearer and nearer until—fuck, he's standing right in front of you. Waist right by your head, you swallow a hard but bubbling lump in your throat, glancing up at Seokmin's pretty, pretty eyes.

"G'na suck me off sweetie?" he says so kindly you might just fold in on yourself at the thought of having his dick in your mouth, and so you nod your head with your lips parted and eyes wide.

Now, there isn't really anything kind about the way he grabs your hand, placing them on the belt of his jeans as he watches you expectantly. "Well go on baby," he coos and then you realize for a moment that Seokmin might not just be as kind as he lets on but ... oh fuck, he's so damn hot when he watches you from above, dark glint in his eyes when you work your fingers through the belt.

And so in your horny haze, lust pounding in your bloodstream, you unzip his jeans and tug down the waistband and his boxers in one go. His cock slips out, all hard and glistening from the pretty beads of pre-cum that dribble over the veins, the curves of his length.

You're so distracted by the mere sight of him, his tight shirt also riding up his abs and giving you a glance at the peaks and valleys of muscle that lie beneath. Seokmin pulls you back into reality quickly when you feel something hard and sticky hit your cheek and—oh.

Fuck, you wonder when you started being turned on by such dirty things.

Your hot cunt clenches when you feel Seokmin's thick cock gently slap on your other cheek, lips finally parting and instinctively sticking your tongue out. "Finally picking up, huh ..." he mutters and you think you might cum in an instant. "There you go sweetie," Seokmin continues, wrapping his hand at the base of your cock and letting the heavy tip fall against your tongue. "You know what to do, don't you?"

It sounds like a challenge, almost. That little glint in his eye and your mind's going dizzy at just the taste of his cock. Fuck, you're going to have one hell of a night.

[08:14 AM]

Damn it.

When you open your eyes the first time this morning, you realize you're in a bed, naked, and it would all be fine if only it wasn't any bed but yours.

God-fucking-damn it.

It rings in your head as you blink awake, only to be clouded with images from the night before ... your fingers digging into the hard muscle of a tough back ... hot, sticky skin flush against each other, strings of curses flowing from your lops ... fat cock stretching you out while it's buried s'deep inside of you ... his—

Lee Seokmin.

Oh my god.

Oh my god, you just slept with Lee Seokmin.

Fuck, you're friends are never going to let you hear the end of this when they find out you had sex with Lee fucking Seokmin just the night before.

You jolt out up at the realization, frantically looking around only to find yourself alone in his room. Where the hell is he? Your mind races through all the possibilities: You know you're at his apartment but is here too? Somewhere else? There's no way he left you here alone ... right? Oh my god—did he sleep next to you? Where in the fuck is—

You throw the blanket off your body and attempt to slide off the bed to figure out what the hell is going on, but just as you do so, a pang of pain streams through your lower half.

A soft whimper escapes your lip at both the pain and the realization that Seokmin fucked you so good the night before that he's left you sore all over. God, you can't remember the last time you had a fuck this good.

Just as quickly as the thought pops into your mind, you push it away. What are you thinking?! You shouldn't be thinking like this—for fuck's sake, you told everyone that you'd never, ever sleep with one of them! Even Seokmin, despite his sunshine allegations. Should have fuckin' known he wasn't the sweetest one of the lot ... but looking back on your night, you're not sure if you cared.

After all, Seokmin was hot. Hot as hell, and—

Your thoughts are interrupted by the creak of a door. Instinctively, you grab the sheets and bunch it up close to your chest, hoping to shield your bare body from whoever walks. The first thing you see when you glance at who's walked in a familiar, chiseled jawline, and a deceivingly sweet smile.

When you take another second to glance over his figure, something in your stomach churns. He's shirtless—of-fucking-course he is—with dark se

"Morning sweetie," Seokmin sings, and you swear you hear a tinge of that mean, mean voice you heard last night. He walks in with a glass of water, and you don't say anything as he walks over to the side of the bed you're on. You clutch the sheets closer to your chest, and you swear you hear him chuckle softly. "I've seen you in much less pretty—not sure why you're hiding now."

Your cheeks burn at the statement, and you break eye contact, unsure of what to say. "I ... I—whatever. I should probably head out," you say softly, eyes stuck on the ground as you reach for your panties that somehow ended up on the ground overnight.

You feel Seokmin's gaze on you as he walks over, holding his arm out to you. You don't move, and he rolls his eyes.

"C'mon, take the drink," he urges you, holding the glass closer to your lips. You narrow your eyes at him. "It's just water," he chuckles. "You know you want some."

Huffing, you open your mouth, eyes locking with Seokmin's. You're challenging him before you even realize it. You never took him as the confrontational type, but with some unknown buzz coursing through your veins, something inside you wants to see what'll happen when you push his buttons.

Something tugs at the edge of Seokmin's lips. You swear it's a smirk, as he holds the glass to your lips, tipping it slightly so the water meets your mouth. Slowly, you drink as he feeds you, and all is normal until he tilts it a little to high and—

"Oh—oh oops," Seokmin coos when you glance down, water spilling all over your collarbone and slipping under the fabric of his duvet that covers your chest. A few drops dribble past the corner of your lips and off your chin as you glare at him when he pulls the glass away. "You're gonna have to clean up the mess you made, you know?"

You scoff, hugging the cover closer to your chest. "You mean the mess you made," you shoot back, slightly cringing at the feeling of wet cloth against your skin. Seokmin's closer to you now, and you're trying to not let it get to you.

His hips are positioned close to your head, bare abdomen right in your direct line of sight, and you swear there's a tent in his pants but you also swear that you're trying not to look but—

"C'mon, you know you wanna," Seokmin tells you, and suddenly his hand is on your chin, tilting your head up to look you in the eye.

"Wanna what?" you retort.

"Stop playin' hard to get sweetie," Seokmin scoffs, and you hate the way you feel a gush between your legs. "You know you want me to clean you up."

"I don't know what you're talking abo—"

You cut yourself off with a small gasp of surprise when Seokmin drops to his knees by the edge of the bed next to you, positioning himself right by your legs. His face is close to your covered chest now, but almost instinctively, you loosen your grip on the duvet. Seokmin notices, and smirks.

"There we go," he hums, fingers tracing over the figure of your body as he scoots closer. He inches his face closer to your neck, nose brushing of your collarbone making you shudder. "Drop the act baby ... we both know there's a reason your still here."

You contemplate the different ways that this moment can go down, but all of them end with the same vision: hot, heavy, wet, and—

"Please," you whimper, spreading your legs over the edge of the bed so Seokmin can place himself right between them. "Please," the words escape your lips again, even more desperate than the first.

You feel Seokmin's lips curve at the sound, and all you can think about is how in the world you're going to explain this to your friends.

God fucking damnit.

[brunchable]

POV: You're sucked into your Fanfic - Part Three

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Writer!fReader Themes/Warning: Comedy - Chaotic Duo (mainly y/n), breaking 4th wall. Fanfic Bucky meets his writer. Swearing. Summary: So you got kicked out of your own fanfic and know you have to go to work and face real life problems. . . or so you thought. A/N: Listen, don't expect this fanfic to be well organized because it's not supposed to be. I don't know where I am going with this yet, do enjoy this chaotic fanfic with me for now lmfao.

tags: @winterslove1917 @zeeader @iamdedsthingz @hzdhrtss @almosttoopizza

@yiiiikesmish @literaryavenger @aquabrie @ramp-it-up @nash-dara

@winchestert101

You leap out of your car like a bat out of hell, convinced that you’re finally back to normal life. No more fanfic shenanigans, no more redemption arcs gone wrong. Just a regular, boring job where I definitely won’t have to deal with anything weird.

As you stumble into the elevator, trying to untangle yourself from your coat and shove a half-eaten granola bar into your mouth, you breathe a sigh of relief. Finally. Back to real life.

You slap the “Close Door” button repeatedly, desperate to get moving. The elevator hums, the doors sliding halfway shut. But just as they’re about to close completely, they flicker—a sudden, sharp flicker of the lights overhead—and the entire elevator rumbles like it’s having a midlife crisis.

Your eyes widen as the lights dim and flicker again, the walls creaking. 

“Uh... what the hell?” 

You press the button frantically, but the flickering intensifies for a brief moment, making the whole thing feel more like the start of a horror movie than an office elevator ride.

Weird. Really weird. But then, just as quickly as it started, the flickering stops, the lights stabilize, and the doors begin to glide open again.

The doors glide back open, and in walks CEO Bucky Barnes, striding into the elevator like he owns not only the building but the entire damn planet. And the universe beyond that. He’s dressed in a sleek, tailored suit, the kind that screams: I make more money in an hour than you’ll see in a lifetime.

Your granola bar nearly falls out of your mouth as you press yourself against the elevator wall like a frightened mouse, eyes wide. 

“Oh, come on.”

Bucky glances at you, arching an eyebrow as he steps inside, completely unbothered. He casually hits the close button, taking a bite out of the apple he’s holding, and then gives you a look, as if your entire existence is mildly amusing.

Oh, no. When I said I want to go back I meant in my other fanfic, NOT THIS. You swallow hard, gripping the railing in the elevator. Is this another one of those fanfics I wrote and abandoned?

You glance at him again, suddenly realizing the flickering, the rumbling, the tailored suit, and the attitude. This is definitely not the action Bucky from before. Nope, this is CEO Bucky, and apparently, he has zero patience for your existence.

Great.

You groan internally, wishing you could rewind the last five minutes of your life.

He’s holding an apple—eating it, actually—like some kind of smug Greek god. The crunch echoes in the small space of the elevator, and with every bite, you can practically hear your sanity cracking.

You backup more—if it’s even possible—against the corner of the elevator, eyes wide, heart pounding. 

“Oh my God. Oh no, no, no—” you mutter to yourself, eyes darting around like you might find an emergency escape hatch. 

Bucky side-eyes you, not missing a beat as he takes another crunch of his apple. He raises an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with your sudden and very visible panic attack.

“You’re late,” he says casually, as if pointing out the weather. The way he speaks, smooth and lazy, is enough to send a shiver down your spine. He doesn’t even look fully at you—just a quick glance that screams you are insignificant in my kingdom.

Your eyes dart around the elevator, fully cornered now. 

“Wh— I—Late? What—no, I’m not late!” You tug at your coat, flustered, hands shaking as you clutch your bag like it’s a lifeline. “I mean—yes, I’m late, but also... what are you doing here?”

CEO Bucky pauses mid-bite, looking at you as if you’ve just sprouted two heads. He finally turns fully toward you, taking another slow, calculated bite of his apple. 

“What am I doing here? I own this building.”

He says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, like you should already be bowing down to him or, at the very least, shining his shoes. His eyebrow arches higher, and his lips quirk up at the corner into the slightest smirk. A smirk that makes you want to scream and faint simultaneously.

You sputter, pressing yourself further into the elevator corner like you’re trying to melt into the walls. 

“Right. Of course. You’re the CEO. That’s... that’s normal. Completely normal. You just... randomly show up in elevators eating apples and ruining people’s lives.”

“You always this chaotic first thing in the morning?” He shakes his head slowly, clearly unimpressed with your rambling.

“What—excuse me? Chaotic?” You blink, momentarily thrown off.

He takes one last bite of his apple before tossing it in the trash bin in the corner with a smooth flick of his wrist. 

“Yeah,” he says, turning to face the elevator doors as they slide shut. “Usually you’re nice and quiet”

You gape at him, jaw practically on the floor. “Nice and quiet?!”

The elevator starts to move again, and you just stare at the back of his head, blinking rapidly. This can’t be real. This CAN’T be real. You glance up at the ceiling, half expecting the universe to laugh in your face.

“Right, okay,” you mutter to yourself. “Cool. I’m in a scrapped fanfic where CEO Bucky Barnes exists and I’m... late for something. That’s fine. Totally fine.”

The elevator dings as it reaches another floor, and you brace yourself for whatever happens next.

Bucky side-eyes you again, folding his arms, his suit jacket stretching over his broad shoulders in a way that is entirely too distracting. 

“Try not to make this a habit,” he says coolly, his voice dripping with condescension.

You blink. “What—what habit?”

He shrugs casually. “Being late. And whatever this is,” he gestures to you, still cornered and clearly flustered, “your whole... thing.”

“My whole thing?” You’re so flustered you don’t even know what to say. “This isn’t even a thing! I don’t have a thing! This is just... my life, okay?”

Bucky smirks, his gaze sliding over you like he’s assessing whether or not you’ll survive the next five minutes. 

“Yeah,” he mutters, stepping out as the elevator doors open again. “Totally, your thing.”

And just like that, he’s gone. You’re left standing there, dumbfounded, staring at the empty space where he was just seconds ago.

The elevator doors close again, and you let out a long, exasperated sigh. “I hate this fanfic already.”

× × × ×

You sit at your desk, your fingers tapping anxiously on the keyboard, but your brain is doing everything but work. It’s going a million miles a minute, trying to piece together what exactly happened to land you in this ridiculous situation.

You glance down at the stack of papers on your desk, all labeled with the company’s sleek logo, and let out a long, tortured groan. 

Then it hits you like a freight train: You’re Bucky Barnes’ assistant. This is what you wrote months ago before you rage-quit the whole story.

Your head drops into your hands. Fuuuuck.

“What was this about again?!” you mutter under your breath, trying to dig through the mental files of your abandoned fanfic plot. 

You remember vaguely setting this story up to be some kind of CEO!AU where Bucky was... what? Brooding and powerful? Sexy, for sure. In control of everything? Definitely. You were supposed to be some mild-mannered assistant who totally had her life together.

But that was so not you either. You had given up on this story for a reason—writer problems. Why did I even scrap this plot again? Oh right. Because it got so cringey you couldn't even finish it.

You try to think back to why this fanfic had hit the writer’s block wall. It was something to do with the plot going absolutely nowhere. You had no idea where to take it, so naturally, you abandoned it like a badly cooked lasagna and moved on to the next story with more action and less... corporate nonsense. 

And now, here I am, stuck in the very fanfic I gave up on because I couldn’t figure out what would happen next. Fantastic.

You sigh dramatically, rubbing your temples. Great. I’m in an unfinished fanfic where I don’t even know the plot. Awesome. Totally normal day.

Just as you’re contemplating throwing yourself out the window—or at least hiding in the bathroom for the next eight hours—you decide to take a break. Maybe you can sneak out for five minutes and regroup. Get your chaotic brain together before CEO Bucky calls you for something ridiculous like filing his taxes or fetching his tenth coffee of the day.

You push away from your desk and stand up, trying to be stealthy. But just as you make your way toward the door—

“Hey, you.”

You freeze mid-step. Oh for fuck sake.

Slowly, like a guilty child caught sneaking out of class, you turn around. There’s CEO Bucky, leaning against his office doorframe, arms crossed like some kind of modern-day Greek god. His suit is perfectly tailored, every inch of him screams I own this place, and of course, he’s got that little smirk that makes your brain short-circuit.

He gestures with two fingers, that damn lazy motion that makes you feel like you’ve been summoned by royalty. 

“Come here.”

Your eye twitches. 

“I have a name, you know,” you say before you can stop yourself, crossing your arms defensively. It’s completely out of character for the version of yourself that you wrote into this fanfic, but your chaotic brain can’t help it.

Bucky pauses, clearly not expecting you to talk back. His eyebrows lift slightly, and then that smirk grows even wider, like you’ve just amused him. 

“Do you now?”

You groan internally. Oh crap. 

But now you’re stuck, because CEO Bucky Barnes, in all his smug glory, is eyeing you like a predator who’s just found something interesting to toy with.

“Yeah, last I checked,” you say, now fully committed to the chaos as you shuffle closer, arms still crossed like you’re trying to shield yourself from the intense vibes he’s putting off. “It’s not ‘hey you,’ it’s Y/N.”

He chuckles softly, leaning back slightly and watching you approach. “Y/N, huh? Interesting.”

You squint at him, already regretting your entire life. “Why is that interesting?”

He shrugs, still smirking. “I don’t know. I like ‘hey you.’ It fits you.”

You resist the urge to scream into the void. “Well, I’m taking a break, so if you’ll excuse me—”

“Break?” He interrupts, his smirk not fading. “You’ve been here what... five minutes?”

You open your mouth to argue, but the way he’s looking at you—like he knows exactly how to push your buttons—makes your brain scramble. 

“I need to regroup. You know... organize my thoughts. Get my head in the game.”

His smirk widens as he watches you try to squirm out of the conversation. “Right. Organize your thoughts. Good luck with that.”

You blink at him, genuinely baffled by how this man manages to look so smug while saying so little. 

“This is why I scrapped this fanfic,” you mutter, too quiet for him to hear. “Why did I write him like this? All smirky and... and haughty and... ugh.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, clearly noticing your muttering, but chooses not to comment.

“You’re really something,” you grumble under your breath as you turn and make a beeline for the door, desperate for some air.

You can feel his eyes on you as you walk away, and just before you leave the room, you hear him chuckle again. 

“I’m sure you’ll do great. Don’t get lost on your... regrouping.”

You grit your teeth, giving him a tight smile as you exit the office. “Sure. I’ll be regrouping. Totally.”

The moment you’re out of his sight, you let out a groan, practically melting against the hallway wall. How do I survive this fanfic?

And then, like a jolt of lightning, you remember why you gave up on this fanfic. Because Bucky Barnes as a smug, controlling CEO is TOO MUCH!

You smack your forehead, slumping down the wall. “I am so screwed.”

× × × ×

You return to your desk, a glass of water in hand, mentally cursing your decision to ever write CEO Bucky Barnes the way you did. Smug, intense, and probably the reason for my inevitable breakdown. You take a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down as you plop into your chair. 

I can do this. I survived getting my ass beat up by action Bucky. I just have to survive the day. No more weirdness.

But, of course, life—or rather, your fanfic—has other plans.

As you sit down and try to focus, you hear the sound of high heels clicking against the floor, getting closer. You glance up, and there she is: Bucky’s soon-to-be ex-girlfriend. The character you completely forgot about when you abandoned this fanfic. She turns on her heel, clearly satisfied with her silent insult, but something inside you snaps. 

Before you can stop yourself, you blurt out in a deep, gangster voice, “Da fuCK you lookin’ at, Discount Cruella?”

She freezes mid-step, as if you’ve just slapped her with a fish. Her head turns slowly, like she can’t quite believe you just called her that. You add a taunting little eyebrow raise, tipping your chin up like you’re daring her to respond.

What the hell just came out of my mouth? You blink, stunned by your own voice, but you don’t back down. Commit, commit!

She glares, her jaw tightening. “Excuse me?”

“Yeah, you heard me,” you say, leaning back in your chair, sipping your water. “You struttin’ around like some budget Bond villain? What, you think I’m intimidated by your off-brand designer knock-offs? Please. I’ve seen scarier outfits at Walmart.”

Her eyes narrow, but she doesn’t respond. Instead, she turns with a dramatic huff and stalks off, her heels clicking furiously against the floor.

You lean back even further, casually waving after her. “Yeah, you better walk away, Dollar shop Donatella!” 

She disappears down the hallway, leaving you feeling victorious, if not a little surprised at your own audacity.

You take another sip of water and mutter to yourself, “I swear, this fanfic is making me brave... or stupid. Probably stupid.”

As you’re mentally patting yourself on the back for that little victory, you hear footsteps approaching again. You look up, expecting it to be her again, but nope—it’s Bucky. 

“Hey, you,” he says, that smooth, infuriating voice drawing your attention.

You roll your eyes but try to act casual. “Yeah, what now, boss?”

Before he can answer, you take a sip of water—probably the worst-timed sip of your life.

Bucky’s just about to say something, but the sight of him leaning casually against your desk, all brooding and smug and tall and sexy, makes you choke on your water. You try to hold it in, but before you can stop it—

PFFFFTTTTT!!!

You spit your water all over him. Like, right in his face.

Time freezes. Bucky blinks, water dripping from his face and his perfectly styled hair. He looks stunned, as if this is the first time in his entire smug CEO existence that someone has dared to water-blast him.

You freeze, your eyes wide in horror. “Oh. My. God.”

Bucky wipes his face with the back of his hand, his expression unreadable as he stares at you. You panic, leaping out of your chair and rushing over to him, grabbing the nearest paper towel in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I am so, so sorry!” you babble, dabbing furiously at his face, then his shirt, then—oh no, his chest. Holy crap, his chest.

You keep muttering in a frantic whisper. “Oh my God, his muscles. I’m touching the muscles—holy crap, I am such a perv. This is inappropriate workplace behavior—so much muscle—why did I write him this way?” 

You write every Bucky character this way.

Bucky raises an eyebrow, watching you with a mix of amusement and confusion as you continue to pat him down like he’s a spilled drink. 

“Are you... okay?”

You blink up at him, paper towel still in hand, your brain short-circuiting. 

“I—uh—what? Yeah! Totally fine. Just, you know, touching muscles—I mean—patting you down! Because of the water! That I... spat in your face. Oh my God, I spat water in your face.”

Bucky chuckles, his smirk back in full force. “Well, this is definitely a first.”

“I’m going to die of embarrassment now. Please, just... let me dissolve into the floor.” You groan, backing away from him with the soaked paper towel in hand. 

Bucky, now completely unfazed by the whole situation, shrugs and gives you a half-smile. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just water.”

You stare at him, still mortified, and mutter under your breath, “I hate this fanfic.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead of heading back to his office, though, he leans in slightly, his gaze flicking down to your water glass and then back to your face.

You freeze. Oh God, why is he leaning in? Your brain is already preparing to short-circuit again. What now? Is he about to call me out on my water-spitting habits? Does he smell fear?!

“Actually…” Bucky says, his voice dropping, his smirk now in full dangerous levels of smirkiness mode. “There was something else.”

Your heart skips a beat. Oh no. Oh no, not again.

“Yeah?” you squeak, gripping your water glass like it’s your last hope of survival. “What’s that?”

He leans in a fraction closer, his eyes practically dancing with mischief. 

“I was going to ask you for the Henderson file, but now I’m thinking...” He pauses dramatically, his lips twitching like he’s holding back a laugh. “Maybe you should get me a towel first.”

Your jaw drops. “A towel?!”

“Yeah,” Bucky says, not missing a beat, “since you’re so keen on throwing water at people.”

You blink at him, utterly mortified. “I didn’t throw it! I just—ugh, fine! I’ll get you a towel.”

He grins wider. “Good. And then... you can grab the Henderson file.”

“I’m not your assistant and your personal dry cleaner!” You groan, turning to leave, but of course, you have to get in one last grumble.

Bucky watches you, highly amused. “You sure? You seemed pretty eager to pat me down a minute ago.”

You freeze mid-step, spinning around with wide eyes.

“Oh my God, I—I wasn’t—I was just trying to—you know what? Never mind!” You throw your hands up in exasperation. “I’m getting the damn towel!”

You rush off toward the break room, muttering under your breath the entire way. “This fanfic is literally out to humiliate me. Why did I write him like this? Why, past me, WHY?”

Behind you, you swear you hear Bucky chuckle softly, and it only makes you walk faster.

× × × ×

Y/N, now on a mission to redeem herself after the whole spitting water fiasco, rushes back to her desk with the Henderson file in one hand and a towel in the other. No more screw-ups, you tell yourself. No more embarrassing moments. I’m going to act like a professional human being for once.

You take a deep breath before stepping into Bucky’s office. He’s seated behind his desk, looking as composed as ever, typing away on his computer. Cool, calm, collected, you remind yourself. You carefully place the file on his desk, and then with way too much flourish, dramatically whip out the towel.

“Your towel, sir!” you announce like you’re a butler in an old movie, bowing slightly for extra effect.

Bucky glances up from his computer, one eyebrow raised. “Thanks... I think?”

You nod seriously, trying to keep a straight face. 

“Only the finest hand towels for the World’s Wettest CEO,” you add, clearly not able to stop yourself from clowning.

Bucky’s expression doesn’t change, but there’s definitely a flicker of amusement in his eyes. 

“You know, usually assistants don’t mock their boss right after spitting water on them.”

Before you can fire back with something clever, he stands up and—without breaking eye contact—starts stripping off his jacket.

Your eyes widen to saucer-size. Oh SHIT. Look at those biceps, I bet he could crack an egg with those.

“Wait, what are you doing?” you blurt, taking a cautious step back. Your eyes dart to the door, your brain immediately thinking of the worst possible scenario.

Bucky casually shrugs off his jacket, tossing it onto his chair, and takes a slow step toward you. His sleeves are rolled up just enough to show off those forearms—and, holy hell, is it getting hotter in here?

You gulp, stumbling back another step. “Why are you coming closer? What—no, don’t come any closer!”

But he doesn’t stop. In fact, he smirks as he undoes the top button of his shirt, rolling up his sleeves even higher as if he’s about to give you some kind of private show.

Your brain completely short-circuits. 

“I will call the police!” you shout dramatically, pointing a shaky finger at him. “Don’t make me do it! I have a phone!”

Bucky takes another step, clearly enjoying watching you unravel.

“Stop!” you squeak, backing up so fast that you almost trip over your own feet. “I swear, if you come any closer—Please! I’m a virgin!”

Wait. WHAT? Did that actually just come out of my mouth?

Bucky stops in his tracks, his brow furrowing in pure confusion. His smirk falters, and he blinks at you like you’ve lost your mind—which, honestly, you might have. 

“Wait, what?”

You slap your hands over your mouth. 

“Not... not really!” you blurt, mortified, feeling your face turn a thousand shades of red. “I just—what—I mean, I don’t know why I said that! Forget I said that! WHY DID I SAY THAT?”

Bucky stares at you, clearly torn between laughing and being genuinely confused by your outburst. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You point at him again, eyes still wide. “You were stripping! I thought—I don’t know what I thought! I thought you were about to—look, can you just—stop doing whatever it is you’re doing?”

“I was just getting comfortable. You’re the one making this weird.” He finally gives in and lets out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. 

“I’M MAKING THIS WEIRD?!” you shout, nearly flailing in disbelief. “You just started stripping in your office like we’re in some kind of romance novel!” Well. . .technically. . .

Bucky shrugs, clearly amused by your total meltdown. “I wasn’t even halfway through, and you’re already threatening to call the cops.”

“I panicked!” you cry, throwing your hands up in exasperation. “What do you expect when you come at me like some... some walking smirk with biceps?”

“Relax, hey you, I’m not gonna bite.” He takes one more step toward you, the grin on his face infuriatingly smug. 

“Right... okay... great. But, uh, no more sudden movements, okay? I don’t think my dignity can take another hit today.” You’re still staring at him, pulse racing, trying to get your heart back to normal.

Bucky, still smirking, unbuttons his shirt completely, slipping it off and tossing it aside as if the entire interaction hasn’t completely short-circuited your brain. Now, he’s shirtless, and your brain is screaming 

NOPE, NOPE, yes NOPE.

But he doesn’t stop there. Bucky takes another step closer, clearly enjoying the absolute chaos unfolding on your face. He gestures toward the towel still clutched in your hand. 

"Since you’re so eager to help, why don’t you pat me dry?”

Your jaw drops. “Excuse me?!”

He tilts his head, completely unfazed by your reaction. “You spat water on me. Now it’s only fair you clean up the mess.”

You clutch the towel tighter, staring at him like he’s grown a second head. 

“Do you not have arms? You seem perfectly capable of drying yourself off with all these...” you gesture wildly to his bare chest, your voice rising in pitch, “...muscles!”

“I’m not saying I can’t. I just thought you might want to.” Bucky chuckles, his eyes glinting with amusement.

Your face is practically on fire at this point. “Oh, I’m sure you’re more than qualified to handle it yourself!” you say, thrusting the towel toward him. “I’ll just—uh—get you some new clothes! Right?”

Bucky shrugs, clearly still enjoying your mortification. “Sure. Or you can keep patting me down. Your call.”

“I WILL NOT BE PATTING ANYTHING,” you declare, your voice an octave too high as you spin around and dash toward the door. “I’ll get your clothes!”

“Take your time.” As you stumble out of the office, you can hear Bucky’s soft chuckle behind you. 

You groan internally, your face still burning as you make your escape. 

“This is getting worse and worse,” you mutter under your breath, gripping the door handle a little too tight. “I miss action Bucky. At least he wasn’t... shirtless and smug! God, why is this happening to me?”

You rush out the door, praying for some kind of divine intervention—or at least for your brain to stop short-circuiting every time you’re within ten feet of his ridiculous muscles.

You blink, and suddenly the world shifts beneath your feet. One second you’re in the office, still mentally head-slamming yourself for your awkward slip-up, and the next, you’re standing in front of two massive, intimidating double doors.

You blink again, confused. “Wha—What the—Wait... where the hell am I?”

Your eyes scan your surroundings, and it finally hits you—you’re in some fancy penthouse building, way too expensive-looking to be anywhere near your normal, boring life. And then, just as you’re about to piece things together, glowing words flash above your head:

Business Proposal, Part 4: Sick Leave

You stare up at the words in disbelief, slowly lowering your water bottle. It went up to Part Four?!

“That’s new,” you mutter, looking around as if someone’s watching you. “Why does this feel like some kind of twisted game show?”

Before you can contemplate further, a voice—loud, deep, dramatic, and all-knowing (totally not Bucky’s voice)— suddenly echoes around you, narrating your life like it’s the season finale of a telenovela.

“It’s been a few days since Bucky’s break-up with Yasmine, and Y/N has been very worried—”

“No, I’m not,” you cut off the voice, raising your hand like you’re silencing an annoying ad.

The narrator pauses, then comes back, clearly annoyed. “Yes, you are.”

You cross your arms defiantly. “Nope. Not worried. Zero percent concerned. I barely even remember her name—Yasmine, was it? See? Forgettable.”

There’s an exasperated sigh from the unseen narrator. 

“Yes. You are. Bucky’s been distant, and you can’t help but wonder if this is affecting him more than he’s letting on—”

“Oh my God, I literally do not care,” you interrupt again, dramatically rolling your eyes toward the sky, wondering if you could just teleport out of this madness. “Can I at least care about something that doesn’t sound like a rejected soap opera plot?”

“You do care,” the voice insists, the irritation building. “You’ve been wracking your brain about how to comfort him, wondering if now is the right time to—"

You wave both hands in the air like you’re directing traffic. “Nope. Absolutely not. I’m not showing him anything. If anything, I need a vacation. A spa day. A break from all this fanfic insanity.”

There’s a very heavy pause, like the narrator’s deciding whether to keep talking or just yeet themselves into the void to escape you. 

Then, with maximum exasperation, the voice finally asks, “Do you ever just shut up?”

You gasp, clutching your chest in mock horror. “Wow! Rude! Is that how you treat all your characters? Is this why all my stories keep getting abandoned halfway through? Is this your fault?”

There’s a very, very tired sigh. “You do know this is your story, right?”

You blink, then scratch your head. “Oh yeah...”

You can practically feel the narrator rolling their eyes, probably contemplating retirement.

“Fine,” the narrator says, now with the exhausted tone of someone who just ran a marathon through an obstacle course of idiocy. “You’re not worried. But you are here at Bucky’s penthouse, and he’s expecting you. And deep down—”

“I literally do not care!” you yell, flailing your arms like a cartoon character.

The narrator groans again, even louder this time. “Why do I even bother?”

“Honestly? I’ve been wondering the same thing,” you mutter, finally stepping forward to push open the ridiculously huge doors. “Let’s just get this over with. What’s next? Is Bucky going to burst into song? Or is this the part where I accidentally knock over some expensive art?”

“For the love of—Just get your ass inside!” the narrator snaps, sounding like they’re one sarcastic comment away from quitting entirely.

You pause, your hand hovering over the doorknob, and then snort. “Wow. Testy, aren’t we? Someone needs a narrator spa day.”

There’s a long, drawn-out sigh that echoes in the hallway, clearly done with your antics.

“I’m just saying,” you add with a shrug, “I’ve been through a lot today. I feel like a little sass is warranted.” You push open the door with an exaggerated flourish, muttering, “I swear, if Bucky’s standing there with some dramatic lighting or a tragic backstory about Yasmine, I’m out.”

The narrator doesn’t respond, probably because they’re off somewhere wishing they had another job. You step through the doors, bracing yourself for whatever ridiculous fanfic nonsense is about to hit you next.

You step through the doors, fully expecting some serious businessman vibes from Bucky. Maybe sitting behind a giant mahogany desk, brooding over paperwork, casually looking out at the city skyline like the high-powered CEO you wrote him to be.

But no. Instead, you find Bucky on the couch, wrapped in what can only be described as the world's most excessive blanket burrito. 

His hair’s a mess, his nose is red, and—oh my God—he’s holding a mug like it’s the last ounce of warmth in the universe. Surrounding him? A small fortress of tissues and cold medicine.

This is not CEO behavior!

His head slowly turns toward you, his eyes slightly puffy, and you swear there’s a pitiful sparkle in them. He sniffs dramatically, like a rom-com hero in his darkest hour. 

“Y/N?”

Your brain stutters. “I—uh—what?”

“I think... I’m dying,” he whispers hoarsely.

You blink at him, completely dumbfounded. Oh, this is bad. This is really bad. You don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s the “sick love interest” trope. Your life has officially hit peak cliché.

“Dying?” you repeat, hands on your hips. “Aren’t you, like, a super soldier? And a CEO? You manage hostile takeovers and boardroom battles, and now you’re... this?”

Bucky sniffles again, managing to look both miserable and somehow, annoyingly attractive. He shifts under the mountain of blankets and croaks out.

“I’ve never been this sick in my life.”

“You have a cold. A cold.” You cross your arms, staring down at the pathetic excuse of a man swaddled like a sad burrito. 

He coughs dramatically, like the very act is draining his soul. 

“It feels like... more than that.” His eyes meet yours, shining with exaggerated sorrow. “Can you... can you make me some tea?”

You groan, dragging a hand down your face. This man is running an entire company, and right now, I’m supposed to be... what? His nanny?

“You’re serious?” you ask, incredulous.

Bucky nods weakly, pulling the blanket tighter around himself. 

“With honey. And lemon,” he rasps, voice full of the weight of his tragic illness. “Please.”

You sigh, rolling your eyes so hard you might strain something, and head to the kitchen. 

“What happened to you, man? You’re supposed to be intimidating! A force to be reckoned with! What is this?”

He sneezes loudly from the couch, followed by a pitiful groan. “I’m emotionally compromised.”

You pause mid-step. “You’re emotionally compromised... because you have a cold?”

Another tragic sniffle. “It’s more than a cold. It’s the end.”

You fill the kettle, trying not to laugh. “The end? Of what? Your dignity?”

From the couch, Bucky coughs again—this time sounding even more over-the-top dramatic, like he’s trying out for a role in a period drama. 

“I think it’s... fatal.”

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable,” you mutter, pouring the hot water into a mug, stirring in honey and lemon. “How are you the same guy who intimidates boardrooms? This is embarrassing.”

Carrying the tea back to him, you set it on the table in front of him with a flourish. “Here’s your tea, Mr. CEO. I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You’re... my hero.” He takes the mug with both hands, looking up at you with wide, grateful eyes.

You deadpan at him. “If you expect me to wipe your nose, you’ve got another thing coming.”

Bucky takes a sip of the tea, then stares at you like you just saved his entire existence. 

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

You sigh, sitting on the edge of the coffee table, staring at him like a tired parent. “Is this what rich people do? Get over-the-top colds and drag innocent assistants into their melodrama?”

“It’s not just a cold. I’m suffering.” He pouts, snuggling deeper into his blanket cocoon, clearly loving every second of the attention. 

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m suffering too, buddy.”

Bucky coughs again, though you notice it’s less dramatic this time. “You’d do this for me, though... right?”

“Do what? Be your unpaid nursemaid?”

“Would you?” Bucky flashes a smirk, though it’s weak and slightly pathetic due to his current burrito state. 

You sigh, feeling like you’ve officially reached rock bottom. “Sure, why not. What’s next? Should I bring you soup and read you a bedtime story?”

His eyes light up. “Could you bring me soup?”

You throw your hands in the air, standing up in mock surrender. “Oh my God, I walked right into that one.”

From the couch, Bucky manages to look even more pitiful. “Please?”

“I swear, if this turns into a romantic montage, I’m jumping out the window.” You groan dramatically, heading back to the kitchen. 

Somewhere, the narrator’s voice hums, clearly enjoying this too much. "And so, Y/N found herself drawn into a reluctant role of caretaker, tending to Bucky's every need—"

“OH MY GOD, NO!” you shout to the ceiling. “Not this trope! Why is this happening?!”

Bucky, now fully alert, blinks at you. "Who... are you shouting at?”

The narrator sighs dramatically. “You’re really ruining the ambiance.”

Bucky's eyes narrow, looking around the room as if someone's going to pop out of the walls. "Seriously, who are you talking to?”

“GOOD,” you snap, ladling soup into a bowl. “Ambiance is overrated.”

Bucky frowns, staring at you like you've completely lost it. "You're... really freaking me out right now." 

You mutter under your breath, "Join the club, pal.”

As you return with the soup, you place it in front of Bucky, who looks up at you with the sad puppy eyes again. “Thanks for taking care of me, Y/N.”

“This is my life now, isn’t it? Fanfic sick-nurse tropes and soup.” You groan, staring at the ceiling.

The narrator hums again. “Exactly.”

You dramatically flop down on the couch next to Bucky. “Next time, just write me into an action scene. I miss action Bucky.”

“Action Bucky’s tired. Let CEO Bucky have his moment.”

You groan again, burying your face in a pillow. This fanfic is literally trying to kill me.

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

THE WORD NO ‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅

| percy jackson x popstar au

| au masterlist ☽

warnings: swearing

a/n: hello there!! im actual having so much fun writing this series and every so often a new idea will come to me and im just like YES I LOVE THAT WRITE U LAZY SHIT. (does the screaming at myself work? sometimes like right now) hence why we're here on a randomly tuesday. also this is shorter because im dying and need to sleep so bad

☾. ⋅

"i'm gonna throw up!" lia groans from her chair.

"get over it you oversized walrus."

"WALRUS?"

you sit back in your chair watching as your two friends bicker over cake. not even fighting over who gets the last piece, but who ate the most and who is gonna be the sickest.

"I AM NOT A WALRUS THANK YOU VERY MUCH-"

"do they always argue this much?" the voice of the person you'd hoped to forget about asks. you barely contain your eye roll as you turn to him.

"yes. it gets rather annoying when they start to act like middle schoolers." i say getting louder with each word. lia shoots me an offended look and riley all but leaps out of her chair and launches the throw pillow she was sitting on at me. she says high school was the worst years of her life and never wants to hear us talk about her from back then.

"i'm sorry i can't hear you over here talking about shit i don't know about," she smiles fakely and sits back down returning to her bickering.

"did that answer your question?"

"...yeah."

"y/n! percy!" stacey calls walking into your living room.

both of you groan in unison when you see stacey and lauren walking towards you with serious faces. you shoot percy an annoyed look and smile - painfully - up at stacey. "whats up?"

"its your birthday this weekend y/n."

percy's eyes flick to you clearly not knowing that.

"and what would you like us to do about that?" you ask stacey.

she pauses and looks at lauren for conformation, when lauren nods she continues on. "we'd like you to announce your relationship. go public. on your birthday. or well more like at your birthday party."

another pause.... "with a kiss."

"what the fuck?" both of you say again. stacey and lauren hid grins behind obviously faked sincere looks.

"I know this might suck-"

might suck. right cause we're obvisouly besties that have been joined at the hip from the womb and are secretly in love with each other. sure.

"but, with y/n's new album announcement coming out soon we thought it would boost both of your statuses." stacey smiles trying to convince you.

"i don't need the extra publicity!" you snap your head to percy. "oh for the love of god, can you shut up while i'm trying to talk? you're acting like we're old withered and grey and trying to sync our sentences so we say the same shit as we die."

a snort erupts from across the room where the bickering has now stopped and lia and riley have their heads buried in a pillow to stop from laughing.

"just think it over yeah?" stacey says to you as lauren drags a reluctant percy away to talk. "we literally came to this resort so we could get pictures for the two of you, it was a four hour flight. a kiss shouldn't be too bad."

"yeah for you," you grumble as stacey walks out shaking her head.

"believe me i would love to take your place," lia says plopping down in the seat next to you.

"of course you would."

"i could never not do something like that how could you?" she huffs.

"the word 'no' lia, its pretty cool."

"besides your party is the best place to do it. and the theme is going to be amazing. black and white baby!"

"shh walrus clearly y/n is going through something right now!" riley shakes her head.

"excuse me?"

you groan. its going to be a long night.

☾. ⋅

next week.

percyjackson posted

yn.official posted

☾. ⋅

☾. ⋅

TAGLIST‧₊˚ ☾. ⋅ [if you're name is white it mean i couldn't tag you]

@lauptimist, @itzmeme, @mariaaaaaahhhh, @paankhaleyaar, @maybxlle,

@azure-drag0ness, @cxp1d, @user-3113s-blog, @pleasingregulus,

@avihashearts4lix, @inlovewithmorales, @brokecollegebitch, @user-3113s-blog, @officiallyalbino

@gloryhaddock, @kozumesphone, @moonlightwonderlan, @starxshining, @taintedrosee

@lovelyygirl8, @cleothefrogo, @sungjinwoomybeloved, @hearts4li, @amandareids

@mirrorballdickinson, @gabrielle-tia, @riordanness

[quickstappen]

track 004: love, where are you?

A/N: i am so sorry, i know it's late, but college sucks (im juggling learning 3 languages at once - filology students am i right??) and my job also sucks (i don't recommend editing photos honestly) - but here we are, again, twitter heavy, i swear the plot is coming :)) also - ignore the dates, 'm too lazy to change them

A/N 2: previous parts of this series have been edited! most notable - Marci's a Ferrari employee, not Redbull like before

masterlist | previous next

liked by marcilazzaro1, sarah_scott and others

clairobernie_x a natural progression of the night (italians sure knows how to party)

see all comments...

sarah_scott when is my invite coming? i wanna party with you too

↳ clairobernie_x gotta get the connections first babe

↳ sarah_scott well, can't really get with pierre, my boyfriend would definitely mind

↳ clairobernie_x yeah, fair lol

↳ marcilazzaro1 you're invited next year, how about that?

↳ sarah_scott lovely stuff 🥰

shithappens is that... marci? flashing someone? i'm in love

ilpredestinatox jesus i love this duo

quickstappen the annual media team party!!

marcilazzaro1 remind me to never drink with you again

↳ clairobernie_x you loved it

zoebryne_x how are y'all so hot

view more...

marcilazzaro1 posted a story!

2 MONTHS LATER

liked by mickschumacher, charles_leclerc and others

brunolazzaro_03 welcome to crisis-ville, sarah_scott this is entirely your fault

tagged: marcilazzaro1, federrere

(this is a private account, you cannot reply to this post)

see all comments...

charles_leclerc oh god, straight from the bottle? what did you do to this woman

↳ brunolazzaro03 trust me, this isn't even her lowest moment from this month

↳ marcilazzaro1 dude?? stop exposing me

↳ brunolazzaro03 or what.

↳ marcilazzaro1 i have tonio's phone number

↳ brunolazzaro03 YOU WOULDN'T DARE

↳ charles_leclerc do i even wanna know who tonio is?

↳ marcilazzaro1 his boyfriend ;)

↳ brunolazzaro03 HE'S NOT

sarah_scott i deny all my involvement in this crisis

↳ marcilazzaro1 of course you do

↳ sarah_scott hey! i only gave you an idea, not tell you to spiral

mickschumacher is she like... okay?

↳ brunolazzaro03 first off, has she ever been?

↳ mickschumacher true

↳ marcilazzaro1 catching strays left and right in my own home, unbelievable

lance_stroll remember to hydrate or whatever

↳ marcilazzaro1 i am

↳ lance_stroll with WATER

↳ marcilazzaro1 didn't jesus turn water into wine?

↳ lance_stroll you are hopeless

federrere hey what the fuck, that's my shirt??

↳ marcilazzaro1 well, i have news for you then

view more...

Marci's messages:

S: Mick showed me Bruno's post

S: Are you okay?

M: Yeah, I'm good, just...

M: A lot of things on my mind I guess.

S: Yeah, I get that. If you ever need to run away my doors are always open.

M: I might take you up on that right before the preseason testing. Need to survive the trip with Lewis first tho, I have no idea what he has planned.

S: Good luck with that.

S: See you soon Marci.

4 MONTHS LATER

8 MONTHS LATER

nicolashamilton just posted a story!

madi's radio: just to note again, this series has been edited, i heavily suggest checking out the previous parts again, although you can probably work it out on its own too. thanks to @anthonykatebridgerton putting this idea in my head ;)

taglist: @sunny44 @rockyhayzkid @biancathecool @unluckyyoshi @woozarts @janeholt3 @celestialend @formulaal @d3kstar @yoremins @rd1410-blog @mess-is-my-aesthetic @callsignwidow @blaaahblubb @evans-dejong @lwstuff @emilyval1 @r0seandth0rns @fletchingarcher @blaaahblubb @notyaslol @dear-fifi @zimm04 @thewritingofspencerrose @elliegrey2803 @anthonykatebridgerton @firetruckstuckley @casperlikej @anephemeralwoe @vroomvroommuppett @taytaylala12 @kuskumu @clemswrld @bella-1 @leclercdream @evie-119 (xxx - couldn't tag you)

click here to be added to the carved my name taglist!

DISCLAIMER: i do not know anything about this people, this is not real life, this is just something for fun, i do not know anythings about their life or personalities!

[onthewaytosomewhere]

Sunday - yeah sentences & last line challenge cuz i'm lazy and doing them all in one

so i've been tagged by some lovely peeps @england-would-fall @taste-thewaste @firenati0n @piratefalls

So I need to get this thing done - as it has been lamenting on my drive waiting for me to just finish it already - and stop playing around with all the other fics so I'm posting it in hopes that might encourage me to get it frakkin' done already - and i wasted hours this afternoon tracking down one detail lol - but hey that's what happens i guess lol

So this is what I have lovingly been calling gotta sign 'em all - it's a little thing inspired by TZP and his fascination with signing a little book (and well, with him being so ACD-coded it just fits) it's a lot more than 6 or 7 sentences but i just need to get some of it out in the ether

They are nearing the end, both of Henry’s ability to continue and the line of people with books for him to sign, when the girl whose book Henry just signed peeks behind him at Alex. She turns the book to the dedication page and gestures towards Alex. “Mr. Claremont-Diaz,” and fuck if that doesn’t make him feel old, but the girl can’t be more than 13, so he sucks it up. “Would you be willing to sign the dedication page of my book? Your story helped me come out as bisexual to my parents; they’re from the US, and my father’s Mexican family is very Catholic. Seeing you have family of similar background who support you after everything happened to you made me hope mine could be as well.” Alex feels Henry’s hand grab his and squeeze it. This is one of the things that still amazes him: how in sync they are with each other. How even though Henry is drained from a taxing day, Henry is there to support Alex unequivocally. He nods to her and reaches for her book. He takes a deep, centering breath and squeezes Henry’s hand once quickly before letting it go with a smile so he can sign. Henry hands him the Sharpie he has taken to carrying in his inner jacket pockets, and he grips the pen, looking back to the girl in front of him. “I am just floored that my story—our story,” he says, gesturing between himself and Henry, because his story is and always will be intertwined with Henry’s, ever since they first started this, “gave you the courage to be yourself. I hope it all went well with your family.” The girl nods, and Alex sees the wet sheen to her eyes, the tears she is attempting to hold back, and blinks to keep his own at bay. “Yes, it did, thank you,” her smile wobbles a little as she responds, and Alex moves the conversation on for all of them. “Who am I making this out to?” Alex asks, pen poised above the page, ready to sign. He pauses a moment to read the dedication he has memorized as she gives her name.  [insert sappy – probably not good enough – dedication to Alex - probably something about you and me always maybe breaking down walls] He writes her name in the book, adds a few lines about bisexual solidarity, and signs his name with a flourish. He hands the book back to her, and she looks at the page, smiling at his words. Alex is not the most self-aware man, and he’ll admit this, but even he knows that moment has him feeling things he didn’t think it would.

oh i also got a few of last line tags yesterday so here goes for that too

He decides to help her out and says, “Hey, I see you got your copy of Henry’s book; glad ya got one before the vultures at that shelter swooped in.”

so some no-pressure Sunday tags and well if ya already posted let's just assume ya had an open tag that i snagged and i'll find it lol @adreamareads @anincompletelist @bitbybitwrites @dragonflylady77 @duchessdepolignaca03 @firstsprinces @forever-fixating @heybuddy-drabbles @hgejfmw-hgejhsf (hope ya had a good time in austin Val! (at least i assume based on wednesdays post that's wehre ya were)) @inexplicablymine @itsmaybitheway @junebugclaremontdiaz @kiwiana-writes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @magicandarchery @nocoastposts @priincebutt @sophie1973 @stellarm @sunnysideprince @suseagull04 @typicalopposite and an open tag

[cringelordofchaos]

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

- NAMES × PRØNOUNS = IT / SHE / HE / THEY ×××❤️‍🔥🎸🐍

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

--im; 🇷🇸 - serbian × 🏳️‍🌈 - queer × ✝️ - (culturally)orthodox(+witchy ;))×××

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

biggest obsession lately: BRAWL STARS (#bs), ACE ATTORNEY (#aa) (all fandoms)

×××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××××

• other blogs - pronouns.page - music i listen to - tagging system - characters I relate to

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нЕмА сПаСа Ни ТеБи нИ мЕнИ сВе Је ЛаЖ и рАј сЕ ПеНи (/Ј)

MY FAVORITEST POST OF ALL TIME /hj... (unless...)

I forget to update my pronouns page frequently so it's not really worth checking out.

{o.we,o,qw,qw.qq,o,qw,qw.qe,wt,qo,t,y×one^day.q,qr.wp,i,t,qr.t,ww,t,qi,wt,qt,qr,t.t,qw,qo,t-as.well (wq,qr,qw,t,qo.o.r,qt,qr,wp.e,qt,qe,qw,t,wp,t.qe,wt.journey.w,t,y,qt,qi,t.i,q,qr,r)}

DRAWING REQUESTS R ALWAYS OPEN! though my art skills r not up to everyone's standards, it's like free anyway so

(TMF Sean userboxes made by @speedydestinydream)

Uhm ok nobody's seeing this? Good. Rhea Ripley's hot AS FUCKKKK dude

Uhm and also. Random facts about me

I'm not autistic

I once hit my head so hard it was bleeding (and never got treated for it lmao)

Aaron Mitchell is just like me fr

By blood im actually more aromanian + Slovenian + ashkenazi Jewish + other shit than Serbian but by culture im Serbian (and Americanized... (Spend too much time on the net))

I love opposites attract trope because 100% of the time I relate to both the characters involved

I used to have an identity crisis over what kind of caricature I wanted to be but now I just let myself exist in peace without putting an active effort into just existing

I'm more culturally orthodox christian and tbh I don't really believe in that stuff but I won't give up the holidays and traditions. As for witchcraft it's fun and you can't exactly disprove the existence of spirituality so I am interested but again when I practice witchcraft it more feels like roleplaying so uhm. Not sure if I can call myself s true withx or a christian but who gives a shit.

Potentially alter human but I realized my obsession with alter human labels in the last might've been caused by the fact that I wasn't fully happy with who I was. still act like a creature at times though.

I have been called "fascinating" 6 times, once by a licensed psychiatrist.

I tend to overshare and also I was extremely scared of sharing the fact that I'm mostly aromanian because I thought it would reveal where I hid the money or some shit. I still am scared but oh well

Don't have ADHD either fuck that

I am at risk of a spine deformation. Lmao

I get extremely obsessive over fiction and it tends to last for... Idk? I don't count.

I'm picky yet indecisive as hell

Selfish and extremely lazy

So sarcastic all the time to the point of some people thinking I'm being genuine and then getting mad at me. I mean I dug my own grave there so.

I accidentally ghost people, respond really late to texts, if at all. I am trying to work on this because I have been made aware that this type of behaviour can genuinely hurt people and I don't want to hurt anyone

Had self diagnosed depression in the past

Cisginger

Autistic Craig Tucker real

Heavily heavily HEAVILY relate to Aaron Mitchell from the Mitchells Vs the machines (he is literally me in every way possible)

Unhealthily addicted to my phone

Sometimes draw but I'm horrible at it

My head hurts

Freakblr OG 💪

Suck at sports but like them but I hate working in teams because I'm afraid I'll disappoint everyone. Yaknow???

Experience self suspected social gender dysphoria (recovering)

Otherlink, mild specie dysphoria, possibly therian

Self suspected low object permanence

[facewithoutheart]

Shuffle Tag! The ADHD Version where I tell you when and why I’d skip a song…

rules: put your music on shuffle and list the first 10 songs that come up, then tag ten other people

Thanks for the tags @sillyunicorn, @cutestkilla, @prettygoododds, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, & @iamamythologicalcreature

I’m cheating btw and I’ve put my songs on shuffle but I’m only counting the ones I wouldn’t immediately skip:

1. Bottom by Tool (I’d try this one out but likely would skip fairy quickly; I keep trying to like Tool’s full discography but basically I love Lateralus the album and the song Sober)

1a. Dream of You by Jazz Emu (I liked one of their silly songs on TikTok and impulse added the whole album but I just don’t enjoy it and am too lazy to search and delete.)

2. Queen Bitch by David Bowie (another song I’d try to get through but I’m sorry Bowie fans I just struggle and would probably skip eventually)

3. Mona Lisa by The Lonely Island (would listen to it in its entirety, singing along like the lyrics aren’t “Mona Lisa you’re an overrated piece of shit”; I am obsessed with this movie and this song and now it’s in my head)

4. Your Boyfriend Sucks by The Atari (I would listen up until the part where they talk instead of sing because that part annoys me both in sound and content but I wouldn’t be able to resist listening to at least part of this song for the high school nostalgia)

5. The Ghost Inside by Broken Bell (50/50 chance of me listening up until the chorus and skipping bc I don’t really know this song or making it through the whole thing; it’s peppy so I might finish it)

6. Oh Klahoma by Jack Stauber (would probably play this in most of its entirety, especially right now because this gives me such Fall vibes and I am hurting for cooler weather)

6a. Passenger Seat by Death Cab for Cutie (instant skip; sorry ‘bout ya Transatlanticism but I like very few of your songs)

7. Schism by Tool (100% would listen to this song in its entirety, scream the lyrics, probably close my eyes while singing, “Cold silence has a tendency to atrophy any sense of compassion,” which I know by heart y’all, no faltering, I know the pieces fit because I watched them fall away, mildewed and smoldering, okay I swear I’ll stop. Remember when I said I liked Lateralus??)

7a. Red and Black from the Original London Les Mis Soundtrack (sorry Broadway I listen to, like, three songs from this soundtrack and I’d nope out of this song asap)

8. No Such Thing by John Mayer (ok I know he’s a total dick but this song is a banger and I’ll scream the lyrics while thinking of my friend from high school sharing this song before a swim meet, all of us listening in on her burnt CD that she played on a portable player, because a) it’s a sweet memory and b) she’s since passed and I love that this is one of the ways I get to honor her)

9. Monuments and Melodies by Incubus (shit this is one of the few Incubus songs I don’t know very well; I’d probably listen curiously for a few minutes then skip onward hoping my shuffle will take pity on me and play another song later that I’m more likely to know)

10. Love Is Colder Than Death (EP Version) by The Virgins (would play for half the song before getting annoyed it’s different than the album version)

Tagging five peeps @skeedelvee (look I failed the three-skip game!) @tea-brigade (give me your songs I know they’re good) @palimpsessed (hi I miss you) @stardustasincocaine (are these unhinged? Please please) & new friend @best--dress (hi show me your songs?)

[stormhearty]

Once you get this, you have to say five things you like about yourself, publicly. Then you have to send this to ten of your favourite followers (non-negotiable, positivity is cool~)🌈🌈

- @daycourtofficial 💕💕

Oh gosh! Five things about myself that I like? That's a tough-y~ This took a while for me to think... And thank you so much @daycourtofficial for sending~! (And thank you @prythianpages for sending as well! I will just tag you here as well~ And yes, I am doing fine~ Writer's block sucks~)

I like how tiny I am~ I'm five feet and a lot of my friends are taller than me, but I just like how smol I am. I find that a cute quality of mine.

My friendliness. Despite being a super introverted person, I do like making friends. I tend to hold friendships dear to my heart. So if I see you as a friend, hold it dear because I cherish our friendship a lot.

Being super adventurous. I love going places (despite being so lazy sometimes). I love traveling and trying out new things. It helps me grow as a person.

I love what I do for work. Being a nurse is super rewarding at times, I have to fight through it sometimes to get those rewarding moments.

I'm working on my self-confidence. There are many times when I think negatively and I'm trying to turn those thoughts into positive ones. That I'm smart, pretty and a great person.

[chaoticaptendyte]

Get to know me :3

Was tagged by @grippysockgang :3

1. Are you named after anyone?

Apparently after a sri-lankan first lady

2. When was the last time you cried?

Uhhh well yesterday afternoon i had a terrible bout of acidity after lunch and everything hurt so bad that tears came to my eyes, does that count?

3. Do you have kids?

Nope, i mean i am only 20. But i want to one day, two kids, I'd love if they're twins too

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot?

Uhhhh not really no, i use it to the normal extent ig

5. What is the first thing you notice about a person?

Hm, damn i people watch on the train everyday and yet i cannot for the life of me tell u this. I suppose the way they're dressed? And then their hands maybe 👀

6. What is your eye color?

Dark chocolatey pools for you to drown in :)

7. Scary movie or happy ending?

I am actually scared of horror so no, not scary movies EVER unless i have someone to cuddle into and can hide my face in their chest okie. Once my friends forced me to watch conjuring, i spent a month thinking my mom's possessed. Happy movies ftw. Forever.

8. Any special talents?

Hmmmmmm, idk lemme see. I think I'm kinda a decent photographer. I can cook well, don't do it often cause college and I'm kinda lazy and my mom does it for us anyway but yea. Oooohhh, I'm the official taster in our family. Anytime anyone is cooking anything and they need to know if the balance is right or something they come to me :3 which is pretty cool, i guess that counts as special.

9. Where were you born?

In an operation room ✌🏻. I was a C baby. Refused to grow any further so they had to pull me out.

10. What are your hobbies?

Um well it's been a while since I've done some of them tbh butttt- cooking, painting(watercolours), writing poems and fanfic and stuff, origami?, stargazing on my roof, doodling(which i do all the time actually), uhm watching shows and listening to music if it counts? There's prolly others too, just can't think of it rn. Ooh reading too, but it's been a while.

11. Do you have any pets?

Nope🥲, I've always wanted a dog though, a little shih tzu or fox terrier. And somehow my feed everywhere is always full of cats. I used to have goldfish but they kinda died extremely brutal deaths 💀💀💀 they kinda got sucked into the water filter cause the suction was too strong and got kinda uh shredded and another time one of the fish kima uhhh ate all the others 💀💀💀 so haven't got anything after that

12. What sports do you/have you played?

Rn i don't play anything, but i used to play pretty much all of em in school- badminton, tt, basketball, throwball, volleyball, football, cricket. Oh and i played pool once tho idk if it counts. Board games too lol.

13. How tall are you?

5'6 ^w^

14. Favorite subject in school?

Science :3 especially physics and biology. But i also loved English just as much tbhhh. Had a phase where i was super into history and geography too and also in like the fifth grade and twelfth i was super into math, like the satisfactionnnn of solving a problem is just *mwa*

Basically I've liked everything at some point

15. Dream job!

Honestly, not having one. That's my dream. I just wanna live in a nice little cottagecore world and bake pjes and cookies and just take care of the house and chill in the farm and look out at the world everyday and be content. If i could I'd love in the 'Anne with an E' world. Or in the hundered acre woods in a treehouse with Christopher Robin <3

This was funn, @astr0-j4y @gamerboyafterdark @alt3r-ego wanna join in?

[the-mindless]

WIP Folder Names Tag Game

Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Let people send you an ask with the title that most intrigues them, & then post a little snippet or tell them something about it! Tag as many people as you have WIPS. (optional)

Alright look. @hallwriteblr. I am, marginally, ever so slightly more normal in how I name my files. This isn't very easy for me though considering that I don't even have a WIP folder, I just chuck it all into the depths of Google Docs. However,

Untitled Document (too many to list here)

Dokumen Tanpa Judul

i'm too lazy to name documents.

So anyways

Futile.

Breath of a Tulip

TC becomes a softie at 3 AM

A Satirical Masochist's Guide to Understanding Joanne Heratina's Idiocracy

A Satirical Masochist's Cohesive and Comprehensible Guide oo Embracing Homosexuality

A Satirical Masochist's Guide to Crocheting

Bro.

A Satirical Masochist’s Guide on Writing a God Fucking Book That Doesn’t Completely Suck

Redsonantia

Brainstorming Fuckasses

Strings of Melancholy, Notes of Dissociation

Mount Bella

Smith Shits

We Hate Chris

Idk anything about Terraria

The Evil Overlord

help me God

THING

M.E.

The Key To Mind Honey

let me talk

Why You Shouldn't Piss Off The Devil

Copywriting Is Fun

Metal Plates

LET ME WRITE LIKE A NORMAL PERSON FOR THE LOVE OF GOD

The 4th Stage

Small Stories

Untitled Document

Untitled Document

I am marginally more normal.

@fictionalbullshitter, @scumpleforeskin, @eldritch-flower, @athemarina, @desastreus, @plzbe, @venusinsaturn, @inflarescent, @mysticstarlightduck, @serafyyn, @rovahgalaxy

Some of you have probably already done this b efore, but oh well.

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Get to know me

You know what guys? I've decided you're getting to know me (questions from this lovely post, please go give it some love), ready or not.

Tagging my moots (still thinking of Pingu going moot moot, sue me) if you'd like to exchange a few pieces of useless information :) No pressure. Also consider this a tag if you're not included, I love reading random info about you guys! @unclewaynemunson @steveshairychestychest @stevesbipanic @thelastwalkingsoul @skeliiix @strawberryspence @thefreakandthehair @henderdads @hoples

1. First celebrity crush *snorts* Um, okay. I will just say that Jerome Pradon's performance as Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar from 2000 made the young me weak in her knees. Also Toby Maguire as Spider-Man.

2. Do you work out/sport? Constantly trying. Starting a healthy regime, getting sick in 3-4 weeks because my immunity sucks and back to the round little old me. Do you know what happened during the last year I started frequently exercising? I broke my leg, then had a sinus infection, then had an inflammation in my heel and couldn't walk, now getting through another sinus infection. Heathy is my trademark. Not giving up though.

3. How popular were you in school? Ahahahahahahahahahahaha...let me say it this way: I fought well enough to earn respect. Had a few close friends. After primary school, I retained respect. And that's it.

4. Embarrassing moment My life before glasses was a constant embarrassing moment of waving back at people who waved at someone behind me.

5. Favorite actor and actress Apart from the obvious Stranger Things answers...I admire Keanu Reeves. Actress - Maggie Smith.

6. Little thing that makes you extremely happy Crazy pens. I have a massive collection of the craziest pens imaginable with bubble blowers, stamps, wobbly mermaid tails, boxing skeletons, you name it.

7. Song that made you cry because you related to it Remember Me from Coco. That one hit hard.

8. How often do you find yourself thinking about your life? A lot. Mostly to calm myself down. I'm in a better place than I've been for most of my life and I like to remind myself that things do get better. So let this be your reminder too.

9. Best toy you ever got as a kid This. I'd die for him. I still have him, although he's mostly fallen apart.

10. Do you express your emotions well? According to my friends, I'm quite transparent. People that don't know me find me scary, apparently I look very strict. My friends find it hilarious.

11. Are you happy with your height? I used to be unhappy, I'm fairly small (165 cm, my mom is 166 cm and that single missing cm HURTS), but now I'm making up for my lack of height with glaring at people. In words of a t-shirt I recently got - "Don't flatter yourself. I only look up to you because I'm short".

12. Are you a bottom or a top? I'm lazy, that's what I am. But switch, I guess?

13. Who makes you the happiest? There isn't a single person. My mom, my cats, my boyfriend, my wonderful friends (and that includes you, moots of mine). I'm very lucky.

14. Your nickname(s) Here? Undreaming. Most of my social media, Arakanga. At work, I'm The Mother of Ducks or The Duck Lady (apparently the nickname survived during the 19 months I worked another job).

15. Who do you feel completely comfortable with to be yourself? My boyfriend. He's just absolutely resistant to my bad moods. I tend to be very snappy and sarcastic when I'm tired. I remember exactly the moment I realized I didn't have to walk on eggshells with him - we were walking outside and he was speaking, but away from me (he was smoking and didn't want to blow smoke in my face). Instead of telling him politely to turn towards me, I snapped "BLAHBLAHBLAH WHAT????". He just smiled at me and said "you know, one of the things I love about you is that you never make me feel like an idiot". So there.

16. Does the way you laugh depends on who you’re with? Oh yup. I normally control myself quite well, but my friends can make me laugh so hard it sounds like I'm crying. Also if they surprise me with jokes I don't expect, I tend to snort/make a sound like a chicken clucking.

17. Secrets you told strangers, because you knew you’d never see them again. None. Because with my luck, that stranger would become my new boss or something.

18. Do you like or dislike surprises? Hm. Difficult. Small surprises, yes. Big surprises, not really. I'm always terrified I'll disappoint the person surprising me with my reaction.

19. In the evening, would you rather play a game, visit a relative, watch a movie, or read? Oooh. Shit. Difficult. Reading is always lovely and I have such a backlog of books. Gaming is a huge hobby of mine, so always. Watching movies is great and I always love visiting my mom. So maybe I can connect all 4 together. Visiting my mom and watching a movie with her, then reading or gaming before I go to sleep.

20. Pet peeves? SO MANY. People bouncing their legs. Loud chewing noises. Smacking lips. People who don't listen but just wait for their turn to speak. Monologues instead of dialogues. People who sit on the public transport and block the window seat. I'm a ray of fucking sunshine apparently.

21. Who would you want to be stranded with on a deserted island? Well, all the people I love I don't want to strand with me on a deserted island. My boyfriend sounds like a great choice though. He's domestic, loves gardening and cooks well. And he hasn't killed me in 5 years. So him I think, he needs the time off anyway.

22. Breakfast, lunch or dinner? Midnight snack.

23. You’re stranded on a deserted island and there’s a box, what’s in it? I hope a guide on how to survive on a deserted island, otherwise I'd be a) dead soon, b) very bored while dying.

24. What’s the best gift you got? There are a lot of thoughtful gifts I've got from my family and friends, but one of my favorite ones was a Sagittarius mug my dad got me. Also my amazing boyfriend and equally amazing friends got me a new recording microphone for my singing efforts.

25. Who do you buy random gifts for? Everyone. My boyfriend, my mom, my friends, my boss (who is also my friend), my co-workers. Always something tiny and silly. It's one of my love languages.

26. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? Pffft. Yep. Lots. There's less space for me in my bed than for stuffed animals. My newest additions are two large dinosaurs, Steve (a T-Rex) and Eddie (a triceratops)

27. Have you had a secret admirer? No, thank god. It sounds nice, but I'm an anxious person and I like having clarity.

28. Are you a clean or messy person? On a range from 0 (clean) to 10 (messy), I'm about 28.

29. Shower or bath? Both, depending on the situation. Baths help my messed up back though, and one of my cats always stands guard so I don't drown. So...yup.

30. How would your friends describe you? Smart and the mom friend. Also dorky. Ask @hoples, she knows me IRL and the dorky part shows a lot. Oh, and also a menace. I'm the devil on your shoulder that says "buy it".

[throwaway-yandere]

It is I, Wisteria Anon

Do not feel the need to apologise for delaying such a delicate process! Courting requires one to invest a lot of time and thought in it for it to be considered a success, or how else will romance be achieved in the modern world!... if taking out one's eye also considers as romance but I disgress.

A sweetheart and a wonderful chef you say... such a detailed yet vague description, like trying to find a well kept needle amongst a haystack... though whoever this man is, I must admit this man might find me rather unappealing as I am akin to a walking disaster in the kitchen. My, there was a time where I was cooking noodles in the kitchen at night and forgot to turn off the stove so it kept burning until the sun had reached high noon. Not to mention the fact that I nearly burned down a few other things in the kitchen before.... actually, writing this has made me come to the realisation that I am perhaps just not the best person to handle the flames of life that could warm or burn the world depending on it's wielder. Though I will admit, Mondstadt does have such fine selections in culinary, including that scrumptious Mondstadt Hashbrown you speak of! I myself find Liyue and Inazuma dishes to also be quite favourable but I cannot try many of them due to my lack of a spice tolerance; oh the things I would do to be able to taste such dishes in real life, but the woes of being unable to cook for oneself while having a rather empty wallet is rather depressing to deal with... would the Teyvat's Production's cafeteria be able to give a discount if I beg for it nicely--

(Coughs) You did not hear that last part! Now, till our next meeting, oh beloved writer!

(Note: You don't know how hard I laughed while reading your answer and writing my own. The amount of times I wanted to write Princesszin was ungodly but there can only be one who can hold such a title and I will gladly let it stay with Fischl. Anyways, don't worry about the slow updates Ansy, I enjoy reading all the other match ups and interactions with the other anons so far!)

Do not feel the need to apologise for delaying such a delicate process! Courting requires one to invest a lot of time and thought in it for it to be considered a success, or how else will romance be achieved in the modern world!... if taking out one's eye also considers as romance but I disgress.

SYSUIAIA HELP THE CONTINUED KAEYA SLANDER HAHAHAHAH @ ESTHER ANON WHAT ARE YOU GONNA DO NOW–

((just wanna share that I happen to also suck at cooking cuz I can get lazy. There's this one time while I was home alone where the frying pan was fricking burning and I just nonchalantly grabbed the handle, placed it at the restroom, and dumped water with no emotion whatsoever. I should've been panicking but no, I fricking laughed when the fire extinguished and saw that the red frying pan turned into black hAHAHAHAH–. I CAN cook, it's just that I need to be inspired + have money to buy ingredients like you lmao.))

Oh? But I highly doubt that he would care for such a thing. I cannot lend you more details as to who this is, but do trust me that your skills will not deter him from liking you– similarly to your lack of mora. Goodness. I've been fortunate enough to borrow some money from his person when I did not have enough for a bus fare!

Also, I wouldn't say there is a "discount" when most food here are free, courtesy to Assist ✾'s continuous efforts to get the CEO to improve job benefits. You ought to thank the assistant when you bump into each other! They're a wonderful person. The only thing that has a price tag thus far are Inazuman cuisines, but that is simply because sourcing the ingredients can be quite expensive. I heard that one of ADDICKTZ's producer is helping the staff... I'm not certain who it might be, all I know is that they can not be Producer Snail.

Hoho, I'm anything but a "beloved" writer! Why, I have many targets aimed at the back of my head, including the CEO himself! But I do appreciate you and your letter very much so, dear comrade.

((dhsjkd fischl in this au is one of ETERNITY's fans. She's a Makoto & Ei stan so y'all know she still has her chuunibyou moments and she 100% cried when they disbanded. I wish I could integrate ETERNITY, Barbara Pegg and Xin & Yun more in the story since I used to brainrot abt thus with friends but unfortunately they're not that relevant lmao. Anyways, it's true tho, I'm glad you enjoy the match-ups and interactions!! They're incredibly fun and I'm happy you feel the same!!!)