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#i can barely organize my own shit

caramelstupid · 5 months

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Uuuuugh a buddy of mine wants to read the lord of the rings in english (i think he got the german Version. He also has never managed to sit through a Single movie. Fuck off) (I got him a spotify link and the substack link!!!! Options!!! Free even!!!) But he kinda invited himself over to go get MY personal Edition and i didnt know how to say no and. Now he has my edition of lotr and i want it BACK do i just buy him one as a late christmas present. Like no sir thats my book qwq u will take forever to read it cause like u dont read. Give it back thats my 50 years special Hardcover U WONT EVEN APPRECIATE IT AAAAAAH. I never lend out books because people have a terrible track record and now someone has my favourite book and i HATE it but also. How do i get it back. And when. In a year????? How do i get it back without sounding like a complete asshole or toddler. Sir please learn to read social cues i was visibly UNHAPPY dont do that qwq

#also he's so pretentious sometimes about things and he really wants to go to tolkien tage. dude #get ur own tickets please i cant organize shit for u stop steamrolling me all the time #its nice that u want to help #BUT I DONT WANT UR HELP UR JUST MAKING MORE WORK FOR ME FUCK OFF AT THIS POINT I DONT WANT U HERE!!!!!#give me back my book and go read it online or as an audio book #i dont care #i cant organize shit for u #i can barely organize my own shit #i cant get u into the event i barely have connections #im just an artist #yeah i made the art for this year #BUT THATS IT #STOP TRYING TO GET FREE SHIT I DONT KNOW HOW TO GET FREE SHIT I DONT WANT U TO GET FREE SHIT #aaaaaah #lotr #help how do u tell friends that its nice they want to help but rn theyre just making work for u when they wont listen #WE ALREADY TRIED TO TELL HIM SO MANY TIMES #aaaaaaaah #fuck me fuck him i'm done

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gender-trash · 2 years

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argh i need to figure out how to automatically (or semi-automatically) crosspost from twitter to @mu-qingfang-stan-account in such a way that its not just a link to twitter and threads dont get split up and its easy to do from mobile. and ideally its also not screenshots that then have to be transcribed. i hate having my fandom shit split up across two websites and i HATE that theres no tagging on twitter so i cant fucking FIND anything i retweeted. also most artists on twitter understandably dont like reposts but also. not all of them are on tumblr. and the ones that are dont always post the same stuff across both sites. so the BEST case scenario is going through the artist’s tumblr until i can find the corresponding post

…maybe i should do a private repost-with-link for my own personal archive and a separate public post that only links to the art on twitter without reposting it??? ???

#the trashcan speaks #IM JUST SCARED OF BITROT OKAY .#the increasing tension btwn my own archiving efforts and artists/translators/etc who want control over where their work spreads #like. obviously reposting w/o credit is a massive dick move #the absolute bare minimum is to repost w/ credit. ideally repost w credit and a link #but if an artist fundamentally doesnt want their art reposted by anyone even w/ credit (bc then notes accrue to OP and not the artist)#we should respect that i think #but also i Hate Hate Hate losing stuff i HATE bitrot #living w adhd and also a parent who habitually came into my spaces to ‘organize’ them means i now just completely melt down when i lose shit #and the beauty of digital space is that you can organize it how you like and archive it on your computer and it doesnt take up space #and tumblr is searchable w/ siikr and you get as many tags as you want :)#with twitter i feel like i just toss stuff into a pit never to be seen again and it gives me the creeps dude!!!#danmei hell indefinite

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canmom · 1 month

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So a little over a month ago I was reached out to by @peterkats, a gay refugee currently living in a camp with a small group of other gay and trans refugees.

Peter has, to put it mildly, had a fucking time of it. In his home country, Uganda, his partner was murdered for being trans. He stayed for some time in Kakuma refugee camp in Kenya with a group of gay and trans people (pictured above), but violence from police forced them to move, and they're currently in a refugee camp run by the UNHCR. (I've been asked not to explicitly name the country but you can probably figure it out.)

Unfortunately this has not in any way been a reprieve. They've managed to flee right into an impending famine, and if that's not enough, they're still facing violence from police and other refugees, and general indifference from the UNHCR medical staff - who are also facing supply shortages. But it's not completely hopeless. When Peter contacted me, he needed money for food - I sent him some via an intermediary and he was able to get quite a bit (the exchange rate seems to be favourable). With help, things can be quite different.

We've stayed in touch since then, talking about our respective lives, the lgbtq situation in different countries, even videogames and music. He's a really sweet guy, despite it all still trying to find a place he can live free. For real, I would not survive any of this shit.

Recently a couple of people in Peter's group have caught malaria. They are currently sleeping on bare mats without mosquito nets. There seems to be some confusion about the exchange rates but as far as I have been able to gather, about €150 (~20,000ssp) gets a mattress and €10(~1000ssp) a malaria net. The UNHCR have not been able to provide any medication except paracetamol, and it's raining which promotes mosquito activity, so this is kind of an emergency.

I would very much prefer if the new friend I've made doesn't die of starvation or malaria. Unfortunately, I do not have the money to support Peter and his group alone. I've sent him money for one mattress (via PayPal for expediency, it won't show up on GFM), and I would be immensely grateful if you would be able to contribute a bit to getting them another (which would be just about enough to keep six people safe from mosquitoes if sleeping three to a mattress).

Beyond that, these guys are prohibited from working so they would definitely benefit from food money. And if anyone has an idea for a long term plan to get them somewhere safer where they're less likely to get bashed, I am sure Peter would appreciate hearing about it. We talked a bit about the UK asylum process but getting everyone here would be very difficult (passports, flights etc.).

But still like, I can only do so much on my own, and I want to give these guys a fighting chance. So if you could pass this around and donate if you can spare a bit? I'd be insanely grateful.

#signal boost #lgbt #gay #refugee support

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remlionheart · 2 months

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Can you do a Chuuya x fem reader where her bra can be shown from her white shirt?

pov: you request a simple spicy lil fic from me, but my manic brain is physically incapable of not giving it an entire backstory and plot and making it at least 4k+ words (thank you so much for this idea tho, it was super fun to write! ღ)

* ˚ ✦ MDNI ✦˚ *

Sex, Money, Feelings, Die

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ My first attempt at Chuuya smut (and goddamn, do I love that angry lil man ★~(◡‿◡✿). New to the city, you're coerced into working for the PM after a drunken night out. Scared and now in the heart of one of Japan's most notorious criminal organization's headquarters, you decide to reclaim some of your power by ~*teasing the absolute fuck out of Chuuya Nakahara~*. 4.8k words. Porn with a plot. I can't even lie, this shit had me giggling and kicking my feet while writing, lemme know whatcha think. luv u ღ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

When you'd first moved to Yokohama 2 months ago, you had promised your parents that you'd be safe. That you'd find yourself a decent office job to afford you a lofty apartment and that you'd be settled in relatively quickly. You'd pictured yourself walking amongst tall buildings on your days off. Exploring the city with your coworkers on the weekends. Living instead of just existing in your small hometown.

You thought you had your future all mapped out and maybe you did, but those dreams of normalcy were all but destroyed the night you crossed paths with Koyo Ozaki.

She had noticed you from across the bar, quietly observing the way you'd been drinking by yourself all night. It was odd to see a girl with your beauty and lack of abilities so confidently roaming downtown alone. She wasn't sure if you were brave or naive, but the moment you took a seat next to her to thank her for the whiskey and coke she had ordered you, she realized you were the perfect blend of both.

She'd spent the next hour chatting you up, effortlessly coaxing information out of you without you realizing it. She'd offered you an administrative assistant role for the group she worked for, describing it as a "lucrative" and "underground" organization. You were in no position to say no, especially after spending the last month relentlessly applying to jobs with little to no luck.

You woke up the next day musing about silly things like fate and serendipity as you raided your closet for the perfect first day outfit. You felt like this was your big break. The first stop on the roadmap of adulthood that you'd created for yourself. You ironed a pair all black slacks, pairing it with a white-button up quarter-sleeve shirt, and your favorite suede Mary-Janes. Optimism swirled through your head as you eyed yourself in your bedroom mirror that night. You were determined to be so good at this job.

You showed up freshly showered and prepared when you arrived at the sleek, high-rise building. Ozaki waited for you out front with a rather intimidating dark-haired man who introduced himself as Mori, head of the fucking Port Mafia.

Your anxiety rose with each step you took behind them, quickly realizing that this was not the run-of-the-mill clerical job you had envisioned while hazily chatting with Ozaki over whiskey-neats. This was an underground criminal organization full of some of the strongest ability users in the world. You had absolutely no idea why you were here. Why you'd been selected, let alone trusted, to work alongside these people.

You were given your own small office, equipped with a bare desk and landline phone. Mori told you to stay put, explaining that you were to stay out of sight until further notice. You were essentially there as a cover-up.

Apparently, they'd been scouting for girls like you. New to town and completely clueless. They wanted to bring in a handful of these 'administrative assistants' to help keep up the illusion that this was just another ordinary building in the business district of Yokohama and nothing more.

Mori left you with a curt warning about the temperament of the other Mafia members and a haunting, "Welcome to the team." as he closed the door to your office and disappeared down the long corridor. Your heart was slamming into your chest, your anxiety growing the longer you sat. You were angry. Disappointed in yourself for being such an easy target.

You sat for at least an hour staring at the wall in existential dread, wondering what you'd done to end up here. Wondering what you were going to have to do to get out now that you were here. Even if it wasn't necessarily a "job", it still didn't seem like something you could just casually walk away from.

You were in the middle of the Port Mafia's headquarters and you were rightfully, terrified.

The sound of two muffled voices pulled you away from your thoughts while you froze in your chair, realizing that they were right outside your door.

"You're fuckin' with me, right?"

"No, that's really where they're keeping her. She's going to be a fulltime member."

"A member?" it was the first man again, his voice full of shameless snark and volume as he laughed at the idea. "A Mafia member with no ability? C'mon, Akutagawa. Even Mori isn't that stupid."

"There's going to be more, she's just the first to show up."

Tension crept along your spine when both voices came to a curious stop, one quietly scolding the other before the heavy wooden door began to creak open.

A pair of azure eyes stared back at you, disheveled shoulder-length red hair draping off of one shoulder as he mumbled, "Holy shit."

The taller of the two, draped in a long black coat, tried to pry him away, but he shrugged him off with an irritated. "Chill out, I just wanna introduce myself to her."

The dark-haired man scoffed and continued down the hallway while his ginger companion closed the door behind him, leaving just the two of you looking back at each other skeptically.

Despite his height, he had a powerful demeanor. A blend of apathy and cockiness that exuded off of him as he carefully made his way towards you. "So, you're the new girl, huh?"

Your eyebrows furrowed when you looked back at him, your words suddenly stuck in your throat as his foot made contact with your desk.

You managed a nod, remembering the way Mori had advised you not to engage with the other Mafia members, but what were you supposed to do when you were suddenly locked in a room with one?

"God, we really can't just have one normal day around here, can we?" He sighed, almost seeming embarrassed as his shoulders dropped and he leaned against your desk in the spot next to you. "Stealin' girls out of bars? Tch, the hell are they thinkin'?"

His opposition to his boss' plan made you relax a bit. It was the first time all day that you thought you might make it out of here okay.

He picked up on your apprehension rather quickly, taking his hat off and setting it down before extending a gloved hand out to you. "Chuuya." He said simply.

You stared at him for another moment or two before introducing yourself, trying but failing to mimic his nonchalant tone.

"Hey," He said, lightly nudging your foot with his, "You're gonna be alright. I'm sure this gig will only last for a couple of weeks until they move on to their next big, idiotic idea."

"You think so?" It was the first time all day that you felt like you could breathe.

"Trust me, Mori's plans are always changing. He'll probably cut you a fat check for hush money and then send you on your way sooner than later. Just lay low in the meantime, yeah?"

Your eyes were still locked as you nodded at him again, giving him a feeble, "Okay... Yeah, I can do that."

"Good." He smirked, pulling himself away from your desk.

You watched him pause just before exiting the room. He turned around to face you again, his gaze landing a bit lower than your eyes this time.

"And maybe uh -" If you didn't know any better, you'd swear that you saw a flash of red flare across his cheeks. "Maybe don't wear that bra with a white shirt next time."

Out of all of the anxiety and fear that you'd been drowning in over the last few hours, your choice of outfit had been the very last thing you'd considered worrying about until just now.

You looked down, noticing what he meant as you saw the dark, lacy fabric of your Victoria's not-so-secret peeking through the white of your blouse. Your tits were pushed perfectly together, nearly on full display through the sheerness of your shirt.

He flashed you another faint smirk before clicking the door shut, once again leaving you to your own crippling thoughts as your head dropped into your hands.

What an absolutely mortifying first day.

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

The next few shifts were a blur.

You'd clock in. Sit for what felt like an eternity in your bleak little office. Leave mid-day to grab lunch at a cafe across the street. And then head home 9 hours later despite the fact that you’d hardly done anything.

You'd learned to bring in books and cross-stich patterns to keep yourself busy throughout the day instead of rotting away at your desk. It wasn't an ideal situation, but if Chuuya was right and there really was a big check waiting for you around the corner, you'd decided that it was worth it to see this through. Because no matter how nervous you got each morning, the painful truth was that you couldn’t afford to turn down easy money.

By the end of the week, you found yourself doing more than just sneaking in romance mangas to make the job more bearable though. You were doing everything you could to gain back even a semblance of power.

If you had to be here, you had decided that you were going to make it everyone's problem.

With the ginger's words still fresh in your mind, you made it a point to wear darker bras. Tighter blouses. Shorter skirts that barely covered your ass. It had almost become an inside joke with yourself at what a distraction you'd become to the Port Mafia. Maybe couldn’t make these men fear you, but you could certainly make them trip all over themselves any time you entered the building.

You'd hardly been able to keep a straight face yesterday afternoon when Akutagawa's coffee fell from his hands and cascaded around him after he saw you walking down the hall in black knee-high stockings. You'd finally managed to make everyone here as uncomfortable as they'd made you and it felt good.

You were half-way through the iced matcha you'd picked up on lunch, sitting with your feet propped up on your desk as you continued to embroider the word "fuck" in pretty, cursive letters next to a pink and yellow flower when a knock arrived at your door.

You quickly stashed the circular cross-stitch pad in one of the desk drawers and straightened your back as Tachihara poked his head into your office. "Yo, new girl. Nakahara wants to see you."

Your brows knitted together as you looked back at him in quiet confusion.

No one had ever requested to see you in the time that you'd been here. Even in your attempts to disrupt their daily tasks, they'd still not bothered to learn your name. But now... you were expected to go see Chuuya... in his office?

"Why?" It was the only question you could think to ask.

"Dunno," Tachihara shrugged. "but I wouldn't keep him waiting. He's kind of an asshole." And with that, you were once again left alone and anxious.

You took a breath, standing up to smooth down the fabric of your skirt before venturing down the hallway.

You did your best to push Tachihara's warning out of your head, reminding yourself of the kindness Chuuya had shown you on your first day while your heels clicked across the marbled floor.

Maybe he wanted to tell you that he'd talked to Mori and that your time with Port Mafia was finally up. Maybe he wanted to hand deliver the check you'd so desperately been waiting for. Maybe he just wanted to see how you were doing. Whatever it was, you were holding onto hope that there wouldn't be any more bad news.

You let out a sharp exhale as you rounded the corner and found yourself standing in front of his office. You gave the door a light tap, fidgeting with the hem of your sleeve when he finally appeared.

His eyes traced over you slowly, his tongue clicking against the roof of his mouth as he counted not one, not two, but three undone buttons along your blouse that revealed the deep-purple push-up bra decorating your chest.

"Get in here."

His tone was clipped, dripping with what felt like vexation as he closed the door behind you.

His office was much bigger than yours, adorned with high-rise windows that overlooked the city and pristine black marble flooring that matched his leather furniture. The room was dark, just barely lit by a lamp on his desk. You wondered how it was possible for him to get any paperwork done in here but then promptly realized that with his ranking, paperwork was probably far beneath his paygrade.

Still not entirely sure how to approach the situation, you hesitantly took a seat on the over-sized armchair across from his desk.

"Quick question," he said, standing in front of you with his arms folded over his chest, his voice still riddled with irritation. "What does the phrase 'lay low' mean to you? Because I can tell you right now, this ain't fuckin' it."

Your pupils widened, his words hanging heavily in the space between you.

Your mouth opened and then closed again, too focused on the way he was staring at you to form a proper response.

"Is it -" you wavered, mustering up all the courage you had to try and play this off as innocent confusion rather than what it actually was: sarcasm. "Is it my outfit?"

If looks could kill, you would've been 6 feet under.

Chuuya's eyes darkened, a flustered hand rubbing feverishly over his face as he struggled to keep his composure. He wasn't sure if you were trying to piss him off or if you were just genuinely the dumbest girl he'd ever come in contact with.

"Yes," He said with all the restraint he could possibly manage, his teeth nearly grinding together with each syllable. “The outfits are getting out of hand. You've gotta stop."

You were playing a dangerous game, but you were slowly starting to realize that you were... winning.

"What's wrong with them?" you asked, pretending to cover your chest in embarrassment.

You wanted to hear him explain it. Hear him tell you in his own words that you couldn't wear short skirts anymore because it was causing too many unexpected erections around headquarters.

"I -" The poor redhead looked as though he was going to have an aneurysm if you kept this up much longer.

He snapped his eyes shut and let out a frustrated exhale, his hand now bawled into a fist at his side. "Listen, a lot of the guys around here have... noticed you, okay? And I can't take one more day of hearin' those fuckin' assholes talk about how they caught a glimpse of your ass in the break room. Got it? I'll buy you some new clothes if I have to. Just please, no more shirts like this, alright?"

He was actually bargaining with you. Entering the third stage of grief as he tried so hard to keep his cool. To keep his eyes locked with yours and nowhere else. To explain all of this in the nicest way he could.

It was in that moment that you realized where the real source of his trepidation was coming from.

Hearing his coworkers ogle over you was probably annoying for sure, but the more damning, infuriating fact of the matter was that he was ogling over you too. And he was fucking tired of not being able to get any work done when he knew that you were right down the hall. He was pissed that he had to come into his office every morning and lock the door just so he could jerk himself off to the idea of you.

He was in so many words begging you to stop because he wasn't sure how much longer he could take seeing so much of your body without being able bend you over his desk like he did in his mid-morning daydreams.

He was losing - both his resolve and this game at an alarming rate.

"Hmm," you hummed, toying with a pen you'd found wedged between the cushion of his chair. "Well, I'm sorry. I just like feeling pretty before I come in. I didn't know it was creating such a problem for everyone."

The wheels in Chuuya's head were spinning.

Emotions weren't his strong suit and doing these mental gymnastics with you was making him need a cigarette.

"It's -" he sighed, groaning as he forced himself to backpedal. "It's not your fault. I mean, you do look pretty, y'know. It's just... distracting, is all."

It was hard to hide your smirk.

You'd be lying if you said you didn't think he was a bit distracting himself, but he didn't need to know that. Not yet anyway.

"Okay, well," you conceded as you began to stand up. "I’ll wear a turtleneck or something tomorrow then.” You shot him a small smile as you got to your feet, "Promise."

He looked marginally relieved by your understanding. "Sounds good." He huffed, rubbing at the back of his neck while following behind you as you made your way out of his office.

But just before you reached the door, you accidentally dropped the pen you'd been fidgeting with. Bending over without warning so that your ass was right in front of him, peaking out of your skirt as he walked straight into you, his hips suddenly meeting yours.

You thought he might actually kill you this time with the guttural noise of frustration that escaped him.

He grabbed you by your shoulders the second you were upright again, spinning you around so that you were forced to face him.

“Okay, seriously." He said between gritted teeth. "Just what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, your breath hitching in your throat as you watched the unfettered anger flicker through his blue eyes.

It was a stupid move, you knew that before you did it, but you didn't expect it to draw this much of reaction out of him. His restraint was lost. Composure long gone while he waited for you to say something with his face mere inches away from yours.

"Sorry," You lied, "It slipped out of my hand so I -"

"Bullshit." He snarled. "Enough with this innocent act. What do you want out of this, huh? For every guy in Port Mafia to want to fuck you? Is that what you're gettin' at here?"

"No." Your head shook before you even had time to think about what you were about to say. "Not everyone..." Your eyes were still glued to his. "Just you."

You didn't know what you were doing anymore or where all of this recent shamelessness had come from, but there was something about being here that made you feel like you could do anything. Be anyone. You weren't sure if it was the power or the crime or the ungodly amount of money that Port Mafia was raking in, but the collective feeling of chaos that these walls housed was finally latching onto you too.

You didn't even flinch when you said it, instead continued to stare at him unapologetically, noting the way his grip had tightened around your shoulder the longer he looked back at you.

"What?"

If the wheels in his head had been spinning before, they were now fully off the ground, exploding into the air as his gaze drifted along your face. Searching intently to make sure you were actually being serious this time before he went any further.

"You really want me to fuck you that bad?" he asked, the warmth of his mouth now ghosting yours.

The question went straight to your center, wetness seeping between your legs as you nodded back at him.

Truth be told, your midmorning fantasies while cross-stitching the last few days hadn't been much different than his.

The gravity manipulator's fingers were suddenly tangled into your hair, his body forcing your back against the door while his lips collided with yours.

"Y'know you could've just asked instead of doin' all this bratty shit, right?"

His mouth was warm, his movements somehow urgent and careful at the same time as his hands wandered along your curves.

You smiled against his lips, letting out a breathy, "I'm sorry." as his palm began to graze the inside of your thigh.

"No, you're not." He smirked, sucking your bottom lip in between his teeth before biting down with just the right amount of pressure. "But you will be."

You let out a small whimper as he placed his free hand under your chin, moving your head to the side so that he could continue his descendent down your neck.

His leg wedged itself between yours, brushing against your clit while his mouth worked along your collarbone.

You were too lost in the feeling of it all to realize that he'd been leaving a trail of meticulously placed bites down the nape of your neck. Bruises in the shape of his mouth that he knew everyone would see.

"Chuuya -" you tried to protest, but it was more of a moan than an objection. "You - fuck, you can't -" You grinded helplessly against the firmness of his leg. Hips rocking back and forth, desperately trying to gain friction while he kept on nipping away at you.

"What's wrong, babe?" he purred against your sensitive skin. "You're wearin' a turtleneck tomorrow anyway, remember?" his breath fanned across your chest as he ripped the remaining buttons off of your shirt. A gloved hand palming at your chest, sliding your bra down so that your tits were fully exposed for him before you felt his tongue glide across your nipple.

Tachihara was right, he was kind of an asshole. But for some terrible reason, you were living for it. Almost embarrassed by how bad you wanted him. Wriggling against him and riding his leg. Whining while you let him leave visible marks on you and destroy the only clothing you had.

"C'mere." He pulled his head away from your chest, swiftly grabbing you by the arm and leading you back to his desk. He picked you up with ease, shoving a binder aside to sit you down in front of him.

"Spread your legs for me." His voice was heady, eyes glossed over with lust as you complied with his demands.

He held his hand up to his mouth, removing his black glove with his teeth before pushing your skirt up and sliding your underwear to the side. He bent over slightly, running two rough fingers along your clit as he watched your nails dig into the edge of his desk.

"Fuck," he groaned, still not taking his eyes off of you. He'd barely done anything and you were already soaked, your pussy practically throbbing for him. “You really do want me that bad, huh?"

“T - told you.” You whimpered, your head tilting back as he drew slow, blissful circles around you.

He kept up the same pace, basking in the way you were so easily falling apart for him.

“Chuuya, please.”

A smirk tugged viciously at the corner of his mouth, slipping a finger into you this time as your walls swallowed him. "Please what, baby?"

You may have had him in the first half, but you were now on the losing end of this game. Forgetting how to speak altogether as you watched him part your legs even further, bending all the way down to rest his head between your thighs.

You moaned at the feeling of his tongue pressing against you. The heavenly lines he was drawing uppp and downnn your center with his middle finger still sliding in and out of you. He was generous in the way he handled you, making sure he didn't miss a single spot. Lapping and slurping up every bit of cum he could as he added in another finger. Groaning against you the louder you got for him.

The only word you seemed to be able to remember was his name, repeating it over and over while your nails lodged deeper into his mahogany desk and your body shamelessly grinded against the warmth of his mouth.

You were in a delirious daze, losing yourself completely to the way he was devouring you.

He could feel you getting close too, noting the frantic rhythm of your hips. The gorgeous, fucked-out noises you were making for him. The death grip your walls suddenly had on him. He knew you were right there, right where he wanted you.

"Chuuya, 'm - I -"

Your legs were locking around his head, shaking uncontrollably as your hand ran through his hair.

He'd never admit it, but he almost could've came at the sounds you were making alone. The pouty way that you called out his name each time his fingers plunged into you was almost enough to drive him over the edge. You were so pathetic and adorable and he was determined to make everyone in Port Mafia hear just how needy you were for him.

As much as he wanted to edge you for what you'd done to him, as much as he wanted to make you beg and plead for him to let you cum, he couldn't fucking pull himself away from you. He was just as lost as you were, drowning in your cunt and not at all wanting to be saved.

His tongue didn’t leave you until he was absolutely sure that you'd ridden out every last wave of your orgasm, still pumping his digits in and out of you until you couldn’t take it anymore.

He came up for air with an exhausted smile, wordlessly coaxing your lips apart with his thumb before bringing the two fingers he had fucked you with into your mouth. Letting you clean off the blend of slick and salvia the two of you had created together.

"See how fucking good you taste?" he panted. "I think this is gonna be a real problem for both of us."

An enamored shade of pink brushed across your cheeks as he dropped down onto the chair across from you, running a tired hand through his hair.

"At least I won't be here much longer, right?" You said, playfully kicking his leg with your foot.

"Oh yeah," he smirked. "That actually reminds me..." Your eyes widened as he shifted around to dig an envelope out of his pocket. "Mori wanted me to give this to you."

Your hands trembled, opening it as delicately as you could to make sure you didn't rip anything when a check for 1,490,200 yen fell into your lap.

"Think that'll be enough to buy yourself a shirt that fits?"

Your eyes snapped towards him in disbelief, your pulse ringing through your ears as you tried to process that you'd somehow made this amount of money in a little over a week.

"Is this -" You stammered, thinking back to what he had told you when you first met. "Is this like a severance check then? ...Hush money or whatever?"

"Tragically, no. Mori wants you to stay."

Your hand instinctively flew up to your neck, covering the love-bites that the redhead had left you with, horrified at the realization that everyone was going to see them. Even more horrified at the fact that they had probably heard how you’d gotten them.

"What?"

"Yeah, he said somethin' about you how you've been 'boosting the morale' around here."

Your head felt like it was going to explode.

You had not only been marked by Chuuya Nakahara, but you were now being asked to stay in Port Mafia.

You couldn't decide which was worse.

"So... that means..."

"Yep. We'll be seein' a lot more of each other." He confirmed while checking his watch. "But hey, you better get outta here, Rando and I have a meeting in 10 minutes."

You looked down at your lack of clothing, the spit and cum that was still stuck to your skirt, the obscenely noticeable bruises that he'd so proudly gifted you with.

"Give me your shirt." you demanded.

"Nah."

The grin he shot you was so cocky, so vile, so... hot.

"Chuuya." You whisper-shouted, biting back your own stupid smile. "Be so fucking for real right now, I can’t go out there like this.”

“Shoulda thought about that before you put on that skimpy-ass outfit I guess.” He shrugged.

You hopped off his desk, straddling him in his chair as you forcefully began to undo the buttons along his collar.

The room filled with suppressed laughter, neither one of you able to contain it anymore as he finally conceded, wrestling you off of him. "Alright, alright, chill. I have extras in here, hang on."

You both stood up, your eyes locked on him while he walked over to an expensive looking armoire in the corner of the room.

He pulled a white shirt that resembled the one you were wearing earlier off of a hanger and brought it over to you, guiding your arms up so that he could put it on.

His movements were calculated, almost thoughtful as he dressed you, adjusting it so that it covered up most of the damage he'd done.

"There." He said, double-checking his work. "Now get out of here before I decide to rip that one off of you too.”

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ Part 2! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

#chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya nakahara #bsd x reader #bsd smut #soukoku #bsd x you #bsd chuuya #remwrites #skk #someone please take my laptop away #chuuya nakahara x reader #chuuya nakahara bsd #nakahara chuuya #bsd x female reader

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rogueddie · 9 months

Text

Eddie slams his pile of books down on the counter, grinning at how hard Steve startles.

"Jesus, fuck," Steve holds a hand to his chest, glaring. "Man, come on, I'm too young to die of a heart attack."

"Are you sure about that?" Eddie reaches over, to tug at his hair- Steve bats his hand away before he can get near. "What are you now, seventy?"

"I'll have you know that the silver only adds to my charm."

"Sure, keep telling yourself that." He pats the pile of books. "I need to check all of these out."

"You know the limit."

"Please? Pretty please? I'll never insult you for going grey early ever again! Promise!"

"You've made that promise before," Steve grumbles, but starts to check the books out anyway. "What's all of this for anyway? New campaign or something?"

"Nah. Robin mentioned something about the cold war and nuclear shit. Got me curious."

Steve pointedly looks at the books, snorting. "Curious."

"What, you've never wanted to learn some new thing or something?"

"Not this much."

"What about all those sports you played?"

"That was more to do with my parents than me actually wanting to do it."

Eddies eyes narrow because... yeah. Outside of his old King Steve days, Eddie doesn't think Steve has ever wanted something. Not even for his birthday, or Christmas.

All he asks is for them to come to his and Robins flat. All he seems to want is confirmation that they're ok and alive.

"You always say you want kids though, right?"

"I mean, kind of. Though, I'm starting to think the brats we babysat might be more than enough for me."

"Chocolate?"

"Oh no..."

"What?"

"You're planning something, aren't you?"

"No! No, no, no... but there has to be something, right?"

"Something?"

"That you really want."

"There's nothing I need."

"That's not what I'm asking."

"That's all the answer you're getting." Steve shoves the pile of books towards him. "Get lost, I'm supposed to be working."

"Ugh, fine, you're no fun."

But he can't stop thinking about it. He ends up returning the pile of books, despite the fact that he barely read one page. When he tries to use it to question Steve, he dodges the question again.

He very quickly gives up, deciding to pester Robin until she tells him. That takes three weeks of constant, daily efforts. And, in the end, the answer is obvious.

Steve just wants to spend more time with people he cares about.

It's not easy to gather anyone in the party, given that there's no holiday or significant occasion- he manages it, though. All the kids, now young adults, organize transportation. Nancy and Jonathan, over the phone, help Eddie and Robin plan out where everyone will sleep with their small apartments.

The effort, and pain of organizing it all, is worth it for the look on Steves face when he comes home to find them all waiting for him.

When Dustin almost knocks him over with how harm he hugs him, for a second, Eddie is worried that he's going to start crying. But he holds it together, greets them all with so much enthusiasm...

"I forgot that he used to be like this," Robin comments, late into the night. They're sat a little away from the group, watching them argue over their games. "The kids mean a lot to him."

"He means a lot to them."

"I know. I think he forgets though, so... thank you."

Steve doesn't corner him until they've got the kids asleep- half of them going with Nancy, Jonathan and Argyle to Eddies appartment, the rest of them fighting over the little space in Steve and Robins.

"You could've got me chocolate," Steve says, nudging him.

"This is what you really wanted though, isn't it? That was the whole point, big boy."

"Right. Sorry, it... I wanted to say thank you. I know this must have taken a lot to organize and-"

"Steve. You don't need to thank me. Besides, I could never have done this on my own."

"Still... thank you." Steve is quiet for a moment, looking out to the busy city street. "What do you want?"

"This."

"No, what do you really want?"

"Yeah, this. Everyones together, having so much fun. We're gonna do a one-shot when you go to work tomorrow. And, uh... you're happy. I don't need anything more than that."

"Right," Steve clears his throat. He shuffles a little closer, so their sides are almost flush together, tentatively reaching out to hold Eddies hand. "You don't need anything else. What about what you want?"

"You know what I want."

"I want you to say it."

Steve leans over, bumping their shoulders together when he hesitates. He smiles, reassuring, and gives Eddies hand a squeeze.

"What do you want, Eddie?"

"You. I- I want you."

It's terrifying to admit, a horrifying leap... but the smile Steve gives him, so soft and happy, is more than worth it.

"As you wish."

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #ficlet #flufffic

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simp-ly-writes · 4 months

Text

Harvey's Proposal

Pairing: SDV Harvey x Reader

Summary: The details, location, and everything else to do with the lead up to and actual proposal of Harvey to the Reader.

Warnings: swearing, slight angst?- just some miscommunication that leads to a HEA.

A/N: Harvey is legit my comfort writing character whenever I get frustrated with another plot.

Masterlist | Taglist | edited.

You had noticed your doctor acting strange recently, he made less eye-contact than usual, became generally less communicative with you and had been leaving the house during odd times for "scheduled appointments." Yet when you contacted Maru for who he was meeting with that afternoon she said that the tables were clear for the day.

The furthest devils of doubt from the back of your mind began digging their way front and forward to your thoughts as panic soon took over every interaction you counted with Harvey in recent memory. You 100% thought he was preparing himself to break up with you as you were mentally preparing yourself for the heartbreak

One day, when Harvey comes back from the clinic without a speck of usual tiredness gracing his features has your heart stopping in the kitchen as you turn off the sink, drying your hands to face him. You watch as he stands there still- coat and scarf still off as your ears begin to ring. You were not ready for the announcement, not now- not ever.

Sadness began to creep onto your features, a few tears in your eye as you shook your head- not even listening to what he had to say. You watch through blurred vision as he races his way across the tiles- boots slipping from the recently moped floors. You feel as he pulls you into his warmth- long arms wrapping around your frame in a gentle yet firm grip.

You shook your head still as he squeezed you that bit tighter, he presses kisses onto the top of your head as you drop your body weight onto him- your knees giving up in your overwhelming sadness. Your hands shake as you try and pull away as you feel Harvey let you go.

The doctor stands there still- afraid of what you had yet to tell him, afraid of what caused you to have such a reaction. "A-are you alright my love?" Harvey asks, a few tears in his own eyes as he watches you suffer through what he has yet to understand- he wants to help you through whatever it is you are facing.

You cringe as you sniffle loudly and hiccup into a sentence, wiping your face against your sweater as you turn away to face the sink once more- not baring to look at him anymore. "Why did you not tell me earlier, Harvey?" you asked with grief.

Harvey stares at your back with split-second shock of trying to organizing the information of the situation- just like a medical report. "If I had known that you hadn't been feeling well recently, and- and not wanting to go on a walk with me this afternoon. I would never pressure you into going- darling. That I promise you, I'm so sorry if it came out that way, I'm so sorry that all this stress on my part is coming into our relationship-"

You turn around quickly as Harvey takes a step closer, you watch as his hand rises gently before your own and falls just as quickly to his side. "We were in a relationship Harvey!- we were meant to work things out! Go through life together without need to glance forwards or back, all I ever would need is to look to my side and see you there. That is life- what I thought to be and what I dreamed of. I CAN HELP with the stresses Harvey, I can help with the shit, with the fucked, with the world-ending beliefs. And is is not just that I can- its that I would- I would have without a second thought if you were to just have told me what was going on inside."

You take a deep breath of air in, trying to calm down your breathing as you grab a glass of water from the tap. You watch out of the corner of your eye as Harvey stands there still, tears like waterfalls down his cheeks- staining his dress-shirt and making it bleed all the way down to his heart.

He takes of his glasses, wiping his eyes with the backs of his hands before dropping to his knees. You drop your glass in a panic, racing to the floor as well as his head falls into your lap- you feel his ragged breaths as you rub his back. He sobs endlessly- gripping onto your pant leg- afraid to let you go.

Subconsciously you hand makes its way towards his tangled hair, combing your fingers gently through the knots as sigh out, leaning over to press a kiss to the top of his head. Once pulling away, he raises his head, resting his forehead against your own with closed eyes as he whispers out into the near silent kitchen.

"I am such an idiot," you feel his soft cries turning into laughs as you tense once more, "why would you say such a thing about yourself?" you ask in an equally broken tone.

"When thinking back- my recent actions or rather lack there of have been nothing less than... well shit. I'm sorry for all the secrets, some lies and my lack of presence. In my world- I was beyond worrying of slipping something up about my actions but it appears I have done that nonetheless."

Harvey takes a deep breath, eyes opening to capture your own as he fixes his glasses and pushes a hand through his hair- an action that signals he is outputting stress. "What I mean to say is that I love you so greatly- my dear. More than I can even put to words, to think, to know and even categorize what something like what we share can feel- I, I am always at a loss when it comes to you. Lost in the time we share together, lost in your smiles, your laughter, the presence you grace me with. I am the luckiest man alive and perhaps the most undeserving as of late. I love you- and it is you that defines what the word love is and it is only you that places these feelings and definitions into actions that I can only do my best to express."

Harvey shifts up slightly, proping himself up on one knee as you gasp, world spinning yet again as you experience a whiplash of emotions. You cry harder and crane your head back into joyous laughter as he does the same before calling you to face him once more.

"And besides the poor timing, the lack of romanticism, composure on my end and setting of this all. I can only hope that when I present you with this ring, you will help me to greater define what our love can look like, what actions we choose to take together, and make me able to look past, look forward, and to only see you in it all. Will you marry me?" Harvey asks, the ring shining underneath the warm artificial light of the flicker bulb that flutters just like your own heart.

You cry out a yes, you both falling against the tiles as you stare up at the ceiling and in one another arms. With the ring placed on your finger, you hold it up into the light as it refracts all around you- looking towards Harvey you connect smiles and relax to the word that is future.

╰┈➤ A/N: currently crying over this, brb. (hope you enjoyed reading!).

↳ Taglist: @lovelybee666

#stardew valley harvey #sdv harvey #sdv harvey x farmer #sdv harvey x reader #harvey stardew valley #stardew harvey #stardew valley #stardew valley fanfic #harvey x reader #harvey x farmer #fanfic #fanfiction #sdv fanfic #sdv #sdv fanfiction #sdv farmer #stardew valley fanfiction #simp-ly-writes #simp-ly

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hp-hcs · 7 months

Note

yanxidarlings here~ literally screamed when i saw you followed me because your writings were the direct inspiration for my latest post 💖 but im curious to see your take on yandere! poly! mattheo and theodore with m! reader or just more poly headcanons because i am never. going. to. get. enough. of. them

OH MY FUCKING GOD UR KIDDING I WAS THE ANON WHO REQUESTED UR LATEST POST

IM FEELING STARSTRUCK RN 🙇‍♂️👑

requests open, please dear god

Yk, reader is (lovingly) so fucking oblivious

Like, his friends will be like “hey you’re getting pretty close with like, the two most obsessive and violent guys at this school aha”

And reader will be like “lol they’re so silly goofy aren’t they 😌”

Inspired purely by your “you know people think we're gay and dating, right?” “aren't we?” I present:

“you know people think we’re gay and dating, right?” “aren’t we?” — yandere! mattheo riddle x oblivious! male! reader x yandere! theodore nott

completely unedited cause i gotta sprint to my lecture broski

TWs: possessive/obsessive behavior, brief mentions of violence, one instance of slut-shaming (?)

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Honestly, you thought nothing of it when you were informed that due to “space issues” you were being moved to room with The Theos™. You just shrugged and followed the very anxious house-elf who had informed you of the switch to your new room.

Your trunk and belongings were there already, waiting to be set up and organized. Mattheo and Theo were hovering in the doorway looking a bit too pleased with the situation for comfort.

You just quietly said “hi” and moved past them, dumping your school bag on your new bed and flopping down next to it.

Theo and Mattheo practically trip over themselves rushing to “befriend” you. (Their words, not mine)

You all share a dorm, so it wasn’t long before they realized the other was obsessed with you.

Then, it’s all out war.

I’m talking mysterious falls down the moving stairs, getting locked out of the dorm all night, randomly being chased by bludgers—even when they aren’t playing.

Random fistfights between them whenever they see each other in the halls.

That all goes out the window, though, when reader is asked out.

Reader comes back to his dorm after a long day and finds The Theos sitting side-by-side on the edge of the his bed.

“When were you going to tell us that you became the class whore?” Mattheo drawled, his lips thinning in disapproval and disgust.

“W-what?” You ask, completely taken aback.

“We heard that little Y/N L/N’s got himself a date to the Yule Ball,” Theodore adds. “Who is it? That Parkinson girl? The Diggory boy?”

“Wh- no. I said no anyways.”

The boys scrutinize you, exuding an air of judgement.

Finally, Theodore pipes up. “Good boy.”

😳

“Aww, what’s this? Look, Riddle. Y/N’s blushing,” Theodore teases.

They make a quick mental note of that 📝

Anyways, they eventually find out who asked you out. They call a ceasefire on their own personal war, and team up to beat the shit out of the poor guy/girl.

After that, babycakes, if they didn’t already know before, everyone at Hogwarts now knows that you are TAKEN. (Even though you don’t.)

They tolerate each other, but just barely. They can really only stand each other when you three all curl up in one of your beds or on the common room couch.

Then, they’re the clingiest mfs you’ve ever met.

They have absolutely no sense of a personal space bubble. One of them is always touching you in some way, whether it be holding your hand, resting a hand on your hip or shoulder, putting their hand on your lower back…

Theodore charmed your chair in History of Magic to be impossible to move, so you can’t scoot away from him.

If you’re relaxing on the couch in the common room, Mattheo will move to sit right next to you (like r i g h t next to you) and put your legs in his lap. He tried once before to get you to just sit in his lap, but you told him no (like an idiot) and avoided him for the rest of the day. That is, until you woke up to him in your bed next to you.

Homeboy was not happy about that.

He is manipulative as fuck and will gaslight you to no end. He uses his shitty childhood and bad father to get you to pity him.

(It works.)

It’s obviously disconcerting for you when your boyos go from ‘actively out for each other’s blood’ to ‘eh, you’re fine, i guess’

You guys were watching a movie in your dorm one night, all piled onto your bed, and they accidentally fell asleep there. They woke to you already gone for breakfast and them with their arms around each other.

“If you ever bring this up again, I’ll kill you.”

“Oh, believe me, they’d never find your body.”

They become way more open about their attraction to you, everything from kissing your cheek, to making you wear their clothes (esp their jerseys with their last name on them), to asking you your ring size.

I completely agree with your headcanon of Mattheo neck kisses 😩🤌

Eventually though, because you are an oblivious gay disaster, you’re just chilling on the couch and you’re like “Hey guys, you know everyone thinks we’re gay right? And like, all dating each other?”

“What, like we aren’t?”

y/n: 😳🤨☺️🏳️‍🌈👨‍❤️‍💋‍👨

#harry potter #fuck jkr #hp #hp x male reader #x male reader #gay #x reader #theodore nott #theodore nott x reader #theo nott x reader #theo nott #yandere theodore nott #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheoxreader #mattheo riddle x male reader #mattheo riddle

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hippielittlemetalhead · 10 months

Text

So I've seen a lot of 'Hop actively dislikes and distrusts Steve', 'Hop tolerates Steve because he's useful during UD shenanigans but doesn't like him', and the big swing to 'Hop has adopted Steve as his own and treats him the same/almost the same as he does El'

BUT, I present:

Hop pseudo adopts Steve because when he and Owens were trying to get the Harringtons to make any decisions about their teenager who saw some sketchy shit and may need government testing they legally gave Hop the rights to act in loco parentis and he takes that seriously because he doesn't want another Will Byers and he's pretty sure the Harrington kid has a concussion.

Hop who stays involved just enough in Steve's life season 1-3 that we the audience see Steve is getting attached. But Hop just sees an annoying kid who won't leave him alone when he's trying to deal with a rebellious psychic and her insane little friends and keeps asking stupid questions about highschool romance and teenage rivalry drama. Knows Joyce Byers doesn't like the kid but won't give a lot of reason why but he's mostly learned to trust that woman's judgement about people. Still gets him the job at Scoops when the kid's dad makes a stink about college and tells him if he survives a few months there he'll consider bringing him on the force, makes sense to keep him close and in a position to help should shit hit the fan again.

Hop who doesn't get it when Steve is one of the most relieved when he 'comes back to life' after Joyce and Murray bring him back from Russia. When Steve introduces him as "My Hop," (something he'd taken to calling him just before season 2 shenanigans) to his sarcastic, fidgety little friend like it means something. The girl, Robin, looks between the two of them and gets this sad look on her face for a second before smiling and shaking his hand and saying something about "Dingus has told me all about you".

Hop who complains to Murray one of the times The Party and assorted teens and adults are over at his renovated and expanded cabin (courtesy of Owens and shady government organizations recognizing these people are worth investing in, heavily if omens are to be believed) when the bald annoyance asks about what's up on there. Complains about having annoying teenagers who have nothing better to do but pester him legally put under his supervision cause their parents can't be assed to care and are spoiled little shits who are slightly more bearable versions of said parents cause he can stand toe to toe with one of those monsters they faced and the kids kind of listen to him. Complains about barely being able to breathe cause of regular visits and check-ins like Hop was still responsible for him. Says at least the extra hands are useful around the cabin what with the still healing up and El pacing herself after the showdown with Creel and still trying to find Max and the Byers not quite moved back to Hawkins yet.

Hop who doesn't realize that Steve hears every word cause he had gone looking for the older man when he disappeared for more than a few minutes, when he couldn't see him to make sure he was here and safe and alive. Steve who thought Hop actually had come to care for him in his own gruff way and had confessed to Robin that in a lot of ways the way Hop has taken care of him makes him the closest thing to the father figure he's always wanted but never thought he'd get to have. Steve who hears Murray hum and recollect a visit from Nancy and Jonathan where their romance officially started (he vaguely knows about the visit, didn't realize that's what happened, didn't realize she couldn't be bothered to even do the decent/considerate thing before moving on to something better) because it seemed it was a pattern he was seeing 'people liked Steve, but people didn't love Steve'.

Hop who hears a choked sound like someone taking a claw to the gut and turns to see Harrington. Steve Harrington his bandages just peeking out from the collar of his shirt and the opening of his sleeves. (He never did get the stories behind those, too busy being fussed over and being told about the kids and how they were doing as Harrington played babysitter) Steve Harrington a kid who went through hell and still managed to smile and laugh and stand tall and unyielding looking at him with a blank face his eyes misty and his shoulders starting to curl in on himself before he clears his throat, chokes out that he just wanted to make sure Hop was alright but looks like Murray had everything under control. He'd go now, get out of his hair, let him rest, let him breathe. Steve Harrington who walks away with purpose like a man on a mission and doesn't acknowledge the kids calling out asking if he's alright, make sure he has his walkie talkie on him.

Hop, who realizes maybe he left behind two kids who missed (needed) him. Who wonders who took care of Harrington's paperwork when he was concussed and sedated because he was bleeding out and feverish from infection and Hop was busy at the cabin reveling in the comfort and warmth of his daughter and the woman he loved and her two sons who were fast becoming like his own. Hop, who realizes too late that maybe if he'd given the kid half a chance he could have had 3 sons to sit with him and his daughter and the woman he loved as they basked in surviving another end-of-the-world. Hop who has spent years barely giving a damn about Steve Harrington and realizes that he's no better than the kid's own parents.

Part 2

Part 3

#nttttf verse #Never Took The Time (To Forget)#yeah the ramblings of a madperson #honestly made myself choke up with this one #some projection about father figures and unrequited familial affection #we in our feels today #morbid and melancholy unlovable bastards are we #got the morbs #hopper adopts steve #but make it sad #steve harrington whump #Hopper POV #mostly #come yell about the sad with me #rambler writes

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catcze · 9 months

Text

⠀「 Grocery Shopping *ೃ༄ 」

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Kazuha, Xiao, Thoma, Ayato, Alhaitham

「 ### : 」 gn reader, domestic fluff, established relationship, modern au

Reposted from my secondary blog !!

⠀「 KAZUHA*ೃ༄ 」

An absolute sweetheart who insists on pushing the cart or carrying the basket for you !!

Sticks pretty close to your grocery list, though if something interesting catches his eye he might pick it up and show it to you in hopes to convince you to get it.

His choices in food are of the healthier variety, I feel like. Mostly goes for organic choices, and is pretty well-learned in knowing which fruits, veggies and fish are the freshest and which are the closest to spoiling.

Tbh grocery shopping with Kazuha is so ?? Chill? Like, little to no stress, swear.

It’s just very easy and relaxing, walking through the aisles at a leisurely pace and plucking stuff off of shelves. You two talk about whatever you want as you walk, or sometimes you sing along to the music that plays from the speakers.

If something is too tall for either of you two to reach there’s no problem!! Kazuha can jump pretty damn high so he can reach the tip-top shelf easy peasy ♡

I feel like Kazuha also has a secret sweet tooth? Nothing too wild, but you’d catch him eyeing a pack of marshmallows every now and then, or staring a little too long at a tub of ice cream.

If you seamlessly pluck up whatever sweet he’s debating on getting and put it into the cart, he’ll literally light up and give you a sweet smooch on ur nose :((

⠀「 XIAO*ೃ༄ 」

To his credit !! He’s pretty damn decent as a grocery buddy.

Xiao’s a little introverted, typically choosing not to be around other people for very long periods of time, so him actually volunteering to come with you nearly moved you to tears.

He also pushes the cart from you and keeps track of your grocery list, crossing stuff out for you without you even having to tell him.

Xiao doesn’t talk much, which isn’t very out of the ordinary, but he does give some helpful suggestions when you’re indecisive about something. And he’s very pragmatic and straightforward when he helps you make your decisions, too, so it’s very time-efficient having him with u ♡

He barely asks for anything that isn’t on the list tbh? I dunno, I guess he just doesn’t feel the need to. Not to mention, he’s not particularly picky when it comes to his meals either, so he’s content to sit back and let you take the reins for restocking the fridge.

If his eyes sparkle a little when he sees you picking up ingredients for almond tofu, you choose not to tease him about it.

Definitely the one to try and bring all the grocery bags to the car in one go. And??? He somehow manages it to ??? You have no idea how, or how the guys somehow managed to hold your hand while also toting all those grocery bags but ?? Hey, you’re not complaining.

⠀「 THOMA*ೃ༄ 」

I shit you not Thoma is the best person to go shopping with. Hands down.

Thoma doesn’t go to the supermarket for his groceries, actually. Or at least not all of them. For some stuff that have to be imported or that are a bit harder to come by locally, he goes to the groceries and such.

However, when it comes too food shopping, his first stop are the farmers markets!

He’s already a regular at the local farmer’s market. Old grannies love to pinch his cheeks whenever they see him and they always coo over you two being an adorable couple.

Thoma leads you by the hand all around the farmer’s market the entire time you’re out, knowing which stall to go to for the freshest produce and the most decent price.

Knows how to bargain with the locals without being disrespectful! And he always manages to net really good discounts. If you ask him how he does it, he’ll wink and tell you that it’s just his charm. And you can’t fully disagree.

Definitely brings around his own eco-bags, too. He’s used to carrying all the groceries on his own, but if you offer to help he’ll thank you with a kiss and a smile.

At one point while you two separate to cover more ground, he passes by a stall ran by an old couple and their grandkid that sells flowers. He gets you a bouquet— nothing too big that’s hard to carry around, but something small and cute that you can press between your books and display.

When you reunite and he gives you the gift, he looks so goddamn precious holding out the flowers to you with his smile that u just wanna give him a kiss ♡

⠀「 AYATO*ೃ༄ 」

If Thoma is a god-send to be with when grocery shopping, Ayato is… nicely put, the exact opposite.

Listen I don’t blame the man. He’s rich enough that he’s never really had to do his own groceries before, so he’s a bit out of his element when he accompanies you to do it one day, but it’s still cute that he cleared a part of his busy schedule to help you out with this. He’s a little confused, but he’s got the spirit (and a pretty face, which helps.)

Motherfucker picks up some incredibly overpriced caviar, looks at the price tag ( $95 !!! For 30 grams what the fuck !!! ) nods to himself like he remembers you having that shit on your grocery list (you do not) and would have plunked it into your cart if you didn’t catch him in time.

He reasons that he’s tried this brand before and that it’s a very delicious-tasting one that you should try yourself, and his reasons are honestly pretty sweet, but it doesn’t change the fact that you don’t need the goddamn caviar. When you try to tell him that you don’t have the budget for it, he offers to get it for you which, again sweet and it makes you want to kiss him, but that’s not the point Ayato !!

Aside from his ignorance inexperience with how much a typical grocery run costs, there’s also the fact that this guy can’t cook for shit. As a result, if he’s not tossing rich person food into your cart, he’s placing shit that should under no circumstances be mixed together in the cart, claiming that he thinks the combination sounds nice to consume.

Ayato, dearest, I love you, but what the fuck is a Cheeto mango shiitake salad ??????

⠀「 ALHAITHAM*ೃ༄ 」

The mf who makes a detailed shopping list, complete with the specific brand of the item you’re looking for, the exact amount, the exact price for said amount plus quantity, and then several alternate brands if the one he was aiming for sells out. All of these are entirely researched before hand.

Well, he either does that, or he goes for he most outrageous expensive shit you’ve every seen.

And no half of the time he doesn’t even throw in the $60 per kilogram cheese because he likes it— he does it because he kinda enjoys pissing off a certain blond architect who invites himself over to sleep on your couch rather often.

It’s usually up to you to cross your arms and stare Alhaitham down, quietly judging him for a petty bitch while he crosses his own arms and stares back at you, one eyebrow raised in the way that makes you not sure if you want to punch him or kiss him.

Sometimes you win and with a sigh, your boyfriend quietly turns and goes off to acquire the next item on his incredibly detailed list, leaving you to put his purchase back as you victoriously fist pump to yourself.

Other times, he wins and you throw your arms up, rolling your eyes so hard as you try not to look at his smirk for fear of actually punching him (or, you know, kissing him and flagrantly having public displays of affection.)

Fine! You say to him with a huff that’s not actually angry. Keep your goddamn parmigiano reggiano.

You can never feel huffy about it for long, though— not when you find an extra tub of your favorite ice cream later as you put the groceries away.

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Kaedehara Kazuha x reader #Kazuha x reader #Xiao x reader #Thoma x reader #Kamisato Ayato x reader #Ayato x reader #Alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #Kaedehara Kazuha #XIao #Thoma #Kamisato Ayato #Alhaitham #genshin impact #Cw GN reader

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pinkanonwrites · 3 months

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Thinking about the concept of cloth or soft things in general being considered luxury to cybertronians, and just imagining one using their holoform to enter a bedroom for the first time. There a big soft berth that sinks under their weight, an entire pile of warm insulating plush fabric, and even more small soft pads that they put their heads on! Could you imagine their reaction to a carpeted room? They even put soft things on the ground they walk on! It would be like looking at one of ridiculously luxurious mansions that are so loaded up with fancy things that it almost looks like a parody

This conjured up a little idea in me with ROTB Mirage, enjoy!

"Watch your shoulders on the-!"

CRUNCH

"...Door frame." So much for getting your deposit back. Mirage shot you a crooked grin, brushing some of the sheet-rock dust off of his shoulder pauldron.

"Sorry 'bout that, sweetspark. No big deal, you can patch that up no problem!"

When Noah had told you that Mirage was able to change his size you had only partially believed him. After all, according to his own stories, the Mirage that was barely larger than Noah in Peru had also had several significant pieces blasted off of his gargantuan frame. And yet, here he was. Fully repaired, mass-shifted to a mere seven-and-a-half feet tall. And sure, he still had to stoop to avoid taking out your ceiling fan. But here he was, in your meager apartment.

It was an equally unfamiliar locale for Mirage himself, having only caught peeks of your living quarters from the alleyway outside. The shag carpet was plush under his pedes, ridiculously soft to the touch. And sure, he'd owned a few of his own garments back in the Towers, in pre-war time, but it still paled in comparison to your room with its thick curtains, fluffy carpeting, and the dozen or so plush organic creatures littering your bed.

"Do you wanna listen to something? You can sit on the bed, if you want. You're probably too big for my desk chair." You were already rifling through your tapes, gesturing to the bed with your free hand and currently oblivious to Mirage's wide-optic stare. He took a careful seat on the edge and Primus, the entire mattress sunk and molded around his bulky frame. It was heavenly. He took one of your stuffed animals between his servos and squeezed, marveling at the squish.

"Man, I can't believe y'all live like this!" He laughed, draping himself backwards onto your bed with a warning creak. "It's comfy, that's for sure. But I don't think I could sleep on somethin' like this. It might swallow me up mid-recharge. And what's with all these little soft organics?"

"Says the guy who sleeps on the floor of a garage. I'd have aches in muscles I didn't even know existed." You pressed Talking Heads 'Speaking In Tongues' into the player with a familiar click, the beginning lick of Burning Down The House echoing through the tinny speaker as you flopped down next to Mirage. "And you're strangling Hello Kitty. They're cute, and soft, and that's kind of all there is to it? Kids like to play with them, too."

"Huh! Cute. Seems like your style. The whole hab seems like your style, actually. All soft and shit. " He handed you back your slightly-dented Hello Kitty, letting out a lazy ex-vent as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. "Well what should we do now?~ You got me all the way up into your berth, aren't you gonna do somethin' about it?"

You barked out a laugh, turning your head to see Mirage's playfully smarmy grin aimed down at you. "Was that your ploy? Show off your cool alien shape-shifting just so you could get in my bed?"

"That depends. Is it working?~"

"Maybe.~"

#transformers #transformers x reader #x reader #mirage #mirage x reader #tf mirage #rotb mirage #rise of the beasts #pink chat #anon

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archesa · 4 months

Text

So... @celestialalpacaron 's Overlord Husk AU has lived rent free in my head for a week, and I woke up with a fucken flu and chose violence wrote something! Enjoy!

Spiked cosmopolitan

[tw : implied past rape/non-con, past substance abuse, attempted rape/non con, canon-typical violence, we're dealing with Angel Dust's trauma so... Valentino is its own warning, really...]

He could tell when his drink was spiked. The distinct and nauseatingly familiar taste of pheromones ruining what would otherwise be a perfectly good cosmopolitan.

It was part of his job to entertain the guests of the casino, to play the flirt or the lucky-charm and keep the gamblers at the table as long as their wallets allowed – sometimes longer, but that was on them. And a stray hand or a lewd remark was nothing out of the ordinary, but the dizziness invading him - choking him almost - after he downed his glass was new.

How much of a dose did that fucker spill in his drink? Or had the month he'd been working for Husk – and being mostly clean – ruined his resistance?

He caught a glimpse of the bartender reaching for a phone when he reeled and knocked over his glass, the expensive crystal shattering on the mahogany floor, but the shark – figurative and literal – he'd been baiting all night caught his arm and guided him away, to a more secluded area of the club.

"Weren't much of a lucky charm tonight, were you, whorebug. But perhaps you can still turn it around and get me a win."

"Get off me, fucka!", Angel warned, another pair of arms sprouting off him to push the asshole away.

"Playing fucking hard to get, now?"

Fog invaded his vision, red smoke and suffocating memories, as the guise of playful roughness slid and the fish faced bastard slammed him in the nearest wall. He fumbled to unsheathe the 'chastity dagger' he had been almost jokingly gifted on his first week on the job from his thigh but the 'no weapons behind this door' rule seemed to have slipped the bastard's mind and Angel froze, another wave of hardly repressed memories drowning him at the sight of the rhinestones set butt of a gun in the shark's breast pocket and cold steel suddenly pressed under his chin burned his last figment of resistance.

It should be easy, really.

Dissociate.

Disappear.

Drown as the delusion of freedom is stripped away from you.

The contact of the canon vanished and he barely heard the gunshot, splinters and wood dust raining on him, the scent of brimstone and powder overwhelming for a mere second as he slid to the floor, his aggressor turning away from him just long enough for the cane that had plummeted on his arm and broken his grasp to shatter his skull.

Feathers and fur invaded his vision. Blood and shadows. And the sound of bones breaking, repeatedly, as the shark had the guts – guts soon spilled on the floor – to turn his weapon on Husk.

A hand. An arm. A ribcage. A jaw.

Each hit of his ornamented cane was followed by a blood curling scream. Until finally, the shark went limp.

"Drag that pile o' shit in the alley and finish him.", the Overlord ordered, two hell-hounds in elegant tux executing his command right away.

The world faded, darkness chasing the red mist and the stench of fish and roofies with a strong scent of age-old bourbon and cologne.

'If anyone treats you like an ass, I'll have 'em shot.'

#hazbin hotel #angel dust #husk #huskerdust #overlord husk au

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ghostinthegallery · 9 months

Text

So a thing I’ve noticed about necron books…

I do not think it is controversial to say that Robert Rath and Nate Crowley really defined how a lot of us (especially me) view necrons in modern 40k lore. They did so much heavy lifting to take the faction that was literally just Terminator ripoff (aka Tyranids but worse) and make them into characters.

But they did it in such different and almost contradictory ways. And I think it boils down to this:

Rath's necrons are gods who were once mortal. Crowley's necrons are mortals forced to become gods.

(disclaimer: I don't think one author is "more correct" or whatever. Different characters experience the universe in different ways, embrace a little subjectivity does objective truth even exist?)

Let's start with Crowley. In both Severed and Twice Dead King, memories and bodies are defining features of their narratives. Oltyx can and does revisit his memories at will (not without consequence get your pins out and put em in). He is haunted by disphorakh, this feeling that he should have an organic body but does not and that this disconnect is actually killing him. The flayed ones' whole existence is steeped (literally) in flesh and blood and disphoria.

On the slightly less extreme end, in Severed Obyron remembers the flesh times vividly: the battles, the people, who and what he's lost. They are fighting the manifestation of what Obyron fears becoming: a mindless machine, “severed” from his past experiences. And the ultimate stakes in a Crowley book? Loss of memory. Loss of self. Obyron and Oltyx pay this price throughout their stories, and it eats away at them. Necrodermis makes their physical selves immortal, but their minds? Just as mortal as ever. If not even more so. The people they are were formed in flesh times, and all immortality does is wear away at them as they desperately try to cope.

Robert Rath's necrons? Not so much. Sure, Trazyn and Orikan angst about their loss of memory, but the memories of flesh for them are so distant and unreliable that they could not build their personalities around them even if they wanted to. Trazyn's link to the past is external: objects he has collected. Orikan... what memories he has of his past are fuzzy and in some cases straight up manipulated. That's distressing, but not enough to totally rock his sense of self. That’s a stark contrast to how Crowley’s necrons operate.

We all know the iconic Old Man Fight from Infinite and the Divine. Where Rath describes Trazyn and Orikan fighting and points out how stupid it would be back in the flesh times? Just two nerds hitting each other with canes. Well the flip side of that is that what is actually happening is NOT two nerds slapping each other but two immortals with incomprehensible power battling on a scale mortals cannot process.

Rath’s necrons operate on scales mortals barely understand. Oh, the Greek gods destroyed one city? Troy took em ten years? Trazyn and Orikan wiped out a planet's population by accident. And they are both so divorced from mortality that they don't care. Sheesh, Trazyn is so alienated from the idea of a body that in War in the Museum he informs a woman that he’s filled her up with her own dead sisters organs and I legit believe he thought this would make her feel better.

I adore both approaches! The differences in character and perspective, how they relate to the world and themselves. Yes, it creates contradictions in the lore (like why doesn’t Trazyn lose his shit knowing people like Zahndrekh or Oltyx just…remember necrontyr society perfectly clearly) but I aggressively do not care. I love the varying explorations or power, the nature of the self, the truth that none of these people have survived immortality “in tact.” Those are exactly the things that make necrons my favorite 40k faction. Hell, one of my favorite sci if aliens ever. Because both approaches are haunting and hilarious and poignant and so damn cool.

So…uh…thanks guys. Yeah.

#necrons #warhammer 40k #the infinite and the divine #the twice dead king #severed #i just think they're neat #contemplations on the self without a soul #Immortality sucks but HOW it sucks is the more interesting question #All of it is very gay

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straydogscollective04 · 2 months

Text

Angeldust groaned, walking down the stairs to the bar. Valentino had been relentless that day, ordering retakes and retakes, with no breaks between, despite Angel's genuine cries of pain. Valentino wanted it faster, harder, more real. Angel could barely walk.

He needed a damn drink. He sat at the barstool, wincing. Husk, the bartender, set a glass down, looking at Angel worriedly.

"Everythin' alright?" he asked, his voice more gravelly, he must've just woken up from a nap or something.

"Just a long shoot. Gimme somethin strong." Angel was too tired for pleasantries or the usual banter.

Husk frowned, filling the glass with liquor, "Yknow-"

"Yeah, yeah, I won't find shit at the bottom of a bottle. I know, kittycat. I just need something to get the edge off. It's either alcohol, weed, or cocaine. Take your pick, whiskers." Angel cut Husk off.

Husk huffed, "Alright, Angel. Here's your drink. You wanna bitch to the bartender?"

Husk's words had been nostalgic, calling back to an argument they had, but his tone said something different. It spoke of concern, worry, and care.

Angel sighed, "As if. What's keeping you from spilling my secrets?"

Husk gave Angel a soft smile, "I can give you one of mine, if it'll help ya."

"Why do you care?" Angel asked, downing another drink, Husk refilling it.

"Well, cause you're here and I'm here, and we bonded, yknow?" Husk chuckled, watching Angel as he turned to get another bottle.

"I doubt it. I think Charlie is putting you up to this." Angel sighed, crossing his arms.

Husk sighed, "I can't convince you otherwise, Angel."

A few minutes later, Angel was laying his head on the table, watching Husk organize the liquor bottles.

"..Husk?" Angel's voice was soft.

"Yes, Angel?" Husk answered, not turning from his organization.

"I wish Valentino would be done with me." Angel murmured, barely audible enough for Husk's ears to catch, "I hurt, and I don't like it anymore."

Husk's ears flicked back, "Why can't you quit?"

"He owns my soul in the studio. I can't quit until he's finished with me." Angel said.

Husk frowned, "I can change that, Angel. Let me change that."

Angel looked up to see Husk staring determinedly at him, "Why?"

"Hm?" Husk tilted his head.

"Why do you care, Husk? I'm just a pornstar you share a hotel with." Angel frowned.

Husk thought for a second, "Because you're more than a porn star, Angel, you're a person."

#angel dust #this is a oneshot #hazbin hotel husk #huskerdust #writing #hazbin hotel

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sadhours · 13 days

Note

Pervy Billy please 🤤🤤🤤

okay okay, here’s a teaser of my upcoming series stuck in the middle with you

billy hargrove x pamela oc!mayfield

cw: 18+ minors dni, perv!billy, stepcest, psuedocest, teasing, groping, dry humping and masturbation

🎀🤍🚬🍦

It’s like the little bitch does it on purpose. Those shorts can barely be classified as such, they’re practically just underwear and she’s prancing around the house like she’s trying to get a rise out of Billy. It’s making him pretty damn bricked up, just trying to enjoy his fucking bowl of Wheaties.

They’re alone. Neil and Susan shopping, like they do most Saturday mornings and Billy’s got no idea where Max is nor does he care. Pamela is doing her chores, pale blonde hair bouncing whenever she reaches down to grab miscellaneous clutter. Thanks to the motion, he also notices she’s not wearing a bra; breasts swaying under her thin cotton shirt. God, her legs are long, he thinks as he skates his eyes up and down them.

Billy’s aware he’s staring. Part of him thinks Pamela wants him to. He shovels another spoonful of cereal in his mouth before dropping the bowl in the sink for Pamela to clean. It’s her chore after all.

He’s got his own chores. Lists them off in his head; fix the leaky faucet in the bathroom, organize the garage, mow the lawn, wack all the weeds and take out the garbage. They can wait, he decides as he keeps his place in the kitchen and watches as his step sister continues on with her chores. Chews on his lip as she uses the scrunchie on her wrist to tie her hair up in a bun. She starts by cleaning off the counters, putting everything back in its place before she takes her place at the sink. A smirk spreads across his lips and he crowds behind her, places his hands on the counter to cage her in.

Pamela tilts her head, doesn’t look at him but exposes her neck like she’s expecting something. Billy takes these movements slow and calculated. He doesn’t want to scare her off, but then again, he’s sure Pamela is playing the same game he is. He laughs, soft as he towers over her. His breath fans over her neck and Pamela’s skin pricks with goosebumps as she wets the sponge. Squirts dish liquid on it before she finally speaks up, “Can I help you?”

Billy purses his lips, closes the gap between Pamela’s ass and his crotch as he tells her, “Just making sure you’re doing a good job is all.”

She snorts but continues cleaning the dishes and maybe Billy’s imagining it but he thinks he feels her push her ass back against him. So he grabs her waist, holds her steady and presses his lips against her exposed neck. It’s not a kiss. Just to feel her warm skin. Rolls his hips slow, testing before moving his hands to feel up her sides. Swooping forward and cupping her breasts in his palms.

He kneads them in his hands, shamelessly rolling his hips and Pamela elicits the prettiest little sound. A moan if Billy’s not mistaken and it makes him greedy. Slams his hips forward, grinding against her ass in those tiny shorts while he gropes at her tits. Pamela drops the silverware and sponge, gripping onto the edge of the counter as she pants.

“See what you’re doing to me?” Billy asks against her ear, rocking his hips forward again. Making sure she can feel the way his cocks hard in his basketball shorts. “Walking around in that shit… dressed like a fucking slut,” he pants, “Tryna get my attention, huh?”

“Billy,” she gasps, a whine of a thing.

He pulls her top up, just enough to expose her tits and gets his hands back on them. Pinches her nipples, rutting against her like the pathetic little perv he is.

“Billy.. we— ah, we can’t,” he babbles out, but she’s still grinding back against him.

“We can’t what?” he grunts out, nose bushing against her temple.

“Do this,” Pamela replies, hands moving to reach for his wrists. “It’s wrong.”

Billy knows it’s wrong. That’s part of why he can’t stop thinking about her like this.

But she’s right. This was probably far enough. He pulls away, looks down at her as she turns. Her pretty face all flushed. And he acts kind of like a child, stomping away to his room and slamming his door. Just to lean against it and shove his shorts down, get his cock out and wrap his hand around it.

“Fuck,” he whines, closing his eyes and imagines his step sister on her knees in front of him. “Oh, you slut,” he whispers, lips twisting up as he plays out this fantasy. Fucks his fist hard and fast, cumming with her name on his lips.

#billy request #billy Hargrove smut #billy hargrove #billy hargrove x oc #billy hargrove x fem!oc #Billy x Pamela #SITMWY #tw stepcest #stepcest cw

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