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brahmsheelshireshusband · 2 years

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Out of the Frying Pan and Into the Fire (The Grabber x GN!Reader)

Synopsis: It’s cold, raining, and you’re alone. Scared. Shuffling down a dark street in a Denver suburb at 2am, sometime in early April of 1976. A man inside a black van beckons. You don’t hesitate to thrust your life into this strange man’s hands. He is more than willing to take it. What could possibly go wrong?

Word Count: 2099 words

Warnings: Brief references to previous physical abuse (choking, to be specific) Albert Shaw as his own warning, drugging, currently SFW (if a little suggestive given that it's Albert and a slightly freaky Reader, but subject to change as I see fit), GN!Reader, they/them pronouns used in reference to the reader, Albert also calls you his “little mouse”. MINORS DNI, heed these warnings, he's a fucked up guy and he does fucked up things.

with all that being said, grabber/albert shaw fuckers, come get y'alls juice, i came out of a nearly year long hiatus bc of this freak (affectionate) and i plan to write. so much stuff with him fdhjf

You duck out of the house and into the cold, dark streets of the Denver suburb you’d recently moved to. There’s shouting behind you, sharp and angry even when muffled by the brick walls of the house. That’s fine. That house can stay filled with anger and noise. You just won’t be there anymore. Not after tonight. Your eyes sting while you cut across lawns, your pace quick and unsteady whenever the rain-slick lawns try to trip you up. Each time you catch yourself at the last second. Each time you keep your head down and continue. It’s okay if you fall, you decide, because you’ll just get back up again. That was what you’d always done, what you’d do now, and what you’d do forever. Fuck up, fall down, and haul yourself back to your feet.

Still, you find that your panic eases slightly once you’re back on the smooth concrete of the sidewalks. You shiver before you pull your coat tighter around you. Early April in Denver is cold enough during the daytime, when the sun can shine down unimpeded and bring a little warmth to your skin. At nighttime, when the rain comes down steady like it does now? It’s freezing. You just grit your teeth and soldier on in the downpour. There’s a bus stop a few blocks away from the house. There won’t be a bus for some time, but it’ll be dry and it’ll be a welcome reprieve from the rain. Isn’t that enough? You walk faster, nearly break into a run as thunder rumbles loudly overhead. Lightning cracks through the sky a second later. For a brief moment, night turns into day. You see the houses that line the unfamiliar streets, see the cars and minivans that sit outside them, and wonder if there’s someone else out there that’s like you. Stumbling away from a picturesque house of horrors, unable to cry out for help because they still feel the iron grip of someone else’s hands around their neck, and full of quickly fading adrenaline. These thoughts entrench you while you walk, body shivering and full of aches as your feet pound against the concrete. The night is still and quiet besides the rain, besides the mad person running in the streets, besides the black van that flashes its emergency lights and breaks you from your own trance.

You skid to a stop on the sidewalk, chest heaving and eyes widening while the van passes you. You don’t know why, but you’re frozen in place while it does a slow, careful U-turn in the empty street. It pulls up to the sidewalk a few moments later. Lightning flashes and you catch the logo on its side. Abracadabra

Entertainment and Supplies

Your breath catches in your aching throat when the driver’s side door opens. A man peers out at you, equal parts confusion and concern written on his face. There is quiet for a moment. You lock eyes with the man, and instinctively stand up taller, square your shoulders, and clench your jaw. “... This is hardly a good time to go for a run, y’know?” the man asks. He offers you this awkward half-smile that you can’t help but return. A laugh bubbles up in your chest and spills from your lips before you can stop it. It isn’t funny, you know it isn’t funny, and yet you laugh in the freezing rain until your voice cracks and the noise turns into bitter sobbing. “Oh!” the man says, and you can’t stop yourself from echoing it back to him. He hesitates, then steps down and out of his van. “Do you… Are you alright?” he asks. Before you can ask if you look alright, you note the way his eyes widen when they land on your neck. “Oh,” he repeats, softly, and there’s a trace of pain in that single syllable that makes it all that much worse for you. “Please,” you finally choke out. Your hands shake terribly when you reach for him. “I-I need help,” you whisper. He looks around. His bottom lip catches between his teeth. “... I have a towel in the back,” he says. He turns away and walks to the back of the van. You follow him after a moment, your legs heavy and leaden now that you’ve finally stopped. The back of his van is a little messy when he throws open the doors. There are black balloons, a few packs of playing cards, and a bright, multi-colored scarf. There’s also the towel, large, fluffy, and blessedly warm on your skin when he wraps it around you.

You feel weightless for a moment and your stomach drops, only for you to realize it’s because the man’s picked you up. He sits you down inside the back of the van, dim light from the front casting a soft and hazy glow on his face. His eyes are incredibly blue, still full of concern while he begins to dry you off. You feel almost pathetic while he moves, the soft towel coaxing blood back to the surface of your warm, now stinging skin. “I can f-finish drying myself off,” you insist. He looks down at you for a second, something dark and unfamiliar flashing in his eyes before he relents. “Alright. You just sit tight back here, okay?” he asks. You nod, and that’s all it takes for him to shut the back doors. The light fades slowly while he makes his way back to the driver’s side door. You’re fairly certain this exact scenario is something that would be in a horror movie, yet you find you’re too warm and tired to be scared of this helpful stranger. The van lurches forward after a moment. You continue to dry yourself off, the worst of your shivering subsiding while your eyelids grow heavy. Falling asleep right now would be incredibly stupid.

So that is exactly what you do. Your nap in the back of a stranger’s van is oddly nice. Your body is only mildly sore from the weird position you’d taken in sleep, and the man is gentle when he picks you up again. His hands are warm and his fingers splay out casually on your body while he carries you bridal style. Your left cheek smushes rather comfortably against his chest. The rain’s stopped. He’s dry, smells lovely, and he hums softly to himself. It's enough to almost lull you back to sleep in his arms, but the man jostles you until your eyes crack back open. “C’mon now, little mouse, I can’t exactly get inside with you in my arms,” he teases. You feel blood rush to your cheeks when he sets you down. Your head is still heavy with sleep while he wrestles with the lock for a moment, then wrenches the door open. At his insistence, you walk into the dark house first. “Here. Sit on the couch, I’ll get you some peppermint tea to drink,” he says. You sit down gingerly on the couch. You watch while he hurries off into the kitchen, thoughts lazing around in your head until you hear the whistling of a kettle. There’s the familiar clatter of cabinets opening and closing, of dishes being moved, and a mug hitting the countertop.You can’t help but smile dreamily when you hear him pouring the tea. There’s a beat of silence, he clears his throat loudly, and then you hear him approach. He reappears with a mug of steaming tea a few moments later. “... Thank you,” you murmur, accepting the mug. There’s another one of those half-smiles on his face again when you take that first sip after blowing on it, and he settles into the empty spot next to you on the couch. “Peppermint tea will get you all warmed up. Really great at chasing away those bad days, isn’t it?” he asks. You nod, face warming once more when his voice catches and deepens. You take another drink, not really tasting the peppermint but certainly feeling the warmth when it spreads through your body. You really take him in at that moment. He’s tall. Taller than you, at least, seeing as you still need to crane your head up a bit to make eye contact with him. His eyes are just as blue in this light as they were in the back of his van. Blue and almost mischievous now, almost cat-like in the way light caught in them. He’s older than you, too, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes when he smiles and creases in his forehead. His hair feathers out around his shoulders. It’s somewhere between grey and blonde, you think, though the lighting makes it a bit difficult to tell. “You like to stare, don’t you?” he asks. You look away quickly, take a deep gulp of the hot tea, and feel your eyelids grow heavy again. “... You still seem a bit cold to me. Bet those clothes don’t help,” he says. Just like that, your eyes dart back to meet his. There’s still a playful gleam to his eyes, a slight curl to his lips, and it very suddenly hits you how dumb it is to be inside this stranger’s home. “My clothes are fine,” you mutter. “Really? Because that white shirt you got on seems pretty sheer, if you ask me,” he says. You pull your coat closer around you, unease itching in your veins when he stands up again. “Give me just a moment. I bet I’ve got something much better in my room,” he says. He pauses in the doorway when you drink the last few dregs of your tea, his smile only widening when you fumble with the mug before setting it down on the coffee table. You really don’t know if he’s gone for a few minutes or a few hours before he shows up again with an armful of clothing. It’s hard to protest when he shepherds you into a bathroom, the bright light stunning you when the door shuts and leaves you alone.

He’s at least got the decency to let you change in private, you think, rolling your eyes before another shiver wracks your body. Okay. So maybe that towel could only get you so dry, and maybe some of that chill from the rain could really stick to your bones the way your clothes currently stuck to your skin. And maybe changing in a stranger’s bathroom is a bad idea, but so is being uncomfortably cold, you decide, and you strip as quick as your shaking hands allow you to. It’s not the boxers and the sleep pants that trouble you, though they do make you feel a rush of warmth to the face that is highly inappropriate given the situation, but it is the damn green shirt he gives you with an endless amount of small buttons that you struggle with. You’re lucky to have gotten all but a handful of the top buttons done when the bathroom door opens again. “See?” he says, ignoring the embarrassed cry you let out at the sudden intrusion in favor of wrapping an arm around your waist. “Much better, right?” he asks, eyes narrowing on the top buttons. “Y-You should’ve knocked-” you stammer, voice cracking off into silence when he busies himself with the offending buttons. “And you probably shouldn’t drink just anything that anyone offers, but here we are, little mouse,” he retorts. You try to tell him off for the stupid nickname, ask what the hell he means by that, and insist he go fuck himself all in one breath. All you actually manage to do is slur a vague insult at him along with a slightly garbled “fuck you” before you slump forward. It takes longer than you’d ever admit for you to realize something was seriously wrong, and by then, all you can see is the blurry face of the stranger smiling down at you.

Albert Shaw hums to himself while he hauls his new pet up into his arms.

Oh, he’s got some marvelous plans for you.

“Isn’t this just peachy keen?” he asks, giggling when all you do is moan in response. He wonders briefly how you’ll react when you first wake up downstairs, how quickly the confusion in your eyes will turn into terror, and just how much it will take to break you down once you’re in the basement. Well, Albert’s got all the time in the world to get those questions answered.

After all, he’d given you quite the dose of ketamine in that mug of peppermint tea…

#the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #albert shaw x reader #albert shaw x you #the black phone #the black phone fanfic #Milo Writes #the grabber #albert shaw #look. i needed to get this out of my brain somehow #i cant be the only one with part time magician albert shaw stuck on the brain #so now im cursing everyone else who reads this fdhsjkfdsf #enjoy or dont im not your dad

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expired-bat · 2 years

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we met in september - chapter 7

heyyyyy sorry for being gone for 2 months!!!!! i just started my final year of high school (woohoo!!!!!!!!) and school's been kicking my ass in writers block :( but ive finally picked up some inspo and im back!!! (for now) enjoy this new chapter and sorry if its shitty :))

also tw for suggestive content ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Nothing exciting happened today at school. Other than that, the duo have arranged to meet up at Dee’s place. He said that he, Heavy, and his dad would be the only ones home, and that his dad is in his study most of the time. Y/N was fine with this.

At the end of the day, the duo met up with Heavy to head to the brother’s residence. The ginger was chatting around with Y/N while Dee was on his phone listening to music. Heavy asked many questions, like where they came from, what their home is like, etc. She responded the best she could, and Heavy let out surprised responses.

“You like Slayer too?! Kick-ass!” he exclaimed. Y/N wouldn’t say she was a major fan, but Heavy was glad that someone had some “good” music taste.

The trio arrived at the large Victorian-esque estate; gloomy and dark, Y/N’s dream home. The wood was painted dull blue, the fences were spiked and all living life was dead. She was in awe with what she was seeing. The architecture and flora were arranged perfectly.

Dee took out his keys and unlocked the door. The three teens entered the home, and Y/N was still in shock at the condition of the brothers’ home. The furniture and decorations were goth-like and it felt like home. Y/N had to admit that she was jealous. Where she is staying currently and her place back at home looked nothing like it besides her bedroom.

The blond placed his keys on the holder that says “Metal Family.”

“Whoa,” Y/N wondered, “Where did you get that key holder?”

Dee responded, “My mom made it.”

“That’s awesome! Does she-”

A loud creak of a door is heard, a tall figure emerging out of a dark room. There stood a tall blond man with a cold stare. It reminded Y/N of someone…

The girl was intimidated by him, taking a step back and stood behind Dee. She shook; is that the same guy that-

“Dad, what are you doing?”

The man winced at his son’s voice and looked at the trio, a fighting grin emerging. “Hello Dee, Heavy. Just taking a break from the study.”

He then noticed Y/N.

“Are you one of my sons’ little friends?” he asked.

Y/N swallowed the little saliva on her mouth. He looked way too frightening. It’s not only his height that frightens her, but the bright, glowing eyes and that damn smile. She tried with all of her might to get a sound out of her.

“Dad, this is Y/N. She’s the exchange student people have been talking about. We’re going to be studying together.” the dark prince replied for her. Y/N felt relieved.

He took a closer look at her, then his face lit up. “Ah! You’re the girl who was lost at the airport three weeks ago! It’s nice to meet you again Ms. Y/N!”

…That’s his dad?

“Y-Yeah, that's me. Thank you for helping me Mr…?”

“Glam.” he continued smiling.

“Yes, Glam…”

There was an awkward silence for a moment.

“Anyways! I gotta log in to beat that damn Antov’s winning streak!!” Heavy squaked before he dashed to his room. Dee went upstairs and Y/N soon followed. She felt watched, and this time, it was from Glam.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Y/N and Dee enter the boy’s room; there was little light and it looked organized yet cozy. The bed was made, clutter was in its places, and the floor was nearly empty besides a rug and some shoes. The teens put their bags down.

Dee rummaged through his messenger back, taking out the notes for history, both his and Y/N’s.

“Some of the information is either irrelevant to the presentation or myths, but other than that, your notes are good.”

Good. He said that his notes are good.

“Now, onto your little project.” Dee continued.

Y/N jumped and pulled out the thick paper, a pencil, and a textbook for a flat surface. “It’s just a portrait. Just sit down and I’ll sketch it out.”

Dee sat on the desk chair, fixing his posture and his hair. Y/N began her sketch. The markings of the granite stick echoed through the room and filled in its silence. She continued to look at the blond, then back to the dark marks. She had to make this as accurate as possible.

A few minutes would pass before another sound would come out, this time coming out from Dee. “What medium are you going to choose for this?” he asked

“Probably oil. Many portraits are made out of them, so might as well go along with it.” Y/N replied.

The boy hummed in agreement. He knows a bit about visual art, the mediums, color theory, and art history, but is not much of an artist himself. As to quote his father, he has no musical or artistic talent.

An hour would pass until Y/N would be satisfied with the final sketch. She let out a relieved sigh and put the paper and pencil down.

Dee relaxed, then looked at the artist; she stretched her back and arms and let out a soft groan. Her shirt lifted up, exposing a bit of her stomach. Her soft fishnet thighs squished on the dark rug. He could’ve sworn he saw her-

Look away!!!

He couldn’t believe those thoughts ran into his head! Fucking hormones!!

“Do you know where the bathroom is?” she asked.

“... It’s the first door to the left.”

She got up from the floor and exited his room. Dee sighed, covering his heated face, He swore that he felt his jeans tighten.

Ignoring that, he looked at the sketch; it looked too fucking real, something straight out of a camera but it’s not. It was completely made from her hands. Internally, he was full of glee and couldn’t believe that he was this lucky. He quickly took out his phone and took a photo of the sketch. He’s planning on printing it out and keeping it on his wall.

He couldn’t hear the girl’s heavy footsteps, too focused on the details on the paper.

“Do you like it?”

Dee looked up to see the girl above him. His face flushed and looked back at the drawing. He let out a soft smile.

“I love it.”

Absolute word vomit. Dee realized what he said and immediately covered his mouth. He then looked at Y/N, flustered at his words. She fumbled her hands and looked away from him.

“Thank you…”

She’s so cute.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Unfortunately, Y/N had to go home. She said her goodbyes to her friend, his brother, and father. When Dee closed the door after she was far, far away, his world darkened. It was all back to normal and he hated it. Heavy was screaming out words that are definitely not gamer-friendly, mom was fixing her bike, and dad was fixing up dinner. Dee pulled out his phone and looked at the photo of the sketch. He zoomed in to focus on the little details; the speckle of freckles and moles on his face, the small parts of frizzy hair sticking out, and the smudge of his eye makeup.

Is this how she looks at him? Is he really that beautiful? Of course not, she’s doing the most realistic thing. Hell, she even got his thick eyebrows and resting-bitch face correctly!

He put his phone away and trotted back to his room. He flopped on his ready-made bed, destroyed by his lithe body. Dee stared at the ceiling for what seemed to be eons, until his dad called for dinner.

All he could think about right now was her.

#metal famliy #metal family dee #metal family dee x reader #dee x reader #canon x reader #x reader #female reader #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic #milo writes

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writeintrees · 1 year

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Love Letter

I love you

Through backward glances

Icy slips

Being yelled at in the grocery store parking lot

Painsomnia fueled late night walks

Together we dye you purple

Wrap you in shimmer and spikes

Because we refuse to shrink beneath their collective gaze

I sit with you

and weep

for the betterment of having you

I love you

My mobility aid

#milo writes #writing #writeblr

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im-the-punk-who · 1 year

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Michael Guerin/Alex Manes Characters: Michael Guerin, Alex Manes Additional Tags: Vampire!Alex, consensual vampire biting, Hand Feeding, Light Dom/sub, Aftercare Summary:

Michael and Alex feed each other in different ways. Love is always at the center of it.

#roswell new mexico #malex #malex fic rec #rnm fanfic #rnm edits #michael guerin #alex manes #by milo #milo writes #vampire au #because who doesnt love a good vampire au #LOVE IS STORED IN THE FOOD METAPHOR LOVE IS STORED IN THE FOOD METAPHOR LOVE IS STORED!!!! IN THE FOOD METAPHOR

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nintendont2502 · 1 year

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Short fic WIP I'm still pretty proud of (despite not touching it for months) >B3

CG: JUNE? REALLY??

EB: what? whats wrong with it??

TG: well i think it's a GREAT name june

GG: same! it really suits you!

TG: yeah dude what do you have against june

TG: do you hate pride month or some shit

TG: wait holy shit are you troll homophobic

CG: HOLY FUCK I NEVER SAID THERE WAS ANYTHING WRONG WITH IT!!

CG: IT'S A GOOD NAME, GREAT JOB ON THE NEW GENDER JUNE ETC

CG: BUT SWEET HUMAN JEGUS ON A FUCKING CROSS AM I GLAD VRISKA ISN'T HERE TO RUB THIS IN OUR FACES RIGHT NOW

GC: H4H4H4H4 1 FORGOT 4BOUT THAT

EB: wait, you guys know about that??

GT: Know about *what*?

GA: Everyone Knew About It

GA: Vriska Told Everyone She Could About The "L8me Ass Nerd" She Was "Owning"

GA: Multiple Times

TT: Could someone maybe tell the rest of us what ‘that’ is?

GC: 4LSO H3R P4SSWORD W4S R34LLY 34SY TO GU3SS >:]

GA: Also Terezi Logged Into Her Trollian Account

GA: Actually I Believe I Still Have The Screenshots She Sent Us Somewhere

GC: 1 H4D TO S33 1F YOU W3R3 R34LLY 4S L4M3 4S SH3 S41D

EB: and?

GC: YOU W3R3

EB: :(

GA: The "Owning" Was Rather Sub-par Though

TT: Ah yes, I remember that.

TT: Wasn't her best work, that's for sure.

GT: Good god, are we EVER going to find out what ‘that’ is?

TG: doesnt look like it

TG: le sign

GG: wait i don't know what ‘that’ is either! what the hell guys!

TT: Vriska wrote June’s name with 64 ‘o’s once, and June pronounced it like a ‘really long June’

GC: AND THEN FOR SOME INSANE REASON SHE WENT WITH THE NAME VRISKA MADE UP INSTEAD OF, OH I DON'T KNOW, ANY OF THE OTHER INFINITE FUCKING NAMES AVAILABLE IN OUR *MULTIPLE UNIVERSES*

TG: you gotta admit it suits her tho

CG: I NEVER SAID IT DIDN’T! HONESTLY I THINK THE FACT THAT IT WORKS SO WELL IS WHAT'S DRIVING ME SO FAR OUT OF MY THINK PAN!

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drewsephrry · 1 month

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everybody moved on, help im still at the restaurant

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cozymaples · 5 months

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(tags under the cut !)

ryan, who makes sure to bump into any guy who happens to hold their gaze on you for too long as you’re walking past. ryan who glances back at them with a smug grin, making sure they know it wasn’t an accident. ryan who didn’t need to bump into them that hard, but nearly knocked them off their feet.

ryan who has his mouth latched to your pussy, pulling you closer to him each time you try to writhe away from the overstimulation. his arms are hooked under your legs, holding you by the top of your thighs. he takes a moment to part from your aching clit, puffy and swollen, to revisit the situation. “looking at my fuckin’ girl,” he tsks. “what a world we live in! i mean,” he laughs with disbelief, “i should’ve knocked his fuckin’ head off his shoulders, baby-i’m serious.” it’s almost sadist, but he knows how bad you get off on it-pussy dripping every time he defends you. you’re panting above him, looking down as your head cranes gently forward. “i..” you respond through a whine, but you can’t manage anything else. your flesh is warm, hot all over with a thin layer of sweat. stray hairs stick to your face, your cheeks flushed from the amount of times you’ve orgasmed.

“my pretty baby. can’t talk, s’alright. s’right where i want you, hon.” he says, palms tapping your thighs with encouragement. “don’t think i forgot why we’re here,” he says, and you gasp as he slides two thick fingers inside of you, curving to brush up against your g-spot. “next time anyone looks at you, they’re only gonna see how fuckin’ good i made you feel. and only me.” a satisfactory hum leaves you, dizzy with lust as he tugs you towards him once more. kneeling at the foot of your bed, his cock strains in his jeans, knowing it’s true-that you’re all his. “look at me.” he instructs, and you oblige, looking down once more. “one more,” he says, inches from your pussy, “then you’re done.”

tags : @dat-crazy-fangirl , @barbie-munson , @citrinedream , @sweatycashranchmuffin , @sunlightaste , @miwagila , @wilwaren , @manheimdaily , @ludhayyy , @cb-02

#ryan thanksgiving #ryan thanksgiving x reader #milo manheim #milo manheim x reader #milo manheim x reader smut #milo manheim oneshot #milo manheim one shot #milo manheim smut #ryan thanksgiving smut #maple writes ryan!#milo manheim thanksgiving #thanksgiving movie

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murdrdocs · 5 months

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OMG YAYAYAYYAYA anyway.

above ryan being sexy and funny and smart (he goes to an ivy after all) he’s just POSSESIVE

he likes marking his s/o up and making sure people know that they’re taken. he likes buying them clothes in his school colors and he takes pride in seeing them walk around in all of it

not to mention he’s definitely good in bed but that’s for another time

this is so the vibes of this piece by @/cozymaples and ur both so right

he has what's his, and it's his for a reason. why would he even dream of sharing? he doesn't want to share, you don't want to be shared, but other people can't seem to get the memo. and ryan can't be around all the time to make sure everyone else knows that you're taken so he does what he can.

he buys you harvard sweatshirts that he graciously drenches in his overpriced cologne, knowing that when someone asks if you go there, you'll tell them that he does instead. he adores seeing you wear the crimson merch around town, but even more he likes seeing you wear them with nothing else on. he gifts you a charm bracelet for christmas one year, one that he knows people will compliment so each time you're able to say your boyfriend bought it for you. and because he knows sometimes this won't suffice, he keeps you marked up, despite your complaints that it's embarrassing when you're having lunch with your mother and she squints at your bruised neck.

but he's not having it, big hands on your hips as you stand in front of him. "c'mon, babe. you know what time it is," he always tells you with a small smile, head lolled back at he stares up at you with big brown eyes. you'll pout, try to dissuade him once more hoping that this time he'll listen. which, he doesn't, and you end up with ryan's lips abusing the previously healed and unmarked skin of your jugular until you're left with marks that'll definitely bruise. and he always sits back with a pleased expression, swollen lips curled up into a proud smile before he spreads your legs and situates himself between them to give you your prize for behaving so obediently.

#ryan thanksgiving #legit what do i tag this?#celeste writes misc #ryan thanksgiving x you #ryan thanksgiving x reader #ryan thanksgiving fluff #ryan thanksgiving smut #milo manheim x reader #(sorry milo i need exposure)

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paenling · 1 year

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he died once but he got better. he is a hundred pounds soaking wet. he can bench press a bus if sufficiently motivated. he is inexplicably immune to brain freeze. a stiff breeze could knock him over. he sets off Geiger counters. he cannot climb the rope in P.E. he knows when you'll die plus or minus two years. he did not study for the english pop quiz.

you know, that Fenton kid.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #headcanon #cryptid danny #cryptid au #?#milo writes #but only a little bit

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milomoonsies · 17 days

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♡ Fire Burn and Caldron Bubble ♡

Chapter 3

Pairing: Regulus Black/James Potter

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 25k - WIP - 3/4

Tags: No Magic AU, Burlesque Club, Dancer!Regulus, Photographer!James, crack treated seriously lmao

Read on Ao3

“If kissing me was a mistake, just tell me,” James says.

“That wasn’t kissing,” Regulus whispers.

Cornering him now, how James crushes him, his warmth and his needing so unbelievable it’s a force that could bend a space in half. His head fogs up. He’s hazy with the memory of those hands on his body and that tongue in his mouth, of how being with James Potter means being gorged on, bones and all.

Years have passed since their catholic school days. Now the boys have reunited in the queerest burlesque club in Soho.

Serendipitous? Surely.

Sexual tension? Plenty.

Chaos? As God intended.

#the shitty cover is BACK babyy #jegulus #james x regulus #james potter #regulus black #milo writes

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fjorests-of-wildemount · 10 months

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Orym is in that weightless place between sleep and awake, bed warm and soft around him, drifting on a wave of deep contentment. A cloud of soft hair drifts across his face and tickles his nose. He brushes it away and looks up into Dorian's brilliant gaze.

"You're supposed to be sleeping," Dorian admonishes. Orym smiles and catches his lips in a tender kiss. It feels electric and ethereal, sending more warmth down to his toes. He pulls back and tucks Dorian's hair behind his ear.

"And you're not really here," Orym replies. Dorian smiles sadly.

"No, but you still need your rest."

"I miss you, " Orym murmurs, tracing Dorian's cheekbone with the pad of his thumb. Dorian turns his head and presses a kiss into Orym's palm.

"I'm sorry I'm not there."

"I'm not."

Orym reaches up and kisses him again, pulling Dorian close with almost no effort. There's warmth and sensation but no weight where Dorian leans against him.

In the end, Orym is the one who has to pull away. Those are the rules in a dream . . . And a dream this certainly is, the soft natural light of his long abandoned cottage in Zephrah illuminating Dorian with a glow. His heart aches.

"I don't know if--I don't know if I'll see you again," Orym whispers, afraid. "I'm not afraid of dying, but . . . But if I do, I think I'll regret--"

"Then don't. Orym of the Air Ashari, you're not allowed to die until you can tell me how you feel."

Orym swallows his tears. "Okay." He kisses Dorian again, slow and sweet in the way of dreams. "Okay."

#cr spoilers #critical role #bells hells #cr fic #dorym #orym of the air ashari #dorian storm #milo writes

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nerodivergentgrimreaper · 3 days

Text

Redacted Fics I wanna read but I dont wanna write

baabe taking asher swimsuit shopping (Asher scar body positivity)

Sweetheart finally snapping at Milo for ranting about their job

Freelancer having a panic attack in front of the Damn crew for the first time

Gavin having to take care of a sick freelancer for the first time

Huxley finding out Damian has a Peanut Allergy

Sweetheart giving Milo a vintage luxury watch (It's the first expensive jewelry he has ever owned)

Sam helping Darlin cut their hair

Angel colors in David's tattoos

Guy helping honey after they broke their arm

Milo, David, and Asher have to go to the department to file paperwork and see sweetheart bringing in a guy in handcuff (looking all badass)

Smartass' younger sibling show up on their door late at night after getting in a fight with their parents

#if anyone writes any of these i will cry #redacted asmr #redacted milo #redacted sweetheart #redacted darlin #redacted sam #redacted david #redacted asher #redacted freelancer

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expired-bat · 4 months

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6 Meimei and any fine lady of choice

honestly i cant think of who to ship meimei with, so i came up w a mystery woman!!!

6 - Write about an intense kiss between your ship.

In the City That Never Sleeps, the nightlife is where it is to die for. The rest of the crew arrived to their designated club after a crazy show, getting their groove juices to spill onto the dancefloor. Meilin tried to push the heavy door open, but of course, Tony had to open it for her. She was the first to arrive, with the rest of her minions bandmates following suit. The neon lights danced around the room, casting vivid hues on the sea of bodies moving to the rhythm of the music. As she navigated through the crowd, Meilin couldn't help but feel the electric energy in the air.

She found herself at the bar, ordering a Manhattan to steel her nerves. The atmosphere was charged with excitement, and Meimei was ready to set loose. Drink in hand, she made her way to the dance floor, where the sea of bodies was in constant motion. She sees Ryan and Tony and made her way to them, seeing that they're the only two that will protect her (just in case some dickhead spiked her drink).

Meilin took a sip of her drink, watching the two having their little "dude-bro" moment of dancing on each other. How they managed to click without being in love, she doesn't know. She's aware of their benefits for one another, being that neither of them wouldn't shut up when she tried to go in the bathroom one too many times.

As the beats throbbed, Meilin moved with the music, losing herself in the vibrant energy. She felt her eyes on her. A man, she thought, a vile, disgusting, poor excuse of a man. When turned, she locked gazes with a enigmatic yet sexy woman. She is tall, with curves all in the right places and alluring brown eyes in the shape of almonds. Her hair is dark, long, and straightened, her skin in the color of chestnut, and her face painted in bold makeup. Her black dress hugs onto her curves, displaying her cleavage from the deep v-neck. Her eyes held a magnetic pull that drew the frontwoman in.

Meilin nudged Tony, shoving her Manhattan to his chest. The bassist was a bit bewildered that his bossgirl gave him her drink.

Without exchanging words, the woman joined Meilin on the dancefloor, seamlessly moving inn rhythm with her. The air was thick with anticipation, and as the base dropped, the two women shared an unspoken understanding. The dance became an intimate conversation, bodies speaking a language that transcended words.

Meilin's heart raced as the woman's hand grazed hers, sending shivers down her spine. the pulsating music surrounded them, drowning out the rest of the world. In the dimly lit club, their connection deepened, each movement conveying a shared desire.

Without hesitation, the woman leaned in, her lips capturing Meimei's in a passionate kiss. Her world faded away as the kiss deepened, the heat between them escalating. It was a moment suspended in time, the merging of two souls in the heart of the pulsating nightclub.

The kiss broke as the song reached another beat drop, leaving Meilin breathless and exhilarated. The woman offered a playful smile before disappearing into the crowd, leaving the frontwoman standing there, heart pounding, with the taste of her lips still lingering.

"Wheeeewwww, Meimei!"

Her head turned to see Ryan holding his phone in flash and Tony snickering behind him. Her face instantly turned red and stomped her heels towards him.

"HEY!! TURN THAT SHIT OFF!!!"

Like a kitten playing with it's toy, she reaches up high to snatch his phone from his hands, with the men laughing their asses off from her poor attempts to. It instantly ended when she stomped her heel onto the goth's toe, making him screech and drop his phone onto the grimy floor, shattering the screen. She snatches her drink from Tony's hand, chugging it all and going to the bar to order something stronger, probably ten shots of Fireball to forget the night.

#yuri time #milo writes #writing prompts #ocs #meilin #mtl oc

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