#teaser / snippet

[uniquethingtastemaker]

This came from Silver's Dreaming of You fanfic:

"Sebek, you're worried about sullying Malleus and Lilia's name, right? Well, you don't have to. You've already done it," you state.

Lilia chokes on air, grabbing onto your shoulder to stabilize himself. Malleus's eyes widen in surprise. Silver gives a sharp inhale. Sebek gapes at you in shock before puffing himself up and yelling.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY I SULLY MY MASTERS' NAMES, YOU IMPUDENT HUMAN!?!?" he bellows.

You turn to Lilia.

"This is what I'm talking about. He's acting racist," you start.

(You're welcome)

[sosa2imagines]

Yours, ours, mine.

Imagine you are Bucky's wife. Steve has retired. He came back, after returning the stones. He gave Sam the shield. Steve lives with you and Bucky.

The more Steve sees you and Bucky, the more he pictures such life for himself. He fucks around with random girls. But all he can imagine is your face. Moaning your name, everytime he comes.

You roam freely in the house, having no clue about Steve's fascination with you.

He has set a camera in your bedroom. He jerks himself to the sight, of you and Bucky having sex. He is obsessed with your curves and figure. He loves seeing you naked.

When Bucky is out for work, Steve gets all touchy with you. You try to maintain distance. So he comes with a solution. He adds sleeping pills in your tea. Once you are knocked out, he sleeps next to you. Gently undresses you. Paying extra attention to your pussy, sucking your breasts like his life depends on them. Hands exploring your body, like he is worshipping you.

But he wants more. He wants to be balls deep buried in you.

He starts to gaslight Bucky. Picking up on his insecurities. "What if she gets bored of being alone for months, when you are out on missions?", "what about her needs?", "what if she finds someone else?".

Bucky pleads to him to stop. Steve assures him, he'll take care of you. Steve makes Bucky say that "Bucky himself is okay with Steve taking care of your his needs."

Bucky leaves for the mission happily, relieved his best friend will take care of you.

Steve is happy, to finally make you his.

You have no clue about this.

Good news lovelies, I have finally wrote this fic. The longest I have ever written.

Yours, ours, mine.

[ghost-bxrd]

Sharing more snippets of this because nobody’s gonna care for this fic anyway but I need to get it out of my system so badly I’ll be useless for anything else if I don’t lol

[blimbosworlddd]

“Why don’t I just walk out of this arena right now and act like none of this ever happened?” You challenge.

Lee frowns as he lets his hand fall from your shoulder to caress your arm. You hate how good it feels. You also hate how he looks at you- as if there’s still no one else in the world he’d rather look at than you.

“Because we both know you won’t,” he answers. “Look, I know you deserve better than this, and baby I am so sorry that you’ve been dragged into it. But I’m never gonna let him hurt you.”

You drop your gaze to the floor with a rueful chuckle, “Yeah, right.”

Lee lifts your chin up with a chilling quickness: a stern gaze carrying such frightening resolve, like he’s offended you would even consider doubting him. It sucks away your breath, stirring that familiar heat between your legs. 

“I will protect you,” he vows, the stark authority in his low voice sending shivers down your back. When Lee gets like this, anything he says is law. This is just your first time experiencing it. “You understand?”

There’s a foreign hunger behind his eyes. A foreign hunger for whatever it takes to keep you safe- it melts you from the inside.

You ogle at his pretty lips while resting your hands on his broad chest. You slowly run your fingers up to feel his contours until they reach his nape, not really grasping that your tender movements are melting him just as overwhelmingly. Deep down, you know Lee would do anything to protect you. Your faith in him is simply being tested on a greater scale.

“Yeah, I… I understand,” you mutter shyly.

Lee relaxes with a soft grin at your compliance. What did I do to deserve you? He swoons to himself.

Your hands pull him in, relieved that you can embrace him with no resistance. Your foreheads lean into each other, basking in the closest thing to quiet you both will ever share for the day. But when you’re this close, it’s easy to block everything else out. You slightly angle your head to the side, nose swiping his cheek as you lean in for a kiss. And when your lips languidly interlock, he happily breathes in the sweetness of your scent. He wraps his strong arms around your pudgy waist and pulls you flush against him. This is really all he needs: to encase the love of his life in his hold.

Reluctantly, Lee gradually pulls back from your lips but not too far from where he was initially.

“I know we’ve been dating for quite some time, but uhh…” He breathes while gently rubbing your curves. His eyes dart in random directions, thinking of what to say before looking at you. You stroke his warm cheek with a reassuring thumb, urging him to take his time.

And when he finally meets your gaze, you’re left haunted by the pure vulnerability in those mesmeric eyes.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

It’s crazy how despite the countless times you’ve daydreamed about some random guy professing to you, never in your life would you have expected it to unfold this way. Despite your career goals, despite your individual pursuit of greatness, this is truly all you’ve ever wanted in life. Maybe… maybe it’s not only magical for some. 

As you take the time to gush over your new- and hopefully last- romantic partner, Lee notices Neji approaching with carefully wrapped ice packs in hand, ultimately ripping him from his love-induced trance. 

“Our dojo will be back on the mat soon,” Announces Neji with a knowing smile. 

Lee throws his game-face on, “Right!”

Guess I’ll answer him later, you think to yourself.

-- Nirvana: Chapter 10

A/N: Hiiiii! This is a teaser of my latest chapter that i've yet to publish. Like, reblog and comment!

This work belongs solely to ©️ blimbosworlddd. Do not plagiarize, steal, copy or repost. I worked very hard on this; reblogs, comments, and likes are appreciated.

[jollyhunter]

. ☆.´☽¸.Tell me about the Stars.¸☽´.☆ .

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Heavy Angst Warning!

[Season5] Dean x ForeignHunter!Reader

Re: The WIP Folder Game - Thank you @bettystonewell and @the-potato-is-lonely for asking me about this one shot (? Maybe I’ll continue this, let me know if you’d be interested <3) I decided to post a bigger snippet / extract of it since it’s been sitting in my drafts for some days now and you just motivated me to write on it some more! 💙

“So, Dean, how’s your mornin’ been so far?” You try to make small talk. The thought of falling asleep to some stranger blabbing about their ordinary life without ever seeing them – yeah, that sounds like a good thing to clock out to.

Much better than the screams of the woman that’s still ringing in your ears. Or the snarling that had clawed at the back of your throat while the sound of shattering bones had filled your mouth.

“It’s in the middle of the night.” He states, his tone confused. “Tell me again, how the hell did my number end up in your contacts?” His voice sounds gravely and thick with exasperation.

You huff. As if you knew? It was just… there. No name, no notes, no nothing. Just a blank number. Last time you’d saved a number must’ve been years ago, way before you-

You stop that thought right there.

“I told you, I don’t know.” You repeat, your energy draining with each word, “I just wanted to know who’s behind the number. Have a little chat. That’s all.”

You spilled a half truth.

“Look, it’s late here and I really don’t know why I’m talking to you but what do you want exactly?” He sounds exhausted. Almost as much as you. And it makes you wonder what life must have thrown at this man to make him sound like he was two breaths away from a breakdown.

Little did you know that Dean was way past the two breaths.

You couldn’t see how his free hand’s rubbing his stinging, red eyes. Couldn’t know the reason for his raspy sound was a voice hoarse from desperate begging into the nightsky. For someone, anyone for help.

“Can you see the stars from where you are?” You suddenly ask in a strained whisper. And your question must have taken him off guard because his side falls awfully silent at that.

Your eyes travel down your limp legs until you witness the first light of the day kiss the forest floor, just out of your reach.

You sigh, shakily. The back of your head thuds against the side of your van in resignation. Head tilted slightly, you lift your gaze to meet the soft painting in the sky. Pink colors frame the endless rows of mountain peaks. A pair of birds sing above you, welcoming the sun to the horizon. So peaceful.

The corner of your lips melt into a smile at the sight. A weary one, at best, but it did manage to redirect the red streak dripping down your cheeks.

There’s a long pause on the other side of the line and for a moment you fear he might have hung up.

But then he responds in a low, husky voice, “Yeah, I see ‘em.”

You hum, eyes briefly fluttering close. Thank God, he's still there.

After a moment of sinking into the silence that's between you, he adds in a softer voice now, “What ‘bout you, what can you see?”

“The sun’s rising here,” you murmur, your voice sounding heavy, but he can pick up on the hint of a smile to it. Albeit a sad one. “It’s a beautiful morning.”

It was true. But you also wished you could have seen the night sky one last time. Watch the stars twinkle and bath in the moon light. Instead your eyes linger on the tree tops, filled with bitter envy. How the God rays caress the leaves with a gentleness you could only dream of. And its shadows dance across your sprawled out form while the fresh morning breeze weaves through your blood soaked tangled hair.

You shudder. The sound of your lungs grow heavier as every raise of your chest fills the distance between you.

The realization has your trembling fingers curl around the phone like it’s your only lifeline.

Dean must have noticed how your breath comes out a little too ragged and a little too weak for someone just calling a random stranger for a chipper small talk.

“Hey uh, you all right? You sound like you’ve been through the wringer.”

“‘M fine.” Your lips press together, swallowing back a hiss at natures cold touch against your exposed skin. The smell of earth and pine trees flood your senses.

Thankfully the sharp inhale through your nose instantly dampens the taste of metal in your mouth.

“Tell me about the stars.” You prompt softly.

𓃦 A/N: I started writing this after I rewatched the "My Bloody Valentine" episode with Dean's breakdown in the end. 🥺 [The entire setting is inspired by an original story of mine, about a female solo-hunter in Scandinavia who lives off the grid with her dogs. 🤭] Dean Tags:

@aylacavebear @jc-winchester @ambiguous-avery @bettystonewell @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @v1v1-3

[mrsjellymunson]

Begging for more 🎲 D&D 3: (Be My) Dungeon Master please 🙏

Okay, thank you for asking about this 😍, it’s great because I have the whole chapter sketched out in my head but hardly any of it written down, so I definitely needed to do this 😄 The question is, which part to write to share…? 🤔😏 How about something near the beginning…

Whilst you’re glad the tension has dissipated, you’re keen to prolong the… other feelings this encounter has generated.

You place your hands delicately in your lap and drop your chin, murmuring as meekly as you can, “I’m sorry. Master.”

You can tell you’ve flustered him as his voice comes out a little stuttered.

“Wh— What did you just say?”

You turn your face, but keep your chin low, looking up at him through your lashes and desperately hoping you look cute, rather than just eleven shades of crazy.

“I— I did something bad. And I’m sorry, Master.”

Eddie just blinks at you.

“Do you think I need to be punished? Do you want to punish me? Be my Dungeon Master?”

All semblance of annoyance has completely left Eddie’s tone as he stammers, 

“F— Fuck, baby. What’s got into you? Don’t get me wrong, I fuckin’ love it. But this is… new.”

You squirm in your seat a little, hands clasping nervously and thighs squeezing together, neither of which is lost on Eddie. Following your lead, he purses his lips and continues, more confidently,

“You were really bad this evening, Princess.”

He lifts a hand and traces the line of your jaw with a rough finger tip, making you inhale sharply but quietly.

“You really annoyed your Master, you know?”

Your lips roll inwards and your thighs clench again, spurring Eddie on.

“And yes, I do think you need to be punished. You’ve been such a bad girl. You need your Master to put you in your place.

Don’t you?”

Tagging the series list, in case anyone wants a snippet/demi-spoiler 😉 @joejoequinnquinn @jamdoughnutmagician @guiltyasquinn @madaboutmunson @airen256 @sunshinepeachx @the-unforgivenn @skrzydlak @comeonatmebruh @jamiecb66 @80s-addict @abellmunsonmovie @definitionwanderlust @sheneedsrocknroll92 @munson-blurbs @wonderlanddreamer @daisy-munson @maedesculpaeusoubi @kurdtbean @mediocredreams @in2tswft @micheledawn1975 @littlebebebunny @12thatsanumber @alastorssimp @the-baby-angel @eddie-is-a-god @wolfqueenxxx @losingmygrasponreality @richter-raccoon @1deverland @evileyeandthecattywhumps @3rd-conchord @bellalillyrose @katethetank @justalotoffanfiction @emxxblog @awkward00noodle @cowboylikemunson @defututus @kellsck @pixie2k5

[broareweabouttoviberightnow]

Um um maybe you remembered and I'm just being inpatient but dont forget about tidbit tuesday

Sorry if I was just being inpatient

blog runner with the worst memory known to man try to keep a consistent upload challenge: impossible (in other words guess who forgot it was tuesday again) (thank you god send angel light of my life)

Darry’s got a death grip on my bicep ‘cause it’s the closest I’ll let him get to holdin’ my hand like I’m a toddler. Though I know he’s about to stop carin’ about my sensibilities ‘n probably wack me a good one too if the way his fingers are diggin’ into my shirt sleeve are anythin’ to go by. It really ain’t my fault. He’s picked up Mama’s old habit of runnin’ into people ‘n just standin’ there shootin’ the shit for twenty minutes. 

Today’s victim (other than me) is Tim, havin’ had the misfortune of runnin’ into Dar when I’d been tryin’ to plead Soda ‘n I’s case that fish sticks were vile (‘n really not winnin’ that case at all). I try to twist out of Dar’s grip again ‘n he knocks my head with the heel of his hand without even lookin’ away.

“Knock it off, Pone. Sorry, what were you sayin’ Tim?” I scowl, lean forward enough I know Dar can see it out a the corner of his eye. He pointedly ignores me. 

“Naw, you’re good. Kid brothers, huh.” But he shoots me a wink so I only half-bother to roll my eyes. “I was sayin’ I got this guy rollin’ into town in the next day or so. Needs, uh, a place to lay low.”

He shoots Darry a pointed look ‘n Darry narrows his eyes, glances down at me, back at Tim. Asks him somethin’ without sayin’ nothin’. I feel Dar pull me a little closer to his side without thinkin’ about it, finally take his hand off my arm, ‘n lay it around my shoulders instead. I shiver in my track shorts as someone opens one of the nearby freezers, grabs out the last pack of fish sticks. This time I keep my triumphant grin to myself. 

“I don’t got details right now. But it ain’t, like, a murder wrap or nothin’.” He lowers his voice, leans back against the big commercial fridges ‘n shifts around the too-big jacket. I recognize it as somethin’ Two does when he’s shopliftin’. But I keep my mouth shut. Ain’t my business that I can see the corner of a bag of dry pasta peekin’ from the inside pocket. “It cool if I tell him about y’all’s couch?”

Darry runs his free hand up the back of his neck ‘n sighs. “Sure. But he ain’t allowed to bring no trouble with him, got it?” 

“Yeah, Curtis. Since when have I ever brought trouble?” He puts his hands up plactingly ‘n Dar snorts a laugh at him. 

“Sure, Shepard. You ain’t never brought trouble to nobody.” ‘N he grabs the edge of Tim’s jacket cooly, readjusts it, ‘n in one smooth move, shoves the pasta back where it can’t be seen against Tim’s side.

[thisisallthehattersfault]

Pops has always smelled like peaches. It was the first thing Marco had noticed about the man, way back when he’d been nothing but a panicked pup stowing away on the wrong ship. The crew had been stupid enough to pick a fight with Whitebeard, and Marco had been cowering behind a stack of barrels, hoping the violence would pass him by, when all of a sudden he’d been scooped up and draped over the shoulder of an absolutely massive pirate, and Marco would have probably passed out from the panic if he hadn’t been so completely thrown off-guard by the rich, thick scent of an Omega.

Marco had still had a pup’s nose at the time, so the scent didn’t really register as much more than sweet and fruity and safety, comfort, I have you now. After his first rut, he’d scaled up Pops’s coat and stuck his face in the man’s neck and marveled at the smell of peaches and cream and strong black tea, caramel and cloves. He’d immediately gotten scent-drunk off the warm, rich sweetness of the old man’s affection, and the only reason he didn’t tip back and fall right off his shoulder is because Pops reached up in time to catch him.

Omegas are pretty rare on the seas. Not as much as the World Government tries to make them out to be of course, but there is some truth to the stereotypes; if you run into an Omega traveling with a pirate crew, it’s even odds they’re on that ship against their will. Not that that’s any less true with any other type of criminal, of course. Gangsters on land and pirates at sea and nobles in their feasting halls, it’s always the same — bullies go for the easy target, for the weak and the vulnerable, the young and the desperate and the naive. They fall on the feeble like ants to a corpse, and pick you clean.

It had honestly scared Marco at first, how open Whitebeard was about his sex. The man didn’t take scent-blockers. He didn’t bind his chest. When his heats came — and they came like clockwork every three months, because he wasn’t on suppressants either — he’d bundle himself and most of his small crew away into his nest, and yowl shamelessly for food or cuddles or for someone to start up a song. Part of the reason it took so long for Marco to accept that this was a permanent thing, that Whitebeard was keeping him and Marco didn’t need to keep a bag packed and an eye on the exit, was because he was so, so sure the loud, unruly, shameless Omega would be taught a lesson soon enough.

It had scared him, frustrated him. Made him wary. Nobody is allowed to be that free, he’d wanted to explain to Whitebeard, who for some reason just didn’t seem to get it. Nobody is allowed to be that happy with themselves. You’re too loud. You’re too proud. You’re too comfortable in your own skin. It doesn’t matter that you’re big and strong, they’ll kill you.

They’ll kill you, and I’ll be on my own again.

Eventually, somewhere between the second and the twentieth would-be challenger Whitebeard wiped the floor with, Marco started to realize that the man was more than big and strong, he was powerful. Powerful enough, maybe, to be loud. Powerful enough to be free, without worrying that someone would cage him for it. Marco watched the man who called him son conquer impossible challenges and defeat unbeatable enemies like it was easy, and somewhere along the line he forgot to hold onto his fear. Marco stopped sleeping with his shoes on, he unpacked that bag he’d been hiding in his locker, and then one day when the sun was high and the waters calm and Pop’s scent was syrupy-sweet with happiness, Marco had said “Pops-yoi? Would you bond me?”

And Whitebeard had. It was a little awkward — his fangs are long enough to puncture clear through Marco’s throat — but Whitebeard had been so, so careful, piercing the scent gland in Marco’s neck with the tip of one fang and injecting the venom deep into his blood stream. Then, to Marco’s stunned disbelief, Pops had picked him up and draped him over his shoulder and asked for a bite of his own.

That’s how it starts. An Omega with no pack and a boy with no parents and the peach-sweet summer scent now sunk into the both of them, on a rickety ship that won’t survive the year and with a handful of scavenged crew-mates that will either leave or choose to stay forever before that year is up. Those that choose to stay practically line up when they see the bond wounds on Marco and Pops, clambering for a chance to bite and be bitten. By the time they’re in Water 7 buying a used ship (it will be years still before the Moby is commissioned) Marco is a part of something he can’t remember ever being a part of before.

A pack.

[gildedphoenix]

This was hilarious. 

He was being used as a sacrifice to summon himself.

[voxofthevoid]

JJK Teasers: June 2025

There's no teaser for the ghost in me was true, less due to the chapter length than because the format is better left as a surprise.

Chapter 8/24 of (this is also part of the story) how the story changes

All Yuuji can do is push out another weak, “Gojou-sensei?”

“There’s a thought,” Gojou says, tone a bit absent. His eyes aren’t, scanning Yuuji intently from where he’s towering over him. “Have you figured it out yet, Mini Yuuji?”

“Mini,” Yuuji echoes, torn between incredulity and pure confusion. He pushes himself up to his feet, again putting himself on eye level with Gojou.

“Yuuji Junior, Baby Yuuji, Yuuji-chan,” Gojou recites. “Take your pick.”

“No thank you.”

Gojou shrugs. “Alright, Yuuji-chan then.”

“Hey!”

“It’s weird though.” Gojou cocks his head to the side, the motion way too predatory for a guy in his…state. “You’re Yuuji down to a cellular level, I’m sure of that. Even your cursed energy has a similar flavor. But you’re different. Not the age, obviously. Something else, something deeper…”

Yuuji’s mind is reeling, Gojou’s words mostly just noise, taking several moments to coalesce into sense, but his eyes are a hell of a lot busier, flitting all over Gojou’s bare body before darting back to his face, rinse and repeat, and Yuuji’s blushing, he knows, his whole damn body hot, but the more he stares, the more he’s sure that this isn’t his teacher as he knows him. He’s definitely Gojou Satoru. But he’s not Yuuji’s Gojou Satoru.

Oh.

That’s what Gojou—this Gojou—meant.

“Is this like those sci-fi movies?” Yuuji asks, not realizing until he sees Gojou’s offended expression that he just cut him off. “Oh, sorry.”

Gojou rolls his eyes. Yuuji has never, ever seen his Gojou do that.

“I’m here inventing new theorems of cursed energy, and do you care? No,” Gojou says, looking and sounding extremely unimpressed. “Sure, it’s like the movies. This is where we kiss. C’mere.”

Yuuji takes a step back.

Chapter 2/2 of he makes of womb an altar

“Such a tortured expression,” she says, her voice low and…intimate. She raises a hand, resting a row of knuckles against his jaw. The touch is unfairly gentle. “Am I scaring you?”

“Scare—” Yuuji swallows; it’s too wet. “I’m not scared, but you’re being really weird, Mum. This is—this is weird.”

“We really need to expand your vocabulary,” she says, almost chiding. “But that’s for another day. You have a different kind of homework tonight.”

“What’re you—”

Yuuji’s voice gives out when her other hand comes to rest on the swell of her chest, right above the neckline of her nightdress. He tries not to, but he can’t not look. Her arm doesn’t quite hide her cleavage. It sure as hell doesn’t hide the rounded curves of her breasts right underneath, and Yuuji’s never seen a woman undressed like this in real life, but there’s no mistaking the tiny twin bulbs pushing up from under the fabric.

Something inside Yuuji coils tight, pulling him taut from throat to gut.

She slides her arm down, and the fabric goes with it. Her breasts bounce free.

Yuuji whimpers.

She laughs again, darker but also somehow sweeter than he’s ever heard it, and then the hand on his jaw is sliding down, skimming the side of his throat before settling firmly on his shoulder, stroking along the slope of it and down his arm, all the way to the hand clenched in the sheets. Yuuji’s wearing a full-sleeved hoodie, but the heat of her palm still leaves a blazing trail, and when it finds skin, he burns.

“Show me, then,” she murmurs, prying his hand off the mattress, “what the internet has taught you.”

She plants his hand on her breast.

Chapter 5/10 of taking the flesh is the only virtue

He dutifully carries Itadori over to the bathroom, all the way to the shower, before making another attempt at waking him. It’s as useless as before, though Itadori does mumble something that could generously interpreted as Kento’s name.

He turns on the shower.

And it’s not on purpose, the temperature settling having slipped his mind, but the water that rains down on them is brutally cold, a rough shock even to Kento’s system.

Itadori wakes up howling—an animal noise that, for once, has nothing to do with his rut.

“Sorry,” Kento says, clenching his jaw before his teeth start chattering. “Itadori—”

“Nanamin?” Itadori mutters. His arms are crushingly tight around Kento, but as Itadori looks up, squinting through the water, the grip loosens—still tight, still intimate, but no longer suffocating.

“Good morning,” Kento greets, even though it’s closer to noon. “I apologize for the rude awakening.”

Itadori blinks. “It’s cold.”

“Yes,” Kento says patiently, keeping one arm around Itadori to support him while adjusting the temperature with the other. “It was a mistake. But it worked, I see. How are you feeling?”

It’s mostly a test. Itadori was mostly nonverbal yesterday after that first knotting, and whenever he did speak, he didn’t manage more than Kento’s name—or, more precisely, that unfortunate nickname. Kento doesn’t want to know why or how that has survived the hormonal fever eating through Itadori when most of his cognitive abilities haven’t.

Itadori seems a little more coherent this morning, but the dark eyes blinking up at Kento are clouded with more than just the vestiges of sleep.

Sure enough, Itadori says, “Nanamin.”

He sounds happy. His face is back in Kento’s neck the next moment, and this time, there’s no doubting the fact that Itadori is luxuriating in his scent.

Kento sighs and reaches for the soap.

Chapter 2/7 of bloodstains on the collar means just don’t ask

“Was she cute?”

“Cute?” All irritation vanishes from Itadori’s face, but he doesn’t seem flustered, just surprised by the question. “I guess? Not really my type.”

“Oh?” Satoru crows. And when Itadori looks justifiably wary, Satoru leans in again because he’s not above playing dirty. “What is your type then?”

“A tall woman with a big butt!”

It’s Satoru’s turn to be taken aback; Itadori practically chirped that answer, and even now, he’s got a bright grin and matching eyes, all pointed straight at Satoru. The effect is…shockingly strong.

“Good taste,” Satoru says, blinking some more. He tries to shake it off, subtly. “And men?”

“Eh?”

“Your taste in men.”

Itadori just gapes at him.

Satoru expects the classic denial—no, sir, I’m not into men, not me. Itadori sure as hell isn’t straight, but not everyone accepts that easily, and Itadori’s young to boot. Satoru has witnessed a fair share of his peers engaging in Olympic-level mental gymnastics to explain away their true tastes.

Then Itadori says, “Tall men with…big shoulders?”

It takes every ounce of self-restraint Satoru’s ever possessed to not burst out laughing.

It wouldn’t have been mean, truly, but even he’s got the sense to tell that would be insensitive as hell. And Satoru doesn’t want to be that, not right now, with Itadori staring at him with wary eyes that are still not free of the effect Satoru’s had on him.

“Big shoulders, huh?” Satoru repeats evenly, resisting the urge to flex his own. “And a big ass?”

“Um.”

“Or other big…things?”

Itadori ducks his head, rubbing his nape. The angle does nothing to hide how he’s staring at Satoru’s chest. When his gaze shifts, it’s to drag along Satoru’s shoulders. They even linger on his neck for a moment before dropping back down to his chest.

Hungry thing, isn’t he?

[uniquethingtastemaker]

Alright, I’m going to slide this in here and see how it does. Curious if this will get more people's attention because of Leona's insane line. This is a snippet from Riddle's Dreaming of You fanfic (for context). Also a little Mature. Some references to Sexual Activities:

The beastman picks up the redhead by the collar and says, “Alright, that’s enough. You can enjoy your snack later, Red Radish. For now, you have guests to entertain, not just your lover.”

“Put me down!” Riddle demands, his face glowing red. 

“Only if you don’t hump the herbivore,” the Savanaclaw dorm leader stipulates. 

“Shut up! Don’t tell me what to do!” He snarls, thrashing. “Let go of me!!”

(Even with context, it's still wild to say "only if you don't hump the herbivore," especially to Riddle of all people. Of course, Leona would say it, but the fact that he does is stupefying. It doesn't go anything beyond frottage, but it do be a little spicy... for fun, here's Idia's reaction just before this moment)

Idia’s voice rises above the noise as he yells, “Oh my god! Are we going to get a hentai scene?!?! Somebody stop him!”

(You're welcome. Please let your thoughts and insanity in the comments lol)

[lululawrence]

Louis leaned back in his chair so he could see the time over the oven, and was surprised to find it was only a little past 9. It was earlier than he was usually up on a Saturday, but Diego clearly wasn’t expecting anyone, so who just showed up at someone’s house unannounced this early in the morning? It had to be family, right?

The sound of the door opening and two voices speaking loudly and quickly in Spanish was what finally got Diego holding his palm out to Louis and saying, “Just… stay here, yes? Yes,” before scurrying off towards the front door.

Diego’s voice joined in with the rapidfire Spanish, and that was kind of hot, actually. Louis really enjoyed hearing the differences in his vocal tone and inflections when he was speaking Spanish versus English, but he needed to focus. 

Mostly he needed to focus on the fact that there were strangers here. Strangers that Diego might not mind running into whilst only wearing a t-shirt and pants, but Louis sure did. Especially since Diego was at least in a clean top. Louis was wearing the one he found on the floor that Diego had been wearing last night. And oh god… his hair. He had no idea what his hair looked like. He was definitely not in any state to be meeting anyone right now.

The issue was, if Louis was going to make it to the bedroom without being noticed, he had to hope that they hadn’t come much further inside than the front door or they would definitely be able to see him. Curse the modern aesthetic of an open floorplan.

Taking a deep breath, Louis decided to risk it. After all, both of the surprise visitors seemed to be quite fond of Diego based on their tone of voice, but considering Louis knew maybe ten words in Spanish, he had no idea what anyone was saying. 

Louis started trying to creep his way towards Diego’s bedroom, but he hadn’t made it very far when he realized the three of them were definitely incredibly close to the kitchen and there was now silence.

“Mijo, who is this?”

Louis froze, his back still turned towards the three people in the living room. Because what was he supposed to do? How exactly was Diego going to explain Louis to these people who clearly cared for him? 

“Ma, Pa…” 

Diego’s voice was close to Louis now, so he turned and looked over at Diego, who put his arm around Louis and turned him towards the strangers… who were apparently his parents. 

“This is Louis.” After a brief pause where he squeezed Louis’ shoulders a bit, Diego then said, “We only recently started seeing each other.”

Louis tensed, doing his best to school his face, but this was a lot right now. They only just met each other last night, for fuck’s sake, and now he’s not only meeting the man’s parents, but he’s being introduced as his boyfriend?

Let Us Be Lovers by lululawrence featuring art by @lemelous

Coming April 14 as a part of @onedirectionbigbang Round 8!

Subscribe here to be notified when the fic is available

[zemkzone]

“Iris was saying she and Eddie have been together for a year and a half now.” Francine glanced at the engaged couple. “How they got to know each other while you were in a hospital after that awful explosion… I just wondered how long you and Len have been together.”

Hours later, Barry would berate himself for opening his mouth before he thought things through. “Three years,” he blurted out—

At the exact moment Len breezily drawled, “Three months.”

— snippet from Ch25 of That Rare Arctic Thunderstorm

Updating finally next week, April 11th! Ohhhhh, Barry, foot-in-mouth much?

[wickerwax]

Down in the Mud part 3 teaser (Codywan)

“We know you will, General.” Helix said as he left the room. Obi-Wan glanced back and something about that falcon-focused smile lightened the weight on his shoulders. “Everyone knows the 212th‘s general can’t be beat when the odds are this ridiculously against them.”

“Ah, gambling in the ranks, a dreadful habit,” he said, and winked.

[lo1k-diamonds]

Make It Right 🚀 Part 2 (teaser)

He rang your apartment, looking at his feet while he waited, fully aware of the red light, the camera, and the beep. Especially when it stopped, but the light stayed on.“

Talk to me, Mimi,” he said quietly, raising his arms to support his weight on either side of the intercom. He stared into the camera, knowing you could see him. “I’m not letting this happen again. When we were kids, we were… stupid and silly and insecure and selfish and overwhelmed, and ugh— But not now. I won’t leave with things left unsaid,” he stated. “I won’t leave without seeing you. I won’t make that mistake again. I know you’re there, will you please open the door?”

[jandrichov]

The impossible boy he once brawled with in a tavern in Rattay had become a man he would trust with his whole life — and at that moment, Henry realised — he already had.

—

The last part of the Further series will be out soon. The woods are quiet. The hearts are full. The page is waiting.