#wrote this at 2 in the morning on a whim

[leeeeeeeeech]

Desperate Measures

( Beej is attempting to haunt a pretty boring breather. Unfortunately for him, they are very dumb. He gets frustrated, hilarity ensues.)

For years, my life has followed a monotonous routine. Wake up, go to work, come home, eat, and then repeat it all over again. It's not a particularly exciting life, but it is mine, and I have grown accustomed to its predictability. However, recently, strange occurrences had begun to disrupt this routine.

One morning, while preparing my usual breakfast of toast and eggs, I experienced something bizarre. My old toaster, which had seen better days, suddenly acted as if it had received an upgrade from a sci-fi movie. It hummed and sputtered, and to my amazement, two slices of toast levitated out of it. They hung in mid-air, their once white surfaces now blackened and smoking. I found myself staring in disbelief, my outstretched hand halted just inches from the hovering toast. As quickly as they had risen, the slices dropped to the counter with a thud.

Weird.

Shaken by the strange event, I decided to write it off as a momentary lapse of sanity. Maybe I was more tired than I thought? I shrugged, ate the burnt toast, and continued with my day.

My next task was grocery shopping, the highlight of today's events. I stepped into my car, which had seen better days, much like my toaster, and started the engine. As I drove, I couldn't help but notice a peculiar vehicle in my rearview mirror—a neon green Volkswagen Beetle with bold black stripes. It was a distraction waiting to happen, and I couldn't fathom why someone would drive such a garish car.

Arriving at the grocery store, I grabbed a shopping cart without much thought. But as I gripped the cart's handle, something caught my eye. The metal bar at the front, which had always been plain and unremarkable, now bore black stripes, just like the Beetle. And etched into the metal were two initials, "BJ."

Okay, can't write this one off as a coincidence. The letters were a strange choice, and I tried not to think about the obvious acronym those letters could stand for. I tried my best to remain calm and finish up my shopping.

After I checked out and drove home, the evening was back to its monotonous self. I prepared dinner for one, and sat down in the living room to watch a show. As soon as the TV flicked on, it was already on a TV show I didn't recognize. A green-haired man stood alone on a completely white set. He wore a strange suit with the same bold stripes I've been seeing all day. Just as I reached for the remote, the man started to speak.

"Is there something strange in your neighborhood? Something weird that you can't explain?" There was a very long pause, and for a moment it felt like the man was looking straight at me.

"Who should you call? Well me of course! Just call this number below!"

I stared at the screen. It felt like all the strange events of the day were converging. I watched as the man on the TV grinned, showing unnaturally sharp teeth as the number flashed across the screen.

"This isn't just a commercial, is it?" I question aloud, my voice practically quivering. I gasped as the man on the screen winked in response. His dark eyes twinkled with an other-worldly mischief that sent shivers down my spine.

In a panic I decided to turn off the TV and just go to bed. This was all way too strange for my liking, and I needed a break from the bizarre events that had unfolded throughout the day. Maybe a good night's rest would help me regain my grip on reality.

As I headed to my bedroom, my steps sluggish and my mind still racing, I could hear the TV flick back on. I froze in my tracks, my heart pounding as the familiar commercial continued to play. It was as if the man's voice refused to be silenced.

"OH COME ON!" His voice boomed from the living room, a mixture of frustration and desperation.

I clenched my fists, my patience wearing thin. This was beyond anything I had ever encountered. I wanted nothing more than to escape this unsettling situation, but it seemed that the situation had other plans.

"I KNOW YOU CAN HEAR MEEEE." The voice grew louder, more insistent, echoing through the house.

I walked back into the living room, and stared the man down.

"What do you want?" I asked, my voice quivering with a mixture of fear and frustration. I just wanted this nightmare to be done with, to return to the life I had known, where toasters toasted bread and commercials were just commercials.

The man on the TV remained silent for a beat, his dark eyes locked onto mine, unblinking. It was as if he could see into the depths of my soul.

And then, his voice emanated from the TV once more, a sly, almost seductive tone. "Just say my name."

I blinked, disbelief washing over me. "What?" I stammered, my mind reeling. Now, I was certain that this had to be a dream, a bizarre and twisted dream that I desperately wanted to wake up from.

The man's lips curled into a mischievous grin, and he leaned in closer to the screen. "Say my name," he repeated, his words carrying a weight of anticipation.

---------

This is already pretty long, so I'll make a part two!

[withered-rxse]

Eddie's weird.

Okay, that might be super obvious, but there's a specific explanation Steve has for thinking that.

Eddie's not weird for liking metal, or playing DND, or speaking in theatrics, no.

Eddie is weird for a multitude of other things.

He bites his friends. He'll be super happy to see Gareth or Dustin and then CHOMP!

Right in the shoulder.

Eddie also collects the weirdest shit Steve has ever seen anyone collect. And that's something, because Robin collects glass bottles and paperclips.

No, what Eddie collects is bones. FUCKING BONES. Steve could go on and on about how weird and disgusting that is.

But despite this weird stuff, Steve can't help but love him. He has fallen so hard for Eddie and all these weird quirks about him.

God, what he wouldn't give for Eddie to be so happy to see Steve that he just... Bites him.

Not even sexually! Just so ecstatic to be face-to-face with Steve that he just chows down.

Steve also loves Eddie's obsession with bones. Sure, it's absolutely weird, but the way Eddie lights up like a Christmas tree when he sees a piece of spine or rib on their walks around the lake just warms Steve's heart.

It got to the point Steve would pick them up just to give to Eddie or plant on their route for the day, all so he could see that sunny bright smile and the sparkle in those beautiful brown, doe eyes of his all over again.

When he told Robin about his tendencies to go out of his way to see Eddie happy like that, she quickly chalked up that Steve was in love. Steve sputtered and gawked with the freckles on his face and neck being cradled by a rose red, but he knew she was right. That was the only way to explain it.

Rationally, at least.

Robin pushed him to confess to the weirdo, and he almost did! But Steve doesn't know how. He's normally so suave and charming, but Eddie leaves him breathless. Red. Confused.

Which brings Steve to right now.

~•°×_-*~

"Fuck I can't get this right!" He crumpled another paper and dropped it into the bin behind the counter.

Robin is sat on the counter, kicking her legs and picking at her cuticles while letting out a long, annoyed sigh.

"It can't be that hard, Dork. You just have to tell him how you feel." She lectured.

"Uh huh..." Steve drew out, "Mind putting your money where your mouth is? I don't see you doing the same with Vick."

Robin looked guffawed, and she was opening and closing her mouth repeatedly, trying to close her lips around the right comeback. But she couldn't find a snarky remark to make. Steve was right.

Surprisingly.

"Oh shut your mouth, and get to writing." Robing finally grasped something and her leg bounced a bit more rapidly.

Steve groaned and slapped the pen down on top of the paper, "Can't you write it for me? It was your idea in the first place."

Robing shook her head, "Obviously not. One, they're your feelings, not mine."

She held up her pointer and counted the reasons on her hand, "Two, I'm not suave! I'm super awkward! And I don't even like guys, and I can never find the right words and..." She waved her hand around nervously and she got off track quick.

Steve's eyebrow quirked. Robin had a tendency to ramble, so he was patient with her.

She cleared her throat once she realized she was rambling and held up a third finger, "And third, Eddie can tell the difference between your and my handwriting, easy. He'll think it's a joke and laugh it off and get both his and your feelings hurt."

"So.." she trailed off, "Yeah, no. This is all up to you, Stevie."

Steve grumbled again. She was right, again.

"But I don't know what to say!" He reasoned.

"Neither do I, Dingus! This is why you're doing it. You've got more dating experience than me." Robin waved her arms around like a maniac, Steve smiled and shook his head.

"With girls, Rob," he cleared up, "I have zero romantic experience with men."

Robin chortled, "You think I do?"

Steve shrugged, but she had a point. They were both helpless when it came to dating men, just for two completely different reasons.

"Well chop chop, Steve! You only have so much time before you can't confess anymore because one of you loses interest!" Robin flicked him on the forehead and picked at his brain figuratively.

Was Eddie also interested in Steve? Is he wasting time? Shit. This is so hard....

~•°×_-*~

A/N

Thought I would give writing a try on Tumblr! Hope you like it, let me know if you'd like a part 2.

[captain-joongz]

as per request, we have a little Jungkook drabble here! i know that people call him bunny, but to me he's so wolf hybrid coded, so i wrote a little hybrid scenario for him hehe <3

warnings: possessive needy kookie, unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, cum play, scent play??? does that exist in hybrid fics??

it's no secret jungkookie gets playful a lot, he's just a baby. of course, when he's not railing your brains out, but that's how he lures you in, you see. and even knowing that, you fall for it every damn time, like a love-sick fool (which you are)

he's just so cute, watching you with those sparkly mischievous eyes - that's how you know he's about to do something, and before you know it you have a clingy wolf plastered to your back, hands grabbing onto your hips as he pouts and whines into your hair. he's trying to be cute to get you to go along with his whims and it's working, it's working every damn time

sometimes he starts off innocent enough, just wanting to cuddle or be close to you. you're both very tactile people and need a lot of contact, especially since your cute little boyfriend got it inside his head that you're his omega and he needs to love on you regularly

you always recognise when he changes intentions though, even without his ability to smell arousal, you can feel the shift in his behaviour, in the way his grip gets stronger and he starts rubbing himself on you. and he's a horny little demon, so you've learnt to expect the unexpected

like two days ago, when your boyfriend came to you in in the kitchen and simply bumped his hip into yours before leaning his head down to your shoulder, which then led to scenting which somehow ended with you getting fucked full on the kitchen table and Jungkook walking away happily while you tried to salvage the horrifically burned dinner.

or yesterday when he said down next to you on the couch, just cutely stretching over to snuggle into you while you worked which turned into you riding his knot until you both were stupid with it, paperwork long forgotten

or this morning, when "just cuddle five more minutes and then you can go" somehow ended up with you mounted and fucked into the bed, having to rush to work with his cum still inside you and being late anyway

or like right now, standing in the middle of his best friend's apartment, party in full swing, with a clingy wolf glued to your back knowing he's about 2 minutes away from needily mouthing at your neck, and panicking because you know he doesn't care about giving his entire friend group a show (they're all mostly hybrids anyway he always says)

and by the looks you're getting from some of the others, they know precisely about your current predicament, which is both a blessing and a curse when 10 minutes later you're saying your goodbyes to an amused Jimin with a knowing smirk, Kook pulling you out the door without a second glance

getting home is an ordeal, because Kook is the driver out of the two of you and he's suddenly like an octopus, unwilling to let you go. you're kind of expecting him to jump you the second the door of your apartment closes behind you (which has happened before and your poor decorative drawer caught the worst of it), but as the brave boy he is he hold off until you're in the living room

then he's all over you, holding you close with needy hands, mouth running along your shoulders, neck, biting and kissing and licking like an animal, satisfied chuffs leaving his lips

you have an inside joke between you - that it's impossible to tell whether he's in rut or not with how hot he gets for you all the damn time, and it couldn't be more true right now with him already grounding his hard cock into your side, desperate enough to mount you right here in the middle of the living room

his tail is wildly swishing behind him, thumping into the side of the couch as he pulls you closer to it, hands carving you according to what he wants, and you end up bent over the headrest, still standing and upper half of your body awkwardly dangling over the furnishing

but you don't have much time to complain, not when you feel Kook's fingers pushing your skirt up and your tights and panties down, groaning at the smell of your arousal permeating the air

"delicious" he'd rumble into the skin of your neck, tasting the scent right from your skin, his instincts kicking in already and engaging the more primal part of his brain

when he got like that, there wasn't much you could do except for taking everything he wanted to give you, moaning and drooling, flailing in his strong tattooed arms as he pounded away and filled you with a load after load

Jungkook in life was a minimalist in a single thing only - once he got you into a position, he'd fuck you for hours without bothering much to part from you - every second not spent plastered to your body and thrusting into your wet cunt was wasted in his opinion, and as long as you were screaming and moaning, there was no reason to move

and his possessive side would come out during these moments, with his mind gone in pleasure, he never held back with his endless groans and growls, whispering "mine!" into your ear like you were his favourite toy, smattering you in his seed until you'd smell like him for weeks - he thrived on that, on every hybrid knowing immediately you were taken by him, you could see him smirk every time Yoongi winced upon getting a single whiff of you after a particularly long night, the feline hybrid throwing the younger man unimpressed looks and subtly sitting away from you most of the night - Jungkook ate all of that up, chest swelling in pride

you'd long since given up on feeling embarrassed by such things, no longer blushing when you were dragged out of a party suddenly and fucked senseless in the car, nor when you came somewhere and all eyes turned to you out of the sheer potency of the wolf scent on you

and you could count on Jungkook always standing there, right by your side, an appreciative rumble sounding through his chest puffed up like a peacock, until he could get his hands on you again

divider by @cafekitsune

[therealcocoshady]

Come inside

Eminem x Assistant!Reader

Author's note : so, funny thing... I got this request I really like and started writing to it. But I realized I needed to give it some sort of prequel, just to set context, y'know ? Long story short, I wrote something rather long and I could have waited until the whole thing was complete to post it on here, but I'm a really nice person and I thought you guys would enjoy it 😉. Stay tuned for part 2 !

CW : Implied smut but nothing NSFW. Tipsy reader. Marshall being a consent king. Coco pouring all of her energy into describing a kiss.

When you started working for Marshall, you had immediately developed a crush. How could you not ? Your boss was not only talented, he was also handsome, kind and funny as hell. You had a blast working for him and, even though being a personal assistant to a celebrity had never been your dream job, it sort of turned into it. Only a fool would complain about being paid to hang out with a talented musician, helping them managing their day to day life and enjoying a lot of perks, such as trips and occasional presents. Sure, the job was demanding and didn’t really leave a lot of room for personal life, but your boss definitely made up for that. It all started during a work trip to Los Angeles. 

You had been working for Marshall for a little over a year and you were used to trips to California. He often went there, whether it was to work with Dre or to meet with people from Interscope. It was often the same song and dance : you did the coordination for the trip, took care of the day to day management of his schedule and, while he was busy making music in Dre’s studio, you were on call but allowed to do whatever you wanted. You had heard a lot about celebrities that demanded that their assistant be with them at all time, ready to indulge their every whims but Marshall was pretty low-maintenance, especially when he was in studio mode. As long as the his schedule was coordinated correctly and his lunch was delivered on time, he didn’t care what you did or how you chose to spend the day. You actually came to enjoy the work trips to California, which were less hectic than life in Detroit. You got to sleep in a comfy suite in a nice hotel, go to the beach, lounge by the pool, answering the occasional email while your boss was in the studio. All you had to do was meet him in the morning for breakfast, keep him informed of his daily schedule before he went about his day, be available if he needed to call you to sort something out (he never did), and join him for dinner, either at the hotel’s restaurant, in his room or at Dre’s. You also went with him to a couple of parties. At first, you didn’t think you would enjoy the events and attended them in a strictly professional capacity, but as time went on and you got to know Dre and his team, you let your hair down and allowed yourself to have fun. Everyone in the Aftermath family was friendly and the parties were always really great. During one of them, preceding the launch of Gin&Juice, you were offered the opportunity to sample taste the flavors and, one thing leading to another, you ended up indulging in gin-based cocktails with everyone. Being a lightweight when it comes to drinking and handling your liquor, it didn’t take too much for you to be tipsy, showing your boss a side of you he had never seen. 

While the two of you had always gotten along very well and had a friendly relationship, you usually kept things on the professional side. Due to the nature of your job, you knew a lot about him and his personal life but you didn’t share too much about yours and, since he was very respectful of people’s wish for privacy, he definitely didn’t pry or ask too many questions. However, the liquor had you being a little more talkative and, on the way back to your hotel rooms, you ended up opening up. You weren’t too sure how the subject turned to your love life, but you certainly ended up laughing out loud when he brought up the topic of boyfriends. 

What’s so funny ? He asked with a confused look on his face. 

That you think I have boyfriends, you chortled. That’s… hilarious. 

Sorry, he chuckled. Girlfriends, then ? 

What I mean is that being your assistant doesn’t exactly make dating easy, you explained with a smile. You’re a great boss but, believe it or not, you’re the biggest cockblock ! 

Am I ? He chortled. 

Oh yeah, you giggled. Apparently, not a lot of guys are willing to accommodate that kind of schedule. And the ones that do usually end up blowing it when they find out I work for you. 

Do they ? He mused. 

Are you kidding ?! It’s a nightmare ! Last guy I dated was great. But when he found out I work for you, he absolutely lost it ! You chuckled. He was absolutely obsessed and he spent all night asking questions about you and was pissed when I told him I wasn’t allowed to answer any of them. And don’t get me started on the guy who went on a rant about how he’d never trust me, since I work for a « sexy millionnaire ». His words, not mine, mind you. 

Wow, I’m sorry, he chortled. I feel for you. 

Eh, it’s fine, you shrugged. You kind of ruined me for other men anyway. 

Oh yeah ? He asked with a grin. How so ? 

Well, you certainly made me rethink my standards, you giggled. I can’t go for the first loser that comes my way when I work for a really handsome man who takes me on cool trips and gives me presents. 

Should I stop being such a nice boss, then ? He grinned. 

Please don’t, you giggled. I really enjoy working for you. I can’t complain. 

Even if I’m a cockblock ? He asked with a smirk. 

Yeah, you said with a laugh. That’s your one and only flaw. 

Is it ? He mused. I would have thought you’d find quite a few of them… I know I’m not easy to put up with. 

You’re fine, you said. 

Good to know, he chuckled. 

And you’re really fine, too, you added without a second thought. 

You didn’t even catch yourself, not realizing that you had just told your boss that you thought it was really attractive. And to help matters worse, your own flirty facial expressions really flew over your own head. It was only when Marshall looked at you with a smirk on his face and returned the compliment that you realized what you had done. 

Why, thank you, Y/N, he said with a smug face. I think you’re pretty fine too. 

Oh my god, you said as you blushed. I’m so sorry ! 

Come on, it’s no big deal, he chuckled. I can think of worse things than being complimented by someone like you. 

Someone like me ? You asked with a raised eyebrow. 

Well… You know, he said as he gestured towards your body. Come on. You’ve seen yourself. 

His words, the gesture, the look on his face made you blush even harder. Not only could you feel the heat rise to your cheeks, warmth was invading your whole body, and the gin was definitely not helping. The rational part of your brain was trying to tell you to lower your gaze and go to bed but, unfortunately, it was being silenced by the other part. The irrational one. The one controlled by your hormones, that was urging you to jump this man’s bones. 

You’re making me blush, Mr Mathers, you said in a sultry voice. You’re such a big flirt. 

You’re one to talk, he whispered. Telling me you think I’m fine. You’re the one making me blush. 

Am I in trouble, boss ? You asked in a voice that was all but innocent. 

I think the headache you’ll have tomorrow will be enough trouble, he said with a playful grin. 

I didn’t drink that much, you giggled. 

He hummed and chuckled before taking a look at you. You were in front of our hotel room, standing close to each other. You smiled and looked into his baby blue eyes. You had always been so drawn to them. You liked everything about his eyes, from the color to the depth of the emotions they conveyed. They had an intensity to them and, most of the time, you managed to refrain yourself from staring too long, knowing you could drown in these waters. But in this moment, you couldn’t stop yourself. And when you did, it was only to look at his lips for a second, before holding his gaze again. You didn’t even need to speak. Your eyes were doing all the talking, supported by the biting of your lower lip and the soft sigh that escaped you. 

How much ? He asked carefully. 

Enough to have the courage to tell you to come closer, you said as you batted your eyelashes. 

I think you’re a little drunk, he said with a slight shake of his head. 

I’m sober enough to give informed consent, you purred. 

His lips twitched into a smile, though you could see him try and hide it. He held your gaze and inched a little closer. You weren’t touching but the atmosphere was heavy and had your heart pounding. You smiled to yourself, noticing how evident his attraction  was. You still had it. You still had game. He was close enough so that you could notice his breath hitching. And he got even closer, his forehead touching yours, one of his hands brushing against your hip. 

Is this ok ? He whispered. 

More than ok, you murmured at you leaned in and cupped his jaw. Is this ok ? 

He didn’t even reply. Simply nodded with a grin, before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss. You could tell that he was testing the waters and you were quick to respond, your other hand finding its way to the back of his neck as you deepened the kiss. It became more urgent, more intense. His arm wrapped around your waist and he slowly pushed you against the door to your room, as he kept on kissing you with a passion that made your brain glitch. It was everything a kiss should be. Soft and hungry at the same time. Warmth was invading your chest as Marshall captured all of your senses. You lost track of the time, of where you were. All that mattered was the lingering taste of Diet Coke on Marshall’s tongue, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, the softness of his fingers on your cheek and the sensuality of him playfully biting your lip before your mouths reluctantly parted ways to allow for some much needed breath catching. When you opened your eyes, you saw him blink a couple of times as he regained consciousness. Evidently, he was as dizzy as you, the newfound chemistry absolutely exhilarating. Your eyes met again and the sparks of attraction were obvious and, this time, none of you needed to ask, practically jumping on each other, your bodies mirroring each other’s raw and unguarded desire, your chest pressed against his as his mouth crashed on yours with a fervor that took your breath away. You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him even closer to you, his body moulding you as every inch of space between the two of you disappeared. Your lips moved in a desperate rhythm, tasting, exploring, as if making up for all the time they’d spent keeping their distance. Your nails lightly raked down his chest, sending a jolt of heat straight through him. He groaned into the kiss, pulling you even closer, his other hand gripping your waist with a possessiveness that matched the urgency in his kiss. You responded eagerly, your tongue tangling with his, and the kiss became a wild, feverish dance of lips and breath. Every touch was charged with a need that neither of you could ignore. When you finally pulled away again, both of you were breathless, hearts pounding as if they’d run a marathon. Marshall’s thumb brushed against your cheek, his breath ragged as he looked at you, eyes dark with desire.

Holy shit, he muttered. That was… Wow. 

I don’t want to stop, you said in a voice that betrayed your hunger for him. 

Then don’t, he whispered, pulling you back in for another searing kiss. 

It was as if you’d both been craving unknowingly craving for this. It felt right. There was something about the way you held on to each other, the exhilaration of newness mixing with an odd familiarity. It was all but foreign, and he seemed to know all the right ways to touch you, that had your pussy throbbing, aching with desire for him. 

Come inside, you pleaded in between kisses. 

To your room ? He asked breathily. 

Yeah, sure, that too, you shrugged. 

For all you cared, he could have his way with you in the hallway. He let go just long enough for you to fumble with the keycard and, as soon as you stepped in your suite, he was all over you again. You nearly tripped as you made your way in, both of your desires so urgent that you didn’t even make it to the bed. Not until round two anyway. In the heat of the moment, caution was thrown to the wind. You didn’t care that he was your boss. You didn’t care that it might be weird in the morning. Neither did he, it seemed. All that mattered was your carnal need for each other, your senses only focusing on pleasure, touching and tasting each other as the room filled with moans and whimpers for a night that seemed never-ending. 

Only the night did end and, as you woke up alone in bed, naked and wrapped in the bedsheets that reeked of sex and your boss’s cologne, you knew you had to have a much needed talk. You had never thought of yourself as a coward, but you sure as hell didn’t feel too good as you knocked on his door, unsure of how he felt about what had happened and a bit upset that you couldn’t even hide behind excuses of alcohol clouding your judgement. You had wanted this and it was time to face the music. There was a bit of awkwardness as he opened the door and greeted you, before allowing you to step into his suite. You could sense the weight of what had happened in the atmosphere, none of you being sure where to start. You decided to do what you did best : focus on work. 

The car to take you to Dre’s studio will be there in 20, you informed him. The chauffeur will pick you up at 4 and drive you to the airport for our flight back to Detroit. No lunch delivered at the studio today since you’re going out with Dre. I will pack your bags and I’ll meet you at the airport. I have texted Dre’s assistant and she’ll have energy drinks and snack ready for you when you arrive. I know you don’t do too well when you haven’t slept. 

Thanks, he hummed. Is 20 minutes enough for a talk ? I’d like to… sort things out before we start the day. 

Of course, you said as you tried to sound as neutral as possible - not willing to let your anxiety show. 

You stared at each other awkwardly for a second and he gestured for you to sit on the couch. 

Are you alright ? He asked carefully. 

Yeah, you hummed. Are you ? 

Of course. Look… last night was amazing and I don’t want you to think that I regret anything, because I don’t. But you work for me and it complicates things.

It does, you agreed. I don’t have regrets either, but I think we should keep things professional. I actually like working for you and I know I’m good at my job. I’ve worked too hard for one night to mess things up. 

Agreed, he said. We’ve got something good here. 

So, what happens in LA stays in LA ? You suggested. 

Exactly, he said with a smile. 

You both sighed in relief, happy to be on the same page. Just like that, the talk shifted to something work-related, and it was back to business as usual. You both went about your day and met again when you boarded the private plane for your flight back to Detroit. During the flight, you attempted to read a book but you could feel the atmosphere heavy, as well as Marshall staring at you. You didn’t say anything, though, figuring it would take a little while for things to go back to normal. It was probably a good thing that you were flying back home, getting to sleep in your own place rather than in a hotel room next to his. Going back to the studio would probably help too. The sooner you’d go back to working like usual, the better it would be. You didn’t talk much and simply wished each other a good night before parting ways as the chauffeur dropped you at your place before heading to Marshall’s. 

You spent an awful evening, trying to shake feelings of frustration. You attempted to pamper yourself and have a spa night at home but, as you lathered your skin with lotion, you could only think about Marshall’s touch, and how you wished it were his hands against your skin. And it didn’t get much better when you decided to touch yourself before bed, struggling to get off, your bullet vibrator obviously not comparing to the man who had made you see stars the night before. You were starting to get there when your doorbell rang, making you grunt as you quickly tossed the toy to the side and put your pajama shorts back before going to open the door, ready to yell at whoever thought it was ok to bother you at 11PM. Your heart dropped when you saw Marshall standing there, holding the scarf you had worn on the plane. 

Hey. I know it’s late but you left it in the car, so I figured I’d bring it back to you, he said as he gestured to the scarf. 

Thank you, you said softly. It could have waited until Monday, though. You didn’t have to drive here so late. 

It’s no big deal, he shrugged. I, uh… Mentally, I’m still in LA. 

Oh, you mean the time zone ? 

Yeah, sure, that too, he muttered. 

You held his gaze, understanding what he meant. You scoffed softly and stepped closer, taking the scarf from his hands, your fingers brushing against his as you did so. You felt the tension, some sort of electric current coursing through your veins when you touched. Letting go of what had happened in LA seemed impossible. You bit your lip and cursed your brain and dripping wet cunt for what you were about to do. 

Do you want to come inside ? You offered. 

Inside your apartment ? He asked as a grin formed on his lips. 

Sure. That, too, you said in a sultry voice before pulling him inside of your apartment. 

[azullumi]

wanderer and tighnari — boyfriend messages ☆彡

summary — phone calls and messages exchanged between you two.

characters — wanderer and tighnari (w/gender-neutral reader)

tags — fluff, modern au, established relationship, no use of emojis in text ; headcanons

word count — 704

note — i wrote this on a different time compared to the first part so the approach in writing is different! ^^ i'll be working on requests later on

WANDERER

Midnight calls. Late night texts. Random crack of the dawn messages. Everything that happens on a whim, you name it. The peak message activity between you two happens late at night until dawn and the time that you two would stop talking will depend on your plans or schedule for the next day—you have classes? You'll either fall asleep in the midst of talking or finish the conversation by 2 in the morning at max. It's the weekend tomorrow? Expect that the two of you would either be awake the whole night, doing something together and talking to each other, or sleeping quite early to make up for the hours lost from the past few days that you should have been asleep.

Being mean is the embodiment of his being and sarcasm is the mother language of his tongue. Even in texts with the restrictions of expression as it's all locked behind and washed down to just simple letters in a rounded-corners rectangle, he is able to express and convey the tone and feeling he wants to show—hatred, disdain, confusion, and everything.

One thing that he loves to do is to just be a little gremlin, sending random images or messages in class that either distracts you because you're trying to think of what it means or because you'll end up talking to him— your attention will be all directed to him and he loves it. He knows the effect he has on you and completely takes advantage of it because why not? The opportunity is there so why not make the most out of it?

Despite all of that, however, he still looks after you. Yes, he might be a little mean at times and he could act like some sort of menace but he cherishes you and loves you. It's just like when you'll mention how you want something on that day and he'll show up later on with that thing that you want in hand, messaging you to open the door even if it's already late at night—he'll end up having to stay over and sleep at your home.

TIGHNARI

Have you eaten already? How about breakfast? Did you drink enough water? Did you skip your meal again? Oftentimes, you find yourself being asked by your own mind if you're talking to your doctor or your boyfriend—though you do appreciate how he looks after and cares for you, making sure that you're eating properly and staying healthy, bringing you food and everything when you didn't get to eat earlier that time because you were busy and didn't have time to, or when he'll look after yourself every single time that you are sick and you have to listen to his nagging especially when he'll learn that you did something which put you in that situation.

He's just always so worried about you that he checks on you as much as he can—much more if you're a reckless and careless type of person. It just feels like it's one of his nature to look after his loved ones, especially you and though it can be overwhelming at first because you might think that you're being bothersome to him, trust me, he doesn't think of you like that, you're not some troublesome thing to him and he's doing everything on his own accord. It just puts his mind at peace and his thoughts silent knowing that you're safe, healthy, or away from harm—and knowing that he's part of the reason for those makes him proud of himself.

Even through his messages, you could feel the gentleness in his tone or way of speaking in general—his choice of words makes up for all of it despite not having the habit of using emojis nor emoticons. Perhaps it was also the way he adds sweet and affectionate messages in between like him telling you that he loves you after greeting you good morning.

He's very considerate of your feelings, always taking it into account before he does something. He's the type to message you and update you on what he's doing, telling and informing you if ever he'll become busy so that you won't wonder why he is not replying to you quickly or answering any of your calls.

© azullumi — do not plagiarize, copy, repost, nor translate any of my works.

[obihoebikenobi]

Poolverine Series: to gain true love, one must first lose their wolvirginity, i don't make the rules

By: obihoebikenobi, 23.6K as of September 13th, 2024

It's a love story baby just get fucked. Logan and Wade's love story, written in somewhat disconnected parts.

I descended into Poolverine hell and wrote a 20K and counting series about these two fuckers. Featuring: softness, migraines, love confessions, domesticity, and fucking. All that good shit.

See summaries, relevant tags, ratings, and links to all fics on ao3 below.

PART 1: i wanna hold your hand (and colossal dick, eventually), 3.5K

Rating: M

Tags: alcohol withdrawl, vomiting, literally sharing a bed, bathing/washing

“Fuck you, Wade.” “If only,” Wade said, trailing a finger over a seam on the quilt with feigned yearning, “I long for the day you allow me the pleasure of ravishing your raw skin-saber, maybe with a side of penetration–” “The only thing I’ll be penetrating is your eye sockets with these,” Logan flashed his claws, “If you so much as speak to me while we are still in this bed tomorrow morning.” “Joke's on you, I will gladly and enthusiastically take any form of penetration, in existing or fresh new holes, as long as it’s from you, Peanut.” Logan’s head pounded, but he wasn’t sure if it was from Wade’s persistent blabbering, or the fact that the last of the alcohol was wearing off. “Go the fuck to sleep.” Logan downed the last sip of vodka and willed his body to cooperate. Withdrawal was a bitch. (one pull-out couch, two bitches, vomiting, and the works, now with fucking in part two!)

PART 2: a little bit more than hand holding, 2.7K

Rating: E

Tags: wade is obsessed with dicks, bottom wade, little bit of praise kink, logan just wants a kissi

“Oh so that’s your horny face then? Watery eyes, clenched teeth? Nothing hotter than a tortured poet with a heart of gold who cries during sex.” “Wade–” “If that’s horny I’d love to see your O-face–” Wade threw an arm over his forehead, gasping. “Can you just shut the fuck up for one goddamn second, asshole?” Logan dared a sharp glance in Wade’s direction, finding him sitting perfectly still with a pleasant smile painted across his face. The smug piece of shit knew Logan wanted him. Logan cleared his throat, “Now that I have your attention,” he started, earning a snort from Wade, “So we’re clear, the more words that come out of your mouth, the more likely I’m going to sleep early and no one's getting fucked.”   (wade loses his wolvirginity)

PART 3: lesser of two evils, right?, 7.5K

Rating: E

Tags: sub logan (kinda), crying during sex, soft, rimming, angst, praise kink

“When you’re done being a bitter little bitch, I’m offering you a massage, of the non-dick variety. Because I am a nice person.” It was, indeed, surprisingly nice. Logan stared at him, hating himself for actually wanting the fucking massage, because he sure as shit shouldn’t have wanted it. “I’m going to take that blank, lifeless stare as a hell yeah. So take off your shirt and come with daddy,” Wade pointed toward the bedroom expectantly, lips drawn into a wide smile. “Don’t call yourself that again. Ever.” What a little shit. (logan gets migraines, but also gets a massage, and an orgasm. it's a lot.)

PART 4: holding hands (gone sexual), 5.3K

Rating: E

Tags: discussion of consent and logan's past issues, insecure logan, bottom logan, domestic fluff, love confessions, praise kink

“Oh my god. Oh my god.” Oh for fuck’s sake. Logan probably shouldn’t have stopped considering throwing himself in a meat grinder– “Have I died in my sleep? Is this yet another whimsical dream where I have a house husband to take care of my every need and whim whilst I labor away every fucking single day, with so little appreciation, just to feed our child–” “Shut the fuck up,” Logan muttered, feeling the stain of red warmth over his cheeks. “I don’t know what I have done to deserve this, Peanut, but I am so fucking turned on right now. I might come in my pants. That happens when people are nice to me.” “Wade, it’s waffles–” “Don’t be a kink-shamer, baby girl. Benevolence and breakfast foods get me going. Don’t even get me started on sausages.” (logan explores his feelings with wade, makes waffles for wade, gets fucked by wade, falls in love...with wade)

PART 5: and they were boyfriends (and roomates), 4.4K

Rating: E

Tags: love confessions, insecure logan, drinking to cope, angst and hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort

“I’m good.” For whatever reason, Wade apparently took that as an invitation to sit down next to him, and Logan growled, moving over so they weren’t touching. Wade shivered, scoffing at him, and kicking Logan’s foot. “Clearly not, Peanut. You’ve smoked a week’s wage of cigs in three hours and I’m fairly certain you’re still not unfucked up from all that cheap-ass donkey piss you call whiskey.” Logan was seconds, maybe milliseconds, from punching him in the fucking face–with claws–but he held back, knowing Wade only thrived on retaliation. “What’s it matter to you?” The words felt sour on his tongue and he practically spat them in Wade’s direction. “Well,” Wade took a deep breath, “I’m probably the reason–scratch that–I’m definitely the reason you’re clearly not good.” (wade takes a mid love-confession job, logan drinks about it. cue angst. subsequently, boyfriendship.)

[yeyinde]

I know this would be terribly inaccurate and morally wrong, but it's taking too much space up in my brain and I can't write NSFW to save my life and I'll stop rambling and get to the point about this random hoe ass dream I had the other night about Bear (Graves).

But that table in the middle of their storage area room thing (with the cages)? Imagine getting railed on that table. Horrible consequences if you're caught, but in the moment that doesn't matter.

I didn't even really clock the morally wrong portion of this until just now—I just immediately started writing it.

Warnings: MATURE | 18+ — pseudo exhibition kink, corruption (as in, MC does everything possible to break Bear), risk-seeking behaviour; light smut Word Count: 2,2k Notes: it's been so long since I wrote smut that I kinda forgot how. alsoooooooo. it's deffo early season 2 Bear. With the beard and the unhinged madness and tragic angst. Okay? Okay.

It's a whim. 

One of those terrible ideas you sometimes get—like the insatiable curiosity to know what it would feel like to snuff out an open flame between your thumb and forefinger, or lick the anode and cathode of a 9V battery just for the thrill of it. The electric hum of recklessness that surges through your veins, pitched right between the accompanying high of a short-lived adrenaline rush. An addictive sense of danger that isn't really dangerous. 

It isn't enough to kill you, or cause any severe injuries—no. You're not stupid. It's just one of those passing no good, bad, and very terrible ideas that leak from that place inside your head where madness and idiocy spool. 

Sometimes, it doesn't even hurt. 

(But you've always liked it better when it does.)

This, then, must be that. 

This, of course, being: 

Bear—so austere, so stalwart—bracing his thick fingers against the back of your neck, palm so wide it swallows you whole. Clipped nails pinching your skin when he digs in tight, holding on to you as he fucks you stupid, fucks you senseless against a metal table, perfectly perched in the middle of the room like an altar. 

His nails cut a scratch on your hip when he pulls you back by the bone to meet his heavy, hurried thrusts, growling low in his throat at the madness of this all. The danger. The recklessness. 

Eyes oscillating between the open doorway split into three possible entry points where anyone—Chase, Trevor, Buddha, Caulder—could walk in and see, catching Bear fucking you over a table; and you—

Bent over, fingers scratching at the linoleum beneath your hands, keening desperately for more. 

It's more brutal than you'd expect him to be considering where you are, where he is, but there's a weight to the way he pounds into you, a palpable sense of urgency, and need. Rapacious, you think, and wonder if it's the tantalising aspect of exhibitionism, the fear of getting caught, that brims white-hot in the balmy air between you, or if it's the setting alone that threatens to undo him. 

Fucking out in the open—with a man who yelped when you tried to ride him on the bed of his stupid pickup truck under the stars; vanilla incarnate, all American apple pie left to cool on an open windowsill in the heartland—is probably as close to true trouble as a man like him, the one bent over you now, has come before. You wonder if this is his Saddam. If he scents brimstone in the air when he curls over you, staining your skin with droplets of sweat that pools down from his brow, drips off his temples. 

It was that same sweat that started it all. 

Anger carved canyons into his forehead, ploughing five neat, little lines through tanned skin—flushed slightly pink near his hairline, and bleeding down across the bridge of his nose, the patch of skin between his lash line and beard, undoubtedly from standing on the sun-beaten shores of Virginia Beach all morning. The sweat that beaded across his skin was patchy, drying into patches of congealed salt above his brow, but dripping down his temples in rivulets of exertion, and cutting a clear path to his jaw, where it fell, pooling like a lagoon in the dips of his collarbones. 

You wanted to lick it off. 

An odd thought considering the arched reprimand he was in the middle of doling out. Sharp, slurred words of can't be here, and reckless, all undercut with an air of something balmy, something hot that simmers below the surface. 

His eyes flashed, cool blue to cobalt, when you lifted your shoulder in a lazy, half-hearted shrug, shirt slipping down, exposing skin to his irritated gaze, and, oh. Oh. 

The scorching heat you felt wafting off of him in puffs of humid air had little to do with temperature, with anger. 

The words, then, took on a new meaning. 

Can't be here, can't do this here. Reckless. 

And so, you leaned up on the tips of your toes, and flicked your tongue across his skin, eyes lidded and heavy as the briny tang of sweat and seawater flooded your senses. 

It was surprising that he let you. That after some more growling protests about shame, and public decency, he quieted fairly quickly when you slipped your hand into his trousers, letting the heft of him fill your palm. 

An incorruptible man, corrupted.

Opposites attract, you think, and then bite the notion in half when he slides in as deep as he can go, husking out a muted fuck, fuck, fuck, feels so fuckin' good into your shoulder. Opposites, maybe. But something about the way he grabs you hard enough to leave marks on your bones, drags you back into his harsh ruts, his frantic pace, makes you think something reckless, something damning, lives inside him, too. 

(He never would have let you tug his trousers down over his hips, let you arch over the table for him, if he didn't, after all.)

"This is—" his breath is humid on your skin, hands spasming over your flesh. You taste clarity in his words. Cognisance bleeds into them, spilling panic, and frenzied worry over your flesh. "This is stupid. We're gonna get caught—"

He huffs, and the rough scratch of his beard skates over your skin when he mouths against the curve of your bone. 

There is a moment when you think he might pull away. Where the urge, the drive, to be proper and pious, prim and good, brim up through the overwhelming dizziness of cacoëthes that spindles through your marrow, but you arch into him until you're pressed taut to his hips, full and gasping from having big Bear inside of you this deep, and tuck it back into the box it snuck out of. 

There's no place for decency when he has you bent over a table where anyone can wander past and see how good you take him. 

So, you push back against him, taking him in as deep as you can, and then deeper still when his hips stutter at the sudden push. It edges into too much when he's pressed flush against the soft curve of your ass, but you swallow down the whimper, and rock back on your heels, swaying against him until all you see is hazy gunmetal swimming in front of your eyes. 

It's always on that uneven edge of pain with Bear—dual sensations of too much intermixed with a heady thrum of pleasure that buffers out everything. A test of your mettle. He quizzes you on the limits of your resolve when he bucks his hips, sliding inside as deeply as he can go. Eking out a place within you that you might have been untouched, undiscovered, until him. 

Where his tests are physical—pushing into you as deep as he can, until you swallow him whole—you excel in destruction. The erosion of propriety. His self-control. 

(He shatters so prettily in your hands, like a supernova scattering across the inky black sky.)

This, then, is his test. 

And he clues into it almost as quickly as the plan formed inside your head, spooling fast and recklessly in that place that convinces you that adrenaline is your friend, and that climbing higher is always the goal. The spot inside that makes you always pick dare instead of truth. 

Bear knows—knew—of your plans when you pressed your lips to his, and still let you. A quick glance to the open doorway as you slide your tongue against his. The press of his fingers on the bow of your lips, a firm admonishment not to be too loud. 

You could take it as: 

Don't let us get caught. 

And you do. But you also hear the unsaid words murmured into your ear when he fucked you harder, hips pistoning into you as if daring you to make a sound:

Don't let this end too soon. 

"You're so bad, Bear," you coo, words tangled in pleasure as the blunt head of his cock batters into that spot behind your navel that never fails to make you sing. It rises. A quick flash of heat roiling in your belly; the whine of a coil being pulled too tight. Liquid bliss in red-hot agony. "Fucking me like this. I bet you want them to see. I bet you want them to watch you fuck me, don't you?"

The hiccup in your voice belies the accusations in your words. A tremulous, teasing warble that is met with his sharp, heady groan. 

"Oh, f–fuck—"

He's close. You feel him swell. Hear the rumble in chest as he loses that mechanical rhythm; a stutter of his breath, his hips. The bones in your hip ache when he digs in tight, holding you still as he pounds you with a fury unmatched by anyone else you'd ever known. He takes you like he's working out a problem. Like he's on the opposite lines of an allegiance, and is trying to fuck you stupid enough to ramble out the answers to the questions he asks. It disintegrates into madness. Desperation. His measured thrusts grow sloppy. His breaths ragged. 

The implosion of his self-control is almost more euphoric than the flood of molten pleasure blooming in your core. Your release offset by the unignorable crumbling of his resolve. 

"Come for me, Bear," you pant, your breath whitening the gunmetal table with plumes of condensation. "Come for me—"

His hand presses against the smooth slope of your neck, pushing your cheek into the slick table. His thick fingers spasm as he grows frantic, desperately chasing his own end in your spasming body, ready to follow you—quick and reckless—over the edge of a precipice, filled with an adrenaline-rush spiking through the pleasure. 

Things just feel better when it's dangerous, after all. 

Bear comes with a groan he can bare smother, pulling your hips back into his as he spends himself inside of you, the punchy grunts of a well-earned victory tumbling from his lips. The sound bounces off the condensation-slick walls, renting the air in two. His heavy breaths are magnified in the sudden absence of silence that always seems to follow a loud sound. 

His misery-filled groan is muffled by the back of your crown when he tips forward, and buries his face into your hair. In his defeat, you victory. A sweet damnation that you relish as he struggles to regain footing after losing control. His brassbound resolve is still in tatters, and spilled across the back of the table he'll use tomorrow with everyone else, haunted by the images of you spread out and willing as he tries to pretend he doesn't know what it feels like to grip the end of the table and fuck you senseless in a room designed to amplify all sound. 

You grin into the metal when he husks out a mangled fuck into your sweat-slicked hair. It reeks of resignation. Of a man who stood so long on the crown of propriety slinking down to the depths of hedonism and bliss. Breaking the rules feels almost as good as fucking on top of them, and your mind races with all the ways you can break him again. 

And Bear, as usual, has a tap into that place inside that leaks bad ideas, and can only shake his head with a huff. 

He doesn't even bother saying no. 

(Caulder owes you ten bucks. It seems you can teach an old, pious seal new tricks.)

Your legs are still shaking like a newborn fawn. You feel him inside you still, and the phantom stretch of him touching places and pieces of yourself he really shouldn't makes you quiver. The ache in your thighs is the good kind, though. The lasting impression of success after obtaining exactly what you set out to do. 

Climbing a mountain. Running five miles. Fucking Bear Graves in the locker room with everyone else just a breath away. 

(Check, check, and check—)

He helps you into the truck, eyes sweeping over your shoulder to look for anyone else in the parking lot who might ask questions. Solid, reasonable ones like why do you stink like sex? and did you just fuck them in the locker room, Bear?

You could try and reassure him that it's empty. That no one cares. That it's all in his head. 

But you like the clench of his jaw, the flash of teeth when you giggle at him. Once the high of his release comes down, anger will follow. The kind that makes him loom. He'll lecture you about safety and decorum and not to sneak into his work to fuck him—

He'll wind himself up. Get himself nice and heated. He'll see it as a question to his authority. A tremor in his self-control. 

And to regain the footing he lost—

Well. 

It'll be a good night for you. 

"You're a bad influence," he mumbles into your jaw, words muffled by his heavy breath he buckles you in. 

You count each line in his forehead as a win, and try not to preen. "You love it."

[thebramblewood]

That moment you find out the girl you’ve been seeing is famous - for being a 130-year-old missing persons case with an entire "theories and speculation" section on Wikipedia.

Previous / Next

Yes, I made Lilith a Wikipedia page because I'm just that extra. If you want to read it (I threw in some new information), you can find the whole thing following the transcript below the cut.

Real-time footage of Helena researching:

[Snippets of Caleb's letter echo in Helena's mind] I will put it to you bluntly: Lilith and I have been vampires for some 100 years. Faced with your otherwise certain demise, I chose to make you one too. You may not believe me. It will feel like a bad flu for a day or two; then it will feel like the heat of 1000 fires blazing inside. I very well knew it would turn you into a monster against your will.

Helena, thinking: It's just a hangover, Helena. It's just a hangover. Yeah, that crazy bitch bit you, and her crazy brother wrote a dumb letter to scare the shit out of you. But vampires aren't real.

Thank god Ulrike left all these fucking tarps. This sunlight is murder on my eyes.

Several internet rabbitholes later... [Helena scanning Wikipedia page on computer screen] Last seen alive March 16, 1918... disappeared under mysterious circumstances... seemed to fall ill... Tangled Vines... immortal vampires... This can't actually be her. It's impossible...

Lilith Violetta Vatore (December 2, 1891 – last seen alive March 16, 1918) was an heiress and socialite who disappeared under mysterious circumstances at the age of 26 along with her brother, Caleb Vatore, 24. Before vanishing, the siblings were poised to jointly inherit the Vatore fortune, home, and 100-year-old vineyard and winery. This was considered unusual for the period, as family property, wealth, and business interests were often only passed to women in the complete absence of a male inheritor.

Despite societal expectations, Vatore reportedly had little interest in courting or eventually marrying. She was said to have rebuffed dozens of engagement offers, much to her parents' dismay. However, she rarely turned down an invitation to a ball, and her baldly flirtatious escapades were frequently reported on in society columns. One such columnist wrote that she "bandied about in a bold and bawdy manner most unbecoming of a respectable lady, laughing uproariously, drinking excessively, and making coy conversation with every handsome man in sight." Some historians suggest based on a series of candid letters from Vatore to fellow socialite and confidante Prudence Crumplebottom, donated to the University of Britechester by Crumplebottom's daughters, that she may have preferred the company of women in private.

The Vatore siblings were said to be so close that one was rarely seen without the other. The society columns were not kind to Caleb Vatore, calling him a "poor chap" who seemed "nothing more than a playmate, servant, or lapdop, his role at any given moment wholly dependent upon his dear sister's whims." Little is known about his personal life.

In the days preceding the siblings' disappearance, Vatore seemed to fall ill. She sequestered herself to her bedroom, allowing no one but her brother to enter. On the morning of March 16, a maid found Caleb's chambers undisturbed, and Vatore's locked bedroom door was forced open, whereupon she was discovered to have absconded in the night, along with her brother and her finest jewels.

Various court battles ensued over the fate of the Vatore estate, and interest in the siblings' disappearance was briefly renewed when their alleged children materialized in the mid-1950s. However, the entire ordeal all but disappeared from public consciousness until the recent publication of Tangled Vines: A Complete Investigation of the Vatore Disappearances by journalist Salim Benali. Benali posits that the Vatores are immortal vampires who still live today, and though some scholars find elements of his research intriguing, others dismiss his argument as an elaborate, attention-seeking hoax.

[eriscl]

Really love me

Argenti x gender neutral!reader| wrote on a whim and a will| first post!! |he calls you dove and other cute names

Pancake batter mix wafts through the air, the low hum of the space ship accompanying it, creating a recipe for a calm morning. If you can define morning while being in space.

Argenti's hands skillfully crack the eggs against the bowl, pouring the yolk in and mixing it up. humming a quiet tune to the song you showed him last night, keeping him up and making him listen to your 2 hour angsty playlist but he would do it again. because its you.

"Argenti..?"

a groggy voice mutters from behind him followed by the pitter-patter of feet slapping against the trains tile. you emerge from your comfortable bed due to the absence of your lovely and warm boyfriend.

"good morning my love." he greats you, planting a kiss to your forehead as you come up next to him, "did you sleep well my rose?"

your tired hum and nod gets a chuckle out of him. laying your head against his shoulder you can feel yourself doze off again. his body heat is insane. he's the definition of a walking oven. even better he's a beautiful, elegant, walking oven.

Argenti sets the whisk down. moving his long red locks from your face and turning towards you. your face falls to his chest from the action and his hands fly to your waist, pulling you closer to his chest.

"allow me to carry you back, love. you need your beauty sleep after all." at the sound of your sleepy 'mhm,' he lifts you into his arms bridal style, carrying you to your shared bedroom. setting you down back in bed, he smooths a hand down your forehead, planting another kiss.

"sweet dreams my rose"

hi first post kinda nervous. I'm not really sure what to say but thank you for reading kind reader 😭🙏 I hope for Argenti wanters (I'm one) will be Argenti havers!!

[ayngels-sunbook]

LS! Ash & Redd while although never officially teaming are attracted to one another (not like that) due to the fact that Ash is scared to be alone again. Whereas Redd is scared for someone else he loves to die. (Ash is traumatized by KSMP / Kaboodlesmp & Redd is traumatized by the Outsiders SMP) Put those two together and you have two (emotionally) codependent players that rely on one another. Ash is scared of the void and pure emptiness, he's scared to be left alone with his thoughts. Redd is scared of cramped areas, the wet moss and moist air of the clearing. The feeling of being left, not being wanted. Having everyone be understood and accepted by a group, except for you. He's scared to left in cramped space. They both don't want to be alone, but the funny this is that the reasons are both alike and not-alike two sides of the same coin. Just so close to where they have the same ridges and rhymes. (Both terrified of being alone due to trauma caused by others & the feeling of being unwanted) So similar to where they have the same motives, motifs. (They both strive for power & feeling of being accomplished- the feeling of being wanted.) Yet also different, they're like a rose and a morning glory. Intertwining within one another, both leeching all of the energy out of the other to come out on top. Just to get trampled by the other. They grow on the same twine, they both harm those who come to close. But they don't hurt one another, atleast not in an unfixable form. One poisons the other punctures. They're both symbols of love, they both punish & pull the others heart out. To be victorious, is to be vicious. To be a God, is to be a Fraud. To be free, is to be manipulated. To be human, is to be a dreamer, and they're all of these things in one. Beings that aren't human, that are hardly words. They bend the world to their whim. Being whoever they want to be. They are themselves, Ashswag and Reddons. People-Entities that can thrive alone. But are better in s pack of sorts. Whether it'd be lovers, enemies, family, or friends.. it's better to have someone to rely on, and that's something they've learned over the experience in the void / glade.

(this is literally just me copying what I wrote at like 2 am)

[fxvcsd]

Little Bit of Lovin’ You

Wc: 936

Synopsis: Where you and the astral express family nearly die after Caelus’ daily dumpster dive.

XTRA: lots n lots n lots nd lotsss of crack! Shit writing bcs i honestly js wrote this on a whim, pt. 2 which is guaranteed will have better writing but will be published in like a few days or something. “Lalala” Caelus, “Okokok” reader. GN! Reader

warnings: emetophobia(ish?), silly dorky goofy nicknames, ooc characters (NOT RLLY), mentions of himeko getting a lil drunkity wunkity

“HE QUITTT, babe! He literally quit being the Trash King! Like, full on smashed his crown to the floor and ran out of the castle, Elsa style!” 

You could barely hold back another groan as Caelus’ stinky body pressed against your own as you made your ways back to the Astral Express. For hours on end, Caelus complained to you about his newfound ‘universal enemy.’ You plugged your nose and held back a gag, the stench of rotten food and other kinds of trash piled up in Caelus’ hair; every crevice and fold in his clothes. 

The minute the two of you stepped foot into the Astral Express, Dan Heng had a clothing pin squeezing his nostrils shut with a fan fluttering the smelly wind out the door. March had a gas mask on, taking pictures of you suffering (to which you’d beat her ass for later on), Himeko backing up with a giggle, and Welt just…being Welt. He covered Pom-Pom’s sensitive nose as the wind Dan Heng blew their way almost made the poor conductor pass out. 

The doors shut with a loud echo. You shoved Caelus off of you and went to the nearest trash can (how ironic!) to barf up the contents you ate earlier that morning; your boyfriend stood by the door like a confused puppy. He tilted his head to the side, jutting his lip out into a pout. He didn’t know what he did wrong. 

As they say, you can’t smell what you carry. 

You take heavy breaths as March cackled, patting your back. The others looked away to respect your privacy, but they couldn’t help but let little giggles slip past their lips. You would let Welt deal with the trash can later… he wouldn’t mind a little cleaning up after his favorite child, after all. 

Probably. 

Caelus tried to walk to your side, but with the help of Dan Heng — who reluctantly stopped waving his fan around and pushed Caelus away with the back end of his polearm, stopped him in his tracks. 

“You stink,” he muttered. Caelus froze, and with a hurt look, his head snapped to you for confirmation. The way you were plugging your nose with your cheeks puffed out, a green tint to your skin told him all he needed to know. Dan Heng nodded sympathetically, patting his shoulder before taking a large step back. 

“Babe…” 

“Nope. Bye.” 

You ran off into the other car, trying to avoid your stinky boyfriend who ran after you. You let out shrieks of horror as you looked over your shoulder, seeing dust lift from the ground as he caught up to you in what seemed like such little time. Caelus had such long legs and amazing stamina — it wasn’t fair! Not at all! 

“Come back, baby! Give your fav boy a kith!” 

“NONONONONO-”

—————

He caught up to you in the end, trapping you between him and the couch. You were so lucky that the smell wore off a bit and wasn’t as potent as before. If it was, you were sure you would’ve died beneath him. You loved Caelus with all your heart, but when he would make the ship go off course and travel back to Jarilo-VI to go dumpster diving, you would rather have Blade stab his shattered sword through your left—

Anyway…

“Baby…” Caelus dragged out a whine, his lips pressed against the crook of your neck. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as you were in a daze, scrolling away at random news articles on your phone. You let out a hum, kissing his temple.

“Do I really smell that bad?” 

“PFF-”

The whole train burst out into fits of laughter. March, once again, choked on her spit and ran around the car as she hit anyone she could, repeating what Caelus asked with stutters and heavy wheezes. Dan Heng chuckled before going straight-faced again; Welt pulled a classic old man wheeze, and Pom-Pom giggled; Himeko jolted forward, slapping her hand against the table (if you couldn’t tell, she was quite tipsy). 

“Baby, don’t tell me you’re serious…” You respond, cupping Caelus’ cheeks. You can see the way his eyes glazed over a bit, his cheeks puffed out with pink, slightly chapped lips, pouting. You could never resist that face, for it was the one he gave you when he asked you out for the first time. And again, and again, and again until you finally accepted. 

The human-raccoon nodded, a small whine leaving his lips. Your eyes softened, pulling him closer as you gently rubbed the tip of your nose against his. “You smell horrible, Caelussy. But I still love you.” 

“NOOoOOOo,1 I don’t! I smell-” He paused, grabbing a fistfull of his jacket and forced it to his nose, taking a long whiff. He was fine at first.

Until he almost barfed on you. 

“GET OFF????” You shrieked, pushing him away and running to the opposite end of the room in .2 seconds, hiding behind Welt who protected both you and Pom-Pom from the influx of sludge that was about to surge out of Caelus’ mouth. 

You paused. The room was silent, and so were the stars. You waited…and waited…and waited. 

No gagging. 

No sniffling.

No nothing. 

Caelus only stood there…menacingly. He was laughing. Hands clutching his sides like he was the funniest person in the world — slumped over like the hunchback from that Disney movie, giggles rolling off his tongue like the Mad Hatter. You stepped away from Welt silently, a shadow cast over your eyes.

You dragged a breath: in… and out. 

“I gagged all of you! AHAHAAHA-”

…

Nobody wanted to talk about what happened to Caelus after that. Dan Heng decided to sort it in the files of… ‘The Unspoken.’ 

tags: @maitadori , whoever else wants 2 be tagged !!

[luvistqrzzz]

me personally i think you need to write something sunoo

you're the one i want at the end of the day

01:54 sunoo x f.reader genre: timestamp, f2l, fluff wc: 0.9k warnings: being drunk, profanity, one kiss

summary: when a piggy back ride home leads you to another destination

an: the fact that i had this in my draft for ages and was thinking when to post it😭😭... TYSM for reuquesting this luv🫶🫶 hope you enjoy this <3... i wrote this in a whim one day so excuse me if this isnt that good :/

'Sunoo-ahhhh', You slurred as the said boy dragged you out of Jay’s front door.

Jake, Jay's roommate who was leaning against the door frame, made a disgusted face, 'Fuck, get her out of her. How is she so wasted?'

Turning towards Jake, you raised an accusatory finger at him, 'Yah! I am not… Wasted!'

'Sure you aren't, Y/N', Sunoo whisper screamed. 'Now, let's go.'

After somehow managing to pull a drunk girl out of the house, he sat down on the curb beside you who was swaying slightly before you plopped your head down on Sunoo's shoulder.

The boy stiffened for a fraction of a section, feeling you so close before relaxing again. He was glad that it was 1 o'clock in the morning and the dim street light hid his blushing cheeks. 

He put an arm around you, slightly shaking you, 'Y/Nie, get up, we need to get to the apartment.'

You pulled your head up. 'Nope! I won't. I like it here, with you.' You giggled, snuggling closer to your roommate plus best friend.

Sunoo couldn't help the butterflies filling his stomach, this was so unlike you. Alcohol and its effects. 'We are sitting on a curb', he sighed, making you stand up with him.

You whined a bit before Sunoo pulled up behind him in a piggy back style. 'You have left me no choice, Y/L/N Y/N.'

Thankfully the apartment was just a few blocks from Jay’s place. 

Walking down an empty road in a cool summer night, Sunoo felt a calming silence settle between the two of you.

He turned his head back to find your head on his shoulder, looking up towards the starry night sky. He felt a funny little happiness in him at the sight of your beautiful drunken face staring into the dark abyss. 

'It's so pretty', you mumbled innocently, having sobered up a bit.

Sunoo nodded but you continued, 'I can count 1, 2, 3… 14, 15 and yes, 16!' You exclaimed looking at Sunoo. 'My 16th star, you.'

He chuckled at your antics, his heart doing a little leap, 'Y/N, you aren't in your right mind.'

What were you even implying? Sunoo didn't want his mind to run into false assumptions but the way you looked at his and pressed your cheek against his, he almost wished you felt the same. Almost.

'I am, Kim Sunoo! You are prettier than those stars, you know.'

'Oh really?!' He continued walking.

'Did you also know?' You whispered into his ear, giggling. 'That I like you Kim Sunoo so so much! Oops! That was a secret.' You whimpered, I don't think you like me back, though.'

Sunoo couldn't even control his beating heart and the way his stomach was jumping at each of your words. Were you being real? No no, these must be your drunken words.

But a small voice inside his head spoke, Aren't drunken words sober thoughts…?

You couldn't possibly like him… right?

Well, wrong because the poor red haired boy didn't know how hopelessly in love you were with him, how he was the literal sunshine of your life and how you would give anything to make him feel happy.

Sunoo stopped in his tracks as you whispered, 'I really mean it, Sunoo-ah. I might be a bit drunk but- Ouch!' You yelped as he suddenly dropped his arms causing you to tightly grip on to his shoulders with your feet dangling. Being short definitely had its disadvantages.

You grimaced, placing your feet on the ground. Your head spun a little as you tried to position yourself but you were a lot more sober than the past five minutes, thanks to your sudden words.

The boy before turned around to face you, 'Did you…' He began, however interrupted by you.

'At least give me a warning before dropping me off like that!' You huffed, turning your gaze away from his, shy from your sudden earlier confession.

However, you had to admit that it was long coming. You just needed the push of liquid courage. 

Sunoo moved closer to you, taking your face in his hands, forcing you to look at him. You felt your cheeks burn up at the sudden contact.

'Did you…' he continued, 'Mean what you said two minutes back?'

You looked down at your feet, fidgeting, 'Would you hate me if I said I did? Would you sto-'.

No, you couldn't continue because in the next moment you saw Sunoo step closer to you, taking your face in his hands and met eyes with you, they held this intensity in them, saying something. 'No', he breathed out. 'I wouldn't hate you. I could never hate you, Y/N. I- i like you too.'

You almost couldn't help the smile forming as you closed the distance. Sunoo tensed a bit before melting into the kiss and pulling you by the waist.

When he finally broke the kiss, you looked up towards his bright eyes before you both bursted into a fit of giggles.

'Do you think the convenience store will still be open now?' You wondered.

Sunoo frowned, 'Why do you ask?!'

You smiled, taking his hand, before replying, 'I wanna sober up.'

'... And maybe have a late night picnic at the park beside it with my boyfriend!'

permanent taglist - open send an ask to be added - @rikizm @str0l0gy

feedbacks and reblogs are appreciated!

work belongs to @/luvistqrzzz do not copy repost or translate my work

[sweeteaacakes]

》 Leviathan/OC || On My Sight

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° TW: suicidal implications of you squint, hanging in hades

┊ ➶ ｡˚ ° plssss i wrote this out of whim at 2 am TT-TT) Please DNI if you're feeling unwell!!

»»-----------►

Barbatos: ....

Glasyalabolas: ....

Foras, worried: ...Hannah... they've been like that for a while...

Barbatos: They kept getting on his Majesty's nerve since this morning. In tentionally.

Glasyalabolas: Indeed. I won't lie. It was entertaining but I didn't expect for them to get tamed quite easily.

Barbatos: They still alive but...

Foras: ...

Leviathan, looking at Hannah and have no idea what to do. The child of Solomon woke up one day and decided to hit his nerve in a way or another they probably surpassed the average demon being hanged under the 12 hours of the day.

Leviathan: You... what has gotten into you...?

He asked with defeat but Hannah just hang there and weakly laughed. Their current situation wasn't the reason but one can see their lethargic eyes.

Leviathan's gaze hardened and released them from their punishment in a non-gentle way. The nobles flinched but stood still while Leviathan walking away.

The noose around Hannah's neck dragged them to where the king is going, as if it's following their owner.

Leviathan: You're not allowed to go anywhere out of my sight.

It wasn't a request but an order.

Like a clear water, Leviathan saw thru them and, true to his word, the noose made them follow him everywhere he goes.

»»———-　　———-«

[alieinthemorning]

An Addition to Change [Gojo Satoru]

Content: Depressed Reader, Depressed Gojo Satoru, Young Fugshiguro Megumi, Depression, Change, Fluff, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, AU: No Curses, Not Beta Read

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don't forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

Direct Continuation of: Tears of the Strongest

Change is something that Satoru did a lot. He changed his clothes, furniture, cars and even house at a whim. Often times, he'd have at least 5 outfit changes in a day, there would be movers in and out the house replacing furniture, he'd come home with a new car and about every 1-2 years you'd be moving to a new place.

And you'd just gone along with it all.

But this?

This was a bit much.

You eyed the child sitting across from you on the large gray couch, brand new, not even a dent in the cushions yet. He had black hair that was sticking up in every direction, violet eyes that bore into your own, unimpressed with...everything it seemed, and a frown that was too old and tired for a child his age.

Your gaze turned to Satoru, who was sitting beside you. He was pointedly looking at his phone, scrolling through social media to avoid both you and the child's stare.

"We can't avoid this Satoru." You began, "Can you please tell me what happened? But be for real this time."

Because "I just found him and it seemed like he needed a home!" is not an explanation at all. Sounds like he kidnapped a child off the streets and you really don't want to get tied up into something like that.

Satoru sighed in that dramatic way that he does, lolling his head away from you. "I told you—"

The child cut him off. "I've been living alone for a while now. He's been bothering me ever since he found out and now I'm here I guess." Satoru glared at him, but nodded along.

"Okay...and what about your guardians?"

"Dead." He replied flatly.

Your heart tightened. That poor baby, to have to navigate the world all by himself and for only he knows how long.

"What's your name?" You asked softly.

"...Megumi."

"Okay, Megumi, what would you like to do? Would you like to go back to where you were or would you rather stay here with us?"

He was quiet for a moment, playing with the sleeves of his jacket before finally answering you. "...I wanna stay here."

You smiled, "Okay, then." then it dropped, "We literally don't have anything for you."

Satoru laughed loudly, snorting while your head swiveled toward. "What are we gonna do?"

He stood, wiping a tear from his eye. "We're gonna go shopping, of course."

And after that shopping trip, you and Megumi vowed to never go shopping with Satoru again.

Mornings were always hard for you. It would either be a rough sleep of tossing and turning or a nightmare that disturbed your sleep to the point of waking up just as tired, if not more than when you went to sleep. So often times you'd lay in bed, fighting between succumbing to sleep or proceeding with living.

But then a small, warm hand landed on your cheek.

"I'm hungry. I would have fed myself, but I don't know where anything is..."

You blinked.

Oh yeah, Megumi.

You were not ready for a change as massive as this one, but you had to get up regardless because now there was a child in your care. So you pulled yourself up and smiled.

"Good morning, Megumi."

Change is something Megumi also did a lot. However, it made sense with him because he was a a child and children were always changing.

His favorite food changed weekly which kept you on your toes and kept you from fretting on what to make anymore.

He was a growing which meant new clothes needed to be bought ever few months (which prompted you to convince Satoru to stop buying him such expensive clothing).

His favorite shows and interests were also ever changing. New toys were bought every week and it was beginning to get harder to hold a conversation with Megumi since he would always be talking about something new (it was worth it though to see that sparkle in his eye when he talked about the things that he enjoyed).

There were a few things that didn't change though.

He still love frogs. He loved going out in the rain to hunt for them, despite usually coming back in empty handed (you had to stop Satoru from having frogs on standby for rainy days).

He also loved dogs which prompted Satoru into getting him two dire wolf dogs (how the hell he got them is beyond you).

He still only tolerated Satoru (that's what he said, but he really was opening up to him).

And he still favored you (you don't think that that will ever change though).

"Thanks for not turning me away..." Megumi told you as his face was just about buried in Shiro's black fur.

Satoru was still changing, but not as materialistically.

Now he was making more of an effort to be home with you and Megumi (he's days were now 9-5, no exception and no more bring work home).

More of an effort to bond with Megumi, who was thankfully warming up to him (he was even able to take him out on their own outings without the day going horrible wrong).

More of an effort to understand your words from before.

He is not the strongest, and that's okay (he did cry a bit when Megumi got sick, however. It was something new and scary for him, so you wouldn't tease him about it...much).

"Thank you for taking such good care of Megumi." His arms wrapped around your waist as his lips brushed against your neck, leaving a trail of  kisses. "And thank you for staying by my side all this time."

You also were changing.

You think it's a good thing.

"I love you two so much." Your smile was shy, but your words were genuine. "Thank you so much for being a part of my life and turning this house into a home."

You'll never forget the smiles they gave you. Bright, wide, full of teeth and as warm as a sun beam.

Hopefully, you'll continue to change alongside your boys.

In light of JJK 236 leaks dropping, I wrote this instead of going to sleep. I already was going to write this, but due to me being Apollo's favorite and being fucking prophetic—

Anyway! Here's something to drive the knife in deeper. :)

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

[alpydk]

Tag you’re it! Share five authors/fics you’re really enjoying right now and let’s spread the love.

Also feel free to share what you’re working on right now 🩷

Good morning anon, lovely hearing from you ;)

Top 5 right now? Only 5?

1 - @the-real-housewives-of-waterdeep and her fic Alchemy 410 - Pre/Post BG3 events. An amazing protag and Gale relationship build up with great chemistry between the characters (sometimes literally) and just a beautiful read.

I don’t know what it is about you, Dekarios, but you’ve permeated my inner world and I can’t even say that I mind. I don’t know if I’m holding a torch, a matchstick or a lightning bug in a jar when it comes to my feelings for you, but I can’t seem to shake them. I know I run the risk of ruining our friendship, but if I didn’t at least tell you what I feel, I’d carry those feelings around forever. 

----

2 -@cheerysmores and Broken Horizons - Post canon angst. Like the summary alone won me over and I've felt pain with this fic and loved each moment of it - “I am going to die,” Gale whispers into the darkness, then again, directly at her sleeping form. “I truly am going to die.” - Just oooooffff.....

---

3 - I don't know if I'm allowed to tag them... but they're on here and under the name ACrowsRockCollection on Ao3 - Fic is Weave me the Sunshine - A rarepair Gale/Jaheira fic which works amazingly well. Some very poetic language, gorgeously written.

Jaheira shook her head, “The Harpers collect people willing to do what it takes. I know commodities when I see them, pawns, lanceboard pieces. It feels foolish to throw you away.”  “I’m the villain of the story, I…” Jaheira cut him off, “No, Karlach told me the story. I could see why your God would be upset, but before the Absolute, to make you suffer needlessly…” “I used to think I was special, but we are mortal playthings in divine hands. Followers and chosen are pawns to be used or destroyed on whim.” “Strategically, it seems a waste of a perfectly good pawn,” 

---

4 - @auroraesmeraldarose and Professor Dekarios - All the comfort and smut you could ever need. This is my go to when my head is too full of everything and I sit with a mug and my kindle and just relax into the fluffy world. It's really the sweetest AU I've ever read. (Also fucking hell 176k words since feb? And I thought I wrote a lot!)

“I think I need to spend the next few hours with you wrapped up in my arms nice and safe. I think I’d rather underestimated the perils of your career choice. Let’s go home, please.” Helene obliged, and did indeed spend most of her evening snuggled in Gale’s embrace. She didn’t like the idea of being weak, of needing to be protected… but if it meant being held against his chest for hours at a time, you could call her a damsel in distress any day of the week.

---

5 - @silent-words and Twin Compasses - One of the best bards I've seen written. Discussions of linguistics over a campfire, really good chemistry where you can see the build up happening gradually. Just romance through words in a way I can't explain.

‘ Let me not to the marriage of true minds / Admit impediments ,’ the bard recited. Gale picked up instantly: ‘ Love is not love / Which alters when it alteration finds ,’ he exclaimed with a flourish. The wizard’s eyes lit up. ‘ Or bends with the remover to remove .’ Laerie made a dramatic gesture and then smiled. ‘I love Shakespeare, he truly was the Bard of all bards. Who else was able to insert so many reiterations and yet make the verse so beautiful? How did he make his images abstract and tactile at the same time?’

Even my cold dead heart is falling in love over that interaction.

---

I could give shout outs to so many others right now. From @judasiskariot and her Resident Evil fic, @crazybagelbitch and the Chase fic I love, @weaveandwood and Auroria, and especially the person writing the Cazador 1980's fic that has stolen my heart and mind. So many writers deserve to be praised for their work!

[toomanythoughts4myhead]

Ballads never end well and neither do we

Summary: What if Coriolanus Snow hadn’t managed to kill his lover back in district 12? What if the face haunting his life for the past three years comes back in flesh and bone? Will things be different this time or will he repeat the same mistakes? Plots are formed and truths hidden in plain sight are brough to life.

Pairings: young!Coriolaus Snow x reader

A/N: A story i wrote on a whim based on a thirsty 2 am thought, turns way too long(i am unwell for this man) and surpsingly depressing. RIP to all the fangirls who came for thirst (me) we gettin the sad hour. Hope you enjoy and thank you for reading in advance! Your interest means the world to me and wish you a pleasent morning, day, night. Dont let the Snow bite.

PS: there will be smut eventually, sadly there will be plot too

[Main Masterlist]

Prompt

Chapters:

(Prologue) Where my sorrows went to die

A drop of poison goes a long way

_more comming soon_