#less excited to read than i was to find it

[fireinmoonshot]

drawing the line | bucky barnes x fem!reader

THIS CONTAINS SPOILERS FOR MARVEL'S THUNDERBOLTS*.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Summary: Bucky Barnes has messed up big time ... he just doesn't know it until he sees you and realises he really should've checked his texts. Warnings: There are very subtle mentions to reader having some issues mentally but nothing specific is mentioned other than her being very guarded and angry. This is inspired by and takes place during a scene from the Thunderbolts movie! It has direct spoilers for the film! If you haven't seen it and don't want to be spoiled, don't read this one yet. Word Count: 1.9k. A/N: It has been three whole years since I wrote for Bucky Barnes. Thanks to Thunderbolts, I am so back 🥰. I had this idea for the movie when I saw it again yesterday and I plotted most of it out at work today. I'm really happy with how it turned out so I hope that you will all enjoy it. More Bucky fics coming soon – as well as more Bob and Joaquín too! 💗 Requests are always open.

Bucky realises he’s made a mistake pretty quickly.

In his defence, he isn’t very good at checking his phone – especially now that he’s a congressman and he has even less time on his hands than usual. But he’d been worried about Mel, the assistant of Valentina, and had figured that by tracking her phone like she’d asked, he might have a better chance at finally taking Valentina down.

If he had read his texts, though, he would’ve seen one from you. Valentina says I have one last mission and my contract is up. I’m on my way. Have a bad feeling about this one though. Can you track me? 

Yeah, he’s messed up.

He’s even more certain of that when he’s pulling the unconscious bodies of Ava Starr, Yelena Belova, John Walker and Alexei Shostakov out of the limo he’d blown up and he finds you with them. Thankfully, you’re not injured. 

When you come to, the first thing you see is Bucky, sitting opposite you with his eyebrows knotted in worry. For a moment, everything is fuzzy and you’re not sure how you got here – and then everything comes back to you.

You’d been trying to outrun Valentina’s men who’d been coming after you after your escape when Bucky had shown up. Everyone in the car had been more than excited and you’d felt relieved – he’d seen your text and he’d come to save you – until he’d practically blown the limo up with you inside of it.

“What the hell, Bucky?” You blink, squeezing your eyes shut briefly as you adjust to the light in the room. You look around, seeing the others all sat nearby – tied up, some of them even restrained with pieces of metal that Bucky had wrapped around them. 

It’s when you see them tied up that you realise you’re not. 

“Doll,” Bucky starts, his voice soft. “Listen, I–”

“Do not ‘doll’ me,” you shake your head. “So, blowing up our car and almost killing me is okay, but you draw the line at tying me up?” You motion to the others and then to yourself.

Bucky sighs. He knew you’d be mad, but this is another level of mad. He understands – of course he does, you’d nearly died. But regardless, he’d hoped you’d be a little more lenient. “I didn’t even know you were in the car.”

You raise your eyebrows and scoff. “I text you and say hey, this mission feels wrong and you don’t think twice? Am I talking to Bucky Barnes right now? What happened to the guy that ran seven red lights two months ago when I got into a minor car accident just to make sure I was okay?” 

He stands up and runs a hand through his hair, walking a few steps away from you. Behind him, you stand up as well, crossing your arms over your chest and staring him down – like you do very well. Bucky knows that you can be stubborn when you want to, but this is the next level to that. He loves your stubborn side. He loves this side of you as well… but he hates that it’s him that the anger is directed at.

This is not the you that he’d been tangled in the sheets with only a few nights ago. This is not the you that had kissed him goodbye before he’d headed off to work last week. This is the you that he’d seen the first time he ever met you. Strong, guarded as hell and pissed off at the world.

“You texted me?” He mutters, and then regrets the words the second they’re out of his mouth. He resists the urge to pull his phone out of his pocket and check his unread messages. 

For a second, you just stare at him, and then you start laughing. “I texted you? Are you serious right now?” You exclaim, turning away from him and shaking your head. “No, why on earth would I text my boyfriend when I was going into a potentially life threatening situation set up by Valentina Allegra de Fontaine? I’ll remember that for next time and keep it to myself, since you’re apparently too busy to check.”

“Well, would you have even read my message if I had replied? Considering you were on a mission? Yeah, I don’t think so,” Bucky can’t help but bite back a little.

“No, probably not,” you admit. “Because I don’t have a phone anymore – it fell out of my pocket when I was running for my life back at the vault and then it got incinerated, like I would have if it had been even one second later!”

Your voice is raised even louder now, basically yelling at Bucky, though you hate to do it. You and Bucky never fight like this, not really. But this whole situation has gotten under your skin and you can’t help but be mad at yourself for thinking Bucky had come to save you, when in reality he was just there to kidnap the others for some unknown reason.

Unsurprisingly, there’s nothing that Bucky can say to that. He stares at you, eyes wide as the full gravity of the situation settles on his shoulders. You’d almost been incinerated. And then Bucky had almost killed you himself. Was there any coming back from this?

In the silence, you hear a cough and both of you turn to look over at the others, all of whom are now awake and sitting upright, watching the two of you. How much of your argument had they heard? You wince internally and start to walk towards them.

“You either untie them, or you tie me up with them,” you say, sitting down beside Walker.

Walker looks over at you, a confused look on his face. He obviously had no idea that you’re with Bucky, even though the two of them know each other. You try to ignore the feeling in your stomach, the one that says that maybe Bucky means more to you than you do to him, especially since Walker doesn’t even know about you two.

Bucky thinks it over for a moment before shaking his head and walking over to you again. He crouches down beside you and decides he’s going to try again – even though the eyes of every other person in the room are focused on him. He reaches up to try and tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear but you bat his hand away. 

“I’m not tied up so I can still tuck my own hair behind my ear, Barnes.” 

You turn away from him, looking over at Ava and Alexei. 

“This is your boyfriend?” Ava asks, looking between the two of you. “Girl.”

The one word says everything. You almost laugh at her.

It doesn’t take long for Bucky to make his decision. He stands up again and then beckons for you to stand up as well. “Stand up and let me tie you up, then,” he says, hoping that he sounds as nonchalant as he is intending to be. Even though not one part of him is actually intending on tying you up. It’s true – he draws the line at that.

You stand up and one second later, Bucky has picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. You yelp, hitting his back as he walks out of the room, leaving the other four alone. “Bucky, what the hell are you doing!?” You exclaim.

He pushes the front door of the garage open with a foot and then kicks it closed behind him. Once he sets you down on the ground outside, you move to push him, but he’s quick to grab your wrists and place them gently on his chest instead. You’re mad, but he’s not going to let you hurt him, or accidentally hurt you more than he already has.

“I’m not continuing this argument inside in front of all of the others,” he says, nodding his head towards the garage and trying to focus on the feeling of your hands on his hands and the pressure of them on his chest. You’re here. You’re alive. He didn’t kill you. Nor did Valentina.

“I don’t want to talk to you,” you shake your head and try to pull your hands away, but his grip is too strong. “I’ve said everything that I needed to say in there, Bucky. I asked for your help, you almost killed me yourself. It’s clear enough.”

“You said what you said, but you barely let me get a word in, doll.”

You shrug your shoulders and look away from him, focusing on the mountains in the distance and wonder how long it’ll take the others to get free so you can all get the hell out of here. Even though a small part of you, the part of you that isn’t clouded by your anger right now, wants nothing more than to wrap your arms around Bucky’s body, bury your head in his chest and feel his arms around you.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see your message,” he begins, hoping you’ll let him talk. “I’ve been so bad with anything that’s not work these days and trying to bring down Valentina that I’ve put everything else to the side. I shouldn’t have put you there too.”

“Yeah,” you mutter, still unable to look at him.

“I didn’t know you were in that limo when I blew it up. I just knew that there were people in there that could help me bring down Valentina once and for all and I was going to stop that limo at all costs,” he explains. “You don’t know how terrified I was when I saw you were inside of it. I swear, I spent five minutes just checking to make sure you weren’t injured before I brought you all here. I couldn’t bring myself to tie you up after all that, doll.”

“Likely story,” you huff under your breath, as if the thought of him checking you over to make sure you were okay doesn’t make your heart beat faster and your fingers, still pressed to his chest, itch to pull him closer to you.

Bucky removes one of his hands from yours and carefully reaches down to cup your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. You try and restrain yourself for a few moments before eventually meeting his eyes. Just looking in them tells you that he’s speaking the truth. 

“I would never do anything knowingly to hurt you, doll,” he says. 

“I know,” you reply, voice soft as you try not to lean too much into his hand. 

“Then do you forgive me?”

“No,” you shake your head, but in the progress, you can’t help but relax into his grip a little. You let out a sigh, your eyes fluttering closed at the feeling of his hand on your face. “I don’t forgive you yet, Bucky. I need time.”

Bucky nods and lets out a small breath of relief. “I’ll take it.”

You remove one of your hands from Bucky’s chest and place it over the hand that’s still on your jaw. “We need to talk,” you start. “Not you and me, all of us. There are things that happened down there in that vault that you need to know about before we go after Valentina, if we can even get the others to join us.”

“Okay,” Bucky agrees. “Just one more thing.” He leans down and presses his lips to your forehead before dropping his hand from your jaw and stepping back away from you, clearly wanting to give you space even though you hadn’t asked for it. The thoughtfulness makes your heart swell in your chest. “C’mon doll, let’s go.”

[loganficsonly]

an independent woman

˚₊‧⁺˖✮ ch 0: prologue✮ ˖⁺‧₊˚

worst!logan x fem!reader, 2k SUMMARY: As Logan learns to live instead of survive, he finds himself in the extremely dangerous position of sharing an apartment with you—Wade's friend. Extremely dangerous because Lord knows he can't keep his feelings a secret forever... not when your room is five steps away from his. <vs> You're proud of being self-sufficient: moving alone to New York, supporting yourself with a stable job, balancing a social life with your friends... until Wade brings Logan into your life. Someone who, unbeknownst to you, will crack the very foundations of your identity, for better or for worse. WARNINGS/TAGS: SMUT MDNI, no use of y/n, reader is a working adult, friends to lovers, crushes, swearing, anus jokes, wade wilson (he's a warning), fingering, 1 (one) mention of "good girl", slight personification for reader AUTHOR'S NOTE: nobody asked for this series but i hope you like reading it as much as i liked writing it. more chapters to come <3

“How’d you meet your roommate?”

A common question you get asked these days. You just moved into a new place, and you aren’t alone. If that isn’t a surprise, little else is.

“Oh, he’s a friend,” you’d say with a smile.

Is he? A little voice whispers.

You’ve only known Logan for a little over three months now.

When your neighbor Hurricane Wilson brought a handsome but tired-looking older man from “the greatest 137 minutes of cinematic bromance”, you were confused. You were at his birthday party. Clearly he went missing for longer than that.

Everybody was confused, really. Until Wade, in his signature verbosity, outlined the sequence of events. How in the third act, Deadpool and his “honey badger” Logan—the handsome but tired-looking older man—with the help of badass outcasts, took down a bald villainess who was this close to ripping the entire multiverse apart. He also mentioned an organization called the Time Variance Authority allowing Logan to make this timeline his new home to replace an “anchor being”…

In any case, it was extremely complicated and hard to wrap your head around. But you managed to get the gist. A skill you picked up working in corporate.

Some things in corporate made less sense than the concept of a metaphysical junkyard at the end of Time. 

How you got into this superheroic social circle is best described as a coincidence. A weird series of coincidences, rather.

You’d planned on moving to Manhattan to break away from life’s crushing monotony, despite your loved ones’ concerns. The city has seen more than extraterrestrial attacks, for god’s sake. And yet, New York City’s pulsing energy and vibrant lights make you feel alive and excited, a rare emotion, despite seemingly being a huge neon sign that says ‘INVADE HERE’ to aliens.

So when that desire for more tipped to an unbearable edge, you took that job offer and packed your bags. 

And now you live in the same building as Deadpool.

The two of you quickly got on talking terms after you shot him a dry remark at the laundromat, eyeing the pile of bloody clothes in his hamper.

“Use cold water and hydrogen peroxide,” you said then, not even sparing a second glance. He thought you had to be a little crazy to strike up a conversation with someone who could be a killer. And let’s be honest, he is a killer. 

He asked if you’re in the business—of being mercenary, he meant. You told him you were in the business of bleeding between your legs every month since you were thirteen. He laughed.

Wade doesn’t need a long time to figure out the kind of person you are.

“You’re a straight arrow,” he once told you, and he wasn’t referring to your sexuality. Doesn’t take an observant pair of eyes to understand that, despite your authenticity, you like to keep your distance in the beginning of things.

Which is why getting you to warm up to him was a delicate matter, one he treaded carefully. Instead of throwing you into a deep end of intimate dinners and movie nights with his friends, who can be a lot, his approach was a lot more discreet. As discreet as Wade Wilson can be, at least.

Borrowing your Tupperwares. Begging for sugar and baking soda. Asking questions about taxes or advice for his ‘career switch’. Things you gladly helped him out with, bless your heart.

Little by little, you grew closer to the merc. Consoled him when the Avengers rejected his application. Watched sad movies with him when he and Vanessa fell apart. You offered support in your own way: no grand speeches to try and get him to win her back, but quiet gestures to make sure he didn’t give up his own happiness, whether that involves romantic love or otherwise.

Then and only then, he slowly and joyfully inserted you into his larger social circle, like a rectal suppository. And before he knew it, it worked. Smooth as butter—also like a rectal suppository. A pleasurable feat he finds triumph in.

“My little people-pleaser,” he often calls you. An affectionate nickname within the group. You’d laugh wryly in response. He’s right, but the two of you knew that you never were just trying to be accommodating. You care deeper than you let on.

So yes, as of today, you are the most normal person in that precious universe-saving polaroid, now framed in Wade’s living room. Well, maybe you and Peter.

Although between the two of you, he has a red skin-tight superhero suit in his closet, and you don’t.

Then again, you gave a potential murderer advice on how to get rid of bloodstains, so are you really normal?

It’s only been three months since Logan first saw you, but it feels like a long time. Maybe because so much has happened in those three months, stretching it into something infinite.

A lifetime has passed since—because the life he’s living now is not at all the life he had before. 

Twelve weeks into this new universe, here are some of the things he’s done so far:

Accidentally discovered Weird Al’s coke stash twice—there were more than one. Got one too many whiffs of Wade’s damp socks and soiled boxers. Bought a second-hand phone from Dopinder. Found a contract-based job in a construction company that’s flexible enough for him to heed the TVA’s calls when needed.

Moved out of Wade’s place to move in with you.

He first saw you in the Void. You were once just a face in a photograph, one of the few people that made up Wade’s entire world. Your features weren’t rendered clearly thanks to the lighting, but even then Logan thought you looked sweet. Perhaps a little tired, as well, but that didn’t seem to dim your smile.

When he met you, though, it was different.

His perfect vision allowed him to take in every inch of you as you walked through the apartment door, carrying a Trader Joe’s bag filled with snacks as your tribute to movie night. The blurry image of the polaroid became clear, and there was a second where he had to collect himself. 

Pretty, he thought. Especially in that button-down shirt that revealed just the right amount of collarbone and a flattering pair of slacks. You just got out of the office. 

Real pretty. And young. Almost enough to make him scold himself for being attracted to you. The guilt didn’t lessen even when he learned you were well into your twenties.

For all your initial politeness when meeting someone new, he discovers that you have your own brand of charm. Not like Yukio’s pep, or Nega-something’s cool demeanor, or Vanessa’s allure. 

It’s your curiosity and kindness. Something he learns while watching you interact with others, and from interacting with you. There’s a reason why you were at Wade’s birthday party—that manchild may be nine-circles-of-Hell-unhinged, but he doesn’t misjudge character.

You’re an amazing listener, and as a result, a great conversation partner without being as wordy as Wade. Always quick to offer a helping hand, too. He’s seen you quietly slip into the kitchen to clean some dishes when you think no one’s looking. Offer drinks. Bring up details of your friends’ lives that make them go “oh, you remembered?”

When Laura came along, the two of you became fast friends. That was another signal to him.

A dangerous one that spells trouble for his beat-up heart.

One fateful day, you drop by Wade’s place—and his—and Al’s, but she was out for poker—with a box of Krispy Kremes, confessing your troubles while you all munched on donuts.

Both men were all ears. 

You don’t often go into detail when sharing your problems with others, so when you did, it felt like you were quietly telling them you needed help. You spoke in measured, calm sentences. Issues with your current landlord, which they knew from before, were no longer manageable. Coupled with the fact that your lease was ending soon, you admitted to thinking of moving out.

“Where?” he grunted almost instinctively in response, ahead of Wade who was undoubtedly going to protest about having to source his own baking soda.

“A building just a couple blocks away,” you answer, “there’s this corner unit, much better sunlight. Good neighborhood. The landlord seems really nice.”

They peered into your phone screen as you flicked through the photos. It looked great. Just the right amount of space with plenty of natural light, like you said. And then there was silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You bit your cheek.

“It’s… a little too expensive for me.” 

“Really? I know it’s much better than my love shack, but with Marvel scriptwriters constantly fucking over this city with world-ending threats, rent can’t be the Ritz!” Wade scoffed in disbelief.

“It’s a two-bedder,” you replied, shrugging. “I’ve negotiated, but with two bedrooms, there’s no way that unit’s going to cost the same as my current one.”

“You need help dealing with your shitty landlord instead?” Logan offered, eyebrows furrowed. He didn’t mean to sound overprotective, but thankfully you shook your head instead of pointing that out.

“Logan, I appreciate it, but it’s not worth it. Don’t want to get you in trouble.” You said with a sheepish smile, leaning down to pet Mary Puppins who greeted you with a rough lick on your leg. “I just need to get a roommate. It only makes sense.”

Wade’s eyes quickly glanced at Logan. The solution was standing right next to him.

As much as he’d hate not waking up to the sight of Logan’s crotch splayed on his couch, he’d love to gain some semblance of privacy back in his life. Or as much as he can get with Althea around, at least. Wouldn’t hurt. He could finally bring Vanessa over, play that George Michael record and woo her properly…

Okay, okay. Maybe he saw the way the two of you danced around each other one too many times. Clearly there was something going on, potent enough to propel someone on Tumblr to write a series with the two of them as the central characters. Friends to lovers, that kind of bullshit. 

He wanted to see where this fic goes.

And Logan, that motherfucker’s got a job now! Truly a cause for celebration in this economy. From what Wade knows, the salary is not bad at all. Perks of being a self-healing mutant who can risk a limb doing the more dangerous parts of construction.

“You know, peanut, your snores are getting a little too loud these days—”

That basically explains how Logan Howlett ended up as your roommate.

But that doesn’t really explain how you find yourself trapped underneath his solid body, in your room, on your bed.

Doesn’t explain your t-shirt in his fist as he yanks it low enough to latch his lips onto your exposed collarbone. Body between your legs forcing them to part to accommodate his frame. One big hand pinning your wrists together above your head, the other on the apex of your thighs, pushing your panties aside as a finger toys with you. Your hips buck.

“Fuck, you’re soaked,” he whispers, lips moving right next to your ear. A shiver racks your spine at the low timbre of his voice, mixed with a tinge of embarrassment at just how worked up you are, evidence of it effortlessly coating the rough pad of his finger.

Doesn’t explain why he takes off your top in one smooth movement, hand releasing your wrists in favor of cupping your jaw when he crashes his lips into yours like a desperate man.

And he is, though you sound just as desperate—if not more—when he slowly, easily plunges his middle finger into your wet cunt, your strangled moan against his mouth.

Doesn’t explain the glazed look in his darkened eyes when he pulls away, only a breath apart, just to stare at the face you’re making. Eyes as dark as his, a little hazy, a little surprised. But nothing about you is fighting this.

His blood sings.

“Be a good girl and let me take care of you,” he rasps before thrusting a second finger in, then curling them deep inside of you.

“A-ah—”

So how did you get here?

The answer isn’t nearly as complicated as Wade’s multiversal adventure. 

You just need to outline the sequence of events in your head.

dividers by evansyhelp and cafekitsune

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

Hiii!! Here for the 'ask and receive' thingy you're doing! I'm thinking allure!MATZ (maybe seonghwa focus? 😏) with the prompts 120, 122, 214, 220, 221, 224. What do you think?? Love your fics btw 💕💕

➯a/n: OOOUUUH WHAT DO I THIIINK ? i think- shit, where'd my clothes go ? kkkkk its about time i did some pure smut in this universe !! thank you very much and enjoy <33

Allure

Scent of You

❥Park Seonghwa x fem reader x Kim Hongjoong

120 + 122: "faster, faster — please ! " + "just like — oh, fuck ! just like that ! "

✫彡wordcount: 2.6k

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, a/b/o au

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: 214: cnc, 220: manhandling, 221: creampie/breeding, 224: knotting, predator/prey chase, clothed/naked dynamic, outdoor sex, double penetration, pet names, dirty talk, multiple creampie, this adds almost zero to the plot/universe imma be real; they just fuckin, not proof read

♫Allure Soundtrack♫ "Just howl all night, like we got nothing to lose." &TEAM, Scent of you♫

♡masterlist !♡

MINORS GO AWAY

˚➶ ｡˚

It's been a long time since your adrenaline was so high.

You can feel your heartbeat in your throat, in your ears, in your finger tips — in your cunt.

The chilly fall air burns your lungs as you push yourself. You're so far into the woods and away from the farmhouse that you wouldn't be able to find your way back even in the broad daylight; forget about doing it now, in the middle of the night with only the moon to guide you.

Good thing Seonghwa is hot on your tail and ready to drag you back home after he catches you.

His footsteps crunch the fallen leaves as he makes his way to catch up with you; not even trying to be quiet in his pursuit. Both of you know that he's faster, that he's eventually going to get you. But that doesn't matter. That's, in actuality, the whole point.

He and Hongjoong opened up to you a few months ago, about how they had some... peculiar interests. Things they wanted to try. Things their wolves wanted to do. At the top of that list, just below 'breed' — was 'hunt.'

It's no secret that alpha's are more in tune with their wolves natural instincts, their natural urges. The stronger the wolf, the stronger the urges. And you happen to have two very strong alpha's as your mates.

Seonghwa is the strongest wolf of your entire generation, he was the first born. When you agreed to this, he literally howled with joy at the fact that he would be able to chase you down and 'earn' what he took.

Hongjoong was just as excited, he nearly pounced on you then and there.

You can't lie. It's fucking exhilarating. Your wolf is prancing in your head at the knowledge that your mates are hunting you down with the intention of knotting you as roughly as they please.

You catch yourself by grabbing onto a tree as a lighting fast shadow crosses your vision up ahead, making you stumble. Hongjoong, it had to have been; because Seonghwa is still right behind you — oh, fuck.

You're tackled, Seonghwa's arms wrapping around you tightly and pulling you on top of him before you can collide with the dirt. "You cheaters!" You pant as you fall over him bonelessly, "he cut me off."

"We got you fair and square," he growls as he grabs the back of your sweater collar. Not another second is wasted as he riiiips the clothing down your back, "there wasn't a rule saying we couldn't corner you. Should have thought of that, Omega."

You gasp as the cold air hits your torso, exposed as he yanks the fabric off your arms. A yelp follows, having been pulled straight up and off him by Hongjoong.

He shoves you belly down onto the ground, "you're just so naive, Dolly~" He giggles, yanking your bottoms down. Not even bothering with your shoes as he pulls your pants off you. "Didn't you realize only one of us was behind you?"

"Get-" Your mind comes back to you after your initial shock of being caught and nearly stripped so fast, "get off me!" It's a little less convincing than it could be, but that's because you want them just as badly as they want you. Your ankle is immediately caught by a clawed hand as you go to kick at him, his other-worldly sharp nails threatening to press into your skin.

"I don't think so." He smirks as you look over your shoulder, wide eyes meeting his blackened ones. "You're ours. If you didn't want this, you should have ran faster~"

His words, although you know they are truly nothing but play pretend, make your heart thud in your chest harder and harder. You know you can end this with a single word. But you don't want to. "Wh- what are you gonna do?"

"We're gonna fuck you," Seonghwa's voice echos in the woods with a deep, dark purr laced in it as he stands infront of you.

The full moon is shining bright through the trees behind him, casting you in his shadow as Hongjoong plays with your hair teasingly.

"And you're gonna take it like the good little Omega that you are."

You couldn't respond even if you knew what to say as Hongjoong uses his claws and cuts your bra off of you, his palms immediately on your breasts as he grinds into your backside, making your jaw drop.

     "Maybe, if you behave," Seonghwa hums as he crouches, red eyes locked on yours, "I'll give you my puppies."

    You want to beg, 'please, please, fill me up!' Instead, you give him your best pout, finding yourself slipping more and more into the role of helpless prey. "You perverts..."

     "Ah, we're the perverts?" Hongjoong chuckles as he continues to grind his jean clad bulge against your panties. The texture is so rough and nice. That, along with the chase — has you soaking through the fabric.

    He sits up, holding you down by your shoulders as he leans his head back and takes a deep, purposeful breath in through his nose. "Mmmm," he bites his lip. You smell so tempting. So delicious. "You smell that, Baby?"

    Seonghwa smirks at his question. Of course he does. "Hm? You mean that sweet smell of our Omega's cunt begging for us?" You whine, genuinely embarrassed. Curse their stupidly strong senses.

     "I bet I could slip right in." Hongjoong's words make your eyes widen, and Seonghwa grins darkly, kneeling in front of you and leaning right to your face.

    "I bet so too. I bet she'll let you right in~ Her pussy is telling the truth, even when her mouth is lying."

   "No!" You try to push yourself up, only succeeding in pushing your ass against Hongjoong's bulge and making them laugh.

    "Oh, yes, Dolly~" He unbuttons his bottoms and is hurrying to free himself while you struggle lightly beneath him. "I'm not a very patient man, you know that by now."

     "Hongjoong, Hongjoong, wait! Wait a second, please!"

    Seonghwa grabs the back of your neck, tilting his head as he looks down at you. "What? Why should we wait? Hm?"

      "Y- At least stretch me out..." You feel so filthy for the words that leave your lips; but the harmonious rumbles from your Alpha's tell you that you definitely just did something right.

     In truth, you were already more than ready to take one or even both of the them. They'd been teasing you for hours before the moon rose and the chase began. 

    They didn't want to hurt you, after all — not that badly.

     "Oh," Hongjoong lets out an amused breath from behind you. You're just as into this as they are, slipping more and more into the game. "I'll stretch you out, alright."

      He shoves your panties down your thighs, barely giving him enough room to slam into you. And slam he does. Knocking every thought from your head and your breath along with it as he settles his member as deep as possible.

      It was only a slight hint of pain, the rest of what you were feeling was pure, unadulterated pleasure.

     Seonghwa could see it in your face. Your brows pushed together and your eyes glazing over as small howl gets broken off in your throat. "That's it, Starlight," he breaks the facade with a soft praise, cupping your trembling jaw. "Let our mate fuck you in the dirt like the animals we are."

    "F-uuuuck!" You scream as Hongjoong begins hammering into you, his growls reverberating off of the trees around you. Even as he gets lost in the clenching grip of your heat, he's careful with his claws as he grabs onto your shoulders; pulling you up to your knees.

    "Hongjoong, be gen-gentle!" Don't be gentle. Don't be gentle. Fuck me like the Alpha you are.

    His eyes roll back into his head as your thoughts reach him.

    They reached Seonghwa as well, who now cups your face with both hands and squishes your cheeks together roughly. "Gentle? You want gentle? Too fucking bad, pup. You're gonna take us like the Omega you are."

Oh, you could faint. They're always rough. It's in your nature. But this is all new and dizzying and making you drip around Hongjoong's pistoning cock.

     Seonghwa is grinning like a madman as you gulp, he can hear your heart thrumming like crazy as he comes closer. He shoves your face in his shoulder and holds you there with one hand while the other grasps onto your hip and guides you to start pushing back on Hongjoong.

     "Fucking hell-" The blond hisses, his clawed hands wrapping up in your hair and holding onto you tightly. Not pulling, just grounding himself with you roughly as Seonghwa pulls you back and forth to meet his hard thrusts.

      You wail into his shoulder, biting his hoodie and letting out a pathetic growl.

    Hongjoong is continuing their tradition of trying to mold the shape of his cock into you so that Seonghwa can do the same and see which sticks longer. He's hitting every deep, sensitive part of you as he slips in and out at a brutal pace with the help of your shared mate. 

    "Just like that, Baby," Hongjoong purrs deeply, one of his hands finding his on your hip and settling on top of it. "Just like —" A breath hitches in his throat as you tilt your hips, and he's suddenly pounding into you impossibly harder while holding you at the new angle. "Oh, fuck~" He laughs breathlessly, "just like that!"

      You slap your hands against the ground to cope with the new and intrusive feeling of him pushing himself somewhere... deeper. "Joong!! Too deep!" Every thrust is making his fat tip kiss the entrance of your womb. Don't stop. Don't stop.

"Cum inside of her," Seonghwa groans as he lets go of your head, eagerly yanking at his belt and locking eyes with the near feral man inside of you. "Lube her up nice and good so we can knot her together."

"Wha-aaaah," you squeal as Hongjoong pushes your face to the ground, one cheek to the dirt and your back arched deeply. His hand is on your other cheek, pining you to the ground with your ass in the air as he fucks you like he needs to breed you more than he needs to breathe.

It's almost like he does. As his pleasure slams into a peak almost as violently as he's slamming into you — he doesn't even realize he's holding his breath as he's shooting his load deep inside of you.

Not until Seonghwa's hand finds his shoulder, and he unlatches his jaw to snap at him before he realizes that's his mate too.

    "Easy, tiger," Seonghwa smiles devilishly as he pushes back Hongjoong's hair, "aren't you gonna let me in?"

     Fuck, yes, he is.

   Hongjoong reaches down and tucks his arms under your shoulders, yanking you up as you whimper, "hurry, Alpha... Need you~"

     Any part of you that was trying to hold onto the act is gone, your wolf is demanding to be knotted full by your mates. And they are more than eager to comply.

A small yip from you makes Seonghwa chuckle, watching you be jerked around with a primal satisfaction settling in his gut. Even though he knows, in reality, you wanted them this whole time — there's something so satisfying about the way they've gotten you so pliant and begging for their knots.

Your panties, still caught around your knees, stop your legs from opening all the way as Hongjoong lays back with you on top of him. He twitches inside of you, reaching around and using his claws slice the fabric. "Open up for your Alpha's, Dolly~"

As Seonghwa climbs over you, stroking his member slowly as he eyes you like a predator, Hongjoong holds your thighs and spreads you wide.

"Pretty Omega wants our knots, hm?" Seonghwa hums as he grips your jaw with his free hand, leaning over you with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"Yes..." You answer breathlessly, blinking at him slowly and letting a pout form on your lips.

"Fuck — how can I say no to that?"

Your wail echoes in the silent night, your head thrown back and your small fangs gritting together as he all but shoves his bulky tip into your stretched hole. Hongjoong is panting like a dog underneath you, his eyes squeezing shut in focus as he forces himself to retract his claws. When he's successful, his fingers immediately find your clit; bombarding you with pleasure and sending mixed signals to your brain.

Seonghwa is stretching you out in an incredible and punishing way as he joins your mate inside of you, Hongjoong is flooding your body with dopamine. All of your wolves are noisy beyond belief in your mind as they howl with joy at being so undeniably close.

     You hadn't come to expect gentleness from the eldest alpha, and you aren't surprised in the slightest bit that your chase had worked him up. He only gives you a single split second, while he grabs ahold of your hips, before he's done waiting and starts rutting into you.

     You and Hongjoong are equally wrecked as Seonghwa grinds against him rough and deep inside of you, the sounds of his previous release squelching while being pounded back into you stirring him on.

    He uses his grip on your hips to drag you up and down, his lip snarling upwards as he growls, "our perfect Omega takes it so good-"

     Hongjoong is growling louder than he is now, cutting him off as he starts thrusting in time with how he moves you. "Faster."

    "We don't want to break her~" He laughs lowly as the younger wolf's pout.

    "She can take it," Hongjoong whines, "right, Dolly?" He rubs his hands up your torso, abandoning his teasing of your clit now that you're falling apart on their lengths. 

    You nod quickly, hands scrambling for anything to hold onto you. You find Seonghwa's hoodie; grasping it tightly in your fists as you look up at him. "Faster, faster — please! Please, Alpha!"

    You know just how to press their buttons by now — which is exactly why you get just what you asked for.

Faster. Harder. They're animalistic in the way they take you. You can hardly think. But you don't have to. All you have to do is take it and revel in it.

A small howl leaves your pursed lips as your back arches off of Hongjoong's chest, thrusted about by their intense in-and-out and only held in place by Seonghwa's rough hands on your hips.

Your claws are dug into his hoodie, the tearing sound going completely ignored because the feeling of Hongjoong's knot swelling up and making the space they occupy even snugger.

"You gonna take it, Starlight?" Seonghwa hums a moan as he leans over you completely, crushing you between them, "gonna have our puppies?"

"Yes! Yes, pl-ease!"

Your yowl as Hongjoong's knot finally locks up inside of you — spurting even more hot cum — is muffled as Seonghwa latches his lips to yours. He keeps you right there, kissing you heated and messy as he copies the younger alpha's actions; stuffing you beyond completely and finally making that burning pleasure inside of you snap.

He rubs your stomach softly as you tremble and convulse with ecstasy, smiling against your lips as he feels their knots inside of you.

When he pulls away, he rest his head in the crook of your neck — purring loud and proud as he kitten licks at your mating mark. Hongjoong is rumbling happily below you, his arms wrapped around your waist softly and eyes closed blissfully.

"Such a perfect Omega," Seonghwa purrs, "we're so lucky."

˚➶ ｡˚

[withluvkay]

Your Life’s Not Boring—You’re Just on Your Phone Too Much

If you’ve been feeling glued to your phone—especially apps like TikTok and Instagram—you’re not alone. So many of us are stuck in this loop, and it can seriously mess with our energy, motivation, and overall health.

One thing I’ve struggled most with lately is comparison. Feeling like what I do just isn’t... enough. If you’ve felt that too, this post is for us both. A little reminder that:

✨ You are enough, just as you are. ✨ You’ve survived every hard day, and your inner child and I are so proud of you. Don't ever forget how far you've come as a person! If all you did was make your bed and hydrate today, that's a win worth celebrating. You're doing just fine, and you'll do all that you wish to on your own divine timing.

And yes, your life isn’t boring. You might just be too distracted to see how beautiful it really is. So instead of escaping it, let’s try to romanticize it!

10 Ways to Romanticize Your Life & Be More Present

Wake up a little earlier. It doesn’t have to be 5 AM (unless that’s your thing). Even an hour earlier can give you quiet time to get things done without distractions.

Take an "everything shower." These are pretty meditative for me in a way. I like to imagine the water washing off all my stress and stagnant energy I may have accumulated throughout the day. Like a reset button!

Make a breakfast you’d actually get out of bed early for. Pancakes? Fruit? Whatever makes your inner child happy.

Play jazz or soft instrumentals while doing everyday activities. Instant cozy vibes.

Read outside. Sitting on your porch or even by a window gives you that vitamin D and a fresh perspective.

Find a screen-less hobby you enjoy. Try crochet, painting, poetry, LEGO kits, pottery, etc. Block-building kits are my fave—they’re so fun and satisfying. Just remember to take breaks and stretch!

Re-watch something comforting or start something new. That show you keep skipping past might become your next obsession.

Connect. If you’ve been stuck in your room all day, talk to someone. Call a friend, hug your pet, or chat with family. A quick convo with my mom always boosts my mood!

Learn something new! When was the last time you went out of your way to explore something you didn’t already know? (and nope, school doesn’t count.) Take a moment to find a subject you’ve never looked into or dive deeper into one you already know a little about. Pick up on a new language, study an unfamiliar culture, or even try learning a random skill just for fun. Expanding your mind keeps life feeling fresh and exciting.

Travel (if you can). I can't stress this one enough!! Even just getting out of town for a single 24 hours can give you a whole new perspective. A change of scenery does wonders, especially when life feels repetitive. It doesn't have to be far, either. You can travel to the next city over and explore what it's like there!

Remember: Social media is NOT real life. That influencer who’s always partying in Miami with a closet full of designer bags? You’re seeing their highlight reel, not the full picture. Some even goes as far as faking luxury lifestyles for the views. Don’t compare your behind-the-scenes to someone else’s curated feed. At the end of the day, it's all for the aesthetics/entertainment.

Be gentle with yourself. You're doing better than you think, angel. xo, Kay 🪽

[saintsylestine]

Guilliman x Reader

Authors note: your work gets you noticed by the Avenging Son. He'll assess you before he ever lays hands on you. Wanna read some creepy observant Guilliman? Is it creepy or just accurate? Take this draft from me!

Cw: slightly nsfw (alludes to maturbating but no anatomical details), being watched/surveillanced

A Model of Order pt. 1

You’re summoned to Strategium Annex Theta. No rank seal. No preamble.

Just a location, a time, and a clearance string so high you nearly hesitate to open it.

22:00. Sharp.

The chamber is colder than you expect. Wide. Quiet. High-vaulted like a monastery, but stripped of any reverence—just stone, light, and silence. At the center, a single obsidian table. Empty.

He stands at the far end.

Not armored.

No entourage. No ceremony.

Just him.

Roboute Guilliman.

The Lord of Ultramar. The Primarch.

The reason the stars still burn blue.

He doesn’t look at you. Not at first. His back is to you, arms folded, robes draped in precise symmetry. Even still, his presence chokes the room.

You keep your posture perfect. You do not speak.

Let him speak first.

He does.

“You recommended withdrawal from the Neride Cluster.”

No greeting. No acknowledgment.

“I did, my lord.”

“You advised the sacrifice of six billion civilians.”

“To save twenty-seven billion more.”

“And the infrastructure.”

"Yes.”

He turns.

The first time you meet his eyes, it feels like falling toward something ancient.

“You were correct.”

The words hit harder than you expect. Cold praise. Hollow. Like he’s repeating a fact he already filed away.

He steps toward you, each footfall deliberate. Measured. Like a surgeon approaching an incision.

“You were not summoned for your correctness."

You say nothing.

“You were summoned because I want to understand what you are.”

He circles you once. Not like a man. Like a force of nature pacing the edges of a controlled burn.

“You didn’t hesitate. You didn’t flinch. I’ve seen generals cry over less than what you signed away without blinking.”

He stops at your back.

“I want to know if that was discipline.”

“Or vacancy.”

You keep your eyes forward. Your breath even.

"It was logic, my lord.”

"Then you mistake me for someone who respects logic.”

A pause. You feel him closer now. Not touching. Just there.

“I’ve commanded empires with less blood on their hands than you carry in that one recommendation.”

He leans in.

“And I want to know… if it excites you.”

Your pulse stutters.

“No, my lord.”

“Pity. That would have made you easier to classify.”

He steps in front of you now. Hands behind his back. Eyes sharp enough to cut.

"You stand well. You answer well. You wear obedience like a second skin."

He lowers his voice—not soft, but close. Intimate the way pressure is intimate.

“But I don’t want obedience.”

“I want to know what happens when it breaks.”

The silence between you is thick. Alive.

"I do not need you,” he says, calm as ice.

“I choose to examine you.”

And then—he lifts one hand. Not armored. Gloved.

And simply gestures.

“Kneel.”

You hesitate—but only for a heartbeat. Then sink to one knee, not out of submission—but precision. Graceful. Controlled.

He steps closer. One hand lifts your chin.

The leather of his glove is cool against your jaw.

Your eyes meet.

And he studies you—not like a man studies a woman. Like a tactician studies a weapon he might someday use… or destroy.

“You think you intrigue me,” he says, almost bored.

“You think that earns you safety.”

A beat—

“No. I think it earns me scrutiny.”

That got a reaction. The faintest twitch of his mouth. Not a smile. A threat dressed as amusement.

He lets go.

“You’ll report to me daily. You’ll follow every instruction exactly. You’ll remain silent until spoken to.”

He turns away, already done with you.

“And if I find rot beneath all that beautiful structure—”

He pauses at the door. Doesn’t look back.

“I’ll have you dismantled. Properly. Efficiently. Beautifully.”

The door seals behind him like a coffin lid.

And for the first time in years, your composure hurts to hold.

----

You don’t remember walking back to your quarters. You remember the door sealing behind you. You remember the light being too bright. You remember your hands shaking as you peeled off your gloves—why are they shaking?

You’re not weak. You’re not like this.

You pace the floor three times. Open your data-slate. Close it. Strip out of your uniform with exacting movements, folding every piece like it matters. You don’t look in the mirror.

You sit on the edge of the bed.

You sit too straight.

You breathe too evenly.

And it’s worse than chaos.

Because you still feel it—the ghost of his glove at your chin. The memory of his voice.

“Kneel.”

One word. No inflection. But it cleaved something inside you wide open.

You press your thighs together.

No.

You stand. Shake it off. Walk to the sink. Splash cold water on your face. Again. Again. Again.

You stare into your reflection, and for the first time in a long time, you don’t see the sharp, clean lines of discipline and dignity. You see hunger. Controlled. Concealed. But there.

You whisper to yourself:

“It doesn’t mean anything.”

But it does.

Because he saw you. Touched you. Tested you.

And then he walked away.

And now you can’t stop thinking.

What does he see when he looks at you?

A weapon? A subject?

A problem he wants to solve?

Or a body he wants to crack open like a data-core and read until there’s nothing left?

Your breath hitches. You hate it.

You press your palm between your legs.

Not in pleasure. In control.

But your skin is already warm.

And you can’t lie to yourself anymore.

You’re wet. You’ve been wet.

You slide down onto the floor, back against the cold steel wall. One hand between your thighs, the other covering your mouth.

Not fast.

Not desperate.

Precise.

Like someone proving a theory.

Like someone collecting evidence of their own degradation.

...

And when you cum—it’s quiet. Controlled. Your mouth doesn’t open. Your body doesn’t shake.

But your eyes sting.

Because you hate that it’s him.

Not his face. Not his strength.

His restraint.

The way he makes you want permission.

You lie on the floor after. Eyes open. Cold now. Empty.

And you know—you’ll still show up tomorrow like nothing happened.

Because this isn’t about him.

This is about you.

Failing beautifully.

Exactly as he planned.

---

The Strategium is colder today. Or maybe you’re just more aware of it.

You walk in exactly on time. 06:00. Uniform crisp. Boots polished. Hair bound tightly at the crown of your head. Every detail perfect.

You do not flinch.

Guilliman is already present, standing at the hololith with a minor planetary governor who doesn’t deserve the oxygen he’s using. They speak in clipped tones. Guilliman doesn’t turn to look at you.

He doesn’t have to.

You feel his awareness land on you like pressure.

Not gaze. Not even presence.

Weight.

“Dismissed,” he says to the governor, not waiting for protest.

The man leaves. Fast.

Then it's just you.

And him.

And the echo of your own pulse behind your ears.

“Step forward,” he says.

You do.

“Your analysis of the Harrow Corridor?”

“Uploaded to your slate. Contingency plans B and F would lead to immediate collapse. I suggest D, with minor alterations.”

He doesn’t respond. Not immediately.

He just looks at you.

Not down at your mouth. Not at your hands.

At your eyes.

Like he’s scanning for microfractures in the glass.

You do not break.

“You’re composed,” he says.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Efficient.”

“Always.”

“Disciplined.”

“To the core.”

Another silence.

Then—

“Interesting.”

He turns back to the hololith.

You exhale slowly. Controlled. Not relief. Just airflow.

“You’ll join me tonight,” he says. “22:00. Sublevel Red. Don’t speak when you enter. Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Yes, my lord.”

You turn to leave. He doesn’t stop you.

But just before the door seals behind you, you hear it.

Soft.

Flat.

But intentional.

“Next time,” he says, without looking,

“Try not to finish so quickly.”

...

The door seals behind you.

You don’t breathe.

You walk.

Not fast. Not slow. Measured.

Down the corridor. Past rows of lumens and data-inset stone. Past the Adeptus quarters and intake offices. Past the place where your old self might have stopped to catch her breath.

But you don’t stop.

Because if you do, you might not recover.

“Try not to finish so quickly.”

You hear it over and over. Not replayed. Reissued.

The tone. The timing. That awful, flat calm—like he hadn’t even decided to ruin you with it. Like it had already been decided for him. Like the data had come back and the analysis was done:

You broke. He saw. And now he owns that knowledge.

You make it to your quarters.

The second the door seals, your legs go soft.

You brace yourself on the desk. Not from weakness.

From impact.

The words won’t leave you.

“Try not to finish…”

Did he mean it cruelly?

Was it mocking? A warning? A rule?

You can’t tell.

And that’s what ruins you.

You peel off your gloves like they’re dirty. Like they’re too tight. Your breath comes shallow now, not with fear, not with heat, but with restraint.

You sit. You try to work.

You open the slate.

His initials are still there.

RG.

No signature.

No apology.

Just presence.

And you are full of it.

He saw you.

He watched you climax.

You keep thinking that.

And then you think worse things.

He didn’t just see you fall apart.

He timed it.

He measured it.

You can’t stop wondering if he watched all of it.

If he leaned forward.

If he catalogued the way you touched yourself. The part where your breath caught. The subtle tremble in your hips when you came and tried not to make a sound.

He saw.

He knows exactly how long you held your control.

He knows what your shoulders did, how your thighs shifted.

He knows you were trying to be quiet.

And he said nothing until you’d proven you could walk back into that room like nothing happened.

You passed.

That’s the worst part.

You passed, and now you’re in deeper than you were the day before.

You stand again. Pacing now.

Short bursts. Five steps. Turn. Four steps. Turn.

Your whole body buzzes with tension. Shame. Hunger.

But you don’t touch yourself.

Not now.

Because it’s not lust anymore. It’s obedience.

And you are waiting for permission.

Even if it never comes.

Even if he’s already decided not to give it.

You want to be angry.

You are angry.

You’re not weak. You’re not deviant. You’re not here for this.

And yet—

Your thighs ache.

Your pulse won’t slow.

And you can’t stop hearing it.

“Try not to finish so quickly.”

You stare at the wall. Cold and silent.

And whisper to no one:

“Fuck you.”

But your voice shakes.

Because you don’t mean it.

------------------------ to be continued------------

Thanks for reading (〃ω〃) hope I did our boy justice.

Can I label this gn!reader? Or is it more fem reader coded

[bredforloyalty]

guess what i fucking got off the internet archive from a giant zip file

[aroaessidhe]

2024 reads / storygraph

Compound Fracture

YA thriller set in rural West Virginia

follows an autistic trans boy who survives being almost killed by the Sheriff’s son after a party, and accidentally kills one of the boys who hurt him when he tries to get back at him

and is pulled head-first back into the 100 year old feud between his & the sheriff’s families, that began when his great-great grandfather was executed after inciting a miner’s rebellion, the grandfather whose ghost has started to haunt him

community & family & socialist revolution

aro-questioning MC

arc from netgalley, out september 3

[mosstrades]

im having an absolute unadulterated blast with the Ethersea prologue for many many reasons, it's beautiful and exceeds all my expectations.. but also. there's many moments here that genuinely make me go "oh god damn, these people are Americans." the Quiet Year system is a profoundly fascinating and revealing game - nothing tells you quite as much about how somebody sees the world than asking them to imagine a new one.

[amrv-5]

pained by the idea of spending $17 on a sandwich but these are calling to me so bad

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2023: IMPERIAL RADCH by Ann Leckie.

Up next! This came highly recommended by many friends (and also the internet at large when I asked for SFF revenge recs, so thanks!), and I have Tracked Down The Original Covers, so I'm ready to go.

[macchiatosdumptruck]

.

[crybaby-bkg]

it is truly so insane how reading motivates you to write so much more

[thelittlestspider]

one headcanon i have is that matt is a huge mystery/detective/noir genre fan, and like listens to those old mystery radio dramas and owns cassette tape versions of them too (i think he would like physical copies of these kinds of things)

i love matt being a fan of old mysteries/noir and having physical copies of everything. i have a few headcanons in a similar vein.

- jack was a big fan of old black and white movies and he and matt would watch them together. it was like one of the only times they got along/one of the only things they had in common besides boxing. i feel like this is also kind of where his love for jazz music originates from. it's all kind of wrapped up in bittersweet memories.

- matt and milla used to listen to noir dramas together.

- matt has a copy of each music player (record, cassette, cd) that keep breaking every few years and he has to get mike and peter to collaborate to fix them. (peter is good at fixing electronics/has some mechanical know-how from uncle ben. mike likes fixing things and is matt's go to for getting things fixed around the house bc he knows a little bit of everything.)

- matt knows all these random facts because of milla, foggy, peter, and mike. (milla's special interest: history + she works in city planning (?). foggy has tons of law related stuff committed to memory. peter reads wikipedia for fun and is obsessed with urban planning bc of uncle ben. mike used to take apart everything and narrate it to matt like he was doing surgery.)

- riffing off the headcanon above, it would be funny if matt was able to engineer his billy club bc mike narrated whatever he was fixing to matt and had him feel all the parts while they worked on it.

[veryspecialfungus]

It's unfair to me personally that fanfic chapters have to be finished before they are posted and enjoyed.

[lionofstone]

used bookstore haul!

[ID: two pictures of mass market paperbacks in various states of quality against a black background. the first image contains The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy, The Restaurant at the End of the Universe, Life, The Universe, and Everything, and Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, all by Douglas Adams, and I, Robot by Isaac Asimov. The second imagine contains Mistborn by Brandon Sanderson and Emma by Jane Austin. END ID]

[kingofanemptyworld]

channeling best boy eijun and starting to watch kimi ni todoke~