#lifelong dream

[rat-at-heart]

Ready for the summer season to be over so they may fulfill their shared lifelong dream of running away to Paris

[masterlovehurtssfw]

Fans In Japan?

There’s a chance you might have seen me wandering around some parts of Tokyo this week.

Thanks to all of you (in and out of Japan) who bought my stories. Over the years, I’ve slowly managed to save enough for this short trip of a lifetime. You have my gratitude for making a lifelong dream come true.

I’m seeing a place I’d almost given up on seeing and it is thanks to all of you. I hope you stick with me, even if I have a slump or two. I appreciate the support and enthusiasm you’ve shown me over the years and hope to see it in the coming years as well.

Thank you.    Ever your purveyor of smutty fun,         ~MasterLoveHurts (Broken Arrow)

[capquinn]

Disarm | Q. Hughes

summary: quinn is lost in a mood he can’t quite shake, but you’re determined to bring back his smile — one kiss at a time. pairing: reader x quinn hughes content: fluff, grumpy/sunshine word count: 1.1k ↪masterlist

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

Quinn’s been drifting around the apartment all day, carrying an invisible weight that seems to have wrapped itself around his shoulders. He moves from room to room like a shadow, quiet and slow, casting this low hum of heaviness in his wake. It’s not the kind of mood with sharp edges; there’s no snapping, no outbursts. It’s just this unspoken gloom, dimming the usual warmth of your space.

You’ve been watching him, feeling a twinge of frustration mixed with that urge to help him shake it off. You know him so well — how he bottles things up, how rare it is for him to get lost in his own head like this, so deeply that even your usual go-to comforts don’t reach him. You’d tried everything to pull him back, from suggesting a walk in the fresh air to putting on his favourite movie. You’d even taken the time to make that one snack he devours on sight, the one that usually brings him to the kitchen in under five seconds flat. But today, he had only mumbled a quiet thanks, barely glancing up before returning to his brooding silence.

Now, he’s leaning against the kitchen counter, arms crossed and eyes fixed on a spot on the floor, his brow slightly furrowed. You stand there for a beat, taking him in from across the room, feeling the urge to do something to break through whatever storm is brewing in his mind. The familiar space feels oddly foreign under the weight of his mood, his silence filling it in a way that makes you want to step in, to tug him out of this fog even if it means trying something a little… different. 

You draw in a breath, your determination firming up as you cross the room, setting your mind on one last attempt to reach him, ready to try anything to bring back the warmth that’s always so natural between you.

You step right into his line of sight, tilting your head with a playful smile. “Quinny,” you drawl, stretching out the nickname just enough to catch his attention. His lips twitch, almost like he’s about to smile, but he quickly glances away.

“It’s nothing,” he mutters before you can even ask, his voice low, though there’s a trace of grumpiness he’s clearly still trying to shrug off.

“Oh, really?” You take a step closer, letting your hands settle on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips. “You’ve barely said a word all day.” Your voice softens, teasing but gentle, hoping to coax something — anything — out of him.

When he doesn’t respond, you tilt your head, searching his face, and ask, “how can I help?” Words tender, an open invitation, but he just gives a quiet shrug, his gaze still far off, his arms crossed as though he’s trying to hold onto whatever’s got him weighed down.

You can tell he’s not ready to talk, not yet willing to open up, but you’re not about to let him stay locked away in his own head. Not if you can help it.

You slide your hands up his chest, leaning in close until you’re on your toes, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek. “What about this?” you ask, pulling back just enough to catch his eye. Still nothing — he’s holding firm, jaw set, though you can practically feel him fighting to keep up the wall he’s built around himself. “Any better?”

You don’t wait for an answer, leaning in to kiss his other cheek with just a bit more purpose this time. “Still nothing?” 

He’s working hard to stay grumpy, to hold onto whatever’s weighing on him, but you catch the faintest flicker in his eyes and the smallest tug at the corner of his mouth. You’re close.

“Oh, come on,” you murmur, tracing the line of his jaw with light kisses, feeling his skin warm under your touch. “You’re really gonna make me work for it?”

He inhales sharply, and you can tell he’s trying to resist, to keep his guard up, but his resolve is slipping little by little. And you’re determined, pressing kiss after kiss across his face — the bridge of his nose, the soft space just below his ear, the warm curve of his cheeks. Each one is light and lingering, sweet and relentless.

You’re close now, so close that your breath mingles with his, and his eyes finally meet yours. His expression has softened, his lips hovering at a not-quite-smile, just waiting to break free.

“If you don’t smile soon,” you whisper, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth, “I’m just gonna have to keep kissing every inch of your face.”

A small huff escapes him, and it’s only a matter of time before the frown softens and quiet amusement flickers in his eyes. His arms drop to his sides, shoulders easing as he gives in, the tension unwinding with each little kiss you press to his skin. After all, having you close, showering him with affection… it isn’t the worst thing in the world.

Your lips brush just below his ear, and he breathes out a long, slow sigh, his eyes falling shut as he relaxes into you. Encouraged, you shift back to his jawline, letting your lips trace its sharp curve in gentle, spongy kisses, feeling his jaw slacken and his chest rise and fall against yours. You hover at the corner of his mouth, lingering there, savouring the way he’s finally melting under your touch, the edges of his guarded silence slipping away.

And then, a small grin pulls at his lips, a soft laugh tumbling out as his arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against him in surrender. 

“You’re impossible,” he murmurs, shaking his head with a mix of exasperation and affection as he tucks you against his chest. But the grumpiness is gone, the weight he’s carried all day dissolving into warmth that spreads through both of you.

“There it is,” you say with a triumphant smile, winding your arms around his neck, leaning in with a gentle nudge. “Knew you’d give in.”

He chuckles, a deep, warm sound that fills the space around you as his hands settle at your waist, pulling you closer until there’s hardly any space between you.

“Guess I didn’t stand a chance,” he murmurs, his voice low and soft as he bends down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that feels as natural as breathing.

His hands splay warmly against your back, pulling you close like he never wants to let go. The kiss is gentle, steady, the kind that disarms the weight of the day, melting away every bit of tension between you until all that’s left is the soft warmth in the air, quiet breaths, and the steady rhythm of hearts.

[thatcreepyplacewithallthecrows]

wanna go swim in the Mediterranean

[hyperballart]

patrick teaching you and art to share <3

fighting with art over patrick’s cock is as pathetic as it sounds. the man himself towers above you both holding his erection while the two of you rock paper scissors over who will get to suck him first. it is pathetic, of course, but patrick finds it endearing. how you and art are reduced to a pair of bickering petulant children on their knees for him. it makes him feel needed and wanted in ways that fill the voids of insecurity and self-doubt he carries. he loves you both so much, and in a moment he comes up with a solution that will fulfill you three.

he orders you both to stick your tongues out, and as you do he lets go of the grip he has on his cock to push your heads closer. “thereeee you go, share with each other,” and you and art don’t need to be told twice. you’re each licking and kissing the lenght of him from your respective sides, but when you suddenly stick your tongue out on the underside and feel art’s, your brain turns to mush. you can tell patrick feels this as well because he starts pushing your heads harder to meet in the middle, he’s sliding them up and down while letting out deep groans and drawn out whines.

“that’s it, kiss that fucking dick,” art lets out a high-pitched moan at that that you can feel through the connection of your mouths over the boy above, “god—fuck me—that’s right. move your tongues a little more, shit, yeah like that.” he then starts taking you guys lower, until you’re met with his balls. he can’t really get words out at this point so with a grunted suck them, you get to work. each one of you sucks at one of them, you’re hallowing your cheeks and feeling the fuzziness of it and by the sounds patrick is letting out you know art is doing the same. he brings you back up by the hair and continues to thrust between your mouths.

“come on artie, give her a kiss. you guys have to apologize for being so selfish—holy fuck— yeah just like that,” you and art are trying to get as close to each other’s mouths as you can with patrick’s tip in the way. his slit is drooling precum that adds to all the wetness and you feel it spilling out and dripping on your faces. you open your eyes and see that art’s are crossed, his pupils eclipsing the blue of his eyes and it makes you hum. the sound again travels and patrick twitches hard.

that’s when he loses composure, seeing how fucked out and slutty you and art are slobbering on his tip, passing it back and forth and taking small suckles that are driving him insane, he has to go deeper. he pulls you both off. every ten seconds he takes turns grabbing one of your faces to fuck your throats, you have an easier time taking him without gagging while art has tears spilling down his face. patrick thinks it’s the hottest thing either way, having two people at his service like this.

when he’s ready to cum, he tells to both to kneel next to each other and stick your tongues out—make sure they’re touching—and with two pairs of eyes pleading at him like that, he lets go. it’s a heavy load, you make sure to catch everything.

“oh my god, don’t waste a single fucking drop, catch it—mmmmm fucking sluts.” without having to be told, you and art lick into each other’s mouths to pass around all the cum you’ve just received. you grip his curls and moan into his mouth while he’s whimpering and squeezing your waist. patrick watches it while catching his breath with a grin. he loves making you bond like this.

[didnt-hear-cold-as-you-live]

GOOD MORNING MY FAN MERCH IS NOT ONLY IN ROLLING FUCKING STONE BUT IT'S THE ONLY SWIFTIE ITEM MENTIONED AND IT IS F I R S T AND IT'S NOT JUST A MINDLESS LISTICLE THEY WROTE NICE THINGS ABOUT ME

[m3talmunson]

It started with babes. Babes is completely platonic right? Nothing out of the ordinary there. Eddie was known for being over dramatic, why would nicknames -or in this case, pet names- be any different?

Babes wasn't even that over the top, so why was Steve blushing like a school girl after it was said in passing?

Steve definitely knew why, although, he was going to pretend he didn't. But he knew, about himself, about Eddie. A couple months after spring break '86 Steve had a very enlightening talk with Robin about his feelings. Towards Munson. Those completely and totally platonic feelings.

And a couple weeks later, as though Eddie was so in tune with Steve's discovery, Eddie came out to Steve at a campfire with Robin and Nance. Those two had wandered off, Eddie made some comment about "Good for Robs," before realizing his mistake. That was, until Steve said "Yeah, good for Robs," and Eddie just had to ask.

"You know about her? Y'know..."

"What? Eddie? Of course! She's my best friend."

"And you're ok with it?" Eddie was kind of shocked. Great 'King' Steve wasn't going to sick the dogs on Hawkins Local Lesbian? And it seemed like he had known longer than Eddie?

"Yeah, when you survive hell and back enough it's pretty hard to hate anyone for being gay." Steve left off the part where he was also into guys. He knew Eddie was ok with that, clearly ok with Robin, but Eddie might not be ok with being the guy Steve was into.

"Oh. Well," Eddie didn't know if it was the couple beers he had downed, or his newfound safety with this big ol' group of misfits, but he was comfortable asking Steve, "What if I was like Robin too?"

"Are you?" Steve asked. He wasn't going to get his hopes up over hypotheticals, but he could admit he had feelings for the older boy. He wasn't sure what feelings to be honest,but he was figuring that out as he went. He just knew they were more than platonic.

"Well, technically I'm the opposite of Robin, y'know. Not attracted to women. But yeah, I am." Eddie stared into the camp fire, torn between hoping that it would eat him alive, or that it would simply stare back.

"Okay, thanks for trusting me." Steve responded, plain as day.

He had asked Robin, if someone were to come out to him (granted they were not just drugged by Russians), what would she have wanted to hear. And he finally got the chance to use it, seeing the way Eddie's shoulders dropped in relief.

"So you're like actually ok with it?"

"Like I said, been to hell and back with you, who you love doesn't mean a thing over that."

" Yeah," Eddie said,"But most straight guys don't like it when gay guys flirt relentlessly with them."

"We'll keep that one between us then, won't we?" Steve wasn't entirely ready to correct Eddie on the straight thing, so he just didn't acknowledge that part. He chose to ignore the blush rise on his face, blaming it internally on the heat of the fire.

He also tried to ignore that at that point, the nicknames picked up.

It started with babes. Then baby, which made Steve's brain flutter. Then sweetheart. Eddie only used that one when he wanted something, and yet Steve still loved it. Stevie was one of the fan favorites. Not really a pet name, but used just as lovingly as one. Sometimes Eddie held out the end, in a sing-song voice. Made Steve weak in the knees. Eddie knew what he was doing.

It was babe that made Steve do something about it. Eddie used sweetheart, baby, Stevie, around everyone. In front of the kids, on his various trips to Family Video (whether to buy or annoy, who knew). But babe. Babe was just for Steve and Steve alone.

So of course, the only logical order of events was for Steve to start using them back.

It started with babe, the obvious choice. Fight fire with fire, or whatever. The meaningless pet names ended with babes too.

Because after Eddie kissed Steve to shut him up, they suddenly had meaning.

[tiuhtaviuhta]

Something very satisfying in weaving meters of the same fabric and seeing it wrapping around the cloth beam.

[yashley]

I take such good care of them. They’re the only things I have of my parents.

[basketobread]

it's right behind me, isn't it? 😂 (tomorrow is my birthday and idk how to feel about it)

[atalkingrat]

I'm ok with whatever the ending is cause I was planning on making my own up in my mind anyway 💕

[glycerineclown]

INTERVIEW MAGAZINE, November 1991, with River Phoenix and Keanu Reeves in promotion of My Own Private Idaho

[camelspit]

some of yall werent around for the garwin era and it shows

[sassyredux]

Alphonse Mucha exhibition, 2024

At Henry Morrison Flagler Museum

[mellosdrawings]

For each cries, yells, and threats (lol) I receive on my Wings series, my laughter becomes 5% more diabolical.

[darklight-phantasm]

Happy 10th anniversary to this hag <3