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@loveshard
#LOVESHARD is a selective multi-muse / multi-verse / multi-fandom indie roleplay blog focused on queer muses. slice of life, supernatural, fantasy, superhero, and horror centric. dead dove content warning applies. triggering content will be present / tagged. mun does not equal muse. fandom crossover friendly. written by china. 21+ writers only.
GUIDELINES. MUSES. OPEN STARTERS. WANTED PLOTLINES. ASK MEMES.
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“you’re the one who looks exposed right now,” she grumbles, but gets up anyway. “i don’t know why you couldn’t just leave like you were, instead of making my room a whole mess.”
"i make everything better," winter asserted, but the shirt disagreed, riding up every time she exhaled. she tried to tug it down again, her entire midsection on display with a single breath. "god, this thing is like a sausage casing," she groaned, looking down at her own body with something like admiration. "i look amazing though, right? like, next-level hot. it's giving e-girl, but also like... slutty vintage?"
Can't you just make me, like, a pumpkin loaf?
" might want to get the lawyer, first. otherwise when you inevitably can't find the key and we have to go somewhere to get the cuffs off, i can say that i didn't sign the divorce papers under the duress of soul crushing embarrassment. i'd already planned it. " snorts lightly as she keeps chopping up vegetables, using a finger to slide a couple of peppers off of the end of the blade.
"i'll have you know, i've never lost a key in my life. misplaced some phones, yes, and once or twice a vintage omega, but keys? never," he countered, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. "i have a system. you, on the other hand—" he stopped, eyeing the precarious pile of peppers teetering on the cutting board. "you're about to lose three fingers to that santoku."
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closed starter for @greatdividcs
the vampire's body was still smoking somewhere behind them, somewhere between the storage containers and the trash bins. holden didn't look back to check. he just held on to regan by the wrist — too tight, probably — needing to move them both down the alley, far from the stench of burnt meat and the dumpster rot. he foolishly hoped if they moved fast enough, the wooden splinter in his side would stop scraping the wall of his ribs with every step. that the bleeding would let up, and he'd be able to walk off the next block as if nothing had happened. he'd been through worse, just not lately, and the cold wasn't helping. it gnawed through the blood soaking his shirt, setting his nerves on fire.
"keep moving," he commanded, the effort to keep his breath steady only good for the warlock's sake. his lungs wanted to fold in on themselves with each inhale, but he ground down the urge, pressing harder on the wound with his free hand. the numbness was spreading, which was either a blessing or a bad omen. he forced himself to clutch regan harder, refusing to allow both of them to be prey at once. "if you can magick up a cab instead of a demon, now's the time."
catching up with all american and iwtv and now my emotions are all over the place craving angst + drama
Maika Monroe & Bill Skarsgård in Villains (2019)
PLOTS INSPIRED BY :: MOVIES WITH SPIES AND CRIMINALS
FOCUS - muse a, an experienced con artist, takes in muse b to teach them the art of being a criminal. they fall in love and continue their schemes until muse a suddenly turns against muse b. a few years later, their paths cross yet again and shenanigans ensue.
KINGSMAN: THE SECRET SERVICE - muse a and muse b, who hail from different backgrounds, find friendship (and maybe even romance) as they train for an elite protection service.
MR. RIGHT - muse a can’t seem to get a break in life. that is until they find their soulmate in muse b, an increasingly prominent assassin.
SPY - a mission requires a desk agent to take on the field. the inexperienced muse a excitedly takes on the job. much to top spy muse b’s dismay, they are tasked to prepare muse a for the field. surprisingly, muse a is quite good at the job.
THE MAN FROM U.N.C.L.E - muse a is a no nonsense kgb agent and they’re tasked to protect assumed civilian, muse b. the two take on the cover of being an engaged couple, and have to live together, despite disliking each other’s guts.
MR. AND MRS. SMITH - muse a is happily married to muse b. but one day, they find out the other is from a rival spy organization. they are torn between killing each other and sticking to their feelings.
SUICIDE SQUAD - muse a and muse b are criminals with extraordinary skills. when they are released for a contractual job, they grow close to each other and contemplate a way out.
“my favourite character only acts like an asshole because he’s deflecting/covering up his insecurities 🥺🥺🥺” you are so boring. he acts like that because he sucks. worst motherfucker on earth (affectionate). stop making excuses for him
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That grind pulls another moan from his lips, blood pulsing excitedly beneath Blaise's grip on his hip. "What I gotta say thank you for?" Mahad asks him.
His first thought is to finish the question with some quip about Mahad being the one who deserves thanks since he's about to have dick in his guts, but there's a slight disconnect between Blaise's words and his body, Mahad notices. Those noises slipping from his lips, the stiffness of his erection under Mahad's weight, the way he seemed to enjoy their mini-tussle... that look in his eyes. That was thanks enough.
As soon as Blaise's hand slips free and their mouths connect, Mahad chuckles into it. "Why, you rushing me?" The gruffness of his voice doesn't exactly translate to coy, but that is what he's going for. "And here I thought I was the one incapable of patience." He throws the words back at him, and instead of grinding down on Blaise again, he reaches between them to wrap a hand around the man's dick, angling it upward before rocking his hips back just enough to catch it between his cheeks.
The length of it settles snug between the curve of Mahad’s ass. "If you want me to put in some work, all you gotta do is ask, Pa."
Blaise thought the answer was obvious. "Gratitude for being allowed near perfection," he stated anyway, finishing his claim with a roll of his hips that made a mockery of any lingering indignation. "Not everyone is so blessed," he pointed out, his fingers skating down further, teasing along the line of Mahad's tailbone. There was a delicious absurdity in how easily they fell back into this pattern, as if one night of debauchery had done nothing but amped them up for a bolder, sloppier repetition. He dug his fingers into Mahad's ass, kneading the flesh, feeling the power in the mage's body. It was unfair, really. The mage possessed both the endurance and the wantonness to draw this out as long as he pleased. He had the pride, but even that faltered when Mahad flexed his hips just so, when the head of Blaise's cock nudged hot and perfectly between those cheeks. Blaise accepted—no, welcomed the gravity of Mahad's body and the implicit promise of what came next, already impatient for more.
"Ask, you say?" Blaise mused, dragging his mouth back up to Mahad's ear, then ghosted his lips along the shell. The warlock lingered there, trailing small bites and open kisses at the soft patch of skin just below. "Very well. Consider this my formal request," he said, projecting indifference while doing his level best not to start rutting up like a desperate fool. He was not going to beg, and if he did, it would be their problem, not his. "Since you have so much energy to burn, you can do the honors."
the slice of pain of winter's nails against him arms made him feel alive. his head was rushing with possibilities, trying to consider his next move, what would best get her to crumble against him. for now, eden focused on her neck, letting his tongue tap against her pulse again before he kissed the salt off it again. tasted her, let his lips smack as he explored and tried to find where she'd like it best, where she'd resist the most. "that's what i'm trying to do, winter." felt a thrill rush through him when she rolled her hips into his thigh. almost out of instinct, eden groaned. felt how fucking warm winter was there, and immediately crowded her in, leaving no space between them anymore. almost as if to encourage her, he grabbed her hands and pinned them above her head, probably using too much force, but he had feeling she'd enjoy that. "'course i am," he whispered it into her ear before kissing her again, "having the best time of my life actually." licked into her mouth, matching her energy, just a little bit. "i know you are too."
typical eden to think physicality was the answer. she'd probably let him keep thinking that, because it worked, and she couldn't argue with results. but petty and stubborn, winter grunted, bucking up on purpose, just to prove she could. her wrists twisted and flexed, but eden's grip was ridiculous—and also irritatingly, thrillingly solid. he had big hands and a bigger ego; perfect combo for holding her in place. "you're going to break me in half," she muttered, breathless and hoarse. it was infuriating, the way eden seemed to know exactly how to unravel her. every cell in her body begged for friction, pain, a sense of relief. if he managed to hand her all three tonight, she might even let him. "you'd love that, wouldn't you," she said, her mouth trying to twist into a scowl, her hips flush to him now and caught in the delicate vise between his body and the innards of the wall. "that or i’ll break you first," she huffed, barely kissing him back, grinding her teeth and her hips at the same time.
“i’ve measured before and it’s more than six inches, you’re just mad because you’re a brat who didn’t prepare.” her bottom lip sticks out like a teenager’s now, still watching the other brunette. “are you gonna pay me back for that? i definitely just heard a seam rip.”
"yes, i'm paying you back in exposure, obviously," winter answered, shoving a loose hair behind her ear. "now get over here. tell me if you can see my bra through this," she commanded, beckoning the other over and standing as straight as she could without popping another seam.
𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐠𝐮𝐞 : “ no but it wouldn't stop the fact that, as you would so graciously put it, ‘got shit to do’. ” nuri grumbles but to whatever reason, they do try to pause for a second and not think: a basic mind is susceptible to having periodic moments of low activity, or doing things to block out more critical functions like watching reality television or eating junk food due to certain neural receptors being paused while the ones that activate for pleasure come forth. not for nuri; everything felt like an analysis or a study. if it wasn't for their ability to display pretty relative social cues and whatnot, they'd be like every stereotypical tv genius who was plagued with the archetype of the floundering neurotic. “ since you brought me up here, you've got 5 minutes to make me ‘chill’; if you can't I'm going back and swatting you if you even try to take my coffee. ” time was ticking, and the thothian was interested in knowing how the fallen angel would make them relax, or if they could even pull such a feat successfully.
nico squinted, inhaling the city air, then flicked his gaze back to nuri. he swore they were a stubborn thing with a massive grudge against relaxation. it was part of their charm, and the entire reason nico liked them. a challenge. he could practically hear the gears grinding in their skull, resisting the whole idea of letting go for even a standard lunch break, but that only made the urge to accept the dare more alluring. only five minutes to chill? no problem. he could do a lot in five minutes.
nico took the burbury scarf between his fingers, then gently looped the fabric once, twice, until nuri was pulled forward, their nose nearly brushing his. "here's the thing about switches and buttons," he murmured, "sometimes you gotta let someone else press 'em for you." his last words bit right up against nuri's mouth, and he nearly laughed at himself, because the move was such a cliché, but he was nothing if not committed to his bit. the wind caught the edge of nico's shirt and fluttered it against his ribs, cold enough to pinch, but nothing compared to the heat building from the inside out, a slow ascent of molten anticipation. his eyelids fluttered and he pressed a chaste, teasing kiss to nuri's upper lip, a gentle offering, then another softer one to the corner of their mouth. "bet you a fiver that you don't spit out another pigeon fact as soon as my hands touch you," he whispered into the tiny gap between their bodies.
me on the dash every 5 minutes:
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how was she not supposed to stare? he was...god, he was so beautiful. did he even know it? sidney quietly admired the other as he washed shampoo out of his locks. her own dark hair stuck to the sides of her cheeks and splayed across her chest. she cracks a smile, shrugging innocently. "y'know, it's small space. there's not much else to look at..." she explains, her features flushed. "you missed some, here" she murmurs, stepping closer to the other. her hands raised to help rinse out his hair, her eyes focused in determination.
the touch sent a ripple down his spine, and nico found himself tipping his head back into sidney's hands, letting her scrub until his scalp tingled and he all but nearly purred in delight. insistent yet gentle, she was skilled in her work, as if she'd done this a thousand times in other showers, with other broken-winged bastards. nico supposed that maybe she had. he leaned into her, water streaming down his back, and he found himself smiling bit wider as this went on. "you always do this?" he asked, squinting down at her. "play personal groomer after you get laid?"
@ad0rati0ns sent: 🛁 from n.sfw emoji actions
nico had never understood the mortal obsession with showers until he'd experienced one with two sets of hands on his skin. he wouldn't say he was a convert, exactly, but he was getting there. not because hot water was a revelation, or because everything smelled like eucalyptus and tea tree. that was all good and well, too, but he liked the little rituals, feathering the shampoo into their scalp, and massaging it into the roots until their hair was heavy and thick with lather. everything about the act was slow and sticky and a little absurd, and he felt a little ridiculous, but also a little worshipped. no one had touched him like this since—ever. he rinsed with his head tipped back, eyes closed, the water running cloudy with soap and last night's sin. when he opened his eyes, he felt their eyes on him, and his face was split by a lopsided grin. "you're staring," he said, not bothering to hide the way he looked back, soaking in the sight they'd given him.
