#something about rocks magazine

[nikizource]

NIKI excerpt from Something About Rocks magazine:

"So much personality is attached to your choices, with jewellery more so than any other piece of clothing. I can sense who you are through your choice of jewellery."

[holochromatic]

qotsa // diy

[cultofpoppy-tm]

Poppy's cover story for Something About Rocks

Story by Will Lavin; Photography by Cole Sprouse; Creative direction by Tim Holloway; Styling (jewellery) by Joshua Hendren; Styling (fashion) by Shalev Lavàn

[the-alan-price-combo]

in which Mickie Most crashes Alan and Eric's lunch date to ask them if they want to cover a song 🙏

[corneille-moisie]

found it !

[ludarklina-fan-spot]

Slay me now

Gifs by @ladylrbloom

[crazyyyslots]

LOVERBOY (wonderland magazine) / photography by matias jalmari

[tobiasdrake]

I really do love how much you can tell about Doomguy just from looking around his room.

Like. Yeah, all the stuff you expect to see is there.

He's got his big ol' gun rack.

What appears to be a rock he uses as a punching bag.

Whetstone for sharpening his knives. All the Real Manly Violence Man stuff you'd think would be there.

But also a pair of nunchaku. Doomguy has never used nunchaku in any of his games. Those are just there because apparently he's the kind of dork who likes to play around with nunchaku and pretend he's doing kung fu.

Also a jump rope. Gotta keep his cardio up for all that running and jumping he has to do.

He reads Guns & Bullets magazine, but he also reads Science Monthly. Which makes sense that he'd be a bit of a techie since....

...he seems to have made his new Praetor Suit by disassembling the old one and rebuilding it to be higher-quality. You can see from the guts of the suit that it's powered armor, and he just... knows how to work that.

He's mad. Not stupid.

He also reads cooking magazines, of course. His only friend is Doom J.A.R.V.I.S.; He's gotta be self-sufficient. Though how he got those pizzas delivered is certainly beyond me.

And, of course, he has a collection of regular books that he likes to read as well. Though his taste in literature reveals a certain trend.

Also, he reads comics.

So many comics.

So, so many comics that he's left discarded comics lying around on his munitions cases. This man is a nerd.

And if you doubt his nerd cred, remember that he even keeps collectible toy displays. Doomguy is explicitly the kind of person who will go out of his way in a firefight with the forces of Hell itself to go snatch up a new toy for his collection.

He even has collectible toy figures hanging out on his computer desk. He put a little hard hat on one of them.

On the other side of his desk, he's got some leftover pizza from the inexplicable delivery service, plus takoyaki flavor chips and some candy. It seems Doomguy is a fruity candy kind of guy, not a chocolate guy. Man after my own heart.

Oh, you know he has shredded every single surface of the Fortress of Doom at some point. How do you think he learned to react so quickly in combat?

That is, of course....

When he's not ROCKING OUT with one of his three separate guitars. I bet the middle one's his favorite. It has a place of honor under the giant demon skull.

Some people might say that a record player and casette tapes are old-fashioned but cut him some slack; He's a Gen X-er.

Of course, there's one thing that any walk through Doomguy's room reveals more than anything else. The one thing that matters more than the world to him. The thing that drives him in his every waking moment.

He loved his bunny rabbit. My favorite thing about the portrait - Well, my favorite thing about it is that it's a piece of fanart that got officially canonized, but aside from that - is that he's wearing his Praetor Suit in it.

That's not something he brought from home. He commissioned an artist to paint that after becoming a Night Sentinel. He still loves his poor, late bunny rabbit.

And he keeps her close to him when he's home.

[hairmetal666]

Eddie owns a record store, gets to talk about music everyday. Life is good. Great, actually.

He's consolidating the Christian rock section on a quiet Wednesday morning when it happens. A man with swoopy dark hair, tight dark blue jeans, and a plum Member's Only jacket walks in, and doesn't take his Ray Bans off even once he's solidly inside.

Eddie is awestruck. This dude is gorgeous. Heart stopping. He watches him browse in quiet astonishment, unable to say anything until he blurts, "Can I help you find something?"

The man smiles--Eddie's heart stops--and he says, "Nah, just browsing. Your sign caught my eye."

And he's still not quite with the program, the rich honey of the man's voice taking him totally by surprise. "Ah, oh, it did?" He manages after a few long beats. "Painted it myself."

"No shit? It's great."

"Thanks, man. I also think it's some of my finest work."

The guy laughs. "How can I know unless I see some of your other pieces?"

Eddie's face heats, but he's never been known for having good impulse control. "Maybe you'll get lucky."

Spots of pink bloom on the man's cheeks and the tips of his ears. "And here I was, thinking I was getting special treatment."

Eddie cocks his head, smiles big. "Well, the day's still young." It's so risky and stupid; no way this guy is queer, but he grins at Eddie, laughs a little too.

"That right? Well, tell me your latest recommendations."

"For you?" Eddie eyes him up and down. "Wham!"

The guy's laugh is warm and rich and Eddie wants to drown in it. "Big of you to say for a someone who's only listened to Enter Sandman for the last four months."

Eddie cackles, points a be-ringed finger. "It's a good song! A great record."

"Hey, I've got no problem with Metallica. I just don't think you should be casting aspersions on Wham!."

"Casting aspersions, do you have a word of the day calendar or some shit?"

"No! It's toilet paper."

Their snickers grow until they're both hysterical, needing to lean against a display to stay upright.

It's like he's living in a dream, hitting it off with a beautiful man who just happened to stumble into his store. They catch their breath and Eddie uses the time to grab a record off a nearby shelf.

"Here," he says. "Try this."

"Joni Mitchell?"

"Don't tell me, Wham! fan, that you're too cool for Joni."

"Nah, she's my best friend's favorite. How much do I owe you?"

"On the house," Eddie shrugs.

"Shit, that's generous. Thanks, man. Now, about your art--" He glances at the shiny watch on his wrist. "Fuck, is it really 3:15? Goddamnit, I gotta get going."

And Eddie wants to call him back, doesn't want this dream encounter to end, but he's dashing to the door--

And just like that, the man is gone, the only evidence it ever happened the lingering chime of the bell over the door.

The bell clatters again, and his head wrenches up hard enough it hurts his neck.

"Was that Steve Harrington?" the customer shrieks.

"No," he scoffs. Except. Except. The hair and the clothes and sunglasses and the face and his lips--

"No!?" He feels the way his eyes have gone wide with panic. He didn't just flirt with Steve Harrington. Of course not. Not ever. He would've recognized--

He runs to the racks of magazines in front of the register, grabbing the latest issue of People. The cover features a glossy, polished photo of the man who just left the store. The one who had the highest grossing movie of the summer alongside his co-star, Julia Roberts. The one who, according to the article within, is in Chicago right now shooting a new movie. The one who Eddie flirted with. The one who flirted back.

He groans and covers his face with his hands. At least he'll never see Steve Harrington again.

---

Harrington comes back.

The second time, he's wearing a jewel blue polo and fitted slacks, Ray Bans nowhere to be seen.

"Got anymore recommendations?" Steve asks.

"What?" Eddie's still trying to accept that Harrington came back.

"I finished Joni. It was good. Recommend something else for me."

Fully with the program, he reaches to the rack behind him, handing the vinyl to Steve without ever taking his eyes off him.

"Seriously?" Steve deadpans.

"Tell me you don't deserve it after last time."

Steve studies the cover of Metallica, a complicated look on his face. "Fine, but you have to listen to the album George Michael released last year."

He mimics getting shot in the heart. "After my magnanimous first suggestion, you dare to punish me with Freedom?"

"Think of it more as an opportunity."

"To regret every decision I've ever made?"

"To expand your musical horizons."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "Fiiiine. It's a deal."

Steve beams. "Good! Ring me up."

And Eddie, he'd comp it again, but Steve gives him this look that tells him not to try it.

As they pass the magazine racks, Eddie points at one featuring Steve on the cover. "That thing you wore to the Vanity Fair party last month was hideous."

Steve snorts, then laughs. "Thanks. My stylist decided to go for something--"

"--terrible?--"

"Avant garde."

"Oh, is that what they're calling it these days?"

Steve pays, throws Eddie one last smile, "next time?"

Eddie nods, already certain this time is the last one.

---

He keeps coming back.

Eddie tries not to read into it.

Steve is straight, famously has a girlfriend. former horror movie child star turned cinema wunderkind, Nancy Wheeler. They're always on the covers of the tabloids, in ever more improbable stories about affairs and secret babies and french countryside weddings.

But he keeps coming back. And eventually, they grab dinner. And that dinner becomes lunches, movies, clubs, concerts. Eddie's in paparazzi photos, and there's no speculation about their relationship. Steve has a girlfriend.

But sometimes. Sometimes Steve will rest his hand on Eddie's nape, his lower back, let it linger. He'll trace a finger down the tattoos on Eddie's forearms or the patches of his battle vest. He'll lean too close when they talk, unafraid to press their bodies together. And he catches Steve's eyes on his mouth more than once, his pupils wide.

Over the next few weeks, Steve's gaze on Eddie's mouth gets hotter, his looks longer, and it's killing him. All he wants to do, all he ever wants to do, is close the distance between them, appease the gnawing beast of desire in his chest.

But Steve has a girlfriend.

They don't talk about her, not even when he knows all about Steve's best friend, Robin, and the gang of kids who adopted him, or Joyce and Hopper, his surrogate parents. Never Nancy.

He tries not to read into it.

---

They're supposed to meet for dinner. Steve scored reservations at a trendy new restaurant, but Eddie's late. Astronomically, horrifically late. It's pouring rain, it takes fifteen minutes to get a cab, traffic is a nightmare.

Out of patience and time, he decides to run the last few blocks to the restaurant. By the time he reaches the building, he's soaked to the bone, spluttering harsh breaths through mouthfuls of rain.

Steve is walking in the opposite direction, hands stuffed into the pockets of his coat.

"Steve?" He calls.

He turns and this is the first time Eddie's seen him angry. "You're late," Steve's eyes rake over him, and his face softens in an instant. He takes Eddie's wrist, leads him into an alley where the buildings are close enough to block some of the rain.

"What happened?"

"Traffic."

Steve's gaze go all soft and gentle, and Eddie's knees buckle a little. "You look like a drowned rat."

"Yeah, well." Eddie scoffs. "We can't all be beautiful movie stars."

"You're more beautiful than I could ever be, even soaking wet."

He shakes his head, ignoring the cascade of butterflies; Steve shouldn't say things like that. His vigorous movement sends wet strands of hair slapping him in the face.

Steve reaches out, softly brushes it back.

Eddie stops breathing.

Steve closes the distance between them.

What a thing, to be kissed by Steve Harrington. What a terrible, glorious thing.

He breaks it fast, face red, can't catch his breath. "Nancy," is all he can say.

"Nancy?"

"You have a girlfriend."

Steve's face scrunches. "She's not my girlfriend."

Eddie's mouth drops. "Yes, she is." They went to the Oscars together.

"Eddie." Steve takes a few steps back. "Eddie. I'm gay."

He laughs, an ugly honking thing. "C'mon. What could she possibly get out of that?"

Steve's eyes widen, eyebrows reaching his hairline, mouth pursed in a bitchy line. It takes Eddie a minute but, "Ohhhhh. So, it's all--?"

"It was the best way."

"But you're--?"

"I thought you clocked me immediately! Wham!???"

"That was because of the jacket!"

"Have you ever met a straight man who dresses like I do and likes George Michael??"

"That describes five dudes I see a day!"

"And you thought they were straight??"

Eddie stares into the middle distance, replaying some of those interactions, and--"Huh. Okay. I get hit on at work waaay more than I realized."

"For fuck's sake, Eddie!" He's shaking his head, but Eddie sees the way the corners of his mouth shake with suppressed laughter.

"I'm sorry! You have a very public straight relationship!"

Steve giggles, pulls Eddie close. "Is this okay?"

"So okay."

"You do like me back?"

"Are you kidding! Thought I was going insane, how much I want you."

"And now?"

"Come back to my place?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

And Eddie, he's seen Steve playing at love dozens of times, but this--right here, in a soggy, smelly alley where they're both soaking wet--it's more perfect than any movie.

[nikizource]

NIKI featured on Theophile Hermand's Instagram story for Something About Rocks magazine.

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Fiona Apple - Criminal 1997

"Criminal" is a song by American singer-songwriter Fiona Apple, the third single from her debut studio album, Tidal. Apple has stated that the song is about "feeling bad for getting something so easily by using your sexuality". Apple's highest-charting single, it peaked at number 21 on the Billboard Hot 100, as well as number 4 on the Billboard Modern Rock Tracks. The song won the Grammy Award for Best Female Rock Vocal Performance at the 40th Grammy Awards and was nominated for Best Rock Song. "Criminal" was listed at number 55 on VH1's "100 Greatest Songs of the '90s", and number 71 on Blender magazine's 2005 list of "The 500 Greatest Songs Since You Were Born".

The music video was directed by Mark Romanek with cinematography by Harris Savides. Visual enhancements including the retroreflector in Fiona's eyes and additional lighting vignettes were created by visualist Ash Beck. In 1998, the video won an MTV Video Music Award for Best Cinematography. The video was featured in the 1997 MTV special "Beavis and Butt-Head Do Thanksgiving". Up until Beavis and Butt-Head's revival in 2011, it was the last to be critiqued by the duo among other videos in the special. In the second episode of American Horror Story: Freak Show, Bette and Dot Tattler perform a duet version of "Criminal".

"Criminal" received a total of 74,8% yes votes!

[lucimaaie]

big deal ✧.* tlou

pairing - Ellie Williams x fem!reader, ellie williams x miller!reader

summary - you and ellie fight over your jealousness.

warning - short, not proofread bc what is that, lil angst to fluff, possibly occ ellie idk

jealousy was something ellie knew all to well. though she wasn’t exactly ready to deal with it in you. she didn’t entertain any other girl (not on purpose) and left you very mushy (to be kept private for that very reason, notes when she was gone with joel and tommy. and yet, you were jealous.

“i’m serious. i don’t see how she was flirting,” ellie walked along side you, ahead of joel and tommy who had been tuning in and out of the argument.

“really? she did the arm squeeze, el. i did that before we got together, remember?” you walked at a pace faster than anyone else, the embarrassment of having to explain your thought process making you want to run away just for a moment. yes, you were jealous of some girl you barely knew and yes you were having this conversation in front of your dad and uncle. it wasn’t something to be particularly proud of

“the arm squeeze?” ellie looked at you incredulously as she walked to keep up with you. “the arm squeeze.” she repeated.

“yes!” you stressed.

“the fuck is that?”

“it’s basic psychology, ellie. the arm squeeze means she likes you. did you not know that when i—“

“does it matter? i like you, not her.”

“i know that.”

“then i don’t get why this is such a big deal, i’m dating you!” though her words rang true something in them didn’t agree with you. maybe it was the just the heat getting to you and not envy. maybe, but it didn’t matter the reason because your feet took you elsewhere as soon as you got to an old abandoned outlet.

you walked around the open space, kicking rocks of debris around as you looked at the broken in and looted stores. some caught your interest and you ventured into them despite joel’s warning to not go too far. you hadn’t even noticed ellie creeping behind you as you flipped through old ripped magazines. “ellie!” you screamed, covering your mouth.

she looked equally as shocked as you as you waited for sounds of clickers, runners, or any monster in the shadows. when the coast was clear, ellie smiled sheepishly and leaned against the counter you sat on. “so..jealous.” she tapped the counter, looking up at you.

“i..don’t want to talk about it, el. you’re right. it doesn’t matter.” you flipped through the magazine as opposed to looking at her. the image of carefree teens looking back at you made you frown. ellie grabbed the paper from your hand and set it on the counter.

“you did an hour ago.” she said with seriousness this time.

“that was an hour ago. it’s not a big deal, like you said.”

ellie shut her eyes as you threw her words back at her. she knew deserved it to some capacity. “it’s not nothing. okay, maybe she was flirting, but i didn’t flirt back, i swear.”

“you don’t have to—“

“yes, i do because you’ll just keep talking about it until i get you to believe me.” she sat down next to you on the counter, her hand coming down over yours. her eyes flicked from your hands to your face.

“i believe you, el.”

“so, then why’re you still mad at me?”

“i’m not. not really. i mean, i was. it’s stupid. i don’t get jealous about anything but—“

“me?” she said, her eyes widening in surprise. you could tell the way she held back a smile, even if the mood was serious.

“no, cupcakes. yes you!”

“alright, alright. i’m just clarifying.” she held up her hands in peace. “you only get jealous about me? actually?”

“yeah. and it does not feel good being the jealous girlfriend. at all. i just started an argument with you over an arm squeeze.”

“you did.” she laughed lightly as she knocked her shoulder into yours.

“my theory is still valid.”

“bullshit. i smell bullshit.” she sung. “i get jealous when it comes to you too. i just..don’t say anything.”

“and i turn it into an argument.”

“both equally as shitty.”

“not a competition.”

“like hell it is.”

the light of flashlight flicked on and off and your direction. the sight made you and ellie squint your eyes before you recognized it was joel’s signal in a place like this. “c’mon. gotta get back before the oldies get grumpy.” ellie hopped off the counter and reached for your hand. you did the same and intertwined your fingers with hers.

“e?” you said as you two walked out of the store and into the empty space. she hummed. “if..when you get jealous. could you tell me?”

she looked at from the ground to you. she seemed to consider it for a moment before gnawing on her lip. “you’d get annoyed with me.”

“did i not just piss you off fighting with you?”

“eh.”

“i’m saying annoy me, piss me off back. i’m your girlfriend, i can handle that.” you shrugged as you spoke the words despite your feelings underneath the facade. the whole girlfriend thing was new to the both of you, who known each other for years at this point. you knew the most about each other than anyone else. neither one of you want to be the one to mess it up.

“i’ll hold you to that.” ellie said quietly. your words seemed to give her an unexpected confidence boost enough to pull you closer to her and press a gentle kiss onto your lips. her own were but a bit cracked but that didn't matter as her came to cup your face. she pulled back, eyes soft with affection and hint of anxiety for your reaction. this wasn't your first time kissing each other, she didn't know why she was desperate for- "mph!" she hummed against your lips as you kissed her again. this time still sweet, but not so gentle.

“are yall kissing?” tommy yelled.

you and ellie quickly dispersed, pretending to be enamored with the broken displays of the stores. it wasn't surprising that neither Tommy or Joel bought it. Joel simply waved you two over, glaring as you walked ahead of him, hand-in hand. the air of awkwardness barely lasted a minute before you and ellie burst out laughing, only to be shushed by a grumbling, mildly mortified Joel. "to be continued." Ellie mumbled into your ear.

thank you for reading!

[dreamsteddie]

Once Steve and Eddie come out to the broader world, Eddie's floodgates open, and before interviewers can even think to ask about his "long-term partner and love of my life" Eddie starts gabbing about Steve almost as soon as a microphone is put near his face.

At first, Eddie refuses any and all requests to be on talk shows or long-form interviews. Steve himself has no desire to be interviewed ever, and Eddie wants the media hype to die down before he makes any big appearances off the stage. He knows that if he does the conversation will be a glorified investigation into his private life no holds bared.

So Eddie takes the occasional question after a show or on the red carpet but always dominates the conversation and finishes quickly. He's always dropping little tidbits about Steve, even if it's just talking about whether or not he was able to make the show or how handsome he looks in their matching outfits today.

Once the hype dies down and the media vultures aim their beaks at another celebrity, Eddie agrees to do a couple of talk shows with the rest of the band.

Everything is normal. The focus is on their next leg of the tour and the music video they released last week that went viral. Right up until the last three or so minutes when the interviewer asks, kindly, how his boyfriend Stevie is doing.

Stevie.

As in Eddie's Stevie.

The name only Eddie and Robin have ever called him. The name that used to make Steve flush so pretty when they first started drifting together. The name that still makes Steve give him one of those pleased little smiles that make his heart pitter-patter in his chest years later.

Eddie's hackles are immediately raised at the audacity of this stranger to talk about his boyfriend so familiarly. His shoulders rise, eyes narrowing ready to say something scathing when the rest of the band notices and steps in. Jeff drops a not-so-friendly hand on Eddie's shoulder while Freak steps in to very loudly tell a funny story about the last time Steve joined them on the road. Emphasizing "Steve" a little too much as he does.

When Eddie finally gets to stalk off stage he's let himself get worked into a tizzy. Logically, it's not a big deal but Eddie has always been territorial when it came to Steve and has been even more on edge since they came out. The idea of anyone outside of their family acting like they know them, know him, just because he's married to Rockstar Eddie Munson and shows up in the occasional gossip rag makes him so fucking mad.

As soon as he's backstage he's dialing Steve's number, impatiently running one hand through his hair as the phone rings and rings. As soon as he hears the beginning of Steve's standard WASPy "Hello, this is the Harrington-Buckley residence, Steve speaking" greeting Eddie launches into a long rant about "the audacity of media vultures."

Steve doesn't say a word the entire time, just letting Eddie vent out his frustrations. At the end, Steve lets the silence linger for a little bit before speaking.

"Hey babe?"

"Yeah, Stevie?"

"I don't know how to tell you this but you've been referring to me exclusively as 'Stevie' since we came out. I'm pretty sure when we made the announcement you said 'This is my Stevie. He's been my partner for six years.'"

".....what?"

"In fact, I'm sure that's exactly what you said because Robin replaced all my nametags at work with ones that said 'My Stevie' because she has the sense of humor of a middle schooler."

"God fucking damn it!"

They hang up not long after. When Eddie looks up for the first time since he dialed Steve's number he's met with the rest of the band and their personal crew all wearing various faces of exasperation.

Sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck, he rocks on the balls of his feet and says "Sooooooo...I may have overreacted."

----

The next day, despite Eddie's hopes that his outburst wasn't that noticeable, his clearly irate face is the subject of every magazine and gossip rag at the grocery store.

Robin frames her favorite one and gives it to Eddie for his birthday.

[logansluvr]

SUMMER OF ‘72

70s!DBFLOGAN HOWLETT x F!READER

SUMMARY: Logan’s forever grateful to be invited to such intimate family gatherings — he’s even more grateful for the fact that your father insists he stay and relaxes while he runs out to restock on whiskey and cigars.

WARNINGS : age gap (it’s a given Logan’s old asf), pure filth actually, no p in v, dry humping, teasing, marking, a little bit of biting, almost getting caught, a small run on of something that sparked in my mind!

also thank u to everyone who showed love to taste I literally love all of u…. devider credit

“You’re practically family , just make yourself at home.”

He really should feel guilty, disgusted even.

Your father was a kind man, one who opened his arms to the mutant. Treated him normally and began to pull him into the family. It got to a point where Logan was invited to all family events, outings and dinners — so he should feel like shit.

But god how could he when he ends up like this?

The second your father had pulled out of the driveway it was only seconds before Logan went looking for you. Finding you in the depths of your room lying on your bed, dress riding up as you absentmindedly skimmed through a magazine.

He had slipped inside the space and shut the door, the sound causing you to sit up. Your eyes peered up at him through your lashes, that same damn look on your face everytime you looked at him. He had no idea what that look meant but hell would have to freeze over before he told you to stop it.

Within seconds he already has his lips on yours, a force so bruising but so deliciously addictive. He sat on the edge of your bed, hands resting on the exposed skin of your thighs as he lightly bit down on your bottom lip.

The pressure caused you to let out a small huff of pleasure and he took the opening as an opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Exploring every inch of you as your hands found purchase on his shoulders, catching the taste of cigars and whiskey lingering on his tongue.

Logan pulled back and his half lidded eyes stared back at your own before he began to kiss down your cheek to your jaw. His hands slid under and up your dress and his large hands squeezed the flesh of your ass.

Hard enough to make you whimper into his mouth, a satisfied sigh leaving his nose before your hands tugged on the hair at the nape of his neck. At the motion he used his teeth the graze the skin under your jaw.

You could feel the subtle scrape of his facial hair as he pressed heated kissed along your neck down to your collarbone. Your hips subconsciously rocked forward when he teethed at a spot on your neck — the movement making him groan into it.

You could feel the noticeably large bulge in his jeans, wearing nothing but a pair of panties under your dress. Panties that began to form a slight damp spot as you tried to desperately repeat the motion.

One of his hands held onto your hip, tight enough to stop you from moving while his other hand moved towards the neckline of your dress. It wasn’t extremely low, but it wasn’t high at all and it gave him the perfect amount of room to tug the fabric down.

He pulled it down enough so your nipples weren’t exposed, just about teetering on the edge of it as he lowered his mouth to the newly exposed skin. Without warning he bit down and you cried out, hips jerking forward only to be stopped by his harsh grip.

As quick as the sting came it was soothed quickly by the warmth of his tongue. You felt the sting again and the feeling made you tug harshly at the hair between your fingers. Logan’s head jerking back with something of a moan at the feeling of you pulling on his hair.

“Logan.” Your voice was full of need, a need for him. And instead of responding to you he continued to suck his way around your chest, grinning against it as he felt your hips twitch in desperation.

The damp spot on your panties seemed to grow by the minute and Logan could smell the arousal dropping off of you. It was overwhelming, the scent of how bad you needed him, the tiny breathless whimpers that were leaving your lips — he could feel his restraint slipping.

“Pleas- mm.” You squirmed on his lap pleading with him before managing to trap his lips against yours for a moment. “Nu-uh sweetheart, not now.” Both of his hands returned to your hips, and he watching with taunting eyes as you pouted.

Watching your face carefully he lifted his hips up the slightest and he watched as your brows pinched at the feeling. “Lo-“ Logan’s hand tangled in your hair, pressed right against the scalp and he tugged. Your head tilted up just enough for his breath to mingle with yours.

“M’not gonna fuck you sweetheart. Not now. For now you’re gonna take what I give you.” You nodded, anything was good, perfect even. Logan watched the desperation in your eyes with a grin, his sweet girl always wanted him and he made sure of that.

His hands adjusted themselves on your hips under your dress, the fabric bunched up around his hands. Logan spread his legs nudging yours further apart pulling you upwards so you hovered over him. He made quick work of unlatching his belt and pushing his jeans to his ankles.

“Can’t have ya making a mess on em.” Was all he muttered before pulling you back down. Your clothed clit was sat right against the large bulge in his underwear, slick beginning to seep onto the fabric.

Leaning forward you crashed your lips into Logan’s, tongues meeting each other before you felt his hands push your hips forward sliding against his painfully hard cock. Your clit dragged against it, the feeling making you let out a moan into Logan’s mouth.

He grunted whilst slipping his hands back to the globes of your ass, kneading the flesh with a harsh grip. Your hips moved on their own, as you moved them forward Logan raised his hips to meet your movements.

The friction was addictive and the breathy whines and whimpers spilling past your lips was proof. Logan pulled his lips from yours set on the exposed skin of your chest, the feeling of his hot breath on your skin had you rocking back and forth at a better pace.

Logan’s hips rocked upwards to further the pleasure between you two — relishing in the way he could feel the slick dripping from your cunt onto his clothed cock. The fabric between you was damp and a mix of his pre-cum and your arousal.

His eyes strayed down and he couldn’t help the primal groan that left his lips at the sight of your panties so sticky and slippery they stuck to your aching pussy.

“That’s it.” He cooed all whilst distracted by the sight.

Your fingernails were digging into his shoulders, no doubt leaving crescent moons in their wake and it was times like these that made him despise his ability to heal.

The room was filled with nothing but heavy pants, breathy moans and groans along with the sound of your bed creaking ever so slightly.

Logan’s eyes remained on the sight between your thighs and one of his hands slid up your back, pushing your head down a bit so your eyes were also redirected to the intoxicating sight.

A moan fell out involuntarily and the friction on your aching clit was causing your lower abdomen to heat up, desperate hole clenching around nothing. It was almost like he could sense it too, the way the ends of his lips tugged upwards for a moment.

“I know baby.” His other hand trailed up and down your thighs in a false attempt to soothe. Though all it did was leave goosebumps despite how hot it was in your room. “Please Logan.”

You practically cried it out, you’d take anything he would give you but being like this only made your want for him grow more. You wanted to feel all of him.

The thoughts swirling in your head caused you to slow momentarily but before you could say anything you felt a stinging sensation on your ass. The shock causing you to cry out and your hips moved forward from the impact.

Logan’s hands returned to your waist in a harsh grip, now controlling all your movements. “Greedy girl huh? Can’t even take what I give you without askin for more?” His words came out gritted through his teeth, his pace a little harsher than your own.

And you tried to apologize, you really did but all that came out of your mouth was a moan. One so sweet it nearly had him slipping through his restraints, one that nearly made him flip you over and just shove himself deep inside of you.

But he just had to remind himself why he hadn’t yet. You weren’t ready for all of him just yet, and he didn’t want to ruin his plans by being impulsive like that.

“I-mmg- I’m sorry s’just-“ you stumbled over your words as you were being pushed to the edge. “Feels good.” Logan’s head lulled forward, forehead resting on your chest as he felt his cock twitch.

He could smell how close you were to gushing all over his lap — but he nearly came before you when his name rolled off your lips in an angelic moan. “M’gonna-“ you tried to get out, but Logan already knew.

“Go ahead sweetheart, cum all over my lap.” His voice was lower before he bit down on a part of your exposed chest. The feeling enough to send you over the edge and your head tossed back, eyes pinching shut as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave.

It made your abdomen tighten and your toes curled, the feeling so overwhelming especially as Logan continued to rock your hips over his. You trembled above him as your head spun from your orgasm, your head falling forward and you dug your face into his neck.

Your whines from the overstimulation were muffled but there was just enough space between you two for Logan to watch the copious amounts of slick gush out onto his lap.

The sight alone made him feel like he was gonna cum, and in a split second he began to drag you faster over his cock. The pace made you jerk and Logan was vocal the second he felt your teeth biting his skin.

It was only there for a second before the only thing left over was the slight ache. “Fuck- do it again sweetheart.” You let out something of an exhale mixed with a giggle.

The sweet sound and the feeling of you biting down harder, purposely, made His hips abs tighten and his cock twitch under you before you felt the warm ropes of cum seeping through the fabric between you both.

His hands slowed their control of your hips, but didn’t stop completely. Logan letting out a sigh and your head lifted from the crook of his neck — eyes moving to the mess of cum between you both.

Logan’s fingers tilted your chin away from the sight ( as much as he loved to watch you watch the mess you both made ) and he placed a sweeter less hungrier kiss onto your lips.

His lips were shockingly soft against yours and you melted into it. It was short but sweet and when you pulled back his thumb ran over your sensitive clit, covered in sticky material.

A smirk on his face as he lightly patted it before flipping your dress back down. And just as casually as he had slipped in your room — he had dressed you both and slipped out of it just as the front door had opened.

“I’m back!”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

thanks for reading it not so sure that I’m gonna make taste a series, however it may be apart of a larger collection….😏

[inkspiredwriting]

Wedding Woes

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Planning a wedding should be a joyous occasion, but for Five Hargreeves and his fiancée Y/N, it quickly turned into a battlefield of hilarious disagreements. From the moment they decided to tie the knot, every decision seemed to spark a new debate.

“Chocolate!” Five declared, arms crossed, as they sat in the office of Sweet Sensations, the premier bakery in town.

“Red velvet!” Y/N countered, her eyes sparkling with determination.

The baker, caught between the two, held up a tentative hand. “We could do a combination cake?”

Five and Y/N turned to her, then back to each other, shaking their heads simultaneously. “Nope.”

“What’s wrong with red velvet?” Y/N argued, her brow furrowing. “It’s elegant and delicious.”

Five scoffed. “Chocolate is a classic. And I don’t trust a cake that’s named after a fabric.”

“Fine,” Y/N said, rolling her eyes. “What about the design?”

“Simple and clean,” Five said, envisioning a minimalistic cake.

Y/N, however, had other ideas. “I was thinking something with a little more... flair. Maybe some flowers, intricate designs—”

Before Five could retort, Klaus burst into the bakery, trailed by Diego and Luther. “Hey, lovebirds! How’s the cake tasting going?”

Five sighed. “We’re just... debating the finer points.”

Klaus waggled his eyebrows. “Why not go with a giant rainbow cake? It’s festive!”

Diego chuckled. “I vote for something with bacon on it.”

Luther just looked confused. “Do people put bacon on cakes?”

The baker looked like she might faint.

In the end, they settled on a layered cake with alternating tiers of chocolate and red velvet, topped with simple but elegant decorations. It wasn’t exactly what either had envisioned, but it was a compromise—a word that Five was rapidly learning to accept.

Next on the list was the music. Five preferred a live jazz band, while Y/N was leaning toward a playlist of their favorite songs.

“Jazz sets the mood,” Five insisted, adjusting his tie as they met with a potential band leader in their living room.

“Yeah, the mood for a 1920s speakeasy,” Y/N shot back. “We need something more modern, something we can really dance to.”

The band leader, an older gentleman with a pencil-thin mustache, interjected. “We can do a mix, if you’d like?”

Before either could respond, Viktor wandered in, carrying his violin. “Need a musician? I can play Anything you want.”

Five perked up. “Can you do jazz?”

Viktor nodded. “Of course. But I also know some contemporary pieces.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up. “What about ‘You Are the Best Thing’ by Ray LaMontagne?”

Viktor smiled. “I can do that.”

Five threw up his hands. “Fine, let’s have Viktor play. Just... not too much Ray LaMontagne.”

Klaus sauntered in, a mischievous grin on his face. “I could DJ! Imagine the fun we’d have with a mix of 80s pop and punk rock!”

Five stared at him. “Absolutely not.”

When it came to decorations, Five wanted sleek and modern, while Y/N envisioned a romantic, rustic theme.

“We need string lights and mason jars,” Y/N said, flipping through a wedding magazine.

Five groaned. “We’re not having a Pinterest wedding. How about something more sophisticated? Like geometric centerpieces.”

“Geometric?” Y/N laughed. “What are we, hosting a math conference?”

Lila, who had shown up uninvited but was enjoying the chaos, added her two cents. “I think you should go with a theme park idea. Imagine—carnival games, cotton candy, maybe even a Ferris wheel!”

Y/N laughed. “Actually, that sounds kind of fun.”

Five buried his face in his hands. “We’re not turning our wedding into a circus.”

In the end, they settled on a rustic-chic blend with some modern touches—fairy lights and mason jars for Y/N, and sleek tableware and geometric designs for Five. It was a mix that surprisingly worked, combining the best of both their visions.

Even the wedding invitations were a source of contention. Five wanted them to be minimalist and elegant, while Y/N wanted something more whimsical and colorful.

“This font is too boring,” Y/N complained, staring at the sample invite. “It doesn’t scream ‘fun.’”

Five rubbed his temples. “We’re not throwing a rave, Y/N. We’re getting married. It should be timeless.”

Klaus, had another idea. “Why not go with a pop-up invitation? Like those 3D books! People would love that.”

Five shot him a look. “We’re not making pop-up books, Klaus.”

Despite the disagreements, the wedding day arrived, and everything was miraculously coming together. Five and Y/N stood at the altar, their family and friends gathered around them. The setting was a perfect blend of their styles—rustic yet sophisticated, whimsical yet elegant.

As they exchanged vows, Five couldn’t help but smile at Y/N. Despite their differences, their love for each other had only grown stronger through the process. It was clear that, no matter the debates, they were perfect for each other.

When they shared their first kiss as husband and wife, the crowd erupted into applause, and Klaus, predictably, started a slow clap that turned into an impromptu chant of “Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

Five’s siblings had their mishaps—Klaus accidentally spilled champagne on Viktor’s suit, Lila got into a friendly wrestling match with Allison over the bouquet, and Luther accidentally triggered a sound system malfunction that blasted “Never Gonna Give You Up” at full volume during the toasts.

At the end of the night, as they danced under the twinkling lights, Five pulled Y/N close and whispered, “You know, despite all the chaos, I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Y/N smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling. “Not even the part where we almost had a bacon cake?”

Five chuckled. “Not even that. Well... maybe a little.”

Y/N laughed, leaning in to kiss him. “I love you, Five Hargreeves. Even if you have terrible taste in cakes.”

Five grinned, wrapping his arms around her. “And I love you, Y/N Hargreeves. Even if you have questionable taste in everything else.”

As they swayed to the music, surrounded by their chaotic but loving family, Five realized that the debates, the compromises, and the occasional disaster were all part of what made their love story uniquely theirs.

And for Five and Y/N, that was all they ever wanted.

[girllblogging777]

Hiii 😊 Cinammon tinged tale for Mattheo Riddle/reader please!

How about Mattheo is a member of a band, and the reader is a journalist and they give her an interview and Mattheo is instantly head over heels.. Love at first sight

𝐴𝐿𝐿 𝐼𝑇 𝑇𝑂𝑂𝐾

↳ famous mattheo riddle x journalist reader

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 0.6k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : the lead singer of the band you’re interviewing falls for you.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the fluorescent hallway outside the room hums with low voices and muffled bass, a promise of the chaos waiting beyond the doors. you clutch your notebook a little tighter, running over the questions in your head for what feels like the hundredth time.

this is the biggest feature you’ve done for the paper, a full interview with the silver dominion, the band that has been skyrocketing through the rock charts lately.

you’ve done your research: lorenzo berkshire on drums, theodore nott on bass, mattheo riddle on guitar and vocals. mattheo… the name alone is enough to bring heat to your face. it’s impossible to miss his face on album covers, magazine spreads, and the endless stream of fan edits flooding your feed.

but none of that really matters right now. this is your job, you remind yourself before stepping into the room where they’re waiting.

the band is sprawled out on a couch when you walk in, the kind of casual chaos you’d expect from a group this magnetic. theo is tapping a rhythm against the armrest, enzo is looking through the setlist, but mattheo looks up the second the door opens.

and he stops.

completely.

your eyes meet, and it’s like the air shifts. his expression freezes, his hand hovering in mid-air where it was reaching for a cigarette. his dark eyes widen and for a split second, he looks like he’s forgotten how to breathe.

“hi,” you manage, your voice steady despite the way his gaze sets your nerves alight.

“hi,” he says back, low and unsteady, like the word has weight to it.

enzo glances up from the documents, breaking the moment. “you must be the journalist.”

“that’s me,” you reply, tearing your eyes away from mattheo. you try to focus as enzo introduces himself, then theo, but you can still feel mattheo’s gaze on you, sharp and heavy, like he’s trying to memorize every detail of your face.

“and that’s mattheo,” theo says, motioning toward him with a smirk.

you glance back at him, and he still hasn’t looked away. his lips part slightly, like he wants to say something, but no words come out.

“nice to meet you,” you say, your voice soft.

he nods, and for a moment, his mask of cool indifference slips. something flickers in his expression, raw and disarming, before he quickly looks down, fumbling with the cigarette in his hand.

“so,” you start, clearing your throat as you sit down across from them, trying your best to look at ease. “let’s dive in.”

the interview begins, and you do your best to focus, asking theo about his influences, enzo about their songwriting process. the room fills with easy banter, laughter spilling over as theo tells a story about their disastrous first gig.

but mattheo barely speaks.

he answers when you ask, short, clipped responses that seem out of place for someone so magnetic on stage. but every time you glance up, his eyes are on you, and they’re not just looking. they’re studying.

“mattheo, how do you balance writing lyrics and playing lead guitar?” you ask, hoping to draw him into the conversation.

his lips twitch into a small smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “it’s not something i think about too much. it just… happens.”

enzo snorts. “he’s being modest. he’s a control freak in the studio.”

“shut up,” mattheo mutters, but there’s no real bite to it. his eyes flicker back to yours, softening. “it’s just about the feel of it, you know?”

you nod, scribbling down his response, but you can feel the weight of his gaze lingering.

“so what about you?” he asks suddenly, cutting through enzo’s attempt to steer the conversation back.

you blink. “what about me?”

“why’d you start writing?” his voice is quieter now, laced with something you can’t quite place.

“uh, i…” you falter, caught off guard by the shift in his tone. “i guess i’ve always loved telling stories. finding the human side of things, the parts people don’t usually see.”

he leans forward slightly, his elbows resting on his knees. “and do you find it?”

“sometimes,” you say honestly, holding his gaze even though it makes your chest feel tight. “not always.”

his lips part, like he’s about to say something, but theo cuts in before he can.

“are we just gonna let him hijack the interview?” theo teases, raising a brow at mattheo. “she’s here for all of us, you know.”

“right,” mattheo mutters, sitting back, but his eyes don’t leave yours.

the rest of the interview passes in a blur. you jot down notes, ask follow-up questions, laugh along with theo’s jokes, but mattheo stays quiet, only speaking when directly addressed. and yet, his presence fills the room, drawing your attention back to him over and over.

when it’s finally over, you gather your things, feeling oddly reluctant to leave.

“thanks for your time,” you say, standing.

theo and enzo wave you off with easy grins, already diving into some argument about their setlist, but mattheo follows you to the door.

“wait,” he says, his voice low.

you turn, your pulse quickening as he steps closer.

“you’re coming to the show tonight, right?”

you nod. “i’ll be covering it.”

his gaze softens, something like relief flickering across his face. “good.” he hesitates, rubbing the back of his neck. “can i… ask you something?”

“sure.”

he swallows, his confidence faltering for the first time. “do you… i don’t know, do you believe in things happening for a reason?”

his question catches you off guard, but there’s something so vulnerable in his expression that you can’t brush it off.

“sometimes,” you say carefully. “why?”

he shakes his head, a small, almost self-deprecating laugh escaping him. “i don’t know. it’s just… the second you walked in, it felt like…” he trails off, glancing away, then back at you. “like something shifted.”

your breath catches, the honesty in his voice cutting through every defense you have.

“mattheo—”

“sorry,” he says quickly, stepping back. “i probably sound insane. forget i said anything.”

you want to say something, anything, but the door swings open behind you, theo calling him back inside.

“i’ll see you tonight,” mattheo says, his voice softer now. and as you leave, his eyes follow you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid.

and you know.

you know he felt it too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : as an aspiring journalist i wish this was me fr, thank you for this request !!! likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated <3

tell me if you wanna be added to the tag list !@redeemingvillains @leona-hawthorne @shiftingwithmars @tateshifts @rose-of-the-grave @clar2aa @iris-qt @sp7-mr @deadghosy @deadsnakey @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithleah @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @yikesitslush @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf @reidol0gy @kenjikishimotoswifey @2dloveshp