#trashy writing

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Hey!!

Can I request “are you wearing my shirt?” with Dylan? Please and thank you!

Love you xx

You've waited a long time for this...

SO YES, I most certainly can! This sounds like fun :) MUCH LOVE!

Authors Note: Cliche? Maybe. But some lines are classic. Sue me. But like, don't? Litigation is expensive ;) p.s. smut... p.p.s. x female reader.

Prompt list HERE, but currently closed. This prompt is like a year old :/

Better on the Floor

Exhausted would be putting it mildly. You'd had a long week and the fact that it was only Wednesday wasn't helping. When you got home, you kicked out of your shoes, stretching out your aching toes as you stripped out of your stiflingly uncomfortable clothes, wandering your way slowly down the hall toward the bedroom. You peeled off your underwear and tossed them in the hamper before you padded into the bathroom to turn on the faucet of the bathtub. You watched the water pool in the palm of your hand, running out between the gaps of your fingers until it was just this side of scalding before you plugged the tub.

You stretched out like a cat in a sunbeam and then pulled open the drawer of the vanity to grab a bath bomb. You watched impatiently as the bath slowly filled before tossing the little ball of Epsom salt into the water, watching it fizz for a few moments before you followed after and slid into the water.

You could almost feel the muscles of your back sigh in relief as the warmth washed over them, drawing out at least some of the tension that had been locking them in place for days. You relaxed against the slope of the bath, letting your neck roll against the soft bath cushion for a few minutes. Enjoying the silence long enough to feel human again before you flicked the water from your hands and reached down to grab your phone from the bathmat.

Your discover playlist on Spotify was something you liked to try to fit in during the week because you always liked finding something new, and you hadn't had a chance yet this week. Now seemed as good a time as any. You tapped to play and then set your phone down on the edge of the bath. You weren't sure exactly how much time had passed before the music faded out to an incoming notification, but when you swiped to view the text, your fingers were wrinkled and pale from the soak.

Dylan: So... I'm outside... and I'm an idiot

You smiled and shook your head before your smile turned to more of a smirk. You sat up a bit in the bath, shaking the water off your other hand so you could reply.

You: Alright. I'm intrigued.

Dyan: I might have...maybe...possibly left my keys in my trailer

You: How'd you get home?

Dylan: Fob wasn't on my key ring after I had it detailed

Dylan: Come let me in? I feel like a creep lurking out here

You: One sec

This was exactly like him, and it only made you love him more. You smiled as you stepped out of the bath and quickly toweled dry with one that was a bit smaller than you'd like if you were going to the door, so you snatched his bundled t-shirt off the counter and pulled it on before you rushed to the front door and unlocked it.

"Hey," he said with a smile when you opened the door.

"Hey," you replied, reaching out your hand to take his. You pulled him inside and into a tight hug, standing up on the tips of your toes and locking your arms together around his neck.

He gently kicked the door closed behind him and locked the deadbolt before he fully hugged you back, squeezing you tight around the waist and sighing into the damp hair at the nape of your neck.

"Oh no... you were in the bath, weren't you?" He pulled back and cupped your cheek in his palm. "Sorry, baby."

"'S'okay..." you hummed, nuzzling into his touch, enjoying the warmth of his palm on your cheek.

"You must have been so cozy in there..." He admired you for a moment, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before his gaze roamed down over your body.

You smiled, blushing at his attention.

"You look pretty comfy now though..." he said softly, pausing for a moment before he continued. "Is that...are you wearing my shirt?"

"Mhm..." you hummed, swaying slightly in his arms.

His eyes continued roaming, his hands following the trail they blazed until they were toying with the hem of it that was skirting across your upper thighs.

The skimming touch of his fingertips on your skin lit it with goosebumps. "It looks better on me..." you lied.

"Maybe..." he chuckled softly, pulling his lower lip between his teeth for a moment before his eyes met yours again, "but it'd look even better on the floor."

Did it matter that it was a line if ever you'd heard one? Not even slightly. It still sent a filthy little shiver down your spine. It didn't help that he'd leaned in and was peppering the side of your throat with wet little kisses as he walked you backward until you were pressed to the wall of the entryway.

He kissed you hard, his hands pinning your shoulders to the wall before they slid down your body and pulled his shirt up over it. He tossed it on the floor and then leaned in again, his nose brushing against yours before he whispered in your ear.

"See?" he breathed, his lips wet on your skin. His fingertips ghosted along your skin until one palm settled on your chest, the other on your ass.

You didn't see a damn thing except for little stars, but he'd more than made his point. You punched out an abrupt panted breath at the feeling of his fingers pinching your nipple before he sealed his lips to yours and swallowed down the little moan he pulled from you.

He kissed you until you were breathless, and in the brief reprieve he offered—mouthing along your jawline and driving you wild with the little grazes of his teeth—you managed to draw in a ragged enough lung full of air to keep from passing out.

You were pretty sure you'd collapse if he wasn't holding you in place. His touch, his admiration of your body, it had you forgetting just how awful you'd been feeling just an hour ago. Turns out? A hot bath and a fine-ass man putting his hands all over you are the curealls for just about everything. Who knew.

"Missed you..." he hummed against the thin skin that covered your collarbone.

Your head fell back against the wall.

"Couldn't stop thinking about you..." he said before he kissed his way to the dip at the base of your throat. "Took a shower on my break..."

You looked down at him, at his hand that was clasped to your upper arm, those beautiful veins painting across the tendons that flexed at his grip. His dark hair smelled of his shampoo.

"Had me so riled up I had hide in there and beat off just so I could be seen in fucking public."

It made you immeasurably happy that he was still infatuated enough with you that he was capable of expressing the laughably pathetic self-control of a hormone-addled teen. Your cheeks flushed and a little chuckle shook your chest.

"I deserve that..." He smiled against your skin, before he pulled back from you, his eyes locking with yours. "But I mean..." his gaze flicked down your body before his hand that had been nestled into the dip of your waist slipped down between the two of you until he was cupping the warmth of your core in his hand. "Can you blame me?"

"Fuck."

Now he was the one chuckling, but it quickly faded, his expression shifting from sly to sultry when his fingers slipped inside of you.

You groaned, your head falling forward to his clothed shoulder. You gripped the fabric of his shirt, stretching out the neck enough to expose some skin for you to latch onto with a nipping little bite.

He winced, sucking in a quick breath before he distracted you from your mission to mark your territory with a curl of his fingers inside you.

"Oh— Shit!" you gasped, panting into the cotton of his shirt until it was damp with your desperate breaths.

"That feel good?" he asked, even though the way you were squeezing his fingers had to be answer enough.

You nodded against his chest before he used the curled index finger on his free hand to lift your chin.

"Good," he said before he leaned in and kissed you.

His soft lips felt incredible, the flavour mint on his breath mixed with the faintest hint of tobacco, the combination had become something uniquely 'him' to you. It made your head spin. So, when his tongue begged to be let in to play with yours, you were happy to oblige.

You let him work you over until you could feel that little buzz building up inside you, that tingling hint that—with just a little more effort, one more precise little motion—he'd have you cumming before he was even out of his shoes, and that hardly seemed acceptable.

Breaking your kiss, you pulled away from his chasing lips, knowing you must look absolutely wrecked, and then you gripped him through his pants.

He tossed his head back and practically growled at your touch, his fingers stilling for only a moment before his eyes met yours once more with a fierce, fiery need. He shoved your hand aside and ripped open the zipper of his jeans and shoved your hand into his boxers.

"That's what you do to me..." he said, rutting into your palm, matching his pace with his fingers inside you as he kicked out of his sneakers.

You grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it off him, tossing it against the wall behind him. "Take those off..." you said, flicking your gaze down his body at his pants, flexing your wrist inside his boxers.

He stepped out of his jeans and socks and then pressed you against the wall once more, rubbing his thigh against the back of his arm to apply a bit more pressure to the hand that was driving you insane.

"You close?" he asked, nosing your jawline and breathing against your skin.

You nodded, pressing a kiss to the side of his throat before you spoke. "Yes..."

He pressed his thumb against your clit and you gasped his name into his hair when his lips fell to your chest.

Just when you thought he was going to shove you off the edge, you felt his fingers slip free from you before he slid down onto his knees in front of you. His warm brown eyes looking up at you, his soft lips parted just inches from your skin. This was criminal. This was attempted murder in the first degree.

When his tongue teased over you, the flutter of his eyelashes was almost enough to get you off. It looked like he was taking a hit of a designer drug...getting high off you.

He moaned against your skin and his hands pinned your hips to the wall, gripping the soft skin under them tight enough that it stung. That tiny hint of pain only made all of it better.

Your hands tangled into his hair, drawing him closer to you. You sighed out his name and half-formed expletives as his tongue teased you back to that precipice he'd had you teetering over minutes earlier.

He sealed his lips around the singing little bundle of nerves and flicked his tongue, his beard teasing the sensitive skin, before he let his lips fall open and he lapped along the slick of you he'd made slicker with his skilled mouth.

You were trembling now, your fingernails scraping along the back of his neck now, your legs weak with the effort of holding yourself up when all you wanted to do was fall apart.

"Come for me..." he breathed before he sealed his lips again.

Demand? Request? It hardly fucking mattered, because before you could classify it as either you were doing it. You were calling out, grasping his shoulders and trembling against his hold on your hips.

He pulled back from you, wiping his mouth into the palm of his hand before he stood in front of you once more. "Mmm...." he hummed before you watched him stroke his length with his wet hand. "Love the way you sound when you're cussing my name..."

Fuck. He'd only just made you come and you felt a new little ember spark to life inside you just waiting to be stoked. Insatiable was putting it lightly. When he kissed you this time, you could taste what he'd done to you—how he'd just driven you wild—and you needed to make him feel just as good.

You stepped apart enough to make more space for him between your legs and pulled him toward you. "Need you..." you whispered against his lips.

"Need me to what?" he replied, kissing along your jawline to your ear before he lapped against your throat and sealed his lips to suck a little mark into your skin.

You bucked your hips against him, feeling his length slide through the mess he'd made of you. "To fuck me..."

The way he responded to those words never got old. You held them in reserve, generally choosing to be a touch more subtle. He practically growled, his head snapping back, his dark eyes trained on yours when his grip on you tightened.

You gasped when he hefted you up in front of him, lining himself up with you, locking your thighs around his hips before he pinned you to the wall so he could free one of his hands enough to lock one of your wrists up in it just above your head. Then he drove into you in a slow, firm thrust.

"Dylan!" you cried out before he kissed you again, grinding you back against the wall before he began a more predictable, yet tantalizing rhythm.

A perfectly good couch in the living room just steps away really, a bed down the hall that was plush and waiting, and yet here you were fucking against the wall a step inside the front door like a couple of rabid animals.

When he fucked you like this he never retreated, in this position he just rocked his body into yours. The pressure it provided just where you wanted it most was unmatched. It was incredible and intense. It quickly reminded you why the couch and the bed should be neglected from time to time. Variety is the spice of life, right? And this particular variety was delicious.

"Fuck, baby..." he moaned, his hand slipping from yours, his fingers gliding through your hair until they were tangled into it and he tugged it just enough to make you wince. "So good... so fucking tight..."

"Shit!" He was driving you fucking wild. Sometimes you wish you could take just a tiny day trip into his mind to see if you made him feel as unhinged as he did you. Hardly seemed possible, but the way he looked buried inside you? You could be tempted to believe there was a chance his infatuation could rival your own.

Your body was trembling again and you felt that familiar tug inside you, that welcomed warmth building. Desire and need beginning to fold to bliss and euphoria. Was he with you? Was he ready?

The stutter of his hips, the faltering of that perfect rhythm, they were signs that he was on the edge of his own release. His breath grew ragged, and his jaw clenched with the effort it was clearly taking him to hold it back.

You didn't want him to wait, he was ready and so were you. You leaned forward and kissed him, clenching around him as the final roll of his hips had you coming undone around him.

The soft rumble of the groan he let out into your mouth when you felt him spill inside you made every sensation feel all the more intoxicating. Moments like this were almost unfathomable. How did you end up here? Lucky enough to have this man panting against your chest? It was absurd really. Absolutely batshit.

After a few moments of shared giggles and coming back to reality, he picked the shirt you'd been wearing off the floor and handed it to you to slip back on.

He appraised you as you tugged the hem down over your body.

"What?" you asked, smoothing the new tangles in your hair.

"Nothin'..." he said with a shrug, pulling on his boxers. "Just nice being right."

You narrowed your eyes. "About?"

"Definitely better on the floor."

[trashyeggroll]

I wish you would write a fic that was a complete version of it kinda hurts (for what it's worth) :( I love this thing so much I check it every other month like hello? hello? dad? have you come home? can we be a family again?

when will my energy return from the war? 😔 i will finish that fic someday anon, for now i am fighting for my life with a five week old baby who hates sleep 😔✊🏼

[angelofverdum]

Who wrote this line? I just want to talk.

[bernard-the-rabbit]

Oh alice..you would have loved Tim pls don't end up like him <3

[seaglassandeelgrass]

Just saw someone say, in full seriousness, 'books and novels aren't historical records or materials'

...I got covered in an awful lot of leather-rot handling books (and novels, hello first-edition moby dick which i have touched with my own two hands) when I worked in an ARCHIVE, whose primary patrons of the reading-room were HISTORIANS there specifically to see, in many cases, BOOKS, for those materials to be, allegedly, '''''not historical records'''''

What, pray tell, do you consider an 'historical record' if not something recorded at the time?

[dlartistanon]

Inspired by @gloomspiral's Pozeidi and that one IRL story of the two Chinese fic authors who had a sort-of rivalry due to their opposing writing styles. And then one of them got tsundere when the other was sick and stopped updating

Pozy's outfit is also inspired by Chuzenji's doodles

[thebramblewood]

Help, I think I've found the Sims 3 version of Lilith Vatore in Bridgeport and I already want her desperately. Also met this random bartender who I'm a little bit in love with too. (I swear I don't go looking for the ladies... the ladies just come to me naturally.)

[sapphickocho]

Kokushibo: Ive had these two for ten minutes.... Muichiro & Yuichiro: *being their unhinged selves* Kokushibo: I'm not sure if I'm cut out for being a dad...

Chapter 2 of Eclipse (Tokito Traitor Au) is out now! Read it here

Kokushibo didn't adopt them. They adopted him

[khandedoe]

It's a 3 minute walk to my favorite spot on the mountain

And theirs a wooden slab I sit on and stare off into the big rocks and wonder if aliens are real

Sometimes I feel like a weirdo sitting up there all alone with just a backpack sore ears from the constant use of my earbuds

and my occasional xl big gulp drink from circle K

Because from my view I see pairs of people doing the things I do alone

And I've been by myself for so long I forgot that people take time out if their own day to experience a view with one an other

I wish hopefully one day I can find a friend who seeks memories with me and vice-versa

Because the orange sunsets

Or the pink clouds after a storm

Stop feeling like a meditave moment and more like a chore I do for myself

The aliens can back me up on this

[kingofthe-egirls]

Psssst, you okay with writing a Luffy smut short? Surprise me, add your own prompt and twist love❤️

Hmmm ok! I’m in love with Luffy so im always ready to write about him lmao

(cw: modern au, livestreaming on PornHub, onlyfans, camming, rich!luffy, food mention, trashy romance novel au)

(a/n: this is gonna just be me completely self-inserting myself. i need it.)

***

Your long brown hair falls over one shoulder, fluffy and tangled from under your headphones. You’ve been streaming on PornHub for a while now, having built your career with OnlyFans and livestreaming. You’re proud of what you do, albeit a little exhausted.

Hey!

Someone types a greeting, and you smile in response. “Hey there! What’s up?” You put on lipgloss, smacking your lips close to the mic in case he’s into ASMR.

I like ur smile :)

“Aw, thanks!” You click on his name to add a gold star, favoriting the newcomer on vibes alone. “Whatcha into?”

Hmmm…

He types, and you give him room. Men are typing with only one hand, usually. You smirk. “I’ve got tarot, ASMR, blowjobs, cosplay…SPH and foot fetish, although those are extra,” you meet the camera’s fisheye, but only for a moment. Eye contact is hard, even virtually.

What’s sph?

“Small penis humiliation,” you reply, clicking through your playlist. Marina and the Diamonds, today. “How To Be A Heartbreaker” is a classic, and you smile. “D’ya like being made fun of?”

Nope! But that’s okay lol

You hum.

What’s tarot?

You pick up your deck from beside you on the table: the Goblin Market Tarot, based on one of your favorite poems. You love faerie tales. “It’s a form of divination! Or just a game, depending on how you use it. But it’s cool! You can ask questions about love, career, relationships. And then the cards will tell you something specific about what’s going on!”

You shuffle the cards, shiny and periwinkle, experimentally. “Wanna read? It’s only $5 in free chat, ‘less you want a longer reading in exclusive.”

kingofthepirates has tipped you $5!

“Okay!” You say, excited. Tarot readings are your favorite. You have youtube videos and tiktoks, too. “What’s your question? I only pull one card for free chat.”

What’s for dinner?

“Ha!” You laugh out loud, “Let’s see!”

You flip over a card. Two more fall out of the deck after it, and you place them on the table in front of you. You scooch your laptop a bit farther away, to give the cards room.

“Hmm,” you say, peering over the watercolor art, “Looks like a lot, whatever it is. Ten of crowns—that’s swords—in reverse, eight of wands, and nine of platters. That’s pentacles, or earth. Which means food, material wealth, clothing, even. What d’ya like to eat? He’s got a platter of pears,” you hold up the card for the camera, grinning slightly.

Meat! Lol

“Haha, okay!” You tap on the cards in front of you. “Looks like a big party, maybe some conflict going on. Maybe a buffet? Like you’re fighting over food. But ya don’t have to be, with ten of swords in reverse, there’s plenty of food to go around. D’ya like barbecue? That’s what I’m getting.”

I do!

You sweep the cards up, and place them back in the deck neatly. “Well, that’s what I have for you! I like barbecue too, maybe I should order ribs…,” you click through your browser tabs, opening DoorDash to see what’s up.

Omg no way!!! Sanji is having a barbecue tonight!

“Sanji?” You ask, distracted, “Is that your boyfriend?” You love teasing men about having boyfriends and such, being bisexual (and nonbinary) yourself. You like tipping on the scales of heteronormativity, in whatever way you can. It makes them blush.

Nooo lmao he’s my cook! My friend

“Cook?” You ask, teasing. “What are you, rich?”

Yep!

Your eyebrows fly halfway up your forehead, but you don’t say anything. You calmly put the tarot deck away.

“I’ve never had a cook before in my life,” you cross your arms on the desk, letting your back arch so your cleavage sticks out.

It’s fun! He loves cooking and he’s the best at it. I also have a bodyguard but he’s my friend too. He likes swords ⚔️

You giggle at the emoji.

“Well, you came to the right place if y’wanna spend money,” you flirt, glittering at the camera. You’re not wearing makeup, but the pink light you have set up overhead does wonders for your skin. Plus the ring light to the side adds a couple sparkles to your eyes.

kingofthepirates has tipped you $50!

“Holy shit,” you breathe, quickly adding VIP to the stranger’s folder. “Thanks, king!” You smile, beaming at the screen. Maybe bills aren’t gonna be so bad, this week.

Let’s go to a show :)

“Gladly,” you fiddle with the collar of your robe, already itching to get undressed for this man. You hope he’s cute. “Exclusive?”

Sure 😈

kingofthepirates is requesting an Exclusive show. Accept?

You click “yes.”

Obviously.

***

The boy is very cute, as it turns out. He’s fisting his cock in one hand, camera turned on, with a sculpted abdomen and veiny forearms. His camera doesn’t show his face, but that’s normal for you. His glistening six-pack and toned arms are enough for you to get wet, grinding in your desk chair as you suck off your silicone toy.

“This is so hot,” he moans, voice raspy and sweet. His mic is turned on, which you usually hate, but this time it’s cute. Your pussy is aching, and you need his cock inside you soon.

“Fuck—,” you manage out, in between licks up the silicone shaft, “Glad you like it,” you pant.

“Love it,” he whines, playing with the bronze cockhead. His fingers are long and thick, with splotchy bruises on the knuckles. You wonder if he’s a boxer, or something. Or maybe just a troublemaker who gets in a lot of fights.

You pinch your own nipples, having teased off your silk robe at the start of the show. Now, you’re naked besides your cotton underwear that you usually keep on. Pussy’s for the OnlyFans, babes.

You’re actually turned on, too.

“Mmm,” he groans, speeding up his pace. He’s probably gonna cum soon, unless you slow down your show. You teasingly poke the cock into your mouth, stretching out your cheek. You roll your eyes up, moaning like a hentai girl.

“C-can you deepthroat it?” He asks, panting. His voice is so sexy, oh my god.

“I can try,” you giggle, and slide the cock halfway down your throat. Your gag reflex triggers, and you cough as you pull it out. “Sorry, I’m not the best at deepthroats,” you slap the toy against your cheek. He moans, anyway.

“God, you’re good,” he grips his balls with his other hand, and you notice scars up and down his arms. He also has one shaped like an X on his chest. You wonder where he got those, if he really is a reckless fighter, having adventures you can only dream of.

“What do you do?” You ask, jumping up and down in your seat. Your tits jiggle, and he groans appreciatively.

“Wish I could touch you,” his voice cracks. His hand trails up his abdomen, playing with his own nipples a bit. His hands are wide and thick, and you lick your lips.

“Me too,” you confess, genuine. He’s one of the hotter clients for you. You set the dildo down so you can play with your own tits. They’re soft and heavy, and you bounce them in your hands.

“But, ah,” he palms his cock softly, “I’m a MMA fighter. What about you?”

“Besides this?” You ask, tossing too-long hair over your shoulder. It brushes against your bare skin, and you grimace. You pull it up into a bun instead. Your eyes glitter at the camera, and your lips purse. “I make content on PornHub, OnlyFans, and other places like YouTube and stuff. Cosplay, tarot, mostly blowjobs. But not—on the wholesome places,” you breathe a laugh. “I’m kinda everywhere, these days.” You pause, unsure of what to do. “Here, let me copy and paste my username.” You send the info in chat, hoping to get an extra $5 for the OnlyFans sub.

“I’ll hafta subscribe,” he flirts, “Can I see that ass again?”

You grin, flushing slightly, as you stand up and turn around. You grab your ass in both hands, squeezing heavy flesh tightly. You bounce up and down, letting him appreciate the jiggle. Your cellulite and curves are one of a kind, you know this. Not everyone is stick-thin and spray tanned, so when customers click on your page they know they’re getting something genuine, and special.

At least, you hope.

“Fuck, baby,” he drawls out, and you turn over just in time to see him cum. Thick bursts of semen paint his clenching abs, and you hum.

“Good job,” you praise him, and he laughs. You sit back down.

“Shishishi,” he giggles, and you blush. He’s mad cute, to be honest. He fiddles with his phone, bringing it up to his face for the first time. You hitch a breath.

He’s mad cute.

“Make sure you favorite me,” you breathe, staring at his boyish features and jet black hair. His face is flushed, handsome, with a curved scar under one eye. He’s grinning at you with crinkly eyes. “S-so you can come back,” you stutter. Flustered.

Shit.

“Already did!” He bites his lip. Flicks his eyes up and down his camera. Looking at you, still bared body and soul in front of him. You wanna touch, and badly.

“Wanna hang out?” He asks, face cooling down. He grabs a towel, and wipes off his belly. He gasps, breathy, and leans back in bed. The covers are crisp and cool, almost like a hotel.

“Sure,” you breathe, ticking down to see your showtime extending. Past ten minutes, now. Fuck yeah, you think, leaning back in your own chair. “Whatcha wanna talk about?”

“Read my tarot again,” he cocks an eyebrow, “And let me know what it’ll take to get you to go on a date with me.”

***

Epilogue:

Hey 😈

He messages you on Insta, and you bite your lip. You’re sitting cross-legged at a café, having taken yourself out for a treat after your very long show this afternoon.

Hi baby 😇

You respond, too quickly. Who cares? You sip your drink, a foamy dirty chai. It tastes like cinnamon and almond milk.

Look up 👀

Frowning, you flick your eyes up and around the café. There. He’s seated across the way, at one of the square little tables situated in the center of the room. You blanch. That’s never happened before. Was there an angel of sex work watching over you?

You hope so. You gulp as he stands to make his way over to you. He’s even cuter in real life, and all thoughts of danger and serial killers and making mistakes leave your brain in one, swift breeze. You grin.

“Heya,” you say, sitting back to cross your legs. Your warm latte sits in both hands. You clear your throat. “Nice to meetcha,” you extend a hand. He takes it, smiling and warm.

“Hi,” he takes the seat across from you, pulling it out with one hand. The iron legs scrape across the granite floor. There's an exposed brick wall behind irl kingofthepirates.

"Didn't think I'd see you here," you hedge, raising an eyebrow. "Do I need to be worried?"

He blanches, eyes wide. "N-no!! I swear I'm normal. I don't--live here, I'm visiting. I have a--a match tonight! D'ya wanna come see it? I can get you VIP seats." He scoots his chair closer, looking up at you from under pretty lashes. You purse your lips.

"Prove it."

He giddily takes out his phone, a very nice smartphone with a cute charm hanging from the side. You tilt your head, and see it's a little skull-and-crossbones. You smirk.

"Here!" He hands you his phone, sliding it across the table. "It's me!"

You see a YouTube video of a wrestling match: two muscular dudes with their hands wrapped in fists. One is wearing white-and-blue shorts with pink hair, tied back with a bandana. The other is kingofthepirates, wearing red shorts with his hair loose. It’s black and floppy in spikes. He jumps up and down a bit, getting ready. The bell dings, the ref moves, and the stadium around the ring erupts in lights.

King shuffles forward, fists up, and knocks the pink-haired guy out cold. “Holy shit,” you breathe, watching the match end after only one shot. “That’s you?”

“Yep!” He grins, “We’re having a rematch this afternoon. Wanna come? I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Sure,” you decide, not having much to lose. “Can I bring a friend?”

“Boyfriend?” He asks too soon. You sip your drink.

“Girlfriend,” you correct, arching an eyebrow. “Is that a problem for you?”

He shakes his head. “Nah, as long as we can still do shows sometime.”

“Sure,” you say, nodding. “I liked your show.”

He smiles, wide and delicious, before going back to his phone to text someone furiously. “Lemme getcha two VIP seats. I wanna see ya after the show.”

“Okay,” you hum, letting him type. You lean back in your chair, pulling up your own phone. You text Nami, your girlfriend.

Babe? Ur not gonna believe this ☠️

***

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Miss your writing! So talented!

YOU!!!

That's so sweet! I was actually effing around with something recently, but I've been super busy in my IRL existence with work and stuff. I did get a bit of a bug to write after we got fed all that new content.

Here's a little sneak peak <3

Your ears perked when the announcement that the baggage from his flight was about to begin its rounds through the baggage claim area. Your phone vibrated in the thigh pocket of your leggings. You gave Tony a quick squeeze before setting him back on the floor and taking your phone out. You smiled at the preview of the text you’d just received before you swiped to see the rest.  ‘Your fine ass better be waiting for me down there.’  You smirked before typing out a teasing reply.  ‘Got stuck in traffic a few times but I’m here. I hate Newark btw.’  You watched the dots appear and couldn’t help the audible laugh that escaped when you read his next message.  ‘Newark!?’  You interrupted him with a quick ‘I’m joking!!!’ I'm at JFK' before you could see what he was typing next. Then, after a brief pause, the dots reappeared before his reprimand.  ‘You know you’re this close to the find out stage of fuckin around?’ ‘Oh? What if that’s exactly what I want?’  ‘👀’

*grins deviously*

[mrsthunderkin]

Have a few doodles of tiny Bran, Atlas, and sad man Crain

[cepetriwrites]

I come home for Thanksgiving,

and see my young niece reading a Colleen Hoover novel.

And first I cringe, knowing the low quality trash she’s consuming.

Then I remember when I was her age;

and I spent the holidays devouring the

Twilight novels.

Lovingly bought for me by family members, who would’ve hated every page.

Of the fond times I had,

of the friends and memories I’ve made,

thanks to those silly, cringe worthy books.

I look again at my niece,

she’s curled up on a couch, wrapped in a blanket,

content, flipping through the pages.

I smile, how wonderful growing up is,

where you get discover trashy novels,

in your grandparents’ house,

surrounded by people you love and good food.

[just-another-siimp]

Ooo I saw that your requests are open. I was just wondering if you could write something cute and fluffy about Gaz and his S/O giving each other a trinket or something that made them think of their partner.

Thank you :)

okokokokokokokok but i'm literally feral for this kind of stuff? gift giving is the best love language and you can't tell me otherwise okay??

warnings: no use of y/n, reader goes by Chip, this is just tooth rotting fluff.

There were, on occasion, times when the 141st wasn't in the midst of a firefight. For you it meant taking on the occasional night shift in the bases hospital, the allocation of your time was always met with complaints from Gaz. It only took a gentle reminder that you'd be back on the normal roster after two nights for him to cease, especially if a kiss or two was added to sweeten the deal.

On the night shift itself your time was usually occupied by all of the paperwork you'd neglected over the last few days, it wasn't until you were paged that you'd go out onto the floor. By 0700 you were practically crawling into the showers, washing off the nights work and changing into the comfiest pair of pajamas that you owned.

They were a gift from Gaz, he'd caught you searching for a new matching set after Soap had accidentally shrunk them in the wash. You still hadn't forgiven him for that. The soft fabric bought a whole new level of comfort as you made a b-line for your bed, only to be stopped by a gentle tapping at your door.

"Come in." just from a knock alone you knew it was Kyle who had knocked at your door, he was the only person who would tap on the door. It was like a secret code. When the door opened and Kyle entered you met him half way, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he squeezed you into a hug. "You're just in time, I was about to crawl into bed."

"Came just in time then didn't I? Thought I'd pop by before you fell asleep, love." Without effort he lifted you up, carrying you the rest of the way to bed. He maneuvered you so that you were sat on his lap, it was hard to miss the mischievous grin that spread across his face when his eyes met yours.

"How was last night? Did you end up going out drinking with Soap?" You asked, squinting slightly trying to figure out what it was that made him smile like that.

"Yeah, we stopped in at the markets before going to the pub. I got you something." There it was, the reason behind that look on his face. "Don't look at me like that, you'll love it Chip."

This had happened once before, except you'd been the one who had stopped in at the winter market before an exceptional night of drinking. You'd bought Gaz a novelty mug with a elephant doing a handstand, neither of you were sure why the image was so funny but it stuck for some reason.

So when he pulled out a pair of earrings with potato chips on them you burst out laughing, they were the cutest thing you'd ever seen and certainly not regulation. Sleep never came, the two of you opting to go and show of your newest addition of jewellery to Ghost.

[bernard-the-rabbit]

Grantaire has never been a religious person but in that moment he understood devotion. He couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t love enough. Kissing Enjolras was like praying to him and god did he love it.

[ramblesbiab]

hazbin hotel is so weird to me.

When I was an edgy, newly queer teenager and the pilot came out, it was literally fucking everything to me. I rewatched it on a near daily basis. I thought every joke landed, that the animation was amazing, and I had a weird sense of pride that a YouTuber could produce something as amazing as a 30 minute, high quality animation.

Then a few years passed as I watched Helluva Boss excitedly every time it came out. I thought it was great, for a while. Then over time, I was semi-conscious of a decline in quality, that finally set in around when season 2 came out. I stopped watching at that point because I was so bored of it, I missed what it could've been, what it used to be.

At that point, I started seeing more information about the actual Hazbin Hotel show coming soon. On it's own it would have been strange, the lack of excitement about what was my entire personality at one point. Then I started seeing how a lot of accounts on here who I respect and look up to talk about the show.

The true scope of the issues with the show really set in at that point. How unoriginal and childish the jokes were. How their was barely an audience anywhere for it because it didn't know what it was trying to be. It was clear to me that something I once idolized is a wreck.

Then, one of my closest friends with media opinions I heavily respect starts watching the show and talking about how great it is. It's hard to describe the level of whiplash I felt. It felt like I was missing something, y'know? Like there was an inside joke I didn't understand, how could anyone like the bad show. It's bad.

I... still haven't watched the show. I don't have means to watch it except pirating and I genuinely don't feel like putting in the effort to pirate it. Honestly, the greater point of this post is just like - how bad I am at forming my own opinions, because I feel a constant need to be with the crowd.

I know that's a problem. It shouldn't matter how people I respect feel about the show, because if I enjoy it and it's not genuinely problematic, then there's nothing wrong with that. So maybe I would like the show. Maybe I'm in the small audience which I've repeatedly seen referred to as dumb, overly edgy, etc. And maybe I don't want to admit that because I'm hoping I'm not in the minority.

Anyway, that's the end of this long post. Have a nice day.