#i’m gonna try again with tomorrow’s drawing

[michi-chelle]

i’m so sad ‘cause all the clips i recorded today for my apollo speedpaint are horribly shaky :(

[lyriumsings]

i have an art idea that doubles as both a study and durge art for my bg3 pc and i can’t wait to do the study now not tomorrow but on wednesday when i start drawing again lol

[ask-the-royal-absol]

(Ask box is back open!)

[whimsyprinx]

anyways I’ve not been really productive today aside from making some rice for dinner but I did achieve finishing some art and unleashing it upon some people and I’m happy with that

[floatmeintothesun-2]

Wildfire

pairing; Mark Grayson x f!reader

tags: Smut, aphrodisiacs, , wc 3.9k, doggy style, oral sex (m and f receiving) cream pie, soft mark Grayson, mark gets in there :p, established relationship

tw: none

Quick summary; Mark comes to your place late at night, desperate and needy from the effects of an aphrodisiac (the result is a difficulty to walk afterward)

—

You know there’s something wrong the moment Mark raps desperately at your window. 

It’s been a long week and you had been looking forward to this – pampering yourself with a long everything shower and splurging on soft store-bought gelato while you binge trashy shows off of the internet with your trusty laptop. 

 Mark floats outside, looking agitated, eyes tracking you with unwavering intensity as you draw closer. When you open the window, you can see that he’s unnaturally flushed, sweat beading on his skin despite the chill outside. He looks a little worse for wear, but overall, you can’t see any glaringly obvious injuries.

As soon as you open the window he’s climbing inside clumsily, surging toward you with a desperate sound. 

“Baby, I – shit, got – got hit with something outside,” He stutters, stumbling over his own words and he practically plasters himself to you and goes limp. You nearly go down with him, having not expected to be saddled with 210 pounds of alien boyfriend. “I don’t – feels weird.” Mark looks at you pleadingly and you grow worried. Is he concussed? It takes a lot to actually hurt him, and for a second, you wonder if someone threw a cruise ship at him again.

He’s being pretty handsy too, squeezing at your hips, ghosting his lips over your cheek and forehead. Normally you wouldn’t mind – you’d welcome it, really, but right now, your main concern is whether or not Mark is injured somehow.

“Mark? What’s going on? Are you hurt?” You ask frantically, placing a hand on his cheek and he groans, leaning into your palm. His head tilts down, forehead meeting your shoulder as he trembles minutely, hands smoothing down your ribs and squeezing at your hips. Your breath hitches as he drags the tip of his nose over your neck.

“No, nonono, I just – I feel hot, wanna feel you, s’like it’s burning me up from the inside,” He slurs against your pulse point, lips pressing to your carotid artery, feverish in its temperature. Mark is almost crushing you to his chest as if he can’t live without your skin on his, as if he’s trying to open up his ribs and tuck you into the space next to his heart. His eyes are wide, pupils dilated so much until you can just barely see that gorgeous warm brown you love so much. “Fuck – I’m so hot. Feels better when you touch me.”

Your jaw drops as he nuzzles against you, disbelief and incredulous shock surging up inside you. Are you serious? This sounds like a corny freaking romance novel. Is this really a – 

“Mark did you get shot with a freaking aphrodisiac??” You ask, hardly believing it as Mark pauses in his relentless marking of your neck. God, you’re going to look like a tiger mauled you or something tomorrow. He squints at you.

“Mmaybe. Robot mentioned something like that I think… I wasn’t listening. He told me to go blow off some steam.” He admits slowly with a shrug. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. “ Mark tries to kiss you again but you put a hand to his lips, making him sigh and lean into your palm.

“Hold up. Is there a way to fix this? Did Robot tell you to do anything else?” You ask and Mark wrinkles his nose

“Probably. Said something about physical touch and uh, sex.” He winces. “By the way, do you..? S’not necessary, I think. I was gonna ask earlier but I got distracted.” You blink at him, and he raises his eyebrows.

Since he's been off doing his usual saving of the world and other worlds in space and other other worlds in even deeper space, etc, you've barely seen him all this week. And here he is now, practically draped over you, stubbornly sticking to you like a barnacle. And while you've made do with your trusty vibrator, it's not comparable to the way he feels. 

Also, you've just really, really, really missed him. 

"I mean. I'm down. If it uh, cures you faster then it's fine with me." You reply, ignoring the way sticky heat pools between your thighs at the thought. God, you don't want to sound like a sex-deprived freak but you've been needing him for a while. Mark frowns.

"I don't want it just to be for me," He says in a clear effort to cut through the haze of incredible horniness that is undoubtedly clouding his mind. "If you're not comfortable– "

"Mark. I don't know how else to say this but if you don't do something in the next three minutes, I might jump your bones. What I'm trying to say is that I am willing. Very willing." You confess and he blinks. You blink back at him. Then he laughs and pulls you close, pressing his lips to yours with a relieved little sigh. You melt into him and Mark closes his eyes.

It starts off sweet, soft and gentle as Mark licks at the soft swell of your bottom lip as if asking for permission. It always does – Mark is, at his core, a wonderfully sweet, gorgeous person. But you’re greedy and he needs more, so you press closer, opening your mouth. He groans, his hands squeezing your hips.

Heat coils into your lower stomach as he swallows your moans and moves his tongue into your mouth. It’s messy and slow and when you press your hips against his, he makes a muted hiss of pleasure, fingers tightening on your skin.

It’s easy to follow his lead as he presses closer, your head growing fuzzy as you belatedly remember that you do eventually have to come up for air. You tap the side of his arm lightly and he pulls back, not even out of breath but looking equally as wrecked as you feel. His eyes rake down your body, taking in your soft skin, your figure covered in nothing but a fluffy white bathrobe, smelling of his body wash — smelling like him.

“Bed?” He asks desperately and you nod. You don’t know if the aphrodisiac affecting Mark is contagious but you feel yourself getting embarrassingly wet after a few kisses and you’re pretty sure Mark’s halfway to just grinding against you like a cat in heat. He scoops you up easily like you weigh a couple of grapes and you blink — only to find yourself nestled in bed a second later. 

Mark is already on top of you, somehow halfway done with taking off that stupidly tight suit that shows off his impressive musculature and toned body. He peels off the legs of the suit quickly, kicking it off and leaning down to kiss you again, and again. The noise of quiet relief he makes when he rips away his jockstrap may very well be the most ridiculously sexy thing you’ve heard.  Your hands are already grasping at his pecs, squeezing and pinching, drawing a muffled whimper from the freaking alien currently in the process of divesting your robes from your body. 

“Shit — baby, take this off, take this off now, please,” he begs, fiddling with the knot you’ve tied at the front of your robe. His hands are clumsy and you reach down to do it yourself, figuring that it’s a little unfair to have Mark be the only one naked here. Once you manage to open it up and toss it away, he’s palming at your tits, leaning down to pop one in his mouth while the other is squeezed gently with his other hand.

It feels like fire, his searing tongue drawing circles around your areola and you whine, eyes squeezing shut as a hand comes down to find your clit. It takes a couple of tries but Mark locates the little bead and uses the pad of his thumb to swipe over it, moaning desperately into your skin. There’s a hot coil of bliss building in your gut, tight and expanding with every moment Mark keeps his mouth on your tit.

“Mark — oh god, I’m gonna — nnshit, I’m gonna cum,” you warn shakily and he whimpers at your words, pulling off your breast so he can kiss you messily. It doesn’t quite land and he ends up kissing the corner of your mouth but it’s fine, you don’t care, not when his thumb is rubbing figure eights on your clit. 

“Cum, then, I wanna see you. Wanna see your pretty face when you cum on these fingers,” he murmurs against your cheek, and you nearly sob when you feel a thick finger press against your cunt. Your hips buck as he drags his sopping finger in and out, curving and hooking against your g-spot, the palm of his hand fixed to your clit. “You feel so — so wet, baby. M’gonna add another, okay?” He says, and you nod frantically.

God he feels so fucking good, the stretch is unimaginably delicious as he adds another finger, pace unrelenting as he pumps his digits into your dripping cunt. It feels so much better than your own fingers, thicker and longer, able to hit that one gummy spot inside of you that makes you keen. It’s almost blinding and you tremble as a tidal wave swamps over you, overwhelming and hot like a freaking supernova.

Mark kisses your stomach, nearly reverent in the way he maps a path of wet open-mouthed kisses down your abdomen. He pulls his fingers free from you and pops them in his mouth absentmindedly like he barely even thinks about the motion even though just the sight of that makes you almost cum a second time. 

“So pretty, so so pretty.” He mumbles, dragging his tongue across your inner thigh. While you blink stars out of your vision, he leans down, gently scooping your juices up with his tongue and swallowing them, tracing the outside of your pussy and cleaning you up with the single-minded focus of a man on a mission. You tremble through the aftershocks as he presses a shaky kiss to the hood of your clit.

“Fuck, Mark.” You breathe, carding a hand through short fluffy black hair and bringing him up so you can kiss him. He tastes like you – faintly tangy, slick and he hums quietly against you before drawing away.

“Good?” He rasps, and you nod, cupping his jaw and cheek with your hands. He closes his eyes briefly; if you didn’t know better, you would’ve thought he was calming down. He’s still sweating though – burning hot and so, so needy even though he’s trying to hide it. 

“C’mere, pretty boy,” You croon, reaching down and gently curling around the base of him. He’s silky to the touch and thick, and no matter how often you do this, you’ll probably never stop wondering how you’ll take it. He whines, bowing his head until his forehead meets your shoulder, hips fucking into your palm as you press your thumb to the head, rolling back the foreskin there. “I got you, took care of me so well, baby. I’m gonna take care of you now. Just relax.”

He makes a ragged sound, shuddering as you pump him slowly, his face screwed up in pure relief and bliss. You push him back gently, guiding him until you’re on your knees and he’s sitting back, legs spread. His cock twitches in your palm, practically dripping like a leaky shampoo bottle. The sounds he’s making are heavenly, and you mentally resolve to keep them locked away in your mind forever.

You kiss his tip, working your way down with teasing little sucks and licks until you’re at the base, hand gently working at his balls. Mark draws in a ragged breath, trembling as you mouth at his cock.

“Stop– Don’t tease me please, baby,” He hisses, his hips bucking up when you drag your tongue along the underside. “Oh fuck –come on, feels so good…” 

You obey, if only because he’s starting to look desperate, and you can tell he’s halfway at his breaking point. He’s wonderfully thick, filling your mouth with a satisfying heaviness and Mark throws his head back with a long, drawn-out moan. A hand settles on the back of your head, thick thighs framing your body as you inhale through your nose and go deeper. 

“God – shit! Oh fuck, fuck, fuuuuuck, keep going, uh huh, just like that. ” He rasps, digging his hands into your lovely bedsheets. It’s a bit rough – his hips keep jerking up into your hot mouth even though he babbles out apologies hastily afterward, and his cock drags a bit too far every so often but fuck, it’s good. You don’t know if you can cum from just sucking dick, but if anything, you know that you’re well on your way to finding out. He sounds so out of it already, his voice quivering as he pushes you down further, just a little bit. “Nn– oh god, oh god, you’re so good for me, so good to me. Shit, is that the back of your throat?”

You take the hint, inhaling and swallowing until you physically can’t anymore, jerking off what you can’t fit in your mouth with your hand. With the other hand, you play with your clit, moaning muffledly and Mark swears, no doubt feeling the vibrations from your voice. You think he’s still talking, having always been pretty vocal while fucking you into the mattress or buried in your cunt, but you can’t really make it out through the sound of you messily choking on him.

You can feel him shift above you, the grip in his hair tightening slightly. 

“Oh fuck are you — “ He cums. A lot. You gag, having not expected it and a strangled, low sound erupts from Mark’s chest. You swallow what you can, astounded by the sheer amount as your boyfriend hisses swears and unintelligible gasps.

You swirl your tongue around the tip one last time to make sure he’s done before pulling off of him with a slight pop. He looks wrecked, hot and sweaty, thighs still spread wide. His fat cock is still hard, flushed at the tip and leaking slightly. God, you’ve never met a man with a prettier dick than Mark. 

While he blinks listlessly at the ceiling, you busy yourself with suckling at his balls, rolling and massaging the skin gently as he finally manages to regain lucidity. 

“Baby. Fuck, so — you’re so good. So good.” He mumbles, and you can feel the embers flickering in your lower stomach at his praise. Two strong hands gently pull you up, and you find yourself situated in Mark’s lap, complete with him peppering feverish kisses to your neck and face.

“How do you feel?” You ask and he closes his eyes.

“Like I just had one of the best orgasms in my life. Also super horny. Like. I just — can I fuck you now? Please?” He asks desperately and you look down at his cock. It’s still hard. You’re not sure if he skipped the refractory period all together or literally just got over it super fast. That’s probably an effect of the aphrodisiac. Also holy fuck.

“Jesus. Yes. Please.” You manage, and he kisses you again, soft and gentle as he lays you out over your bed. It feels like reassurance — a quiet reminder. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

“Gorgeous.” He mumbles, crawling on top of you and wrapping a hand around his swollen cock. Mark braces an elbow over your head, giving himself a few short pumps before grinding the tip of his dick against your clit. You nearly cry as he just keeps rubbing against you, slick and hard and you want him inside now. He is smearing pre cum over your clit and while it feels so freaking good, it’s not what you want. 

“Mark — please.” You whisper and he presses a kiss to your stomach.

“Okay. Okay — I got you. I got you.” He murmurs, notching the head at your pussy and slowly pushing inside. You squeeze your eyes shut and inhale tightly through your teeth as you feel the first inch or two squeeze in. You’re probably wetter than the Niagara Falls right now — courtesy of Mark fingering you and eating you out + whatever slickness that was there beforehand but god, the stretch is still intense.

“Crap. Fuuuck.” You hiss and Mark kisses your brow.

”Need me to stop? Too much?” He asks worriedly but you shake your head immediately. 

“No. No, I’m okay. Feels good. God you feel good, Mark.” You groan, and really you’re not lying. He makes a low sound, deep in his chest, pressing his forehead to yours as he slowly bottoms out. He feels so thick inside of you, hot and right and so utterly addicting that you can feel your eyes roll back into your skull.

“Oh — nnnfuck. Feels so — so fucking tight, so pretty, baby, pretty girl, you’re so s— sweet, god,” Mark babbles senselessly. You feel so warm, almost like you’re molded to the shape of his cock. You’re made for him, he’s made for you, fuck, Mark wants nothing more than to just stay here in this moment, wrapped up in you. You’re whimpering breathy little noises he doesn’t even think you realize you’re making, but they sound so fucking nice.

You open your eyes, grabbing at his arm and squeezing. 

“Mark — please, want more,” You’re looking at him with those big eyes, pleading and he’s not going to say no, he’s never going to say no to you. 

He squeezes his eyes shut. It feels overwhelming — but in a good way. Overwhelming in a way that Mark is addicted to, wholeheartedly. Soft, so soft, warm, your hands are on his shoulders, he can feel your chest rising and falling as you breathe —

Fuck, he has to move. 

Slowly, mind numbingly slowly, he drags his hips back, before fucking back into you. It’s gentle, for now. He doesn’t want to do too much too soon, even though his blood is singing for him to just fuck you, hard and fast, the way he knows you like. It sends burning bliss up the length of his spine and his hands travel down to your hips, hands squeezing at the squishy flesh there. Soft. So soft. 

You shudder beneath him, and your thighs try to close from where Mark is nestled in between them. He holds them open and inhales shakily, praying that whatever self-control he has left will carry him through the night. He keeps his thrusts gentle, no matter how much this goddamn aphrodisiac wants him to fuck you straight into the mattress. It’s slow and sticky, sweat clinging to his body — he doesn’t know if it’s his or yours but honestly, he can’t find it in him to care about it for all that long. 

You can’t really think straight. It’s torturous, this slow pace, but it feels so goddamn good at the same time. His cock is angled perfectly to hit that one soft fleshy part inside of you that makes you see stars. He’s everywhere, lips on your neck, hot and searing. You dig your nails into his biceps as he gives a particularly devastating thrust. 

“More?” He asks breathlessly, and you swallow down a whine, nodding quickly. He leans down to kiss you, long and sloppy. You think you might fucking pass out as he begins a much more punishing pace — it’s unforgiving as bliss spreads and blots out everything you can possibly register. “Look so pretty when you take this cock, huh?”

Mark just keeps fucking into you, hard and fast, deep. The small little whimpers and moans spilling from his mouth should not sound that good but god, they do. Sweat beads down his brow and you can actually feel his cock twitch inside of you. It’s hot and sweaty and you’re pretty sure your brain is halfway to leaking out of your ears as molten lava sears pleasantly through your veins like fire. 

Mark just keeps talking, but you can’t make out the words through the sound of your hips slapping against his. You think your bed is rocking with the force of his cock driving you into the goddamn mattress and he hisses a loud swear, pulling out. 

You only have a moment to mourn the loss before he flips you over and slips his cock back inside, bracing his hands on your head besides you. This is how you know whatever self control he was holding onto by a thread has completely snapped. He plants a hand on your hip and drags you back onto him while fucking back into you brutally. 

The way his balls slap against your clit and the feeling of him practically rearranging your insides, you’re not sure you’ll survive this. You think you’re drooling onto your goddamn pillow but you can’t really tell. The only thing you can think about is Mark’s thick cock pounding you into your bed, his hand on your hips, his searing touch. It’s so good, so goddamn good and if you weren’t currently chock drunk, you’d make sure to tell him. 

But your mouth isn’t quite forming words and you can only sob into your pillow, feeling his pelvis smack against your ass. And honestly, Mark isn’t doing much better. The way your tight little pussy clenches around him makes him almost cum on the freaking spot. He knows that he’s not going to last much longer, and judging by the way your thighs tremble, you’re not either. 

“M’gonna make you cum okay? Gonna take care of you, pretty girl, j— just hang in there with me, I got you. Wanna feel that pretty pussy cum on this cock, come on baby,” He whimpers, closing his eyes as the tidal wave of insurmountable pleasure crashes over him and you cry out, arching your back as you cum. 

Mark swears, loudly, as he feels you clamp down on him. He doesn’t even try to stop himself. Doesn’t try to hold anything back or skim off his orgasm by his fucking teeth or something. His hips stutter. 

Hot, sticky cum pulses into you as he groans weakly, his moans growing high and loud. It’s nearly never ending, the soft sweetness of complete bliss overwhelms him, rendering him inconsolable in it’s wake. You can feel him fill you up and you can only gasp quietly. Mark shudders for a second, then pulls out. You wince at the feeling of his cum starting to drip out, pearly beads sliding down your thighs. 

You collapse into bed and Mark lays himself out on top of you, moving slightly to the side as an acknowledgment to your need to breathe. He doesn’t seem like he wants to move any time soon, turning you over so he can see your face. 

“Hi.” He smiles. You smack his arm weakly with a little laugh.

”Hi? That’s the first thing you say to me after you’ve fucked my brains out?” You ask and he shrugs, still glowing, still grinning happily at you. 

“I think — I think I’m good now. Hopefully.” He says and you blink as you remember the whole reason this started. 

”Feel better?” You hum and he kisses your cheek, wrapping an arm around you tightly.

”My metabolism burned through it, I’m pretty sure. Hooray for Viltrumite genes.” Mark mutters and you bury your face into the crook of his neck. He draws the blankets up over you and him, kissing your forehead, then the tip of your nose. 

“We still gotta clean up, Mark.”

”I know. We can take a shower together. For efficiency purposes.”

”…Sure. For efficiency purposes.”

—

guys I swear I’m not abandoning Miguel I’m gonna write for him soon trust 🙏

[hopelessrromantix]

Miguel having some Unholy ThoughtsTM about venom!reader and the fun they could have with readers new abilities (sub/brat Miguel anyone??)

mmm yes, I whole-heartedly agree

c/w: brat miguel, overstim kinda, Venom!Reader

"C'mon, pretty boy, you can do it." You assured, a wide smirk on your face. A tendril stretched out of your arm, pinning Miguel’s arms behind him. Your chest was flush with his back, sharp teeth grazing his neck.

While you tried to spend the day getting actual work done, Miguel spent it trying to distract you.

He'd unfortunately succeeded more than once, first by grinding himself against you in your lap, then by begging you to fuck him against your desk, then by trying to get under your desk to suck you off.

Eventually you decided it'd be easier to just finish tomorrow, when he was patrolling.

Miguel let out a whine, one that was surely unintentional.

"All you need to do is ask nicely,” You reminded. Your hips were firmly against his, black tendrils pinning him to the bed. While the stretch of having you inside him was nice, it wasn’t enough.

“If you can’t make me cum just say so,” He mumbled, not really expecting you to hear him.

Unfortunately for him, you did.

“You and I both know that’s a lie.” You scoffed. “You want me to prove you wrong?” You questioned, abandoning your effort to make him beg.

He wasn’t sure whether he was happy or terrified at that statement. Regardless, he didn’t have much time to think about it before his brain was overrun by the feeling of your cock slamming into him. He could feel a tendril playing with his chest, only adding to the fuzzy feeling taking over his thoughts.

You thrust hard, grazing his prostate with every thrust and forcing out a high whine.

Your tongue traced his neck, sharp teeth barely grazing his skin.

"Who knew you could make such pretty noises," you chuckled, your teeth sinking in slightly, drawing a few drops of blood that you licked off.

His hands struggled in Venom's grip, a black tendril wrapped around both hands and pinned above him. Your hips slapped against his, two other tendril teasing his chest as he let out another moan.

"Please please please please," Miguel's voice was hushed and high, much different than the Stern, commanding tone you were used to. By how he was trying to move his hips against you, he wanted you to go faster.

"Please what, baby?" You asked. Your hips slowed slightly, the exact opposite of what he wanted.

"Slow down," he whispered under his breath.

You tilted your head, "I couldn't hear that," you smirked. You thrust deep, making his back arch below you.

"Too much! Gonna cummm-"

You chuckled, “Already?” You stopped immediately, causing Miguel to let out a high whine.

“Wh-” He took a deep breath. “Why’d you stop?”

“Well I can’t make you cum, can I?” You smirked.

“No, no…” He mumbled, gasping when you started thrusting again in slow, deep waves. The coiled grip around his arms tightened, and he wasn’t certain if it was you or Venom.

He hesitated, clearly thinking over his answer. He was taking far too long for you though, so you fully stopped, your hips flush against his.

The tendrils on his chest made their way to his neck, wrapping around and squeezing lightly.

Still not receiving an answer, you slapped his ass with one hand, forcing out a whine.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please just let me cum? I’ll be good, just please please go faster.”

“Good boy.” Your hips sped up again, a loud slapping sound echoing throughout your bedroom.

You caught his lips in a kiss, sneaking your tongue down his throat. The second he felt what you were doing he moaned again, hips thrusting toward you.

“I’m gonna cum, please can I cum?” He asked desperately, rutting his hips into yours as fast as he could manage.

“Go ahead.” You agreed, watching as he fell apart immediately after.

Quick, quiet mumbles of “thank you” fell out of his lips before he let himself relax, your thrusts fully stopping and the tendrils around his neck loosening.

“You alright, sweetheart?” You asked as he came down from his high.

“I’m fine, love.” He promised.

“Good.” You leaned down, the squeeze around his neck returning in full force just as you started thrusting.

“I haven’t cum yet, don’t think I’m forgiving you, that easy, pretty boy.”

[lazarusemma]

Nov 6 - Cas is

Nov 11 - He’s

Nov 18 - Sam says Mia says journaling helps. Sure.

Nov 19 - Should’ve been me.

Nov 20 - Sam, if you’re reading this thing, I’ll kick your ass.

Nov 21 - Spaghetti for dinner. Cas still dead. Journaling still stupid.

Nov 24 - I should’ve said

Nov 25 - Should’ve told him.

Nov 26, Thanksgiving - Not a whole lot of thanks around here. Thanks for dying in front of me, man. Thanks for saying all that. Thanks for disappearing again before I

Nov 30 - C not back.

Dec 5 - 1 month. C gone. J quiet. S annoying.

Dec 6 - Least Sam’s alive.

Dec 8 - [drawing of Castiel, half sketched]

Dec 10 - Not much of a friggin’ artist huh.

Dec 26 - No miracle.

Dec 31 - Gonna be another year without 

2021

Jan 1, New Year’s - Midnight alone. You should be here. You should

Jan 2 - I should’ve

Jan 5 - 2 months

Feb 5 - 3 months since I should’ve fucking kissed you.

Feb 28 - If this was a leap year man I bet you’d be back tomorrow you always did shit like that surprised the hell out of me.

Mar 1 - So it goes.

Mar 2 - S thought the library here had Vonnegut. Didn’t.

Mar 5 - 4 months Went to get a library card in town.

Mar 11 - “And I asked myself about the present: how wide it was, how deep it was, how much was mine to keep.”

Mar 30 - Sam might have a hunt for us. Don’t know if

Mar 31 - Turned it down. Passed it to Jody’s crew.

Apr 1, April Fool’s - Real funny C. Joke's over. Come back already.

Apr 9 - There’s things I can’t say things I’ve never been good at saying but you gotta know

Apr 29 - He didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t know he didn’t

May 5 - You died not knowing, you asshole. 6 months and you’re not back so I can’t tell you.

May 6 - You missed Star Wars day, you know.

May 7 - Didn’t even Han you. Well I didn't know did I.

May 8 - Did I?

May 9 - Maybe I

May 26 - “How nice — to feel nothing, and still get full credit for being alive.”

June 5 - 7

July 5 - 8

Aug 5 - 9

Aug 6 - What if you don’t

Aug 10 - You missed my birthday. S’s too. J’s.

Aug 11 - If you can hear me

Aug 12 - What would he even

Sept 5 - Nearly crashed the car today. S had to drive. Banged up my head leaning on the window in the backseat like a kid. 10

Sept 6 - Researching.

Sept 7 - Ain’t fair you missed a whole year. Gonna have a lot of catch up to play when

Sept 8 - …when we get you back.

Sept 18 - Been 12 years. You believe that, Cas? Since I came back. Since you brought me back. Guess I hoped today would be the magic bullet to getting you back. Like you’d tip your head at me and say Hello Dean. And I’d tell you how I raised you from perdition. Whatever. Just a day I guess. Universe doesn’t care it’s our anniversary

Sept 19 - Still gonna say it though. When it works.

Oct 5 - 11. It’s gonna work

Oct 31, Halloween - Never got to put you in a dumb matching costume. Next year though.

Nov 4 - Can’t sleep. Sam says time is powerful magic or some shit like that. Says an anniversary can have echoes. So we’re trying it tomorrow. God, this better work. Cas, you hear me? We’re coming for you. I’ve been praying all year and I’m hearing nothing back. I’ll tell you tomorrow. Gonna get this stuck mouth of mine to make good. It’s just the words, even on paper, they don’t—Tomorrow though, tomorrow I’m telling you everything. Promise.

Nov 5 - Today.

Nov 6 - !!! 🙂🙂🙂🙂

^ heh. check out this dork

[theminecraftbee]

Grian’s unsurprised, when he heads back into Decked Out, to find Tango in the waiting room. He’s lying on the marble floor, one hand pressed against the moss, staring up at the fake sun shining down. In here, away from the much dimmer, bluer light of the citadel, he looks pale. Far too gaunt and skinny. His eyes seem a little sunken-in.

He’s smiling, though. There’s wonder in those sunken eyes. He keeps on looking around with something so fragile in his expression. Grian doesn’t really want to interrupt, but…

“You know you’re not supposed to stare at it, right?”

“Oh! Uh, Grian!” Tango says.

“‘Course, we made it so it wasn’t actually the bright bit. Can look at the sun all you want from here.”

“Yeah,” agrees Tango. “I sure can.”

“Touch grass,” Grian continues.

“I mean, technically it’s moss,” Tango says, drawing his hand away almost self-consciously. Grian swears in his head. Stupid. He wasn’t trying to…

“There were a lot of us hanging out,” Grian says. “It’s a nice room, isn’t it? All fun and cheerful.”

“Yeah. Yeah, it sure is,” Tango says. “Hey, Grian—”

“Nope. Not with me. Not gonna bother you about it. Just—you made something really cool, Tango. Plus, it was nice to see you. Haven’t seen you not in a hole in the ground for a while, you know? This isn’t quite the same thing, but since we’ll all be waiting in here for a while anyway…”

Slowly, Tango puts his hand back on the moss “Don’t worry. I’m happy,” Tango says. “I’m really, really happy. Hey, tomorrow, do you think just as many…”

“Tango, don’t be stupid. There might even be more of us.”

Tango sighs. It’s like some tension Grian can’t even name has left him. It should be nice, but there’s also something almost unsettling about it. The amount of contentment on Tango’s face—well, then again, Grian would be that kind of happy too, if he’d finished something that took over a year, and then it worked and everyone loved it.

“Yeah. That’s good. This is all really good. Yeah, I’m happy with this.”

But there’s something about how he’s showing it.

“Eat some more food while you’re up here. Scar’s been worried about you, and for some ungodly reason he’s been making it my problem. Do you hear me? Do you know how annoying it is when Scar makes something your problem?”

“Trust me, I know. Who else do you think he keeps bothering?”

“Fair enough. And don’t break our queue system! We worked really hard! I think Etho would kill you.”

Tango laughs. There are tears in his eyes, Grian realizes.

“I’m just—it’s so bright in here. And you all were laughing so much. And loved it so much. I’m so… happy. I’m so happy.”

Grian softens. “Yeah. Be proud.”

Tango beams. Grian goes back out of the waiting room. Something about it feels private, like he hadn’t been meant to intrude. He’ll dissect all that later. He’d just wanted to check in, since he’s here to add his decorations to the many cubbies everyone has decorated. Everyone really does love it. Tango’s going to be busy; between maintenance and everyone wanting to talk to him about what they’re doing, he’s never going to get a moment of peace alone. Might as well give him a little bit while he still can.

It feels important, somehow, for Tango to lie there and bask in it, in the moments he can.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Hold My Hand

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!reader

Summary: When you receive unwanted attention on a weekend staycation with your friends, a knight in a shining navy suit saves you by offering his hand.

Warnings: creepy guy doesn't understand 'no' and continues making unwanted advances, but Tim saves the day. angst to fluff (I guess?)

Word Count: 1.4k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

When your friends invited you out for a girls’ weekend, you were expecting a spa retreat or a cottage at the beach, not a penthouse in Los Angeles. More than that, you didn’t expect them to pick one of the sleaziest restaurants you’ve ever seen to spend their Friday night. Luckily – if there is a ‘luckily’ in this situation – you found a quiet corner on the rooftop. Your friends are downstairs, huddled around the bar as they look for rich, single men. It doesn’t exactly seem like the breeding ground for that type of man, though.

“Good evening, gorgeous,” a deep voice says behind you.

Assuming they’re talking to someone else, you ignore them, keeping your attention on the railing around the roof’s edge.

“Hey, ‘m talking to you,” he adds.

When his hand lands on your upper arm, forcefully turning you toward him, you truly begin regretting coming on this trip.

✯✯✯✯✯

Tim feels like an animal in a zoo enclosure. Wearing a suit that isn’t his, in a place he’d rather never see again, with a few too many pairs of eyes blatantly watching him. 

Two hours ago, he was sitting in the station, minutes away from getting to go home. Now he, Lucy, and Angela are undercover in a known mafia club. While the women in the restaurant stare at Tim, the men try to catch Lucy and Angela’s attention.

Sighing, Tim checks his watch. He’s been in one place too long with no sign of their target.

“I’m gonna go check the roof, see if our target’s up there,” Tim tells Lucy.

“The roof?” she asks.

“Yeah, the bar.”

“There’s a bar on the roof?!” 

“We’re in Los Angeles, boot, of course there’s a bar on the roof. Angela, keep her close.”

Angela nods, and if Lucy wasn’t already a little creeped out by the men standing across the room, she would be offended.

Tim gets in the elevator, leaning against the wall once the doors are closed. The rooftop bar, however, is full of people who are somehow more intimidating than the ones inside. Looking around, Tim doesn’t see the target or any of his known associates. What he does see, though, is a situation that he shouldn’t get involved in, yet he can’t look away.

✯✯✯✯✯

The man beside you cannot take a hint. You slowly back away until his hand falls from your arm, and one of your legs slides off the barstool. When your foot hits the floor, you stand and keep the seat between you.

“C’mon, gorgeous, ‘s jus’ a question,” he slurs. “Yes or no?”

“I said no,” you repeat firmly.

He doesn’t like your answer, though, and you try to hide your flinch when he slams his glass down on the bar.

“You here alone?”

You glance around, hoping you see someone who looks trustworthy enough to hide with. But you don’t see anyone who fits the bill.

“No,” you answer. “My friends are downstairs.”

“Just friends?”

He leans closer, his arm moving to cage you on one side. Inhaling sharply, you try to think of a way to escape this situation without making it worse or drawing more unwanted attention.

✯✯✯✯✯

“We’ve got nothing,” Angela says in Tim’s earpiece. “Anything up there?”

“No,” Tim answers.

“We’re leaving then. Can’t do anything without him here.”

“I’ll, uh, I’ll catch up.”

“What?” Lucy asks.

“I’ve got to do something first. I’ll see you at the station tomorrow. Call if you need anything.”

Tim removes the earpiece, switching it off as he drops it into his blazer pocket. Moving quickly across the rooftop, he doesn’t realize that he doesn’t have a real plan.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Hey,” another voice says beside you. “I was wondering where you got off to. What’s going on here?”

You glance over, and your shoulders drop when you see how clean-cut and trustworthy he looks. Given your current situation, you’re glad to see a man who isn’t clearly a predator, but you try not to think about how low the bar is.

“Hi,” you reply. “I was trying to come back, but, uh, got caught up.”

Widening your eyes slightly, you try to communicate that you are not here by choice.

“Give her some room, man.”

The creep leans back enough that you can move, and you rush to your savior’s side.

“And next time a woman tells you ‘no,’ you’d do well to listen,” he adds darkly, letting you hide behind his shoulder.

“Whatever. She jus’ doesn’t know what she wants.”

A kind hand turns you around, and the man whispers, “I’m Tim.”

You tell him your name, flinching when glass shatters behind you.

“Hold my hand,” Tim says, spreading his fingers between you as he looks over his shoulder.

Without hesitation, you interlace your fingers with his. He pulls you close as the elevator opens. Once you’re alone, neither of you releases your grip on the other’s hand.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“I hate that I had to jump in, but you’re welcome. Are you okay? Did he touch you?”

You shake your head, looking down at your joined hands.

“Do you really have friends downstairs?”

“I have… acquaintances that I will never be going on vacation with again.”

“Vacation? You’re not from here?”

“That’s the funny part. We all live here, so imagine my surprise when the weekend getaway was twenty minutes from my house.”

“Sounds like you need new friends.”

You hum before asking, “Who are you here with?”

“For work.”

At your confused glance, Tim raises his blazer to reveal a badge.

That must be why he helped you.

The door opens, and you pull your hand from his.

“Thanks for helping me, officer. Have a great night.”

Tim watches as you disappear into the crowd, stepping out of the elevator confused and surprisingly upset. Pulling his phone from his pocket, he calls the only person he can think of. 

“No questions, Angela. I helped a girl get away from a guy who didn’t understand ‘no.’ As soon as she saw the badge she disappeared. Something was happening before that-“

“Timothy,” Angela sighs. “She thinks you did it out of duty then let her flirt with you. Find her and ask her out, anything to show that you did it for her and not because of some twisted savior complex.”

“Thanks, Lopez.”

Ending the call, Tim heads toward the bar. He thinks that’s where groups of girls on vacation probably hang out. When the bar comes into view, he has no problem finding you, like the brightest light in a dark room.

“Nothing happened, I just went to the roof for a while,” you insist.

“No, you had that glow thing. You met a guy.”

“Maybe I did but he wasn’t interested.”

“Don’t drag me into this if you’re not going to tell the story right,” Tim says, approaching your side.

“Tim?” you ask, turning toward him.

Your body language with him compared to the man upstairs, even how you interact with the women you're here with, differs vastly. Squared to him and completely open, you’re practically inviting him to do something.

“I didn’t do it because I thought I had to. I was off the clock, not that it matters. My motivation may have been pure, just to help, at first, but then you held my hand and I never wanted to let go.”

“Can we…” you pause as you look around. “Can we please not do this here?”

“As long as we do it now.”

Tim offers his hand, and you nod as you take it. Leading you through the crowd, Tim keeps you close. Exiting onto the noisy Los Angeles street, Tim turns toward you.

“I could tell you needed help, or wanted it at least,” Tim explains. “But I don’t want this to end here. I- your hand fits in mine.”

“Please don’t tell me that means we’re soulmates or something.”

Tim smiles, and you forget why you were upset in the elevator.

“I’m Tim Bradford,” he introduces, shaking your already joined hands. “I am a cop, but not with you. With you, I think I could be the man I’d like to be.”

“Romantic,” you murmur.

“I know. It’s scaring me a little. You can’t tell my friends, okay?”

“As long as we don’t tell mine either.”

“So, you’re willing to try?”

“I mean, where else am I going to find a knight in a shining navy suit?” you ask, leaning closer. “As long as your hand stays in mine, I’m willing to try.”

[redstarwriting]

happy birthday

miles morales x reader

request?: yes

request: “I LOVEDDD THE HC’S OMG OMG WORK OF ART!!! i was wondering if you would write something expanding on getting miles’ doodles tatted as an adult!! i would love to read more abt it, it’s so cutee”

requested by: anon​

word count: 2.2k

genre: fluff

Warnings: language, tattoos, mentions of tattoos and needles, Miles is so sweet it's sick

A/N: GLADLY!! i've been itching to get a new tattoo since the minute i got my first like three years ago and writing this just made me want to get another one so bad LMAO. i hope you enjoy!

also in case you were wondering what hcs anon is talking about, it's my pda/general affection hcs i wrote for hobie and miles! you can check it out here if you haven't already and feel compelled to :)

───────────────────────────────────

“Miles! Baby, can you give me a tattoo?” you ask, and he smiles. This has become a common practice in your relationship. From the time y’all were kids in love to now, you would always ask him for a tattoo. Of course, he didn’t actually give you tattoos, he just drew on your arm. He’s mentioned you, and even urged you, to get a tattoo every now and again. Especially when he offered to design them, but you always say his temporary ones are more special than any other tattoo you could get. He isn’t upset about it. He genuinely loves drawing on you. “Of course, babe. Come here,” he says, motioning you over to him as he grabs his markers he has specifically for your “tattoos.” You go over to him, sitting between his legs and extending your arm. “Can you draw it right next to the uh… elbow pit?” you say, and he laughs. “Elbow pit?”

“Yeah, like the inside of my arm and not on the bicep part or the elbow pit part, but the forearm part by the elbow pit,” you explain, pointing to the area you’re talking about. He chuckles. “Elbow pit.”

“Well, what else would it be called?” you ask, smiling, and he grins, starting to doodle on your arm. “I’ll text and ask my mom what the scientific name for it is after I’m done here,” he says, and you lean your head back against his shoulder. “Oh, god, please don’t tell her I called it an elbow pit.”

“Oh, I’m totally telling her you called it that,” he teases, placing a quick peck on your lips before returning his attention to your arm. He draws a spiderweb, of course, but in the shape of a heart. He adds his Miles touch to it by making it look like the web was spraypainted, and having it pop with black and red. You don’t even look at the tattoo as he draws it, you just stare at his face. You love watching him when he does his art. You assume it’s similar to the way his face looks when he’s swinging around the city as Spider-Man. He’s in his element, laser-focused and yet has an ease about him that mesmerizes you. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says, smirking and turning his attention to you. You feel your face heat up but roll your eyes. “Can’t, arm’s a bit preoccupied.”

“You can get creative; I have an idea. Maybe use the one I’m not drawing on?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” you say, and he shakes his head. “What do you think, amor?” he asks, and you look. You smile. “I love it, Miles. Thank you,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He grins, wrapping his arms around your waist as you admire his art. “What time is it?” you ask, and he glances at his phone. “11:15. Why?” 

“Ganke and I are gonna go get some lunch today.”

“Should I be worried?” Miles jokes. “No, dummy. We’re just talking about… something happening soon,” you say, and a sly smile spreads across Miles’ face. “How soon?”

“I’ve said too much,” you say, trying to get up. Unfortunately for you, your boyfriend is Spider-Man and can easily hold you in place. “Nuh uh, how soon is this something happening?” he looks at you with a shit-eating grin, and you roll your eyes. “Wouldn’t you like to know, spider boy?”

“I would. Is it, and this is just a wild guess… something happening tomorrow? A special something happening on a very special day?” he guesses, and you sigh. “Don’t tell Ganke you found out…”

“I knew it!”

“We’re supposed to be planning your birthday party, yes. For tomorrow. On your birthday. Are you happy you spoiled it for yourself now?” you feign annoyance, and he laughs. “I am, actually. Now I know to look good for you tomorrow.” You roll your eyes. “You always look nice, Miles.”

“Only for you,” he grins at you, turning your face to look at him. The two of you share a kiss before it’s interrupted by his police scanner going off. He frowns slightly. “It’s okay, Miles. I gotta go soon anyways,” you give him a quick peck for squeezing out of his arms. He sighs. “Fine, fine. Guess I’ll go save the city. Be the best thing that ever happened to New York and all that.”

“My hero,” you joke, and he grins. “You know it,” he says, slipping his mask on and sliding his everyday clothes off. “I’ll see you later, Miles. Stay safe. Love you.”

“You stay safe, too. Love you more.” He leaps out of the window, and you make sure he’s gone before you call Ganke. “Yo, what’s up?”

“You gotta plan Miles’ birthday party tomorrow.”

“Woah, what?” You sigh. “I already have the roof of our building booked out for it, I ordered the cake already and will pick it up tomorrow and have all the decorations. You just need to invite everyone, okay?”

“You mean I have to reach out to people in different dimensions, tell them to clear their schedules for tomorrow, and hope for the best?” Ganke asks, and you hum into the phone. “Yep! Thanks, Ganke! Also, if Miles asks, we went and got lunch, okay?”

“And where are you really going?”

“I’m getting a tattoo to surprise him for his birthday tomorrow,” you say, grabbing your keys and putting some money in your pocket. You put Ganke on speaker, sending a quick text to Hobie. “You need to stop using me as a cover-up, (Y/n).”

“Who else am I supposed to use? Gwen?” you say, and Ganke sighs. “I mean, yeah, you know she would be down to help you with something like this.”

“Ganke she is so bad at keeping secrets like that, and you know it,” you say, admiring the art on your arm again. “Then use Hobie.”

“Wait that’s actually a good idea,” you say, “Especially since he’s the one giving me the tattoo.”

“AND YOU STILL USED ME?!”

“I PANICKED! He was asking questions! Just, listen, invite as many people as you can think of, alright? Please, and thank you.”

“Fine. Go get inked or whatever they say,” Ganke says. The two of you give some quick goodbyes before hanging up. You receive a reply from Hobie, and a portal opens in Miles and your bedroom. You step through it and find yourself in Hobie’s flat. “Can I just say it’s about damn time you got one of ‘is works tattooed onto ya,” Hobie says, motioning to his couch. You sit and he gets his whole get-up ready, all the cleaning wipes and gloves and the tattoo gun all ready to go. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’m getting it now and that’s what matters,” you say, and he clicks his tongue. “I can guarantee ya this is just gonna be the beginning. Kinda becomes an addiction,” he says, sitting next to you, and fiddling with his gun. “Then I guess I’ll just need to have Miles draw on me even more.” He chuckles. “Lemme see it.”

You show him the drawing, and Hobie shakes his head. “Your man is corny,” he says, and you shrug. “I like it.”

“I know,” he dips his gun in ink, and looks at you, “Ya ready?” You nod, and he begins tattooing Miles’ art onto your skin. The two of you talk the whole time, really, and you let him know about the party tomorrow. He, of course, agrees to come, and can’t wait to see Miles’ reaction. It takes a few hours, but eventually he finishes up and it looks exactly like Miles just drew it on your skin. Hobie places fake skin over it and gives you the rundown of how to take care of it. He turns away from you to put something away, and you quickly slip $100 under a pillow on the couch. You know he won’t accept any money from you because he’s ‘not a capitalist pig,’ so you have to be sneaky with it. “Thank you so much, Hobie,” you say, and he winks at you. “Anythin’ for my mate’s better ‘alf.”

He opens the portal again, and you two say bye until tomorrow. You’re back home, literally, in no time, and you quickly throw one of the hoodies Miles left lying around on. This way he won’t see the tattoo, and you can play it off like you missed him. Especially since you did kind of miss him and it is sort of a staple in your relationship that you wear his clothes when you do. That’ll make him melt and he’ll forget all about the art on your arm. And you were absolutely right. 

It ended up being a late night for Spider-Man, and when he got home, he saw you curled up on the couch, sleeping with his hoodie on, and all he could think about was that you missed him. He carefully picked you up and carried you to your shared bed. You started to wake up as soon as he was getting in bed after taking a shower and cleaning up, and he began desperately trying to get you to go back to sleep. “What time is it?” you groggily ask. “It’s like 3am, (Y/n/n), I’m here now, we can go to sleep, okay?” he says, slipping into bed next to you and pulling you on top of his chest. “Happy birthday!” you sleepily say, burying your face into his chest. He smiles. “Thank you, amor. Let’s get back to sleep now, yeah?” You make a muffled mmhmm sound and are out like a light almost immediately. Miles smiles to himself, wondering how he got this lucky.

You can imagine his disappointment when he wakes up the next day and you’re not snug against his chest, but he feels better the minute he sees a little note on his chest that explains you’ll be home, you just had to go do something for him. He gets up and decided he can do his Spider-Man duties until you text him and let him know he needs to come home. It may be his birthday, but the city still needs it’s defender. So that’s exactly what he does. He cannot explain how grateful he is that none of the big bads were trying to start anything today, because if he didn’t get to see you and eat a slice of cake, he was going to scream. The day went slower than he wanted but also sped by when eventually he got a text from you saying to come home. He immediately obliges, swinging in through the window and putting on some of his nicest clothes. He walks out of your room and sees you chilling on the couch. “Miss me?” he asks, walking over and bending down to kiss your lips. You giggle. “Obviously. Hey, before we go up to the roof where there totally isn’t a party waiting for you, I wanna show you something, okay?”

“Okay,” he grins, and you grin back. “Cover your eyes.” He does as instructed, and hears you shift slightly. “Okay… open them.” He opens his eyes, and immediately sees his “tattoo” on your arm. Only it was covered in a clear wrap. And it’s real. His eyes get big, and he looks at your face. You give a small smile. “You always encouraged me to get a real tattoo, so… happy birthday.”

“Yo! It looks so good, hold up,” he gently grabs your arm and softly traces it through the saniderm. “When did you get this?”

“Yesterday.”

“You weren’t actually with Ganke, were you?”

“No, I was with Hobie,” you say, and he shakes his head. “I got a little liar on my hands, huh?”

“It wasn’t lying it was covering my ass because you ask too many damn questions,” you say, and he laughs. “I love it, (Y/n/n).” You smile and the two of you share a kiss. “We should probably get up there. Some people are waiting. Oh, and pretend like you haven’t seen it yet. Hobie wants to see your reaction.” Miles laughs. “Alright. Well, I hope he knows I’m not gonna stop drawing on you. And that he fully traced my art,” Miles says, and you shake your head. “I’m sure he knows, Miles. You really like it?”

“Like it? Baby, I told you I love it. I love you; I love this tattoo; I love that this is a birthday present from you… everything about this? I love it. I don’t even need to go up there to make the day better because all I need is you,” he says, and you smile. “Hobie was right. You’re so corny.”

“Nah, hold on, he said that? Forget everything I just said it’ll be a perfect day when I punch him.” You laugh as the two of you make your way up to the party. But the whole time, Miles keeps finding his eyes drifting to your tattoo. Something about having his art on you permanently makes his heart swell with pride and happiness. And he and Hobie were both right.

It’s not the only “tattoo” that will become real.

───────────────────────────────────

[seoulmatez]

— 𝒿𝓊𝓈𝓉 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓉𝓌𝑜 𝑜𝒻 𝓊𝓈 ౨ৎ

suna rintaro x reader. 0.6k wc. ﾉ sfw ﾉ fluff ﾉ college au ﾉ miya twins appearance :3 ﾉ repost!

“i totally flunked that exam.” atsumu groans as the four of you—the twins, suna, and yourself—exit the literature building. his theatrics draw the unwanted attention of several other students who are on their way in or lounging on nearby benches. you shake your head in embarrassment and can practically feel suna cringing from beside you.

“i’m sure the professor will be happy to see you again next semester. you’re just a wonder to have in class,” osamu quips. he doesn’t even try to hide his growing smile at the thought of his brother having to retake the course.

“don’t act like you didn’t fail, too.” atsumu shoots back.

“oh, i did terrible,” osamu easily admits, “but i didn’t skip half the assignments needed to boost my final grade.”

atsumu scoffs at the call out. sensing that the boy’s comment would snowball into a full-blown argument, you finally speak up.

“what are you guys going to do to take your minds off our impending doom?”

“this new frozen yogurt shop just opened so i was gonna go check it out,” suna announces. he turns to face you. “you should come along.”

“can’t, i’ve got practice.”

confused, suna blinks.

“yeah, my next class starts soon.”

then frowns.

failing to take notice of suna’s boring gaze, you pout at the twins’ answers. despite their constant bickering, having them around is always a fun time. knowing that they aren’t able to make it to the outing has you racking your brain for solutions.

“why don’t we wait until we can all go, then?” you propose. “is everyone free tomorrow?”

“i work out in the morning, but other than that i’m free.”

annoyed, suna rolls his eyes.

“i’m not doing anything.”

then sighs.

“great!” you clap your hands together with a smile. “tomorrow it is.”

you settle on an exact time with the twins before they part their separate ways, leaving you with only suna’s company. you turn to him, but his default look of indifference is traded in for one of despondency.

“seriously?” he stares down at you.

“what?”

“‘why don’t we wait until we can all go?’” he repeats your words from earlier. he doesn’t mean to sound bitter, but it’s frustrating that you hadn’t caught on to his intentions. “i wanted to go with you.”

“you are, i’ll be there.”

“alone. just the two of us,” he emphasizes. “like a date.”

your mouth forms an “o” at his confession. the twins were so quick to answer that you had no idea his invitation was meant for you exclusively—and in a romantic way, no less.

“ah, i’m sorry!” you press your hands to your warming cheeks. it’s embarrassing that he had to spell it out for you—certainly not one of your finest moments.

“it’s fine. see you tomorrow, i guess.” his voice is laced with defeat as he raises his hand in a weak wave. you bite your lip, watching him turn on his heel to take his leave.

“no, wait.” you spring forward, clutching onto his arm. he stops, looking at you with wide eyes full of surprise. “let’s go!”

“now?” he asks, raising his eyebrows.

“yeah.” you excitedly nod. “i feel bad for accidentally sabotaging your date idea.”

“what about the twins?” suna really didn’t want to ask, but it was obvious you wanted to include them.

“they don’t have to know—we’ll just go again tomorrow.” you wave him off. there’s a sparkle of mischief in your eyes as you smile at him. “it can be our little secret.”

suna huffs out a laugh. “sounds good to me.”

thanks for reading! if u enjoyed, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated :3

[louloulemons-posts]

Missing You

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader

Summary : Eddie misses his favourite girl.

Word count : 0.7k

Warnings : Toothrotting fluff, Eddie being clingy, pet names, minor mention of sex, minor angst if you squint, a kiss, reader calls Eddie Edward lmao, fluff fluff fluff.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“See you later Wayne,” Eddie shouted out to his uncle as he headed off to his night shift. He heard the older man speaking to his favourite girl as he went.

“Hey Wayne,” said her sweet voice.

“Hiya Sweetheart, you have a good night okay.”

“You too, don’t work too hard.” Wayne’s soft laugh echoed through lightly and he heard the front door shut again.

Sliding her shoes off and putting her bag down on the couch, she called out for her boy, “Eddie.”

“In here baby.” Soon enough his bedroom door was pushed open and there stood his love.

“Hey pretty girl,” he smiled softly, she was slightly disheveled, hairs sticking out wildly, but still so beautiful. “Whatcha working on?” she motioned to the guitar on his lap. “Just trying to figure out this piece, but it doesn’t matter, come to me.”

He placed the red guitar on the bed next to him, and held out his hands to her. Walking into his space he rested his head on her stomach, wrapping his arms around.

“How was work?” he mumbled.

“Same old, Saturday shift so busy,” she smiled, running her hands through his curls. “Missed you,” he spoke gently.

“You okay?”

“Can’t I miss you?”

“No you can, just wondering. Let me get changed and we can cuddle okay?”

He whined as she pulled herself from his hold. “The sooner I get changed the sooner you can have me back,” instantly he let her go, so fast that she stumbled slightly. “Jesus babe,” she laughed.

Taking her clothes out of her designated draw, Y/N spoke, “What do you want to do tonight? Steve and Robs are heading to the movies after work, we could join them?”

“I thought we could stay here, hang out.”

Popping her head through the shirt she cocked her brow, “Okay what’s up with you?”

“Nothing!”

“Edward,” she sighed, walking back over to him, now in sweats and an old tee, “baby what’s up?”

Taking his face in her hand she met his beautiful chocolate eyes, like a baby cow she’d tease. “I just miss you.”

“Eddie I’m right here. We see each other nearly every day. At school, we hang after school, I come here.”

“But it’s never just us anymore! It’s us and other people : Dustin, Gareth, Robin, Wayne, god damn babe, even Steve Harrington,” he exclaimed, flailing his hands dramatically.

“Are you trying to tell me you’re horny?” and asked, softly rubbing her thumbs on his cheeks, “Babe we can fix that.”

“No! It’s not that, I mean I love doing that, but I just want you .. just us, to spend time together. I miss you,” he closed his eyes, embarrassed by the outburst.

Gently she sat down on his lap, legs wrapping round his waist, pulling his head to rest in her neck. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What? Eddie no! You have nothing to be sorry for. I can’t think of anything I’d rather do than lay in bed and cuddle with you.”

“Really?” he asked, coming out of her neck to look at her face. Nodding, smiling slightly, “Really, I love spending time with you Eds, you’re my favourite person. Honestly I’ve been missing you too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I feel like with work, and school and friends. We’ve been seeing each other but we’re not really SEEING each other, you know?” she explained.

“Exactly! I just miss us.”

“Hey, you listen to me Edward Munson, we are still us, we just need to be us in private rather than with other people. I have an idea,” she said, as he gently played with the hem of her shirt. “Hm?”

“I’m gonna go call Robs, get her to cover for me, then I’m gonna call my mom and tell her I’m with Robin.”

“Why would you do that?” he asked as she stood up from his lap. “Because we are having a sleepover, and tomorrow we’re gonna hang out all day, and you’ll be so sick of me!” she grinned, kissing his cheek.

Turning around to run to the phone, she was pulled back by Eddie who stood up. Taking her face in his hands he kissed her softly, “I love you so much my sweet girl.”

“I love you Eddie Munson. Now put your guitar away, I’m you to be ready for cuddles when I’m back.”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Thank you so much for reading, feel free to leave any requests 🤍

[sibylsleaves]

some things fall when they're meant to fall

4k | rated T | read on ao3

Yeah,” Eddie agrees. “And he’s always gonna be my best friend. He’s always gonna be the person I turn to. The first person I look to when I’m happy, or hurting.” He laughs again. “Even when it’s kind of his fault.” Marisol goes a little still against his arm, and draws away. “The first person?” Eddie turns his face toward her. “Well, yeah. That’s just how it’s been since we met.”

or, Buck tells Eddie some news. Eddie breaks up with his girlfriend. Not necessarily in that order. written for @burnthatbridge

Eddie collapses down on the sofa, propping his ankle up on the coffee table. It’s pretty much completely healed by now, but it still twinges a bit when he’s been on his feet all day. Marisol drops onto the couch next to him and kicks off her heels.

“Man, that was such a funny coincidence, seeing Buck and Tommy at Pizzana,” he says.

She hums noncommittally. “It’s a pretty popular spot, isn’t it?”

Eddie wouldn’t really know—Buck’s the one who picks the restaurant when they go out, always excited to try whatever new place he saw on instagram or the Los Angeles food subreddit. Now that he thinks about, Buck is definitely the one who first mentioned Pizzana to Eddie, so maybe it wasn’t such a coincidence.

“Well, I’m glad he and Tommy are hanging out. I knew they’d hit it off if Buck just gave him a chance.” It had been a surprise to see them out together, but a good surprise. After the basketball incident, Tommy had told Eddie he wanted to clear the air with Buck, and it seems the air was successfully cleared.

They’d been done with their dinner, but Eddie had convinced the two of them to stay for another drink while he and Marisol waited for their own pizza. It had been fun—he likes Tommy a lot, and now that Buck’s let his guard down he can see he likes the guy, too.

It kinda reminded him of how Buck was when he first met Eddie—territorial, at first, but then once Eddie had proved he wouldn’t be so easily put-off by Buck’s barking he’d sort of…melted. That was the only word Eddie could think of to describe it, the way he’d smiled and just opened up, like a dog rolling over to show his soft belly, blushing pink as a flower unfurling into full bloom.

Anyway, it would’ve been a nice night, with the four of them—and on the surface, it had been. They’d laughed and joked and recounted the entire hurricane rescue for Marisol. But something had felt…off with Buck. It had been bothering Eddie all night. Not quite the same way things had felt off with him before the basketball incident. Something else. He’d been…nervous, almost? Eddie had been thrilled to run into them, but for a minute when his gaze landed on Buck, Buck had looked…guilty, almost.

He had no reason to be. He’d already apologized to Eddie for the whole thing, and Eddie had reassured him and gently chided him for not just telling him he was feeling left out, and they’d been fine since then. More than fine. They had plans to take Chris to his surf lesson tomorrow, for god’s sake.

“Eddie,” Marisol prods gently. “What are you thinking about?”

Eddie turns to her, his easy-going smile already in place. Her own smile flickers and he knows he’s made a mistake.

They’ve been talking about this, is the thing. A few days ago, she sat him down and told her how it bothers her that Eddie doesn’t—hasn’t—opened up to her. He can’t really deny it. He hadn’t told her much at all about the hurricane rescue until it had come up tonight. He hadn’t told her much about Shannon, or about what Chris had been going through a few weeks ago. He doesn’t know why—he’s not that guy that just bottles up his feelings anymore. He’s not.

So he takes a breath, and he says, “I guess I’m just thinking about Buck.”

“Buck?” she echoes, but she doesn’t sound surprised, exactly.

“Yeah,” Eddie continues. “He seemed off tonight, and I guess maybe he’s still feeling guilty about what happened at the pick-up game, but—I forgave him for that.”

Tommy had been the one to explain the basketball incident to Marisol, when she’d showed up that night for their date and Eddie had been crashed out on the couch, loopy with pain meds. Eddie’s actually not sure what Tommy had told Marisol, but she seemed to at least have gleaned that Buck was more or less responsible for Eddie’s condition.

Eddie shakes his head and blows out a breath of frustration. “I just—I wish there was some way to get him to really understand, you know? That we’re partners and that nothing and no one is ever going to change that.”

Marisol shifts beside him, her dark curls brushing against his arm where it lies along the back of the couch. “Well, I mean. What if one of you gets reassigned?”

Eddie stares at her for a minute, puzzled. Then he laughs. “No, I don’t mean partners at work. I mean, you know. We’re partners.”

(keep reading on ao3)

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.˚✩ Bloodlust 𓆩𓆪

𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧’𝐭 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐤. 𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐨𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦.

@milliesfishes 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!!!

Billy knew what was wrong the moment he called your name, unbuckling his gun belt and expecting a warm welcome home after a tiring day. All he got was a weak mumble from some room in the small house.

“Honey?” He called, hanging his hat on the coat rack, his boots thumping on the wood floor. Billy’s forehead was creasing. Well, he wasn’t expecting a king’s welcome, no red carpet or nothing, but he was a bit spoiled by you to expect a hug and kiss hello.

Billy realized your voice was coming from the bedroom, “Here,” you croaked. When he stepped into the doorway, he stopped in his tracks a moment.

There you laid, ever-beautiful, on your side with both hands tucked between your thighs. Your cheek was in the pillow, your usually entrancing eyes hollow as they lifted to meet Billy’s. “Hi.” You murmured, watching as Billy crossed the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. He twisted to look at you, his calloused hand smoothing back your silky hair.

“Hey, baby doll..” Billy cooed, brows slightly lowered. His azure eyes darted over you almost frantically. “You okay?”

He knew the answer. He knew you were lying as you nodded that pretty little head of yours. He felt a bit sick looking down at your state.

“When’s the last time you ate, huh pretty girl?” Billy hummed, trying to keep his tone as lilted and cheery as he could manage, like he was talking to a sick kid. His expression betrayed his worry for you.

You shrugged lamely. Your lips moved silently for a moment, eyebrows pinching, before you spoke, defeated. “A few days.”

“How many’s a few?” Now, Billy couldn’t keep the distress from his voice.

“Five.” You breathed, you let your eyes flutter shut. You hear Billy click his tongue against his teeth, open your eye a crack to see him shaking his head at the window across from the bed. He sighed your name.

“What? I didn’t want to go out and— and hurt anybody, so I just put it off. I’ll go hunt when—“ Billy cut you off firmly.

“When y’cant move?” Billy hissed, the hand on your head moving down to the outer cusp of your shoulder. You opened your eyes, making eye contact as he told you off. You knew he had good intentions, he always did, but you were defiant above all else. “Or is that already happenin’? You were just gonna wait ‘till you’re too weak to even fix your lips to ask for some help?”

“I don’t need help. I’ll go tomorrow.” You huff, and Billy shakes his head. You had to admit— he was hot when he was angry with you. His nostrils flaring, brows thick and drawn low, eyes intense.

“No. No, you ain’t puttin’ this off any longer.” Billy fumed, breathing out like a bull through his nose. He shakes his head again as he makes quick and messy work of the bandana around his collar.

Only Billy could get mad that you weren’t taking care of yourself the way he would.

Your brows draw together, your hand moving to his forearm in a moot attempt to stop him. “Billy, no.”

“Yes.” Billy’s tone was firm, his expression serious. He wouldn’t budge on this, would he? But you wouldn’t let him win.

“I’m not feeding off you.” You hiss, but you can’t stop him from tossing aside his neck scarf and unbuttoning his collar. He clocks the way you swallow hard. Fuck all, he just smells so good.

The moment he walked through the door you were reminded of the dull, aching pang of hunger in your stomach. Billy’s scent was intense, overpowering, tempting. Even when you weren’t so starved. So unbelievably difficult to refuse, and he was just making things harder for you.

Billy gently took hold of both your forearms, lifting you to sit upright beside him. You were so weak that you leaned against him, his arm curling around your torso and holding you upright. “C’mere, c’mon.. Up y’go, baby girl.” You bury your nose in his shoulder, feeling awfully dizzy— dizzy with weakness, dizzy with that awful, gnawing hunger, dizzy with the smell of Billy.

“C’mon, baby.” Billy cooed, his hand not supporting you gently cradling your head and bringing it closer to his neck. He hoped you didn’t clock the way he swallowed hard. “You need it.”

“I won’t.” You breathed, but your voice wasn’t very assured. You sounded more like you were convincing yourself as much as him.

Billy wouldn’t have denied his nerves. You’d never fed from him. You swore you never would. But he was asking you to, he knew that you needed blood now. You were his top priority. So he disregarded the wavering of his hand as he stroked your hair, feeling your nose against his neck. “C’mon. Just a little. Just so y’can have energy t’hunt.” Billy assured you. “Please, baby, you’re scarin’ me.”

You squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, you’d never forgive yourself. But you gently rubbed your nose to his neck, letting out a shudders breath. “Just a little.” You murmured. Billy nodded. But he knew he’d let you suck him dry if that’s what you needed.

He’d do anything for you.

You opened your mouth, your pearly fangs sinking into his neck and piercing the skin. Oh, the moment you tasted him, you were a goner. You could hardly think. Your mind was him, fully and utterly him, no room for anything but him.

Billy groaned in pain, his face screwing up and his hand tensing in your hair, but not pulling. It was such a strange feeling, such a draining and achy sensation. But it was helping you. You gained the strength to reach your hand up to tangle in his dark hair, your free hand resting gently over the opposite side of his neck. He tasted delicious, like a drug you couldn’t get off.

A grotesquely intimate thing, it was. A macabre, romantic thing, that Billy trusted you to take only what you needed. A morbid pleasure in drinking him in, the taste of his blood like crimson ambrosia on your tongue. More intimate than an ‘I love you,’ he’d dare say, though he knew he wouldn’t ever stop saying those words. More intimate than sex, though you knew you’d never get tired of his touch.

You were lost in it. His pained grunts and whimpers were the only way you could pull away from him, the only thing that could permeate your bloodlust-hazed mind. He grunted your name in a wavering, low and pleading voice.

You were careful to lick over the puncture wounds, sealing the wound and staunching the blood flow. Your hunger was barely satiated, but it was enough to feel alive again. You rested your forehead on his shoulder, licking your lips and wiping your chin with your knuckles.

“God.” Billy breathed, a hesitant hand coming to brush over the marks you’d left in his neck.

“There wasn’t anything holy about that.” You murmured bitterly, panting against his shirt, watching as the blood dribbling down your chin dripped onto the bed sheets. Billy turned his cheek, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Don’t care.” Billy says into your hair, his voice low, gravelly and masculine. “You feel better, baby girl?”

You couldn’t deny that you did. Oh, you hated yourself for it as you nodded against his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” You whispered, your voice meek and broken.

With surprising strength for a man whose mind was reeling from blood loss, Billy wrapped his other arm around your middle and pulled you into his lap, your legs across his. He looked up at you, those blue eyes filled with something you dared to name worshipping. “Don’t say sorry. I wanted you to, remember?” Billy pressed a kiss to your jaw, letting you thump your forehead against his.

Delicately, he swipes his calloused thumb across your chin, wiping up his own blood. “I love you, Billy, I love you.” You murmur, your brows drawing together in guilt. He simply couldn’t have that.

“I love you.” Billy cooed, his nose nudging yours affectionately. He pulls you into a loving yet chaste kiss, not torturing you with another taste of him. You were infinitely grateful, your fingers gently massaging his scalp. He leaned into the touch. “I’d do it again. If you wanted me to.”

“I wouldn’t.” Your reply was firm and instant. Billy nodded after a lingering moment, nosing your cheek. His eyelashes brushed against your skin and tickled you.

“I ‘least taste good?” Billy let out a breathy chuckle, trying to lighten the mood, as always. A faint smile crosses your lips.

“Delicious.”

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Hello, I wanted to ask you for a smut of Ethan Landry, that the reader discovers that he is a ghostface when they are about to fuck but she does not care and they do it anyway.

I have not posted for Scream in a while, my apologies

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Tara called you about the attack at the bodega, you felt a thrill of excitement.

You had seen pictures of past Ghostfaces online and some of them made you want to welcome them with open legs. Sam’s father was a total hottie when he committed the first murders in 1996. There was something about a man with a knife that made your panties dampen.

‘’Are you and Sam okay?’’

‘’Yeah. It was…brutal. And terrifying,’’ Tara said on the other side of the line, her voice still shaky. ‘’I’ve just gotten a normal life back, I don’t want to go through this again. And Sam—’’

A knock on your door stirred you from your phone call. ‘’Sorry, Tara. Eh, there’s someone at the door.’’ You glanced at the door and felt your heart race in your chest. ‘’I’m not expecting anyone though…’’

Tara’s breathing changed, getting traumatic flashes of her first attack. ‘’Don’t open! That’s how I was attacked last year.’’

The chances that she was right were slim, but not impossible. Since you were close friends with Tara, it made you part of the friend group…therefore a possible target. Ghostface could very well be standing on the other side.

You bit your tongue and held back from asking ‘who’s there?’, knowing it was a free ticket to your death. Instead, you check through the peep-hole.

‘’It’s Ethan,’’ you reassured Tara, seeing a curly haired awkward boy instead of the classic halloween mask. ‘’I’ll see you tomorrow before class, okay?’’

You hung up and unlocked your door, letting Ethan in.

‘’What are you doing here? I thought you had a late class tonight,’’ you said, drawing your eyebrows together. ‘’And why are you dressed like you’re going to a funeral?’’ You nodded your head at his unusual all black outfit.

‘’It finished twenty minutes ago.’’ Ethan slung off his backpack and put it down on the floor. It looked very full, how many books did he carry in there? ‘’My class. Not the funeral,’’ he felt the need to precise.

You chuckled, the soft sound echoing in the small apartment.

‘’I can’t stay long, I have an early class in the morning.’’

‘’Are we still having lunch together?’’

Ethan hummed and a rosy blush covered his cheeks as his eyes fell on your nightgown. He had spent the night over a few times, but very little clothes had been worn to bed. This satin number? He had never seen it before. Your breasts were free underneath and falling perfectly and your nipples were slightly poking through the thin fabric. It made his cock instantly swell.

‘’You sleep in that?’’ he asked, pointing at your nightgown.

‘’Yes, I sleep in that.’’

‘’Isn’t it a little dressed up for sleeping?’’

You rolled your eyes at his ‘men’ comment. ‘’Wearing nice pajamas is part of self-care.’’

‘’You wear that every night?’’ You nodded and Ethan fought a whine, jealously beaming at your bed attire. ‘’And the only pictures you send me are your face?’’

‘’If you want ‘goodnight’ nudes, you’re gonna have to earn them,’’ you challenged, crossing your arms over your chest and cocking an eyebrow. ‘’What’s your deal, Landry? I’m listening.’’

After a few propositions, you decided that getting railed into your mattress was a good enough deal...for one picture. Ethan’s dick was good, but you weren’t a fool. If he wants more nudes, he’ll have to offer more.

You tilted your head to the side as he kissed and nipped at your neck. No matter how many times you’ve been naked with him, it still shocked you how desperate Ethan was for you and your body. His hands slid up the backs of your thighs, right below the hem of your nightgown. A part of him wanted to tear it off your body, but the other wanted to fuck you with it on. 

You left him to his dilemma and reached for the back of his shirt, trying to yank it off, but Ethan hissed in pain when he lifted his shoulder. He tried to cover it with a cough, but you had already seen the bruise the size of a grapefruit on your boyfriend’s side.

Sitting up and pausing your activities, you looked at him in concern. ‘’How did that happen?’’ You ghosted your finger over the purple-y red skin. 

Did he get into a fight? Did he get jumped after a late class? Campus is not safe at night, which is why you always carry something to defend yourself. But Ethan's not small or weak, the muscles underneath his polos can fight back.

‘’I…’’ Ethan drew his eyebrows, trying to come up with an explanation. ‘’It's nothing. I got hurt doing something stupid at the gym with Chad.’’

Last week? His explanation not making sense. The timeline didn’t add up. 

‘’You didn't have it three days ago when we rudely got interrupted in your dorm.’’

‘’I did,’’ he insisted. ‘’You…you must not have noticed it.’’ 

‘’But it’s so dark. It looks recent.’’ 

Ethan moved so the bruise was out of your sight, then sighed. ‘’Can we go back to kissing? I don't want to talk about this.’’ 

Instead of calming your worries, his words flared them up. ‘’Did someone do this to you? Oh my god, did he attack you too?’’

 ‘’No. It's not Ghostface. I wasn't at the bodega.’’ He took your hands in his to reassure you, but there was a flaw in his statement. 

‘’What do you know about the bodega?’’ you asked cautiously, remembering Mindy's words to be cautious about the love interest. 

His backpack was in the living room. If you went and checked its content, would you find a black robe and a mask, or just books?

‘’Sam and Tara got attacked tonight after leaving the police office, right? You told me while I was in class.’’

You shook your head, slipping your hand from his. You never mentioned the bodega to Ethan.

‘’I did not. I was on the phone with Tara when you arrived here. She was telling me what happened.’’

Ethan's heart raced, realizing he had spoken too much. Panic surged through his veins, urging him to flee, to hide, to deny any involvement, but he knew deep down that it was futile. You knew. 

‘’Was...was it you at the bodega? Did you attack Sam and Tara?’’ 

Your questions were simple, but terrifying from Ethan's shoes. He had been caught, unmasked. There was no escaping the haunting truth. His world would never be the same again. You would never see him the same.

He grabbed his shirt, about to leave, but you pulled him back by his belt and looked up at him with pleading eyes. ‘’Please fuck me, Mr. Ghostface.’’

—

Scream taglist: @misfityanii @beautybyfire @iluvscream191 @mariposa555 @bella7866 @o638 @lulubelle14 @luvvtxinityy @frasersgf  @Eddiefrickenmunson @jasperr-the-friendly-ghost @ghostf4cee @thesebitcheslovesosadotcom @wandaswigglywoos @xjennyx2 @jennasslut @thatonesblog  @mikaelsonsstuff @icarly23 @tcddszn  @bt.oliana  @skyesthebomb @a1mzcruml3y @red1culous @iluurmom @popeheywardssecretgf

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889

[basiatlu]

Hello lovely person who gifts the world with their incredible art.

I don’t know if you like drawing children, but I’d love to see some dads!drarry

If that’s not really your vibe, I’d kill for flirty Draco and flustered Harry (bonus points if their coworkers, like auror partners or hogwarts professors)

Thank you for your wonderful art! I was feeling really flat with chronic illness today, but then I found your tumblr and I’ve been scrolling through all your art and squealing. It’s inspired me as I started creating some art a while back but I stopped because I was short on spoons trying to keep up with work, study and hobbies. But I’m gonna start creating again!

Drarry Dads!!? Say No MORE

I just want you to know how much I’m cheering for you! I understand 100% on how pain or balancing energy or being sick can tear away your drive to create 💖 Sometimes other things take priority when it’s all you can manage. I’m so flattered and moved you found inspiration in my drawings. Even if you don’t art today, you might art tomorrow, and I am wishing for that day where you don’t feel like you are fighting yourself and get to make something that brings you satisfaction and joy.

P.s. Baby hands are flipping weird to draw. Little Cheeto puff fingers.