#pug floor pillows

[evie-sturns]

ignore - Matt Sturniolo

summary: you've been in a mood all day, ignoring matt and giving him little attention, you won't tell him what's wrong so he has to fuck the answers out of you.

contains: smut, arguing, crying, swearing, rough!matt, slight overstimulation.

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i've been pissed and emotional all day, i'm not even sure what for anymore, everything that people do is pushing me to my limits, especially my boyfriend, matt.

3:39pm

"c'mon we've gotta go." matt says, tapping my arm as i sit with my arms folded on the edge of matts bed. "i'm not going!" i raise my voice at matt, my eyebrows raised as i roll my eyes.

"chris and nick are waiting for us, we've booked the top golf session, we are going its for the celebration of nicks brand come on." matt says with a dad like tone.

i shake my head, "i don't want to, my head hurts." i say in a whiny tone, somehow on the verge of tears, matt lets out an exhausted sigh, tears start to fall down my cheek as i rub my eyes.

"why are you crying." matt says in a calm tone with a sigh. "go away!" i groan, matt walks out of the room shaking his head, he closes the door behind him.

"i don't know whats going on with her, im sorry nick." i hear him say to his brothers outside the door, i sniffle as i flop down on the bed behind me.

6:12pm

i've been enjoying the empty house by myself for the past few hours, i hear the triplets pull into the driveway before knocking on the door, i unlock the door and they all walk in, i give nick a hug, before asking chris how it went. he instantly starts to yap about his golf shots.

after a handful of minutes chris decides we should all watch a movie, matt tries saying something to me but i simply ignore him,

"y/n." matt repeats himself, i shoot him a side eye before continuing to speak to chris.

nick and chris pile onto the couch, matt sits down on the other side of the plush couch, i walk over to matt, sitting down on his lap and laying down against him, my back pressed against his torso and the back of my head resting on his shoulder.

matts chest rises and falls with each breath, lifting me up and down subtly.

9:29

the movie has been playing for over 3 hours, i've shifted around slightly against matt a couple of times, but haven't said anything to him.

i let out a heavy sigh matt taps my waist before whispering in my ear "please talk to me, you've been acting very off today."

i scoff "i've been acting off?" i whisper back, an attitude clear in my voice.

"yes you have, been acting like that, bratty." matt replies, i stay silent after that.

"talk to me about it." he says again, i shake my head no.

the closing scene of the movie finishes, chris and nick get up, "im headed to bed, see you guys in the morning." chris says with a yawn, "bye chris!" i say chirpily.

nick stands up, "see you!" he says running over and hugging me before leaving the living room.

matt and i sit in silence for a minute or so before matt pushes me off his lap, "come with me." matt says, i stare straight into his eyes, not moving nor speaking.

"come. with. me." matt raises his voice, grabbing my wrist and dragging me to his bedroom. he slams the door and locks it vigourously.

i sit down on the edge of his bed, fiddling with my nails. matt storms over to me, picking me up then throwing me back down on the bed, i fall straight on my back, my head landing in his pillows, one specific pillow having a stupid pug on it.

matt rips off his cute crewneck sweater, my eyes drawn to his tattooed arms.

his two hands firmly grip the waistband of my sweatpants, before yanking them and my panties down in one go. he unbuttons his jeans before pulling me by my ankles towards the edge of the bed.

"matt-" i start, he cuts me off, "dont start."

his boxers drop to the floor before he stands at the edge of the bed, i wrap my legs around his waist. matt stares into my eyes, asking for permission, i stay silent, just staring into his eyes.

"use your words and tell me what the fuck you want." he almost demands, his right hand now firmly gripping my waist.

i can't deny the fact i need him, the sudden switch in mood turns me on, along side matt being angry which he is never like, hes never fucked me while hes mad.

"just fuck me then if your so desperate." i mumble, matt lets out an exasperated laugh before lining himself up with me, slamming into me, his tip bruising my cervix.

i let out a yelp, "fuck!" matt starts to pound in and out of me, not showing signs of slowing down.

he grips my waist with both hands, his fingers digging into my skin as small grunts fall from matts lips.

the sounds coming out of me echo throughout the room, resulting in matt slamming a hand over my mouth, the cold metal of his rings pressing against my cheek.

"gonna act like this whole day? think you can act like that?" matt breathes out, his left hand which is still firmly placed on my waist tightens. matts breathing picks up,

im starting to consider always acting like 'this' so that matt fucks me like this again, i dont think ive ever had better sex in my life.

he repeatedly hits a spot inside of me which is driving me closer, and closer to my orgasm.

"awnser. me." matt says, staring into my squinted eyes, he removes his hand from my mouth, reaching down and brushing my clit.

"i- i didn't mean to" i say cluelessly, my mind completely fogged as i clench around him.

the pit in my stomach realeases as i orgasm, matts thrusts stop, after all this not wanting to overstimulate me.

"gonna talk to me now sweetheart?" matt says his voice soft but his breaths heavy.

i scoff with an eye roll, matt raises his eyebrows before thrusting into me again, i wince, "sensitive.." i say as matt presses on my clit, he starts to thrust again, waiting for me to speak.

i let out loud moans as matt starts to pick up his thrusts "please-" i groan, "matt-"

"i'm sorry- fuck" i say, my thighs dropping from his waist and squeezing together, matt pulls out, finishing with a whimper and painting my stomach with white streaks.

"oh my god-.." i groan, covering my forehead with my arms as i wipe away the few tears that fell from intensity.

"are you okay?" matt says, picking me up off the bed and carrying me towards the bathroom.

i hum in response, "was it too much? did i hurt you?" matt asks, worry in his voice as he places me down on the edge of his bath.

he bends down between my thighs, dabbing a towel gently against my skin. he walks out of the room, shortly coming back now wearing sweatpants and a white wifebeater tank top.

he brings me over the shorts i was wearing previously, and one of his black shirts. he pulls them onto me gently, his cold finger tips brushing against my skin.

he picks me up again, carrying me over to his bed and flicking off the overhead light, leaving his dim lamp on which illuminates the room just enough. he lays down on the bed, i lay ontop of him.

we lay in silence for about a minute before matt breaks it "are you okay? i mean you've seemed really off today and i should've talked with ya." matt says, running a hand through his hair.

"im sorry." i sigh, "no no, don't say that." matt replies instantly, "i'm not actually sure whats going on, i think i'm just a bit hungry" i say quietly,

matt laughs, "i did all of that for you to just be hungry?" he jokes, rubbing his eyes with a smile as his ears go red.

"i don't know!!" i laugh back, matt wraps his arms around my waist as i lay on top of him.

i suddenly spring up, "i'll be right back." i say, jogging out of the room towards nicks room, i knock twice before opening the door, nicks laying on the bed on his phone,

"you okay?" nick asks, i walk over to him, giving him a hug.

"im really sorry about not coming to topgolf nick, i was in a mood and i am extremely happy about your brand."

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[obsidiancreates]

I will get on my hands and knees and BEG for Booker x Grumley domestic fluff, please, I beg, I NEED more Uprooted content, especially Booker x Grumley!!

"Oh, wow." Grumley looks around their shared cells. "This is the nicest jail we've ever ended up in!"

"Is that a pillow mint?" Booker picks it up and gives it a cautious sniff. "How high are the taxes on these poor bastards? Well, at least it's going to making our stay comfortable."

Booker is inspecting the cell for weak points when he hears Grumley whimper. He turns around to see Grumley trying, in vain, to scratch behind his own ears.

"Whattya doin'? Come here, come here." Booker waves Grumley over and scratches the itch for him, leaving Grumley to sigh in relief. "You know that can't reach that spot."

"You were planning our great escape! I didn't want to bother you!"

"Okay first off, maybe say that first part a little quieter next time. Second, since when does planning something come before making sure you're all set? I'm not the one who volunteers you for kidney puncturing for plans."

"That's true." Grumley points behind his other ear, and Booker switches his focus there. "I'm sorry I couldn't fight off the guards."

"There were like, a hundred of them! You're one pug! If anything Peggy should've used her magic again!"

"The clown mask, right? Not the bottle with the fire?"

"Never again the bottle with the fire, I'm never getting those images out of my head as it is. My point is you're strong and you're brave but you're not our only option for intimidation so don't blame yourself for stuff that can't be helped. Hey, sometimes a con just goes wrong!"

"Thanks, Booker."

"Anytime, Grumley."

"... Can we have a little kiss? They cleaned my face folds before they tossed us in here."

"What is this jail, a spa? Alright, one little kiss then I have to get back to work."

"Okay!"

It's a quick, soft smooch, and it leaves Grumley contentedly laying on his belly on the floor watching Booker with his tail wagging as Booker, blushing, keeps trying to figure a way out of this one.

[anbubros]

Lose my breath - KakashiXReader

[So, this is a bit of an experiment for me… I’ve seen a few mentions of a lack of Kakashi/KakashiXReader fics in tags recently and (despite not having written anything publicly for a long~ time) I thought I would try my hand at putting something together.

If you give it a read, enjoy it and would be interested in more then interact and let me know – maybe I’ll see about writing the idea out from the beginning as a longer, multi-chapter piece!]

Context:

Set during the Naruto & Naruto Shippuden 2.5 year time skip, Kakashi has been told to remain on standby, as word has reached Tsunade, that Naruto and Jiriya are due back to the village within three days.

For the past year, reader has been living in the Hatake family home.

Caught in a freak electrical storm, reader was catapulted into the Naruto verse, with a sense of self, but with only the memory of their name and the knowledge that their dog is missing.

Having found said dog on his return to the village, after a mission, Kakashi is tasked with monitoring reader when she is released from hospital. On examination, Tsunade is confused at the discovery that reader possesses a chakra network that has never been activated and appears to somehow be dormant.

When reader becomes overwhelmed and panicked at the hustle and bustle of Konoha, as well as the prospect of living (in what feels like a confined box), at the apartment complex which serves as the Jonin barracks. Kakashi invites reader to stay at his family home while she recovers.

In this chapter – some angst and heated emotions, with a sprinkling of passionate kisses~

Word count - 2497

His lids felt heavy as the strange, dancing shadows of dreams drifted and Kakashi returned to the waking world. For a moment he simply lay there, an arm languishing across his forehead and his silver locks tousled against the pillow. When had he fallen asleep? His other hand lay folded between pages of his book, and he raised it absently to glance at the page number before letting the tome fall together on the floor beside his head.

It was something about this room, something about this place that brought back those dreams and the memories he tried so hard to bury within him. Yet the darkness of sleep had chased them to the forefront of his mind and his body felt heavy from the assault.

His red orb traced the walls of the room automatically for danger as he turned to look at the clock with open eyes. It was two in the morning and a full moon cast silver rays through the crack in the wooden sliding doors. He realized he must have been tossing violently in his sleep, having rolled from his mattress across the smooth tatami flooring.

A loud snuffling snore drew his attention to the corner of the room and as he sat up, pushing the sweat slicked hair from his face he noted the pile of dogs, cuddled against each other and taking up the space nearest the farthest door. Their presence was perhaps the only reason he could sleep at all in this place… As he turned to rise, his hand brushed against soft fur, a pug and spaniel curled up beside his bed, not waking as he ran a few fingers over their heads affectionately.

He moved with practiced stealth and silence, stretching his arms and rolling his shoulders as he stepped over their bodies and slid open the door into the main living area. The Hatake family home was a traditional style building, with sliding partitions and polished wooden floors. Although he kept the house in good order and housed his dogs in the sprawling grounds, which backed onto woodland and fields, he had spent many years avoiding it completely.

Kakashi was immediately aware of the open door, leading to the pretty little garden where she stood, cast in pure moonlight. Her hands, curled around each other were clasped behind her back and her head tipped up.

What was she doing up at this hour… Had his dreaming woken her?

He slid the door shut behind him without making a sound, feet effortlessly moving across the solid floors until he stood in the doorway, raising his own eyes to the sky above where a nebula of unbroken sky glittered above them.

He slid his hands into his pockets, his stance casual. She appeared totally unaware of his presence and despite himself, he smiled. Her breathing was quiet, soft and as Kakashi lowered his gaze from the sky, let it trace her figure, outlined as it was in the soft glow of the full moon above them.

Her hair fell in waves down her back, but he noted the slight tangle on one side, where she had obviously been sleeping, a somewhat adorable cow lick of hair, sticking up at the back.

Kakashi allowed his body to relax, just enough, so that his presence could be sensed and in the same moment she spun around.

It took a single moment for his breath to catch, losing it as he always did when she smiled. The movement lit up her entire face, shining with an ethereal glow that transformed her from lovely to utterly beautiful. It was as captivating now as it had been almost a year before when he had seen it that very first time.

As their eyes met, his heart almost stopped, and warmth radiated through his entire body. The hands in his pockets curled into fists to hide the tremble. Beneath his mask he licked his lips, dry as they were from the power she had over him, it hit like a wave.

They held each other’s gaze for several long heartbeats before Kakashi realized she had been crying and his own chest tightened, unable to draw his gaze away. When he made no motion to move towards her, she took it upon herself to turn fully and bridge the space between them.

Each step closer made his heartbeat harder, louder and by the time she stood before him, he was sure it could have burst through his chest and lay at her feet, betraying him.

The air around them shifted and this close he could feel the heat from her skin as she slipped off her shoes and stepped up onto the veranda, which wrapped around the entire building. He fought the urge to take a step back, to run as an inexplicable fear beat at his temples.

In the stillness of this shared moment, something had changed. Something between them shifting, realigning itself, and he was powerless to stop it.

He didn’t stop her hands as, eyes still on his, she lifted them to curl against the dark fabric of his mask and with gentle fingers, roll it down against his skin until his face was free. He gulped against his dry throat, forcing a shuddering breath through teeth, revealed before her for the first time.

He didn’t stop her still, as she ran her hand gently across his exposed flesh, in a gesture that had his spine tingle, his body tremble.

He didn’t stop her, as she leant up on her toes. Hesitant at first, as her hands pressed against his chest and with a flutter of lashes, eyes closed, pressed a feather light kiss to his bare lips.

Something new swam within his mind, a flush of heat from her touch flamed down his spine.

Was he still dreaming…?

The touch was like electricity as it coursed and sparkled through his body, igniting a fire so bright that the cage in which he had barred his feelings seared beneath his skin, red hot like a brand of truth.

All his restrain fell away as she pulled back, his hand lifting from his side to snake through her hair and clasp gently at the base of her scalp. He paused only for a moment as his eyes, heavily lidded, searched hers for approval. He didn’t need to wait for her answer to know it, pulling her back to his lips.

Gentle at first, he deepened the kiss slowly, tasting and exploring as their lips met. Soft, feather light kisses to chase the long, heated caresses. Lips parting, he probed his tongue in search of hers, roving and twirling over the muscle and pulling away just enough to press their lips together again. His sharp, canine-like teeth nipped at her lips as he tilted his head, guiding her single handedly to keep her in place.

As they finally pulled away, both breathing in hard shuddering breaths, cheeks flushed and eyes hungry, Y/N found her voice in a shuddering whisper, the sentiment taking him by surprise. “I don’t want this to be the end… I don’t want this to stop…”

“This?” Kakashi queried, his voice husky with disuse and sleep.

“Us…!” Y/N blushed hotly with exasperation. “You’ve… become my home… Kakashi… I can’t imagine being here in this place, not without you…”

Kakashi leant forward, their foreheads touching as he pressed against her. This close he could feel the warmth radiating from her body and longed to encase her in his own, the bristle of his skin as they touched and her scent, soft and sweet, warm with sleep, enflamed his blood.

“I’ve wanted to kiss you like this, from the moment I first saw you smile…” he finally admits, his voice low and raw.

She seemed taken aback by his words, her eyes snapping wide in surprise “But… but you never-“

Her words were cut off as Kakashi straightened, letting his hand drop from her neck, his gaze became guarded, cast with a dark distance, unreadable. He thread dexterous hands through the hair which tumbled freely over her shoulder, and his head tilted in thought as he played the strands absently between his fingers.

As Kakashi began to speak, Y/N found herself enraptured by his beauty. The angles of his face, the strength of his jaw, the glint of those elongated canines when he spoke, the mole, somehow soft and adorable in contrast, at the corner of his hard, yet seductively curving mouth. Despite living together like this, for almost a year, this was the first time she had seen his face, and he was beautiful, that’s all there was to it.

“There’s so much you don’t know…” his red eye closed as he spoke, his voice wavering ever so slightly as he forced the words from his lips. “I couldn’t allow myself the selfishness, I shouldn’t have, just now-”

“Do you mean… Obito and Rin…?” she dropped her gaze as she spoke, “Or is this about… Sasuke?” a glittering of tears trembled in Y/N’s eyes as she gently gripped at the front of his skintight, sleeveless tunic. The pads of her fingers curled against the solid muscle of his chest as though if she tried hard enough, she could rip away the armor that kept him so at arm’s length.

Kakashi raised his hand to her cheek, the back of his fingers tracing the curve where a single tear dripped.

“It’s not just that…” His voice seemed loud in her ears despite the hushed tone, the world had gone still around them. “You became my escape, a distraction… and there were even times with you, I could forget.” He swallowed and took a shallow breath. “But this world, this way of life – it’s not what you think, I’m not what you think and there is still so much more I have to do. Too many promises I need to keep.”

Y/N began to tremble, her body vibrating in waves as she fought to hold back the torrent of tears and Kakashi dropped his hand to his side. “Simply living it, as I must, I would hurt you. It would hurt you… The life of a Shinobi is not only hard on those who walk it, but their-“ he hesitated on the word, catching in his throat. “Their loved ones… as well…” he attempted to clear his throat before continuing. “Your smile is so precious Y/N.” his voice cracked this time as he spoke her name, forcing him to pause, swallowing hard this time as he continued. He fought to keep composure, his fingers, curled within his pocket, dug deep bloodied welts into his palms. “I won’t be the reason you lose it…”

“Then don’t leave me!” Y/N’s voice broke with desperation as she snapped her head up at his words, her bottom lip trembling.

Kakashi winced, narrowing his eyes at the sight, his chest constricting, making it hard for him to breathe.

“Kakashi…. In this world- It’s you… you’re the reason I smile…. That I can smile…” She took a shuddering breath of her own and shook her head as though she couldn’t believe what he was suggesting. “I was so lost in the beginning… I knew nothing, about this place, about myself… But you made me want to keep going, you made me want to get stronger, to understand… to do better… so please… Please don’t go, stay with me… Kakashi…”

Kakashi’s heavy lidded eyes trembled with anguish as he heard her words, head bowed, silver tresses falling across his forehead and into his eyes.

“Don’t you understand…” his voice was barely a whisper, though his tone felt distant like it was withdrawing in on itself. “I say this to you…. Because-” once more, the words stalled on his lips, lowering his head until he was resting his forehead against her shoulder. He turned his head just enough to breathe her in, the scent that had become home to him.

“I have to do this…” he breathed; unable to look at her, not wanting to show his face as his lips brushed so close to her ear it was hardly even a whisper. “Because I love you….”

At his admission, Y/N’s world shattered. Her face broke, unable to hold back the tears which rolled freely from her eyes. She raised both arms and wrapped them around his neck as though if she let go, he would slip away from her, back into the shadows forever…

“Three days!” she managed to sob between breaths. “You s-said you were on s-standby…. You s-said about three days…. Give them to m-me…. Give m-me those three days…” she curled her hands into his hair, though despite the desperation of the gesture her fingers were gentle and tender as she held his head.

Kakashi raised a hand to snake around her back as together they dropped slowly from where they stood and onto their knees.

Y/N slid her body closer, arching her back forward so to press against him and felt Kakashi jolt at the contact.

Relaxing into her touch, pressing his body into her own, he released a heated shudder. He raised a second hand, grazing his fingers along her arm, gently taking hold of her wrist and unfurling her hand from his hair, letting him raise his head to investigate her face. He held her hand within his large, rough palm, completely encasing her digits with a sense of security nothing else could replicate.

As their eyes met, she could see the war that raged within him at her offer, her desperation. She searched his face the hand that gripped at his neck, scared to let him go, slipped to his cheek. Her fingers dusting the sharp contours of his cheekbones, feeling the tension in his jaw as he grit his teeth, trying desperately to maintain control.

Rising on her knees to bring their faces together, Y/N kept his gaze, leaning in close to bring her lips once more to his.

As their lips brushed, the hunger within Kakashi roared for supremacy and when she moved to break the kiss, was pulled back in with tormented misery. A hand travelled the contour of her spine as she arched once more into his chest, holding her body possessively, thoughts of letting her go in this moment became unthinkable.

With a nip to her lip that broke skin, he ran a tongue across the wound. His breath was hot against her skin, feral desire in his eyes that made her skin heat dramatically.

“Three days….” He breathed, reclaiming the kiss and with clever, effortless movements shifted her body, laying her back against the wooden deck, supporting his own weight above her.

“Three days….” Y/N echoed in agreement as he broke the kiss to follow the line of her jaw, soft lips finding the hollow of her neck.

For now, he would allow himself this… These three days, which would be their last goodbye.

[prolix-yuy]

HELLO I'm here I've made it, don't mind me running in with my little pocket watch like the White Rabbit. Ahem! For the position, I got missionary with a pillow. For the man, I'd like to request Ezra. And for you, I have many kisses for your cheeks.<3 Ok love you byyeeeeee

Birdieeeee I will accept all of the cheek kisses and oh so many nights with Ezra. I hope it's filthy enough for my favorite Ezra writer.

Pairing: Ezra x F!Reader

Position: Missionary with a Pillow

Word Count: 1584 (hELp)

Warnings: Explicit, 18+ MINORS DNI, unprotected PiV sex (don’t be a fool, wrap your tool), little bit of oral (f receiving), fingering, allusions to sex toy use, mentions of bad past sexual experiences, Ezra's filthy fucking mouth.

Notes: This has gotta be one of my favorite positions and I love it for Ezra because there's a kind of care that comes from this that gets me all swoony.

Ezra’s expression blooms from curiosity to confusion.

“You would like me to…take you to bed?” he asks, bionic and flesh arms folded over his broad chest. The henley he’s wearing stretches over his biceps, tapering to loose work trousers cinched at his waist. His tongue peeks out to wet his lower lip, confusion beginning to morph to contemplation, all while you try not to wring your hands too nervously. 

“It’s just…I um,” you try to say, the sudden mortification of how you’ve come to this conclusion weighting your tongue. “I’ve…heard about you. With others. They’re always, uh, very satisfied.” You don’t dare to extrapolate on that, or touch on how his voice carries across the hall and into your small room on the Pug. The few times you ventured to listen at his door, you burned over how expertly he took his partners apart. But beyond all that, you hated to admit why you wanted to ask him. 

“And you would like to be satisfied?” Ezra says, just a little smirk at the corner of his mouth as he tilts his head down at you. Face burning, you nod. He uncrosses his arms and braces them on his modest desk, giving you a full view of his muscled body and soft stomach. “And what would you offer me for that gift?”

Your stomach drops, and you bite the inside of your cheek to keep tears from coming to the surface. Bad enough that you had to humble yourself for this request, but to be so bluntly asked what he’d get out of it only amplifies your anxieties.

“I, ah…I can…I could…shit, I’m…I think I’ve been stupid about this, I’m sorry, I’ll…” you stammer, backing towards the door. Quick as electricity Ezra pushes off and closes the gap between you, hand coming up to cup your chin. You still as he studies your face, deep lines etched between his brows and under his dark eyes.

“Have you never laid with another before?” he asks in a soft voice he only reserves for speaking to his ward. It makes your throat clench.

“I have, but it’s never been…good.” You hold his gaze, willing your boldness to return. “And it sounds like it’s always….good…with you.” Ezra’s eyes dance over your face, thumb stroking along your cheek. “I’d like to see what it’s like when it’s good, if you’ll have me.”

Ezra purrs darkly, the cool plastic of his prosthetic hand drifting to your hip.

“That is quite a gift you’re offering me. Are you sure there’s no other who would want to share in your first taste of ecstasy?” Before you answer he tugs at your waist and you follow his lead, swaying steps leading you to his bed. 

“I’d like a sure thing,” you reply, giving him a smirk of your own that he greedily enjoys. His thumb swipes over your lips before pushing inside, scraping the pad over your teeth to press your tongue. Saliva floods your mouth. 

“Take off your clothes,” he says firmly, stepping back to pull his henley over his head. The lines and planes of his chest are littered with scars and faded pink burns, noticeable redness where his prosthetic attaches. You rid yourself of your tunic and slide your pants to the floor, shedding your underwear in one fell swoop. This pleases Ezra, who groans and palms his crotch at your nude form.

“Lie down, I’m going to stretch you out on my fingers first,” he husks, stalking towards you as you sit on the edge of the bed. 

“You don’t…have to, I made sure I was ready before I came,” you said quickly, making Ezra’s head cock and eyebrows pull together.

“You…prepared yourself? Without me?” he says slowly, sinking to a crouch and parting your knees with broad, hot palms. Your core is puffy from the toy you worked yourself up with, shiny with the lube you generously used in case Ezra was larger than you were used to. His eyes flick up to your face, now anxious.

“You did not need to do this. I take great pleasure in making you cum on my fingers and in my mouth before finding myself in your tight heat.” You try to shut your knees, embarrassed that your forethought seems to be in bad taste, but he slots his hips between yours and pushes you back on the bed. The sudden intimacy of his body so close makes your heart flutter. “Did you even make yourself cum?”

You shake your head, which he follows with one of his own. “Next time you’ll let me take my time with you, pull two screaming peaks from this sweet pussy before I bed you.” The promise of next time rushes blood to your head so quickly you fear you’ll faint, but Ezra’s thick fingers sliding through your folds to press inside makes you snap into sharp focus. As he coats his fingers, pressing a spongy spot that zings pleasure down your spine, he deftly unbuttons and shucks his pants to join you nude and scorching hot.

“Since you wish to get to the main event so efficiently, I’ll do my best to make it worth your while,” he says, and one hand urges your hips to lift as he tucks a pillow under your bottom. The height tilts your hips, your cunt suddenly empty as he pulls his fingers out to wrap around his cock. “I find if the act is not as pleasurable for you, this position helps.” 

“Thank you,” you blurt out, his motions stilling as he looks down at your pliant body. There’s a flicker of something hungry on his face, the harsh squeeze he gives his cock echoing your observation. 

“You may thank me when you’re cumming on my cock,” he plays it off, circling the tip of his cock at your entrance. A deep breath, then he presses in inch by sumptuous inch. Throwing your head back, you clutch at his biceps as he leans over you, harsh little pants blowing out of his nose. He stops in his journey to shallowly fuck, tiny movements that pinch your brow and drop your mouth open. Finally, after what feels like whole minutes, he’s seated deep and full inside. 

“Oh, wow, Ezra, that feels…” you pant, opening your eyes to find him inches from your face. He’s draped down over your body, elbows planted on either side of your head, watching you so closely it makes you want to close your eyes again. The veins in his neck bulge, lips parted with his teeth clenched behind them.

“How many men have had you and not satisfied you?” he asks, strain in his voice as he drags back out.

“All of them. Never…fuck, never knew how to tell them,” you gasp, fisting Ezra’s close-cropped hair. It’s softer than you expect, sweat curling the strands at the base of his neck. 

“Tell me everything,” he rasps out, then snaps back into your cunt.

Ezra’s pace and power curls your toes and rolls your hips against the mounting pressure. The angle is perfect, cock pressing into a place that makes stars explode on the edges of your vision. He watches your face for pain, revels in your pleasure, and when he begins cursing colorfully he drops his forehead to your shoulder. The rough pants and drag of his lips and teeth drive you to wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him flush with you.

“Is it good? Is it what you needed?” he asks, arching over you and shifting his weight to find your clit between your sweaty bodies. Fanning his fingers over your abdomen, he strums his thumb over it. Your cunt clenches, legs trembling as the telltale signs of your orgasm rumble into your body.

“Yes, Ezra, thank Kevva it’s so good, please…” you beg, clamping your body around him as he speeds up, humid mouth finding your ear. 

“I would fuck you like this and any other way you desired. Every night. Would have done it every night before this, since you told me your name. To think you’ve been suffering so long and I could end your torture. Cum for me, and you’ll never want again.” 

You let go with a ragged shout, the profound ecstasy of cumming full of Ezra and surrounded by him thrashing you through the best orgasm you’ve had of late. He pins you down with his hips and hands, arms above your head as he mouths at your jaw and throat. Finally your body relaxes, sticky sweet with endorphins and dumb with pleasure. When you can peel your eyes open enough to watch him, the smugness you expected is well tamped by an affection that catches in your lungs. 

“Can you move?” he asks, your agreement preceding his gentle movements to roll you on your stomach. Pillowing your hands under your head, you sigh and prepare to thank him even more properly. You’re beaten by his large hands tilting your hips, and his hot tongue sliding into your pussy from behind. The gasps you choke out elicits a chuckle from Ezra’s throat.

“I’m going to take my reward now,” he teases, kneading his fingers into your generous ass. 

“What’s that?” you manage to get out before he slaps one cheek enough to spike arousal back in your cunt.

“Every orgasm I can pull from your body before the sunrise.”

Night cycles on the Pug last 16 hours, and Ezra uses every minute.

END

LJ’s Bangathon 2023

[gingerjolover]

Lasagna - Phoebe Bridgers x fem!Reader

Sypnosis: Phoebe's had a long day at the studio and her gf knows exactly what to do when she needs comfort.

G's notes: look i don't know if pheebs likes lasagna but... that's what i had for dinner and that's what her gf makes her...okay? also anon that requested i hope u like it&lt;;3 also unedited

WC: somewhere around 800 words (short king!)

Warnings: RPF, fluffy fluff, no fundamental physical descriptors?

Your neck and chest are breaking a sweat, but there’s very little that would move your sweet black pug from where she’s sleeping on your chest. Maxine’s small body is across your shoulder, her face in your neck, tongue hanging out as she snores softly. Your hand rubs her soft back, absentmindedly watching TV. Your day off went by too quickly; errands, a vet visit, a manicure, and an experimental dinner recipe later and you can finally relax. The only thing that would make this better would be your girlfriend…

“Hi,” Phoebe grumbles when she walks in. Immediately, your skin prickles, and she looks exhausted. Her hair is messy, her eyes puffy, lips in a subtle frown. She huffs while she puts her bag down, toeing off her shoes before instantly walking over to you, rubbing her eyes. 

“Hi sweet girl…long day?” you murmur, letting out an oof as Phoebe plops her head on your stomach, your hand going to her hair. She nods, nuzzling your t-shirt, kissing Maxine’s leg before Maxine excitedly hops up, stepping on your collarbone. “Ow, Maxi” you mumble, tapping the pug’s butt. 

“Careful with mama,” Phoebe mumbles sweetly. You adjust your legs, allowing Phoebe to crawl into the deep couch with you, head on your chest. 

“Lucy and Jules arent coming over?” you ask, threading your fingers through your girlfriend's hair. She shakes her head, pulling Maxine closer before her lips find purchase on your chin and jaw. “Needed a break,” she mumbles, kissing your neck. 

“Mhm,” you hum, allowing her to nuzzle into you, your hand rubbing her upper back. She moans softly, allowing you to work out the kinks in her neck. 

“I love writing and I love them I’m just… tired,” she says, moving her head so she can hear your heartbeat, matching her breathing to yours. 

“S’okay to be tired, you’ve been working hard,” you smile, your finger running down the bridge of her nose and poking her cheek. 

“Not as hard as you,” Phoebe smiles, kissing your cheek. She’s almost too aware of how much you do around the house dispute working a non-industry job like herself. She stares at you in admiration, wondering how she got so lucky to have you. 

“Are you hungry?” you ask softly, pushing the hair out of Phoebe’s eyes. She smiles and shrugs her shoulders animately. You giggle, tapping her butt, “Why don’t you go shower while I plate up dinner…hm?” you suggest. 

“Okay,” she whispers, pressing a firm kiss to your lips, sitting up gently so as not to push on you while you’re under her. 

She kisses Maxine’s head, setting her back down on your stomach before kissing you again, a little longer this time, she’s breathing against your lips, humming slightly. She pulls away, cheeks flushed as she makes her way to the bathroom to shower. 

You know she’s craving comfort, so you jump into action. You put her favorite pajamas in the dryer to warm up, fill up her favorite water bottle, turn on the fairy lights, get some fuzzy blankets and the big throw pillows, and make the couch comfy so you both can sink into it. You turn on the show you're watching together and light some candles before dishing up dinner. 

“Pheebs? Your pajamas are in the dryer,” you yell out when you hear the shower turn off. “Thanks babe,” she responds, voice muffled by the bathroom door. 

When Phoebe comes down, warm and cozy from her shower, her eyes start to water seeing how you set up the living room. 

“Dude… it looks like Pinterest threw up in here, I love it…thanks baby,” she says laughing, wiping her eyes as she sits down on the floor, back against the couch. 

You giggle, blushing as you can feel her appreciation, her tired eyes looking at you in adoration. “Here,” you say, holding out a plate of her favorite dinner, albeit a new recipe, but she looks like she could start crying, staring at you like you’ve handed her the moon. 

“What?” you ask, sitting next to her on the floor, staring at your girlfriend with humorous eyes. She puts her plate on the coffee table and kisses you passionately, her hands on your cheeks. “Babe!” you mumble in surprise, putting your plate down before your hand goes to the floor next to her leg, steadying yourself so she can kiss you deeply. She pulls away, out of breath, pecking your lips repeatedly, “Thank you…I’m so happy after any day I get to come home to you,” she admits, her tone thick with emotion.

Before you can respond, Maxine barks, twirling in a circle. “C’mere Maxi,” Phoebe murmurs, grabbing the pug in her arms and kissing her head. You giggle, watching your girlfriend with loving eyes, happy to comfort her after a draining day.

[aerodaltonimperial]

(@acid--jackpot prompted me for JungleCorpse, and while I got SLIGHTLY away from the original prompt, we are going to ignore that; 1.3k of tooth-rotting fluff I fully expect to be defriended for feat. potato dogs, LOVE YOUUUUU 💚)

Darby wakes to the sunlight just beginning to stream through the windows. That tends to happen when he’s home, with the east-facing windows in the master bedroom, and he never much minds it, since it’s generally the time the dogs get restless, anyway. Normally, half of the little blanket thieves are on the bed with him, snorting into the fitted sheet, but today is different. Today, Darby wakes up with one arm slung over a rumpled t-shirt, their bodies slotted together during the night like a quotation mark.

The rumbled breathing pressing back against Darby’s chest is still rhythmic and deep, so he extracts himself slowly, trying not to jostle the mattress as best he can. Padding out into the family room, he finds three members of the gang already up and waiting for him, butts wiggling as their tails wag.

“C’mon,” he tells them, voice low as the little click-click of their nails taps across the kitchen tiles. He opens the door to let them out and leaves the glass ajar while he starts up the coffee. Could have gotten it ready last night, but hadn’t known he’d have company until it was the last thing on his mind, and ain’t that something. Darby can’t remember the last time he had someone else wake up in his bed here. Normally the only people who stay over are his buddies, who either take the guest room or drape themselves over the couch cushions like heathens.

It’s strange, knowing someone else is still sleeping just past the kitchen wall. Darby pauses with his palms propped up on the counter, listening to the coffee machine gurgle and bubble; strange, because the thing is, it’s not. Maybe it was only a matter of time before this thing they were doing—this unnamed tangle they’ve both continued to return to long after the point they could reasonably still refer to it as casual—bled over into Darby’s life outside the filming schedule.

Here, in his house filled with the constant pitter-patter of pug footsteps, the whole thing swells a great deal more real.

Two of the dogs slip back in as he’s refilling their food bowls, and the last one is probably out rolling around in the dirt, so Darby doesn’t worry much, save for the eventual state of his floors. He’s gonna have to track down the last two, and he’s pretty sure he knows where they are. He heads back through the master door, brushes his teeth in the bathroom, and sure enough, both lumps are easy to spot as he slides back onto the bed and the mound of blankets.

Darby re-settles, curving back behind Jack’s warmth again, and this time, Jack stirs. Darby can feel his muscles jump slightly when the man’s eyes open and one arm stretches out long across the mattress. Then he twists in Darby’s hold, peering at him somewhat blearily.

“Didn’t know where you were, did you?” Darby asks.

Jack’s smile is sleepy, but wide. “Took me a minute.” He yawns a little, and Lemons pops her head up, snorting. Her little snout wavers back and forth. Jack blinks at her face, and then his gaze shifts back to Darby’s. “Your potatoes demand a lot of space in the bed.”

“Yeah, they do that,” Darby hums, agreement. He props his head up on his palm, elbow squishing the pillow down. “They’re not used to having anyone but me in here.”

“They came in anyway.”

That’s a twist in Darby’s chest, warm and languid, decidedly pleased. “They like you.”

And Jack’s smile grows more pronounced, more defined. “Do they?”

“Guess we all do,” Darby murmurs, reaching forward with his free hand to brush an errant curl away from Jack’s face. Something glimmers on the other’s expression: a comment just bitten back about how Darby and his family of dogs might be the only ones, maybe, and Darby is glad Jack manages to keep it down. He doesn’t want that sounding in the bedroom, where the early sunlight glows yellow. That shit ain’t got no place here, where he wants Jack to be at home.

Darby curves his hand around Jack’s cheek, as though he can head off the worst of the thoughts before they even wiggle into Jack’s mind. He’s never given a shit as to what anyone else thinks, and he sure isn’t gonna start caring now. “I made coffee.”

“Yeah?” Jack asks. If he’s going to say any more, it’s cut off when Darby leans in to press their mouths together—unhurried, unrushed. They’ve got all day here, with just the pugs for company. Here, removed from the backstage drama and the feuds and the need to prove themselves that always seems to hang over their heads, Jack is soft, and oh, Darby’s fucking obsessed with it. Without the posturing and the attitude, Jack unfolds beneath him so easily, so readily, like the rest of that shit doesn’t even exist anymore.

And then Jack pulls away, pressing his hand against his mouth. His eyes are rueful. “At least let me brush my teeth first,” he mumbles into his palm.

Darby laughs. “Sure. I’ll meet you in the kitchen.”

He’s pulling mugs out of the cabinet when Jack finds his way in, feet bare and joggers slung low across his hips. He’s delightfully rumpled, and intoxicatingly unassuming, endearing in a way that tugs at Darby’s heart strings. Jack wrinkles his face when Darby hands him the cup of steaming coffee, and then his expression smooths after Darby pulls the milk out of the fridge.

“It’s nice,” Jack says, with a nod towards the sink and cabinets. “Your place. I didn’t see much when we came in last night.”

“You didn’t give me much of a heads-up before you were at baggage claim,” Darby replies, because that’s true: the place had been pitch black when they’d gotten in at midnight. “That was quite a surprise.”

Jack’s tongue darts out, pressing into the corner of his mouth. “I, ah… yeah. I didn’t really know if just showing up was allowed or not.”

“It is,” Darby tells him, and means it. He takes a sip of coffee. “Why’d you come?”

“Uh,” Jack starts, a bit of a grimace. “I guess I just wanted something good.”

Darby can read between the lines on that one, knows what the hedge means—more delays from the higher-ups at the company, more dismissals in the wake of everything, more time for Jack spent not in the ring where he wants to be. He also knows better than to pry, because Jack will talk when he’s ready and not a moment before. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

Darby nods. “I’m glad.”

It’s worth watching relief bloom across Jack’s features. “Yeah?”

Darby crosses the kitchen to loop his arm around Jack’s shoulders, tug the man closer in. He gets a faceful of Jack’s curls when he presses his chin into the groove of his neck. “You can always come here, Jack,” he murmurs. “You can always be here.”

“Darby,” Jack exhales, a full-body shudder. He’s such a gnarly thread, this one: a viper backstage hissing at everyone who dares to approach, an asshole veneer desperate to cover all the still-bleeding wounds beneath. He’s so fucking complicated, and Darby’s never felt an urge like this to curl around anyone, to spread his fingers wide in an attempt to catch the next knife in.

Jack’s fingers linger on Darby’s hip bone, pressing against the ridge. Darby drops a kiss against the juncture below Jack’s ear, the patch of overly sensitive skin that always drives him nuts. This is crazy, the two of them; it’s crazy, and it probably shouldn’t work, but here they are. Darby could choke on how fucking much he cares.

“How long are you staying?” Darby asks.

“How long can I stay?”

Forever, Darby thinks, but replies, “As long as you want to,” and maybe Jack hears the truth anyway, because he shifts in closer, as though Darby’s kitchen littered with muddy paw prints is the only place in the world he can lower his guard, a safe haven from all the bullshit licking at his heels.

[takabinaryy]

Rainy days

Originally posted on April 15th 2023 Idea by me , inspired by @cutiecorner Parent/Caregiver- Alfred Pennyworth Son/Little- Bruce Wayne Bruce has a toddler headspace

Also "Tommy" is a nickname that both Martha & Alfred would call him since Bruce's middle name is Thomas, of course Tommy is the nickname for Thomas. Their Tumblr is mostly about dc agere stuff and the adorable Dadfred & BabyBat art & fanfics )

It was a rainy day in Gotham City which meant no playing outside. Even if Bruce really wanted to play in the mud puddles, he's just sitting on the floor with a couple of pillows, blankets, and stuffies. The regressed master in question was looking out the window pouting watching the rain fall against the window sill.

" Sweetheart, I'm aware you wish to play out there. However if I were to let you do that , you'll catch a cold. And we wouldn't want that"

He whips his head around to look at his adoptive father/ caregiver, with a even more pouty look then before. Bruce doesn't want to get sick , he hates being icky like that. Alfred tsks and bends slightly to his son's sitting height, and pops a frog themed paci in his mouth.

" Now little love let's go make star cookies , and later you may help me make dinner. How does that sound? Helping Papa?"

The little sucks on his paci thinking it over , he loves helping papa cook and baking. And the star cookies? Those are the best oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies ever! And in his favorite shape? He guesses he can play outside other day , when it's not raining out. Bruce nods his head , he made up his mind on wanting to help papa. Alfred smiles and gets up taking the toddle's hand , bringing them to the kitchen.

" Now what are we supposed to do first?"

" wash hands papa!"

" That's right Tommy baby"

Bruce smiles hearing his nickname for his middle name. For some reason he just loved being called that by his papa and by his mommy when she was alive. Bruce gives his paci to papa so it doesn't get dirty  , washes his hands. His papa puts it on the counter planning to wash it after they are done baking. After awhile Alfred puts the star shaped cookies in the oven, setting a timer for 20 minutes on the little norpro chicken timer, he turns to Bruce. Who has flour on his sweater , hands , and face, honestly he doesn't know how the little could possibly get flour all over himself, a bath is definitely in order then.

" Alright Tommy dear , I do believe it's bath time" " wit bubbles?"

Alfred nods his head with a smile on his face, already knowing his boy would want bubbles, specifically with the soft lavender soap the baby loves oh so much. The father picks up his regressed child easily(he's old but he's not weak) heading up the stairs to the boy's bathroom that's connected to the bedroom. He sets Bruce down on the floor as he gets the bath water going. He even adds a few bath toys , such as a few colorful plastic boats and a water based toy octopus. Once the tub starts filling up , Alfred helps Bruce out of his clothes including the semi-wet pull-up. Now undressed he gets his boy in the tub adding the bubbles, watching the little's eyes light up seeing said bubbles form and flow around him in the water. His papa lets him play around a bit as the older man gets his son's clothes together before he washes the baby.

Now all clean up , Alfred pulls the pug to drain the water , he gets Bruce out wrapping him up in a yellow duck towel with a hood on it. Said little giggles from the forehead kisses he's given , as he's guided back in his room and layed down on the bed.

Alfred gets him dressed in a diaper and a long sleeve space themed snapped crotch onesie, and cute grey's jocks with ruffles around the ankle. Bruce gets handed his beloved stuffed animal Mr. Haru the stuffed Whale shark , he happily holds him to his chest making happy noises behind his star themed paci. The baby gets picked up again and brought to the living room down stairs, and gently set down on the pillows and blankets he had been sitting on a few hours ago.

" What would you like to watch ? Or do you maybe want to color?"

"Oh? Please papa"

" You may do both Tommy , is there something specific you would like to watch while papa gets your arts and crafts stuff out?"

" Hmm munsters please"

" Such good manners little love"

Alfred gets the show on for the baby , then takes the cookies out setting them on the counter to cool down. He fills a sippy cup up with half mango juice and water then gets a few coloring books and crayons. Walking back to his regressed son , setting the items down in front of them , the sits down on the couch watching Bruce get lost in his own little word.

[bluebrainrot]

Another W.I.P h u z z a h

It's a 2012 TMNT Fic I titled "Gay Goths night"

The shredder was dead. It had been two years since The Turtles had defeated him, the lair that had been the center of operation for the shredder was karai's now.

It was her home now, the place she could start to restore honor to the foot clan and quash the straggling remnants of shredder's evil.

Karai had been waiting, perched on the stone throne, staring ahead. Shinigami was beside her, lazily fiddling with her weapons.

They're here.

A shadow shifted near the window and dropped down in front of them, white eyes glaring at them.

Shinigami started to giggle. "He is just like you, Karai. Always a dramatic entrance."

The shadow stood up and began to rub his neck, "The door was locked."

Karai barked a laugh, "No, It isn't, Leo. Admit it; you enjoy being dramatic."

He scoffed, Karai stood up from her throne and walked towards Leo, Shinigami close behind.

"Maybe I do, just a little bit." He admitted, Karai grinned at her younger brother.

"See? Not so hard. Now let's go. you're late." She slung her arm around Leo to drag him to one of the antechambers of the lair. Shinigami grinned at the sibling interaction and followed close behind.

It was their off-night. It was going to be just the three of them, to talk and bitch about whatever they wanted to their hearts' content.

Both Karai and Shinigami were well aware it was a needed outlet for Leo, considering he was splinter's son and would rather wither up and die than confess his emotions to his brothers.

One of the antechambers had been refashioned into the dubbed "Gay Goths room" by Shinigami.

The floor had a dark red carpet, There was a king-sized bed against the wall close to the middle of the room with a black fuzzy blanket, and a couple of plush pillows strewn on it.

A small dresser was placed near the bed, it held a couple of pictures of the trio and a pitcher of water accompanied by three colored glasses. Red and black for Karai, black and purple for Shinigami, and dark blue for Leo.

A desk was placed near the corner of the room, filled with little scented candles and knick-knacks, mostly stress toys (which were purely kept there for Leo's sake).

There was a tv mounted on the wall in front of the bed for the nights they just wanted to watch movies instead.

A couple of beanbags were kept in a cupboard in the room, only to be taken when they wanted to use them.

The room was dimly lit but could be made brighter if wanted.

Shinigami dived head-first into the bed, before propping a couple of pillows against the frame of the bed and leaning against it.

Karai and Leo were in a light conversation about their week, as Karai sat next to Shinigami, then allowed to be hugged and little spooned by Shini.

"Ew," Leo chuckled, sitting on the bed and wrapping the fuzzy blanket around himself.

"Shut it, gay boy," Shini said before hugging Karai tighter, Karai smirked as Leo spluttered.

"I don't- I'm not-"

Poor boy. Still in denial, Karai and Shini thought simultaneously.

"Oh please," Karai started, raising an eyebrow. "You are, everyone here is."

"Changing the subject" Leo started, already flustered.

Oh no, he wasn't getting out of this one easily.

"What about your obsession with Captain Ryan?"

"It's because he's a good leader!" Leo tried defending, his voice high.

"Oh really? what about the Captain Ryan x M! reader Mikey found on your tphone?" Mikey had sent Karai screenshots that night that left both Shini and Karai wheezing.

"He went through my phone?!"

"More like you left your phone tabs open after you lent it to Mikey." Karai felt a bit of sympathy... For Mikey for having to witness firsthand the absolute nightmare of a fanfic.

Leo groaned and rubbed his eyes.

"Ooh, what about that rabbit samurai guy you talked about? The one with the pug kid?" Shini asked, eyes glittering with mischief.

Shit. Leo thought they would forget about that.

"I didn't know you were into DILFs?" Karai asked teasingly.

"I'm not! He's my age, he just happened to be taking care of a warrior pug child when we first met."

"You're not denying that you like him, though."

"... No," He paused. "I'm not."

"Hooray, you're gay and the last to know." Shini and karai snickered as Leo sighed.

[girlreviews]

Review #382: Currents, Tame Impala

Yet another album coming up on ten years old that forces me to reckon with the fact that I too am also almost ten years older than when it came out. They took five years to put out another! By the time they did that we were in the throes of a pandemic. So a lot happened. I had a lot of different haircuts. A lot.

It’s another breakup album. It came out the year I got married. I’m now divorced. It’s been pretty interesting revisiting this record, because my ex-husband and I were super into it. Everyone was, at least everyone who liked alternative music and wore flannel and tiny hats. Whatever iteration of hipster was hanging around East Nashville in 2015, they were playing it in every bougie coffee shop and thrift store. So it fell out of favor for me after a while, I got a little sick of it.

I had actually just seen them live a few years prior, right before moving Stateside. In Australia of all places, where they are from! At a festival called Groovin’ the Moo, in Canberra. I was there on a WILD ride, with a guy I met in London at a NYE party at the Ukrainian embassy (????) through a mutual friend who was dating my bestie. He and I hit it off, stayed up all night doing drugs, talking mad shit, and having a great time. Mans is moving back to Australia in three days. Oh well. Never mind. Nope, four months later I’m there visiting him. This was quite literally bananas, but really fucking fun — also a fucking disaster. It was like we were falling in love, getting together and breaking up all at the same time. The absolute fucking antics we get up to on this trip. We are invited to a house party, and are so drunk before arriving we accidentally break into THE WRONG house trying to attend. We wake up one morning in our room with the bed completely wonky, two legs snapped on it, potato chips absolutely fucking everywhere, all over the bed, floor, surfaces, and there’s just a pug dog snuffling around eating them all. Do not know whose dog it was to this day. Attend this festival, remember absolutely nothing about it other than seeing Tame Impala, return to the UK with a gnarly sunburn, a powerpuff girls pillow bought as a forget-me-not and a plastic frog table marker stolen from a pizza joint. If it doesn’t sound romantic, it’s because it shouldn’t. But we were in LOVE! It was a fucking disaster and it ended quite badly and I arrived in America a broken hollow shell of a woman. This honestly cracks me up. This is exactly the kind of bullshit you’re supposed to pull in your twenties, everyone. And Tame Impala is the exact right soundtrack for it, psychedelic pop rock weirdness. It was their prior album Lonerism that scored that particular moment, with the most prominent track for me being appropriately titled It Feels Like We Only Go Backwards. Teehee.

Anyway, it’s a few years later, I have my shit together a bit now, I’m getting married or already am, and here comes Tame Impala with Currents. It seems like Kevin Parker maybe had some love adventure of his own and he’s gotta get it off his chest, he’s got some feelings. Here’s what I love about this record, and it’s gonna sound like I’m ripping on it, but I’m not. The lyrics, they’re really pretty… What word am I looking for here. They lack sophistication and depth. Man really just says what he would say to his bros when he’s trying to say how he feels about his relationship ending. They’re simple. They’re rudimentary. They’re clumsy. But they’re perfect. Are we poetic when we are messy in a breakup? Do I sound like I was poetic in any shape or form on potato chip pug hangover day? No. It is what it is. There were multiple different KINDS of potato chips, guys. It’s like we thought we were sowing potato chip seeds to grow a little garden. The pug got his head stuck in a bag for a hot second. You can’t make it what it isn’t. It’s a damn mess. But you CAN make the music and sound emote. And that he does, magically and wonderfully, carrying the lyrics. It works together so well. It’s a journey.

Let it Happen, first of all, I challenge you to run to this. It’s almost eight minutes and is great for keeping pace (I have mentioned my running playlists are wild and I’m not kidding). A friend pointed out to me this past weekend that something I tend to gravitate towards in songs — and they’re right — is ones that evolve and take you on a trip. The end of the song is unrecognizable from the beginning. I love that. This is one of those. It also just fucking slaps. Great start.

Eventually and Less I Know The Better are prime examples of the sonic mastery and lyrical lacking just sort of working. They’re also the most obvious breakup tracks and those simple words are what make it so god damn relatable:

“She said it’s not now or never

In ten years we’ll be together

I said better late than never

Just don’t let me wait forever

Don’t let me wait forever”

Past Life. FUCK, this song is so fucking good it’s so fucking DIFFERENT. Can’t even speak on it, just go stick it on and vibe your ass off, okay?

Disciples is my absolute favorite. For a few reasons. I also love me a short track. But this one is SO fun to sing, and it’s so chirpy and upbeat for a song that’s basically about telling someone you used to care for that they’re a shitty person now (“now it’s like the world owes you, walking around like everybody should know you”). By the way, have you ever done that, told someone you loved that you officially think they suck now? Interesting experience. Not sure whether I recommend it or not to be honest, maybe one of those things that you’ve gotta try on for yourself to see if it’s for you. But anyway, also there’s just some really great steering wheel slap moments of bass and percussion that make me want to DIE and ASCEND from this mortal plain to wherever this song was born from. I said what I said.

If not for Disciples, there’s no question that my favorite track would be ‘Cause I’m a Man. I still remember driving my friend Brittney home in my Lincoln LS, and she was like, you gotta hear the new Tame Impala track. I honestly was not impressed. But she was so animated, and made me listen over and over until I got it. This is a rare song for me, because even now I like it more with each listen. It’s not a surprise, since it’s about his own self reflection on how shitty men are, how they’re always just making sad little excuses for why they don’t measure up to women, and are always letting us down. He does a good job, he really does (“Cause I’m a man, woman, I’ll never be as strong as you”). But, throughout the song he makes these kind of lazy, semi-sexual “uh!” noises and they’re honestly hilarious. They just really add something. I can’t explain why. It’s sort of a nice touch of self depreciation that I truly appreciate.

It’s a one of a kind record, really. It was different from their previous, and their follow up didn’t match it. They have a new single out with Justice and I’m told it’s very good. I saw them again in 2022 at a festival in Barcelona, much less wild and drug fueled than my previous go around (I’m in my thirties now, who has the energy). The sound was bad and my feet hurt, BUT Kevin Parker did us all a solid and covered Last Nite by The Strokes which cheered us all up, because they got COVID and pulled out last minute. Ah well, Julian’s a creep anyhow and could never write something as self aware as Currents. He’s still hitting on teenage girls in his late forties. Kevin Parker, I better not find you pulling the same shit or I will be coming for you and it will be ugly.

[elias-magnusnt]

The hard bits on shoelaces are called aglets. It's bin time in your area tomorrow, every week you forget about it and then have to do the walk of shame to fill back the empty bin. Jurgen Lietner usually didn't wear pants when he lived in the tunnels. Dinosaurs are older than grass. You've almost run out of lightbulbs and your kitchen one is about to blow, go buy more. The Great Wall of China was built over a period of roughly two thousand years, which is older than me. You're kind of a sentimental at heart, you can't bring yourself to get rid of hand written notes or postcards from people you used to care about. Martin uses vanilla-scented handwash. Humanity has catalogued 193,756 marine species, which is only 11% of the estimated total. One of Sasha's last thoughts was how much she hated her job in Artefact Storage. The shampoo you use has sodium laureth sulfate in it, which is probably drying your scalp and making it itchy. When I do sleep, I sleep with my eyes open. Daisy has hot chocolate with marshmellows on the days she feels she's losing control and nothing matters. You tried to play acoustic guitar as a student and it was so bad you can't even think of it without cringing. I think it was decent. Ben & Gerry's cookie dough ice cream claims it contains 27% cream. That's actually wrong, the percentage is closer to 28%. You used to talk to your plants because you heard that helps them grow. They all died anyways. Wasn't your fault, it was aerial stem rot. Higher ups are planning to discontinue that brand of tomato paste you like very much, the Mutti one :( So you should stock up on it. Pugs are genetically much more likely to have heart and breathing problems because they've been bred irresponsibly. Robert Smirke had that habit where he picked at the skin of his neck until it was all bloody and infected. You prefer to have some light on when you sleep. Mike Crew's mother used to put lavender oil on his pillow to help him sleep. You've got the start of a hole on those green socks of yours, the ones with the lines. The old lady that lives two floors above you had a heart attack the other day, just rotting there now. Her cats are going at it. Cancer isn't what makes you bald, chemotherapy is. Sturgeons are usually much bigger than other edible fish and the meat is a lot drier. Georgie Barker usually uses her partners' breathing to help her fall asleep. Hugging someone you love liberates oxytocin. There is often no difference at all between fear and respect. You avoid your own gaze in the mirror when you're brushing your teeth. Gertrude Robinson once ate a worm as a child and actually quite liked it. Later on, she'd try frogs, wild berries. She stopped when she tried to chomp on a wasp and it stung her. Napoleon Bonaparte was good at arithmetics. Basira never learned how to play hopscotch. You never walk on the edges of tiles because that makes you feel uneasy. If they are different colors, you try to stick to one color, preferably not red. That cat you've been feeding kibble when you see her at the park is pregnant with two kittens. You would like to be... okay I'm not spposed to say this one.

your boss is drunk rn

Yes, I know. It's none of my business, though.

[amorous-lilith]

Pug Face Smiles Pillow - https://www.redbubble.com/people/AmorousLilith/explore?asc=u&page=1&sortOrder=recent

[luxthestrange]

Incorrect quotes#701 Angel Baby~

In the near future...One regular morning

Mc: Simmy, Pomeranian!!*Inside their bathroom in the house of lamentation feeling under the weather when you felt your water break*

In the living room, The Family bonding watching their favorite show Phineas & Ferb

Solo: Pomeranian? *Looks at Simeon with a teasing look*

Sim: We've been thinking of getting a dog~

Mc: Pug?, Eskimo?, Beagle?!-*Panicking trying to remember the name of the dog to tell Simeon it...TIME*

Mam: She wants the whole dog pound *Raises brow with a joking tone*

Mc: Come on, think...*Gasps and smiles*CHIHUAHUA?!

Sim: chihuahua...? *Takes a minute to realize and his eyes widen springing up from the couch*CHIHUAHUA!-The baby! What, what, what now...!

Older!Luke:...This not good

Sim: The baby's coming!-*Is already contacting Barbatos and the queen*

Raph: Can you try to hold it in! *Yells from outside bathroom*

Mc: Can somebody slap him for me!? *Annoyed glare with a pained moan*

Mam & Luke*Slaps Raphael on the back of his head*Done and Done~

Sim: Just sit tight, we're coming, Mi Cielito-UFF!?*trips into a pillow and falls on the floor*

Simeon has to tell his demon spouse that their baby is coming... and rather get help from the demon queen than his father

[myriad-writings]

call me - e.m.

-eddie munson x reader

-2k words

-tattoo artist eddie. bff robin. that is all. thank you :)

-warnings: excessive sexual tension, also a really mid intro but that’s whatever. also once again, not an ounce of proofreading

“It’ll be so fun!” Robin urges you, sitting cross legged on your basement floor where the two of you were having a sleepover. “Please come with me, I think you’ll actually like it.”

You snort at her, “Super fast moving needles aren’t fun, Rob, they’re actually terrifying.” She groans and makes a dramatic show of falling backwards. She had been trying to convince you for the last hour to come get a tattoo with her. She’d been wanting to get one ever since she turned 18, and thought it would be a fun best friend activity for the two of you to get one together. You, on the other hand, were freaked out by the idea of tattoos. You didn’t have anything against people that had them or anything, and you actually thought they looked super cool on most people. But you didn’t want to find out how high your pain tolerance is the hard way. 

“You’re such a baby,” she pouts, and the expression looks so out of place on her that you have to laugh. “It doesn’t even have to be matching, you could get something super small!” 

“Oh my god, fine, I’ll go.” You surrender, and Robin immediately sits back up with a wide grin. “If it means you’ll stop pugging me about it. I’ll get like… a flower or something.” 

She blows a raspberry at your basic choice, and you throw a pillow at her face with a laugh. “I can help you come up with something more creative, don’t worry.” She assures you through giggles and you roll your eyes at her. 

“Whatever, asshole. Go to bed.” 

The next morning when Robin excitedly shakes you awake for breakfast, you remember your frustrated agreement to get a tattoo with her. And you knew that she wasn’t going to let you live it down.

-

“How are you so energetic this early in the morning?” You tease as she fixes her hair in the passenger mirror of your car. “I’m just excited that you came around. And don’t worry, I know this guy and he’s super cool. Well, not super cool but you won’t be nervous around him or anything. He’s chill and used to play D&D with the kids and he’s really nice.” Her rambling only stops when she takes a bobby pin out of her hair and holds it in her mouth for easy access, but then she’s back on her word vomit again, just slightly hindered by the pin  held between her teeth. “He actually might still play, I’ll have to ask Steve. He had this club and everything for it in high school, kind of a huge nerd and outcast. But he’s so nice, I swear.” She only stops when you pull into the parking lot of the tattoo parlor, and she’s grinning from ear to ear.

“What’s this guy’s name?” You ask, suddenly interested in an attempt to calm your nerves.“Eddie,” she answers easily while getting out of the car. “We met through a series of outlandish circumstances,” for once she doesn’t elaborate and just shuts the car door to punctuate her sentence. Here we go, you think to yourself.

The inside of the shop was actually a lot less intimidating than you pictured, and though it did very little to affect your nerves, you feel slightly more comfortable in the atmosphere than you imagined you would. There was some heavy metal record playing in the back of the room at a low volume, and each of the stalls was decorated to the individual artist’s taste. The exposed brick walls were lit with warm toned studio-esque light fixtures, and the hardwood floor was immaculately clean, which you took as a good sign considering the level of sterility needed for this sort of thing. 

While you were taking in your surroundings, Robin was at the front counter reconnecting with who you assumed must be Eddie, the friend she had told you about mere moments before. She saw that your attention had been diverted from the interior of the building and beckoned you closer. “This is Eddie,” she introduced with a knowing smirk. 

“Hey, Robin told me you were a little nervous.” The smile he gives you is so subtle, but it makes you lock your knees in fear of them going weak. You manage to offer him a small smile in return and collect your thoughts well enough to respond. 

“I’ve never done this before,” you explain, and the sound of his soft laugh makes your face heat up. You can tell he isn’t laughing at you, though, and his level of understanding is actually very soothing. His level of attractiveness is what’s causing you trouble now. Robin can tell what’s got you shifting in your place, and she clears her throat to call your attention away from Eddie with that same smirk from before. 

“Well you two have fun, I’ll see you on the other side,” she says in feign ominosity before going to one of the empty stalls that she was called to. 

You roll your eyes at her before turning your attention back to Eddie, who seemingly hasn’t taken his eyes off you. The thought makes you shy once again, and he says, “Let’s go, princess,” before leading you back to the furthest back area, right by the record player you spotted earlier. He notices you standing awkwardly by it. 

“Sorry, I can turn that down,” he offers and moves to adjust the volume dial without waiting for your response. 

“No, it’s okay, I just haven’t heard this song before,” you explain, and he flashes you one of those butterfly-inducing smiles again. 

“I get that a lot,” Eddie says simply before patting the leather bench in front of him. “Have a seat.” He turns his back to you and grabs a hair tie from the table in the corner, tying most of his curly hair in a low ponytail to get it out of the way. “So, what are we doing today?” 

You realize when he turns back around that you’ve been staring at him, and you blank for a second before stumbling over your words to answer him. “Um, I was going to get a, uh, rose. Like this big,” holding your fingers about three inches apart to demonstrate the size. You’re suddenly embarrassed at how generic it is, but Eddie just reaches for a binder and flips through it for a second before handing it to you at an open design. “Like that?” He questions, leaning back against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. You examine the design before nodding. It was surprisingly delicate in comparison to the rest of his vibe, but the style fits the charming and sweet demeanor he’s shown you so far. It’s the exact size you showed him, with fine lines that you think wouldn’t take too long to sit for if it was too painful. “Yeah, this is perfect.” 

At your approval, Eddie nods and takes the binder back from you, sliding the design you both agreed on out of its page protector and tracing over it on a more transparent paper. You’re absolutely enamored with him and the way he moves, shrugging off his slightly worn demin jacket to have more freedom of mobility. The muscles in his forearms flex slightly as he sketches, bent over on his elbows to get a steady and precise outline. A few strands escape from his haphazardly done ponytail and fall around his face to frame it, prompting him to blow out the side of his mouth to get them out of the way. 

By the time he stands upright again, which is only about five minutes, you’re even more flustered than before. You make a resolve with yourself that you won’t stare anymore, instead focusing on the wall so you don’t come off as a creep. This resolve proves to be even harder than you thought, because the second you commit to it, he’s asking where you want the tattoo. You point to the front of your shoulder, a few inches above your bicep if your arm was fully relaxed by your side. Then he’s cleaning the area with a rubbing alcohol wipe and applying the template he had just sketched out, much like a temporary tattoo. 

The whole time, you’re holding your breath as his fingers graze your skin and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake. You glance back down at him, and see his tongue poking out from the side of his lips as he focuses, causing you to giggle. 

The sound catches his attention and his eyes snap back up at you before realizing what you’re laughing at, and chuckling out an apology. “Sorry, it’s an unconscious habit.”

You shake your head at him. “Don’t be sorry, it’s kinda cute.” Oh my god oh my god I just said he was cute, you think, but you’re comforted by the fact you can’t get any more flustered than you already are. However, seeing his eyes avoid yours as he clears his throat as his cheeks tint almost imperceptibly pink just proves you wrong.

He talks to you about what he’s doing when he preps the ink and everything else, but your brain is elsewhere as you watch his fingers move so deftly with the tools in front of him. Then, he looks back up at you to make sure you understand, and your eyes widen in panic for a second before scrambling to confirm that you heard him (which you didn’t). 

Eddie just gives you an amused chuckle before moving towards you to start the tattoo itself. “Just relax, let me know if it bothers you too much and I can stop. Okay?” You nod, actually hearing him this time and he sits down on the chair in front of the bench. 

As the needle buzzes, you squeeze the edge of the leather beneath you, but it isn’t as bad as you thought it would be. It’s like a sting, a continuous one, but it’s not something that’s unbearable. Eddie looks up at you through his lashes as he pauses to replenish the ink. “Doing okay up there?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just getting used to it.” You assure, though it comes out a bit breathless. He smiles at you anyways and tells you, “You’re doing great,” before continuing. Oh, he has to know what he’s doing at this point. 

The whole thing is over before you know it, and you’re actually kind of upset that you don’t get to sit this close to him anymore. Your skin feels like it’s on fire, but you’re not sure if it’s from his praise, his touch, or the needle itself. Could be a combination of all three, honestly. 

Eddie gives you the spiel on tattoo aftercare and hands you a sample size of the ointment he recommends for when it starts peeling and itching. “And it will itch,” he promises. “Don’t scratch at it, or else you might peel some of it off. Can you do that for me?” 

It takes everything in you to respond normally, nodding at him for what seems like the thousandth time in the past hour. “Yeah, sounds good.” He smiles and tells you that you’re all set, sending you on your way to the front of the building, where Robin is waiting for you. 

She’s grinning from ear to ear as she holds her wrist out to you to show you what she got. “Show me yours!” She asks excitedly with a little bounce in her step and you move your sleeve to the side to show off the rose. “How was it?” 

“Not bad at all, really,” you admit while walking out to the car. “You were right, he is super sweet.” 

She grins at you, “See, I told you.” You roll your eyes at her gloating as she continues speaking.  

You take the ointment out of your pocket to put in your bag, but then you catch sight of something written on the back. Robin’s words die mid-sentence as she watches you read, but you weren’t even listening. Taped on the back of the bottle is a piece of paper with Eddie’s number, and a smiley face. 

Robin watches your expression flush and a smile forces its way on your features and nudges you playfully. “Well, it looks like this tattoo won’t be your last.”

[lemony-snickers]

Do you like cats? I have this little imagine: Kakashi who finds a little stray kitten and it's eventually raised with the ninkens, being the part of the pack. How do you think Kakashi would name the kitten? Imagine Bull being big and all soft, letting it sleep under his chin, and Pakkun being all grumpy!

And the moment the kitten discovers its little deadly claws! :D

hello. remember i said i received a bunch of very nice asks the other day? well, this was one of them and here is a silly little fic inspired by it. thank you to my anonymous friend(s) recruited by an "anonymous" friend to be kind to me. <3

Title: Cats & Dogs  (AO3 Link Here) Summary: Kakashi brings home a stray and Pakkun is less than thrilled. Word Count: 905 Warnings: none, this be fluff. .

Pakkun is furious.

He's trying to sit still and play it cool, but the soft tap-tap-tap of his front claws against the linoleum is a dead giveaway that he's upset.

"Something on your mind, Pakkun?" Kakashi asks.

The pug huffs, the flaps of skin around his mouth fluttering out as he does so. Then he shakes his head, velvety ears flapping against the metal plate emblazoned with Konoha's leaf insignia on his forehead.

"Not a thing, Boss."

Pakkun is a terrible liar and they both know it, but Kakashi doesn't press, just smirks beneath his mask as he turns the page of his book. "If you say so."

Pakkun grunts, scrunching up his already scrunched face as he watches Kakashi continue reading.

Lying on the couch.

With that thing on his chest.

It's... purring or whatever, the vibration of it like a foghorn in Pakkun's ears; loud and obtrusive. Obnoxious.

Pakkun huffs again, turning himself in a circle until he finds a comfortable spot and plunks down, back purposefully to the couch and face pillowed on his crossed front paws.

If Kakashi is going to insist on keeping the stupid stray, then Pakkun is going to insist on being petulant about it. When he'd brought the thing home originally, all drenched from the rain and scrawny, looking equal parts pathetic and manic, Pakkun assumed it was just a passing fancy. Kakashi once again proving his endless amounts of empathy, despite insisting he had none.

But it had been almost two weeks, now, and the thing is still living in Kakashi's apartment. Every time he summons Pakkun or the rest of the pack, there it is... sunning itself in the window, licking its paws clean after a meal, chasing after some tinfoil ball like an idiot.

It had even taken to tucking itself under Bull's chin when the big dog napped and Bull seems to enjoy it.

In fact, the whole rest of the pack appears strangely okay with their new addition. Pakkun, however, remains steadfastly against the idea of adding a feline to their ranks.

Send the mangy creature to the abandoned Uchiha complex and be done with it. As far as Pakkun is concerned, any cat that can't survive on its own in the wild is hardly a cat, anyway.

What were those terrifyingly sharp claws for if not catching food? Instead, the ball of fur currently perching on Kakashi's chest—in Pakkun's spot, no less—receives cans of tuna and specially-made beef something-or-other that makes Pakkun salivate, but he isn't allowed to touch.

Since when were treats not shared equally?! Kakashi had always made sure every member of the pack received identical rewards for their hard work.

Okay, so maybe occasionally Pakkun might get a few extra head scratches or sleep at home with him, but that's because Pakkun had known Kakashi since he was only a pup—they were beholden to a summoning contract Kakashi had signed as a genin, they were bound together... for life.

The cat can't even be summoned! It can't talk, it can't track. All it can do is chase tinfoil balls and scratch up the furniture and hiss at Pakkun when he comes too close to its food dish.

Pakkun's ears perk up when he hears the thing's paws hit the floor. It must be slinking away to its delicious-smelling food dish, he assumes, exhaling loudly through his nose.

"Pakkun."

His instinct is to stand and turn toward Kakashi immediately, but Pakkun resists. Though, he can't stop the instinctive wagging of his short, curled tail when he hears his name uttered so affectionately in Kakashi's familiar voice, no matter how hard he tries.

"Yeah, Boss."

He hears the book close, a soft sigh.

"Can you come here, please?"

Pakkun wishes he could roll his eyes, but that is a trait reserved only for his human companion. Instead, he makes a grand show of getting up, stretching and yawning as if it is a supreme inconvenience to be asked to move from his spot on the floor even though he wants nothing more than to relocate to the couch with his summoner.

When he finally turns, Kakashi is looking at him with a knowing smirk on his face and Pakkun gives up the act, dropping his head in shame the moment their eyes meet.

"Sorry, Boss," he grumbles, padding his way over to the couch. A quick peek to his left proves he was right, the cat's nibbling at something in its bowl.

Kakashi just chuckles. "It's okay," he says, as he helps Pakkun up onto the couch so the pug can settle—finally—against his chest.

His shirt smells like the stupid cat and Pakkun wrinkles his nose.

Kakashi pets his ears soothingly. "I'm sorry I've been ignoring you," he says, "I just want to make sure Inu feels at home here before I have to leave for my next mission."

Pakkun's ears perk up. "You named the cat... Inu?" he asks.

Kakashi smiles, baring his teeth in a mischievous expression Pakkun has known for more than two decades.

"I did," he says, sliding a treat out of his pocket and handing it to Pakkun, who chews greedily while Kakashi continues to pet him.

Pakkun's tail wags furiously in response.

If Kakashi has decided to call the cat "dog," then maybe there is some hope for the pack's new addition after all.

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

The boy rubs his nose then scratches at his scalp. Fleas, probably. Or lice. He’s at the age where both are rampant.

‘Someone’s looking for you.’

Grima waits for more information but it is not forthcoming.

‘Well?’ he prompts the boy. ‘Does this someone have a name?’

‘Lord Eomer,’ the boy’s expression becomes dubious. ‘My dad says you worked for Saruman during the war.’

‘I did, for a time.’

‘What was it like?’

‘How do you mean?’

The boy shrugs, swings his stick so it rests against his shoulders and he drapes both arms along it. ‘Working for a wizard, I suppose. Did you see much magic?’

Grima gives a mirthless smile, pushing himself up and dusting himself down. The air is made of grass cuttings and dust. He squints out of the barn to the light and the singing that drifts in from those leading the harvest. Scythes swing and catch in sunlight. In one field, there is movement. A gathering of people in a small circle.

‘Well?’ the boys asks, following after Grima who heads for the group, assuming it to be where Eomer is. ‘You haven’t told me what it was like.’

‘Wizards leave much to be desired as lords,’ Grima replies. ‘But I did see magic, to answer your question.’

‘Was it scary?’

‘At times.’

‘Did he teach you any tricks?’

‘No.’

The boy huffs. Kicks at the ground as they weave through bundles of grain to be taken to the threshing floor. A pillow of dirt hangs in the air until the boy passes through it. Grima asks, ‘Don’t you have somewhere to be?’

‘No.’

A glance down at the pug-faced child. ‘That wasn’t an actual question.’

‘Then what was it?’

‘A hint.’

‘Dumb.’

Sometimes I write masterpieces and other times I write Grima v 10 year old child. 

This piece is known as “Grima Invents Forensics Whilst Angsting About Eomer”. 

[cyclogenesis]

i have to tell you that the second i saw cal and ash on that mountain getaway a couple weeks ago, i thought about how desperately i would love a sequel to your turks & caicos fic set during that trip. (this is not a request, i promise, i just wanted to tell you bc that is one of my fav fics of all time)

Aw anon!! 🥺 Gosh I hadn't even thought about that when I was in my feelings about the mountain getaway pictures, which is wild because I am just remembering now that I started a fic after the honeymoon comment initially happened (like, very soon after, because @elliebirdthings was at that show and told me about it and we were freaking out haha), before we knew that they went to Turks & Caicos, and I had them taking that trip to a cabin in Maine.

Just for kicks, because this message made me smile and I love you for that, here's the beginning of that fic. It's unfinished obviously (not even any kissing!), but there's some nice stuff in there I think. This fic was going to be titled A whole fucking lifetime of this after the American Pleasure Club album which was a title I should have kept, goddammit. Also randomly in here I have them driving to the cabin while listening to My Bloody Valentine, who Ashton later called out as one of his main influences for Superbloom.

1600 words of unfinished Cashton under the cut! 😘

The day after the last meeting about the promo schedule the dressing room conversation turns, as it does, to plans for the break. It’s a month out, but they’ve to a man developed a fetish for planning their free time carefully as soon as the schedule’s set. Planning things makes Ashton feel like a grown-up. He likes renting cars. Sometimes he scrolls through AirBnB for hours just to see what’s out there.

“I’m going straight back, we got Dodgers tickets,” Michael says.

“I remember when you used to say ‘we’ and it meant you and me,” Calum says. He wiggles a little from where he’s snuggled against Michael on the couch like he wants to get away, but of course Michael doesn’t let him. Ashton thinks he probably wasn’t really trying.

“Aw, you’ll always be my first love,” Michael tells him, squeezing Calum to him more tightly. “You wanna make out just for old times sake?”

“I do not,” says Calum, but he lets Michael give him a big kiss on the forehead, his face squinching up happily.

“I just wanna get away for a bit, no work or social media or anything,” says Ashton, ignoring their tomfoolery. “A little cabin by a lake somewhere.”

“Oh yeah?” Luke says. “Where are you and Cal going this time?”

“Maine,” Calum says, at the same time as Ashton says, “Why would you assume we’re going somewhere together?”

A small silence falls over the room.

With dignity, Ashton says, “Calum and I are going to Maine.”

“Just get out in front of it this time,” Michael advises. “Let everyone know it’s another honeymoon. Take control of the narrative.”

“How many times can you go on a honeymoon before you have to acknowledge that you’re married?” Luke asks nobody in particular.

“It’s a bro trip,” Ashton says firmly. “For bros.”

“It’s very bromantic,” Luke says. “It’s okay, I’m not hurt I wasn’t invited. I love going back to LA and jerking off alone.”

“It’s nice that we’ve all got plans,” Calum says. He’s settled peacefully back against Michael, Michael absently petting his hair.

“It’s not a honeymoon,” Ashton insists.

*

Whatever, Ashton called it what he called it, okay? Might as well control the narrative.

Over drinks at the bar after their last show Calum asks, “Where would you want to go on your honeymoon, anyway? Somewhere new?”

Ashton pokes at the ice in his cocktail with his straw. Aren’t they supposed to not be using straws anymore because of the ocean or whatever? Ashton loves the ocean, it’s very important to him. Also this cocktail sucks. “Can I try your drink?” he asks. “I don’t love mine.” Calum has something with ginger in it, and bubbles. Calum slides his obligingly over, and Ashton passes his own over to be fair.

“I like yours better,” Calum says after a sip. “You wanna trade?”

Sometimes Ashton does believe in soulmates. “Yes, thank you.” He takes a long drink. “It would be nice to spend more time in Italy. Not one of the tourist-y parts though, somewhere quiet. Up north, maybe, one of the smaller towns.” He tries to picture what it would be like: olive groves, blue skies, stone churches. An old villa with lemon trees and a view of the hills. He’s so used to traveling with the band or just with Calum that it’s hard to picture anyone else there with him. They’re all as prone as anyone to get swept up with girls to the exclusion of most everything else, but Ashton can’t really imagine a future without seeing Calum all the time, without talking to him every day. Maybe he and Calum could just get married around the same time and they could all go on a honeymoon together.

“Yeah, that’d be pretty nice,” Calum says, looking wistful. Ashton wants to take a picture of him, capture the way a curl rests against his temple, how the blue neon lights behind the bar hit the glitter he let Ashton smear on his cheekbones before the show. They made a no social media pledge for this trip but Ashton’s bringing his camera anyway. He has to keep in practice, doesn’t he? Anyway, it’s important to capture these memories.

“Maybe we should just go,” Ashton tells him. “Why not? Who knows how long it could take for me to fool someone into living with this forever?” He sucks down the last of his drink, feeling sorry for himself now. What if he falls in love and she moves in and Calum stops coming over in the morning to walk to their favorite coffee shop together, and stops picking Ashton up so they can go hike Runyon, and stops bringing Duke over like he owns the damn place and doesn’t care about the dog hair that Ashton has to hoover off his couch pillows? That would be terrible. Worst of all, what if it was Ashton that suddenly wanted those things to stop?

“I’ll live with you forever,” Calum says, too busy flagging down the bartender to intuit Ashton’s emotional crisis. He gestures to Ashton’s empty drink. “Another one of those, right?” His own is still half full. Maybe he didn’t really like Ashton’s better after all.

“Yeah, thanks man,” Ashton sighs.

Calum bumps his knee against Ashton’s, the barstool squeaking beneath him. “Ash, you’re gonna find somebody if that’s what you want. Anyone would be the luckiest person alive to be with you. Maybe we could do Italy after the tour wraps, we’ll finish in Spain so it won’t be far.”

The thought cheers Ashton a bit; that’s a decent amount of time to get on AirBnB and see what he can find that’s available. It’ll be nice to have something to look forward to, Italian sunshine and limoncello and the quiet.

“Mike and Luke will definitely give us shit though about planning another honeymoon while we’re still on this one,” Calum says.

“Let ‘em,” says Ashton.

*

It’s not a long flight but it’s a bit of a drive from there to get to the cabin. But Calum said he wanted something remote and quiet, so it’s worth the wait, the drive in the dark. There’s moonlight, anyway, and Calum took the wheel, getting them the rest of the way there in their little silver Prius rental. He puts on My Bloody Valentine and sings along, low and comforting to listen to after so many days straight of playing, of promo. Halfway through the trip Ashton thinks he sees a shooting star, maybe thought he dreamed it until he felt Calum’s soft nudge of knuckles against his arm, heard his quiet, “You see that, bro?”

The way gets bumpy, thick with trees, dark and hard to navigate once they turn off the main road. At the end of it all there’s the cabin, looming in the dark, lights left on for them and the key exactly where it’s supposed to be. It’s past one a.m. but they still give the place a wander, stopping at the largest bedroom facing the lake. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows Ashton sees trees, darkness, the black glitter of water under starlight. Calum asks, “You want this one?”

Ashton looks further and just sees more darkness. “It’s kind of unnerving at night,” he says. “Anyone could be out there.” The other bedroom has smaller windows, but the point stands. “Do you wanna just watch TV or something in here and then decide?”

“If we get axe murdered here I hope our ghosts come back and leave a one star review,” Calum says, but he’s already shrugging his duffel off his shoulders and kicking off his shoes.

The host left them a bottle of pinot grigio so Ashton pours up a few glasses while Calum strips down to his boxers and gets in bed. The boxers have cartoon pugs all over them. “I can’t believe that’s the lingerie you’re wearing for our honeymoon,” Ashton says, handing him a glass. “I also can’t believe those boxers even exist.”

Calum raises it to him in a salute and takes a sip. “These boxers are fantastic, but I guess if you want me to take them off…” he trails off, eyebrow raised, thumb hooked in the waistband pushing them down past his hipbone, then further until Ashton can see the crease of his thigh.

“No, no,” Ashton says hurriedly, “I’m just saying, what’s wrong with a nice pair of footie pajamas? Keeps you warm. Keeps you modest.” Nevertheless he shucks his own clothes except for his own (very grown-up, perfectly normal, in a flattering shade of dark green) boxers and joins Calum in bed. Calum’s already stopped paying attention to him, too busy trying to figure out how to work the remote. He finally gets the screen to flash on, and Ashton stays quiet, sipping his wine while Calum flips channels, finally landing on something in black and white. Cary Grant comes on screen but Ashton still isn’t sure what movie it is; Calum seems interested enough, setting the remote down between them, so he doesn’t complain. The wine goes down easy and Ashton does too after not too long.

He rolls onto his side and sees that Calum’s eyes are already closed. It doesn’t look like he’s asleep yet; it always takes him a bit, leaving him in a dozy stage for about ten minutes during which he might respond crankily to any communication or with adorable mumbling affection. Ashton turns the sound down and says, as quietly as he can, “TV off?” Calum’s eyes don’t open, but he nods a little. “Okay. You want me to go sleep in the other room?”

Calum moves then, a sleepy shift of his body, fumbling a hand up and blindly patting the sheet until he makes contact with Ashton’s hand on the remote and squeezes it, links their fingers together like he can’t quite figure out how to make it work. It feels nice. “’S’okay,” he murmurs. “Stay here.”

Ashton didn’t feel like getting up anyway.