#tiny blurbs

[ozarkthedog]

18+ mdni. dub con. forced drug consumption.

He makes you suck on his thumb while you ride him in his suv. The one thumb he licked before dipping it into a plastic bag of white powder that he stole from the evidence locker.

"Keep bouncin'," Charlie grits, when you stop moving and begin sputtering from the sour taste flooding your tongue. He drives his length deeper, harsh hips rising off the leather seat, belt buckle clinking against the gun that's strapped to his hip with every severe shove.

Charlie rubs his thumb along your gum line tainting every inch of your mouth with the illicit drug. You writhe on his lap, growing dizzy as the unwelcome numbness and blossoming euphoria swirl in your veins.

A wretched smirk tugs at his lips, "Don't want you thinkin' about nothin' except comin' on my cock."

[kawhh]

I’m not saying I woke up off my head, but I’ve spent the past hour thinking about Jack taking advantage of you when you’re in dangerous spots.

Warning: non-con ish touching. Fear play.

You’re up a ladder? Struggling to keep your balance? He’s groping you. Every inch of skin he can touch.

He won’t help you. His fingers reaching higher and higher up your skin. Taunting you.

“If you move too much angel, you’ll fall”

Preying on the nerves you have. Your fear of falling and hurting yourself. Feeling your skin almost vibrate under the pads of his fingers.

He might even shake the ladder to escalate. His eyes narrowed in focus as you panic. His tongue swiping over his lower lip as you freeze up further - giving him even more time to explore your body.

Might take a singular step up himself. Pulling you away from the ladder you’re death gripping. Making room for him to bury his head against your cunt through your clothes, inhaling the scent of you and the scent of panic.

How cute would you be if he made you cum up there? Would you cry? Would you scream? Would you plead for him to stop?

It’d drive him insane how you’re so dependant on him to still keep you safe while he’s the one responsible for putting you in more danger.

It’s not like he’d let you fall. He wouldn’t dare. But you’re out of your mind with fear.

A shaking little bunny being hunted by the big bad wolf.

If he could fuck you, he would. The thought of his every thrust into you shaking the ladder further makes his cock head throb. It’s maddening how hot he finds this.

You can’t move away until he’s done. You can’t get down. You’re fully his. His to eat. His to scare.

[nithica]

you could of been saving yourself but i’m gonna put you through hell you wanna know what it is inside i get it, i get it but it’s gonna burn i’ll be your new fever your temperature is summoning me sweat it out and get on your knees

tw: mentions of substance use, alcohol, suicide, depression; self-insert has BPD, is splitting and messed up :>

the booming music in the club almost popped your ears. techno, or something. it wasn’t really your vibe, but that wasn’t why you were here anyway. it didn’t matter what was playing, as long as it was obnoxiously loud, there was a bar serving drinks and enough to people willing to help you forget, even if they didn’t know they were doing it.

you were messed up, you knew that a long time ago, but hell was so deep you didn’t care to climb out anymore. its walls were slippery, there was no light peeking through the darkness. you were tired and your hands bloodied from years of trying to survive.

they said drowning was a beautiful death.

you were pretty certain that was a lie; the few times you tried to go under in a shady hotel’s bathtub were more painful than the few other methods you’d tried, but hope was a painful thing too. if you could choose one of the lesser evils, surely drowning would be it.

what better substance to drown in than alcohol and the very questionable pill someone put on your tongue, smirking like they finally got you where they wanted and all?

you’re sure he would’ve gone in for a share, too, if it hadn’t been for your strange guard dog. what was he doing here?

the ‘guard dog’ in question leaned on the bar with one arm, his red eyes trained on you and only you. you always did say you liked being in the spotlights, but no one needed to know that was a pointless lie. you hated it. hated that indescribable feeling of being watched, of standing out. being watched was a common recurrence in your life and standing out meant your demise. your whole life felt like a push and pull between survival and death. and while you didn’t feel unsafe with gaku watching you, there was something more unsettling about it all.

because, while you were unfortunate enough to be on first name basis with disdain, there was something in his gaze that was new to you. it almost felt like adoration, but surely that couldn’t be it. not while you were off your rockers in a disreputable nightclub god knows where, with your make-up running and your eyes red from the substances in your system, whatever those may be.

you swayed lightly from side to side, trying to stay upright by the bar. you’d swear you’ve been waiting for the bartender for at least ten minutes by now, but he didn't seem to make any plans coming to serve you anytime soon.

shooting a glare at the man beside you, you scoffed.

whatever the reason was, somehow you knew he had something to do with it. how were you going to get rid of this guy?

gaku didn’t drink, at least, you hadn’t seen him touch a drink. at best, you’d seen him order a water. water, in a club, of all things. with a strange look on your face, you’d laughed at him, but he hadn’t even so much as grimaced. he just looked at you, with those unsettling red eyes, pushing your glass of umeshu towards you without a word. you’d taken the drink with a scowl. how ridiculous.

“are you twelve?” you’d asked him, turning your eyes away.

but instead of humouring your sneer, he just held the glass up for you. “someone’s got to make sure you get home.”

“my god.”

the sweetness of the drink was a welcome distraction from that awkward encounter. gaku had since learned that you didn’t have much of a sweet tooth; you much preferred the burn whisky left in your throat. at least it reminded you, you were still alive. still suffering. you didn’t know why he tagged along either; uzuki kei would have sent anyone else to tail you, if he so pleased to keep a closer eye on you. he didn’t drink, nor did he dance. in fact, he hardly ever left the bar; only if it meant following you, like he couldn’t leave you out of his sight for more than five minutes.

maybe he couldn’t. maybe you were wrong and he was sent by uzuki after all. or maybe he just simply didn’t trust you.

or worse: maybe he was looking after you.

that thought was scarier to you than getting caught in the riptide, or the faceless strangers you’d let throw you around like a used rag. because if there was anything you knew, it was those who came close to you got scorched.

rushed as hell and not proofread but i am EXTREMELY UNCONFIDENT AAAAAAAAAAA so im going to throw this out there and crawl under a rock

art by the absolutely wonderful @nykur0h, seriously i can’t say anything other than holy wow she’s gorgeous 🥹 i was blown away, AM blown away and so so so happy to see my vision come to life in this way. absolutely a piece of art 🙂‍↕️

and also thanks to @sugurouge for pushing me outside of my comfort zone ndjxjsnsbx sometimes i really do need your kick up my butt. ALSO I’M SORRY FOR POSTING THIS WHEN YOU’RE AWAY I GOT SCARED 🫩 do you still love me

lyrics from:

[mistress-riddle]

tom’s confused when you approach him at the end of the year during his moment of rest before the school repopulates with the students coming back for the second term of the year. you’re giddy, smile wide on your glowy face, hands behind your back as you walk with a pep in your step and he puts down his book with a sigh to greet you properly.

“[name], what can i do for you?” he asks with a polite smile.

you press your lips together in contemplation before presenting him with a box “i made you a little something.”

curiosity blooms in him and he uncrosses his leg, leaning forward as looks at the box “is that so?” he hums “what’s the occasion? christmas was last week you know.”

“yes i’m aware.” you purse your lips at his slightly snarky remark and push the box further towards him to hold in his hand “it’s just a little something i put together, here you go!”

you place it in his unoccupied extended hand, the other holding the book to keep his page marked when your fingers linger slightly as they brush past his skin and you feel heat rise up to your ears so you retract your hands and clear your throat.

“anyway, i’ve got some things i need to do, bye!” you quickly turn around and head out. toms expression remains questioning as his head shifts from following your retreating figure to the cute blue box you’ve placed in his hold.

a tiny warmth which feels somewhat like excitement blossoms in tom as he stares at the box, placing the book on the seat, he opens the box on his lap and stares at the cake with writing that says

“happy 18th birthday, tom <3”

he realises you’ve given him a victoria sponge style cake and he lets out a little chuckle of disbelief. his eyes notice the note, he pulls it out to read.

i’m not a stalker, just observant (it’s the dessert i’ve seen you eat the most).

happy birthday riddle, i hope you have a good one.

— yours truly,

[name]

he catches a whiff of your perfume lingering on the letter and a lipstick mark on the back which elicits an involuntary smirk from him.

[houseofpsychoticwomxn]

i think you should cook with the boxer!frank thing🙂‍↔️

YAY I got u <3

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

Frank was going through it, blood dripping from his nose to his gloves — something that always made you shiver, grossed out and worried not even halfway through the match. still, he didn’t seem worried at all, giving you a quick half-smile when he noticed your brows furrowing from the crowd. as soon as he got a break you were running up to the ring, collecting his face in your hands like you hadn’t seen it a thousand times, cold water mixing with blood hitting your palms as his coach cleaned his face.

“you okay?” he chuckled at the routine check-up as you turned his face in your hands, surveying the damage you’d later be patching up.

“we’ve been over this sweetheart. I’ll be just fine ‘s long as you’re right over there.” he pointed to the ‘reserved for party of castle’ seat you just abandoned, grabbing your wrists to clean them off like you were the one battered and letting them go with a kiss.

“you go sit over there and watch me win this. go on.” with a kiss to your temple and a handful of his own last name printed over your ass, it was time for round three.

˚₊‧꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

[bigmammallama5]

i wrote today

[ghostlysoaps]

Haunted house actor!Simon who is most often styled as this dark, shambling, formless thing with an animal skull mask to offset the layers of black fabric. Sometimes he wears heeled boots under his robe to really tower over the poor bastards there. Somehow manages to be the most terrifying one of the lot, if only for his uncanny ability to materialise out of thin air. Truly tickles the fear response when one realises they're not only being watched but also followed without the thing making so much as a sound.

Well, it's not unsusual for children to get lost in the crowd. It is, however, unusual to find "Ghost" knelt down to talk to them – for obvious reason. This particular child had been the one to tug at his robes, already in tears over not being able to find their family, and Simon isn't about to brush them off.

In accordance to protocol, he escorts them to the closest ticket booth and through walkie-talkies learns no one has reported a missing child as of yet. Which means it's time for plan B. Ghost borrows a handheld bell and tells the child to climb up on the table and go ham. Only they have a better idea. Simon is much taller than the table. Ergo... they should be climbing up on his shoulders to be seen.

Price, who's manning the booth, is smothering a smile at this point.

It's quite the sight. A gleeful child vigorously waving their arm to produce a continuous loop of eardrum shattering ringing while perched upon the shoulders of a towering, eldritch horror.

Works like a charm.

A very frazzled Scottish man pushes himself through the crowd in record time, flustered and speaking a mile a minute. Thanking each of them profusely and eventually manages to wrestle the bell from his nibbling after a whole minute of bargaining, bribery and begging. They wave equally as enthusiastically in farewell. Overall it's a nice interaction that Simon knows he'll have fun reciting to his brother in the future.

But then, as they're rounding up for the day, there's a tap on his arm and Simon is once again chest-to-face with the Scottish man from before. John MacTavish, as he introduces himself, thanks him again and offers him two folded pieces of paper and a bright grin before he's off again. Simon might have fallen a little bit in love with him already for the infectious enthusiasm alone.

It's certainly a nice surprise to find his number scribbled on the back of the second drawing.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Au wherein Yue Qingyuan never makes it out of the Lingxi Caves.

He languishes, eventually becoming a ragged guardian of sorts, the bloodstained wraith of Lingxi. He becomes something inhuman, his body rapidly adapted due to the extreme stress of his sealing in Lingxi. Instead of forming a connection of life forces with Xuan Su, Yue Qingyuan forms it with the Lingxi Caves.

You see, the caves are naturally abundant in qi, and the caves are formed from the same ancient stone as the very roots of Cang Qiong that dig deep into the earth. To be, to exist, in a way, is to consume.

The reason Cang Qiong's Lords always ascend is because those caves take a price. A toll. The only way to continue without being subsumed by the caves is to ascend, completely severing your ties with the lower realms.

Yue Qingyuan's lifeforce became vulnerable when he seized Xuan Su. The sword was spiteful, clawing at untested hands. Yue Qingyuan's soul was clawed, and the bright shine of his lifeforce began to shine, and to pour out of him. The Lingxi Caves were empty, forever hollow. When the would-be Xuan Su Sword was thrust into the maw of the ancient beast, the Lingxi Cave took one taste, and then locked its jaws.

Yue Qingyuan was tied to the mountains in a way not even his oaths as Sect Leader would bind him.

His Shizun cannot pluck him from the caves for should he try, the cave would call in his debt, and Cang Qiong would be out a Sect Leader and Head Disciple.

While the Yue Qingyuan haunts the winding depths of cold stone, the Qing Jing Peak Lord comes across a rogue with an apprentice. The Qing Jing Peak Lord decides that they want that apprentice, and so they take him back to Cang Qiong.

This apprentice becomes Head Disciple. This apprentice is sent to the Lingxi Caves, for each Head Disciple is a potential sacrificial lamb to the labyrinth of Lingxi. You see, Cang Qiong is strongest for a price.

And to lead, is to offer yourself first.

Strength, power. Loaned. Some cannot bear the interest as well as others.

Two lost children, now despairing young men, find each other. Tragic in the way they have offered themselves as lambs out of grief, only to reunite on the altar.

Cang Qiong remains strong.

[goosita]

Do you have any headcanons or blurb thoughts about if Secretary!reader got him a Christmas present? I feel like would be so cute. Happy Holidays if you celebrate!!❤️

oh i’m so soft ❄️

(this takes place between parts 3 and 4)

what do you get for a man who could buy anything he wants?

you’d been thinking all week about what to get for coriolanus for christmas. you’re sure that he’s used to expensive gifts and presents from all sorts of people. but you weren’t particularly wealthy, even for a capitol citizen.

you remembered once that he had a sweet tooth, and you smiled to yourself as you realized what you could do for him.

you spend all evening before your last day at the office for the break rolling out dough, covered in flour and sticky sugar. you used a little cutter to punch out the shape, baking them to a perfect golden brown and then icing them neatly with a piping bag. then, you packaged them up in a nice little red box with a big silver bow atop of it.

two dozen homemade sugar cookies in the shape of snowflakes, for coriolanus snow.

you hoped he would like them, biting your lip as you stepped into the building’s entry hall with a small smile.

“mr. snow?” you called softly, looking around. coriolanus stepped out of his office and smiled softly.

“yes, miss y/n?”

you fidgeted with the bow for a moment, grinning sheepishly. “merry christmas,” you said, handing the box to him.

coriolanus lifted his brow curiously, taking it from you and lifting the lid open. he blinked down at the neatly packaged cookies, his mouth open in a small little “o” shape.

“sweet snow for a sweet snow,” you joked, knowing it was a cheesy remark. coriolanus eyes lifted to you, tears just barely brimming at his lash line.

oh. had you upset him?

“coryo…?” you tried softly, taking a step forward towards him. you wondered if you’d overstepped somehow. if you’d read this little thing between you two wrong.

instead of opening his mouth to shout at you, perhaps tell you this was ridiculous, coriolanus set the box aside as gingerly as possible. then his arms were suddenly wrapped around you, pulling you into a tight hug. you were startled for a moment before completely melting into his embrace, your own arms fitting easily around his middle.

“thank you,” he breathed softly. “you don’t know what it means to me. that you took time to make these for me.”

of course you’d never know how deeply the gesture struck his heart. he’d never told a soul about his childhood and teenage years, not since his first year at the Capitol University. there was no way you could know that the sweet treats would take him back to a time when his stomach lurched painfully at all hours of the night, a time when he would have openly weeped at the gift of any sort of food.

it had been so long since someone had baked something just for him. ma plinth had passed some years ago, the last person to choose to spend her time making treats for coriolanus. it was more than the memory of the years he spent starving that moved him. to know that you had thought of him, had spent your own free time to do something kind like this for him, had his heart softening more than you’d ever realize.

“you’re welcome,” you whispered back, tentatively stroking his back with your fingertips. after a long moment, coriolanus seemed to gather himself and let you go with a small grin.

his hand gently held your chin for just a moment. “merry christmas, miss y/n.”

[sprout-gt]

borrowers in college dorms

very much inspired by the fact i've been packing up my dorm room for the summer but just consider the possibilities

consistant access to non-perishable items that would keep for a long time. dorm rooms are like snack havens. stockpiles would be easy to collect for the breaks.

lots of options for borrowing locations, since there are upwards of a few hundred people living in dorms supplies would never really be scarce

the spaces themselves are relatively small and simple to scale, and there would be long stretches of time during the day where they would be unoccupied as people attended class.

Since dorm furnature is usually pretty close together, there would be ample shadowy places to hide out in case there are any surprises.

easily traversable since dorm buildings usually have relatively simple structures (at least mine does lmao), so risk of injury probably wouldn't be too great

easy access to various entertainment and music like all the time everywhere. also, i can totally imagine borrowers making fun of bad dorm room decor as a past-time

also, i feel like if anyone were to be cool with a lil guy kicking around their dorm room, it would be a sleep-deprived 20 something.

i feel like if i were a borrower a college dorm would be my ideal spot

[ffigwit]

“I am not known for my advisory-" Aragorn begins. Gimli's snoring interrupts him and while he wants to talk over it, he knows how important it is for Legolas to hear it. With how far the dwarf sleeps, he needs to hear it. 

“But you will hand it out, yes?” Legolas tightens his grip on his bow, visibly turning a muted red. Even beneath the pale moonbeams his skin is shaded, the purple and blue hues of night clinging like a shield. He turns towards Aragorn, who is half-lain in his sleep pack, leant up on an elbow to peer at both sides of the quarrel. 

Legolas quirks a brow, and sends a look so close to an “I dare you” that Aragorn merely laughs. Still the dwarf snores. 

“This hatred…tell me is it yours only, or is it all elves.” 

“You have lived with them, do you not know?” 

“That I have, but Elrond was hospitable to all, Dwarves included.” He turns a thought over in his mind. “I remember a group so jovial-“

“Yes, I too met them.” Legolas tosses another look at Aragorn, and when he narrows his vision to Gimli sleeping just over his shoulder he winces. Catching Aragorn's eyes again, he stones his face and returns to his watch. 

“It is not only mine. But for him, perhaps it is.” 

This Aragorn thinks, is not about his loathing. It is something far more sacred. 

He watches Legolas peering out into the darkness, how often he spent his watches tracing the stars and whispering to them, relying solely on his ears to catch what approached. Now he looks deep into the woods.

Aragorn clears his throat. the sound another rough bark to accompany the forest around them. The leaves flutter, the wind whistles, Gimli sucks in another breath in preparation for another thunderous rumble. 

Aragorn lays back down, content to let Legolas stew in whatever self-inflicted misery has him so admonished. He is just nearly asleep when he hears Legolas begin to speak. It is muttered and too soft for him to fully make out but somewhere inside he knows it is a prayer-like confession, for himself only. And through his sleep-bleared eyes he can see him send a longing glance at the dwarf once more. 

Aragorn falls asleep with a smile on his face.

[finniestoncrane]

there he is 💚

[ruinix]

YOU need to know the quinn dream i just had.

stretching you out, whether with his fingers or something else, before you can take him-

*kissing the spot on your stomach where he can feel you stretching, feel the bulge, leaving marks like a ruler on how much you can take.*

gdhehehhfgfh.

hnnnggfhhh.

yeah.

you ought to know this one

Lovely, do you know how much I have been manifesting a Quinn dream? Even more a wet dream with him?? So much. No matter what I do, I can't even fuck him in my dreams! Excuse me?! Universe?! Anyway, this dream of yours is making me feel envious but at the same time, I am cheering for you coz oh my gosh!! YES, QUINN DREAM. (Me when?? Jk)

I can't believe you got stretched out by him, lovely. Oh my 🫣🫣🫣 Fingers and something else what?! What did he use? Dildo? Vibrators? Oh, Quinny, the man you are. Did it feel good, lovely? What a silly question. Of course, it did...right? 😏😃

The kissmarks as a ruler?! I am melting. Coz what?! I am now imagining him almost folding you in half, expertly manuevering your body to see your lower abdomen bulging from his ministrations...I can take it, Sir—

I am dead. You have killed me, lovely. My brain is getting so fried. I haven't read full fics in years (just a couple of days but it felt like years) and you have fed me with your dream.

Thank you for sharing it with me, lovely. When's my turn?! 😔👉🏻👈🏻

[holographic-mars]

Not an ask per se but something really funny

It's been a year since the end of season 1 and Soundwave kinda fucked off during that time but when the season 2 shenanigans start up again, there's a confrontation involving Soundwave and Megatron. Cosmos joins and it just—

Cosmos: Hey guys!

Soundwave: *Approaches Cosmos and openly displays affection towards Cosmos*

Everyone else: ???

Soundwave: Cosmos: Conjunx Endura

Soundwave, looks Megatron dead in the optics: Soundwave: upgraded

Megatron: *Confused and having lots of emotions* I—

Mars, do you see my vision. The amount of shade thrown around could create another eclipse. Soundwave showing off his new and better husband. In front of Megatron. Soundwave openly being in love and affection with Cosmos. In front of Megatron. Soundwave being happy with his conjunx and children. In front of Megatron

Mars, do you see my vision

This makes me giggle so bad bc I just visualize Soundwave, the absolutely gorgeous stunning jaw dropping woman to ever grace this universe and beside him is this little goofy lame looking minibot who’s just happy to be here and Soundwave is like yes I love him he doesn’t betray me. Like SOME people. And Megatron is like :(

They’re so Jessica Rabbit and Roger Rabbit coded and I love it so much.

Soundwave: I have to find my darling husband, I am so worried about him

Starscream: seriously what do you see in that guy??

Soundwave: he makes me laugh

Also Soundwave openly showing that he’s moved on and doesn’t care about Megatron is so real he got a better mech now

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK I giggled way too hard at this eehehehe ❤️❤️❤️🛸🛸

[teddypickerry]

a very cute loser!

[webslingingslasher]

(i can’t find the post but this is about trouble getting into a fight at the frat and peter kicking the girl out)

i think especially if trouble was drunk all the adrenaline turns into a fight with peter over ‘why the fuck did you have your hands on her?? why were you holding her like that??’

and it takes peter and probably the rest of the boys a WHILE to calm her down

yes and she's on level 3000 because she's so riled up from what happened she turns it all on peter and he's got his hands raised up like he isn't a threat in the slightest.

trouble: your hands were all over her! why the fuck were you touching her like that?

peter: i was trying to get her away from you.

trouble: by wrapping your arms around her? really?

peter: please don't be mad at me, i didn't want you getting hurt and i wasn't going to leave you undefended.

trouble: so you just fucking groped her instead. nice.

peter: i was holding her waist! there was no groping!

trouble: holding her waist? who's fucking waist are you supposed to hold, peter?

peter: .... yours.

trouble: exactly! and guess who you weren't holding?

and this goes on for ten minutes 😭😭😭