#I was not on the internet when I was growing up

[getouyuri]

bite the hand that feeds

✞ pairing — vampire!geto x gn!reader

summary — “i want you to eat well. i want you to be full.” or, suguru has denied himself human blood his entire fledgling life. sitting back and watching him self-destruct just won’t do.

✞ content & warnings — SFW but MDNI, gender neutral reader, hurt and comfort, angst, fluff, suggestive themes and content, modern au, vampire au, pet names, bartender!geto, geto is in his 30’s, starvation, blood drinking, bloodlust, mildly possessive behavior, the intricacies of vampire morality and guilt and ethics, religious undertones and imagery, masochist!reader, aftercare, doting geto

author's note — decided to revamp (lmao) an old fic that i published for a different fanbase… hashtag recycle hashtag reuse. i even made a 2nd spotify account to share this playlist for it if you wanna listen while reading 😭 this fic was already very dear to me but now it’s even more so w/ this geto version, so I hope you all enjoy this as much as I do!! 🫶🏽 masterlist

writing © getouyuri. fanart © kayluvshie. dividers © bbyg4rlhelps. wc: 9.1k.

“Baby,” You call again, lips downturned.

Suguru merely hums but doesn’t otherwise show a sign of life, the vampire swaying in place in the kitchen and eyes glazed over like freshly fired ceramic. You have to rise from your perch on the armrest of the divan in order to make his dazed gaze settle somewhere in your direction, but he isn’t really seeing you— his dimmed irises threaten to slide right through your very much corporeal body.

That only serves to make your frown more pronounced.

Since the second Suguru silently slipped through the door with his decorated keychain, fresh from a grueling shift at the bar, you immediately knew that something was wrong. Your instincts told you that it had nothing to do with him smelling of a sticky alcohol that he didn’t consume, the scent nearly masking the remnants of his jasminey cologne.

Suguru looked oddly disheveled and worn down, a far cry from the usual quiet confidence and composure that fills out the frame of the vampire, and was slow to respond as he absentmindedly picked through the pantry.

He was trying to find something to satiate the cravings that were surely making his blood sing, but the hunger was scrambling him beyond repair. You had to jolt forward when Suguru didn’t react fast enough to catch the dried mangos that his shaking hands had knocked to the side.

All of your earlier attempts at questions about his day were answered by incomprehensible murmurs. You hovered uselessly behind him until you finally turned, retreating to the living room with further concerns mounting on top of the already growing pile. Suguru had remained, planting himself in the kitchen amidst the sprawling ivy and potted ferns.

Your concern only fuels your persistence, though, and after you had given Suguru a few more minutes of time— in which he ended up doing nothing but stare at the appliances on the countertop— you think to try again.

“Baby,” You repeat, softening your voice into a coo. You practically creep over, socked feet making a scuffing noise as you drag them across the carpet, then the tile of the kitchen. You keep your hands slightly raised in a placating matter as if approaching a cornered animal— an unpredictable predator.

You think that you may as well be with the way Suguru stares at you with blood-red eyes, slowly swiping his tongue over his lips. It makes you shiver.

You’ve done your fair share of research, having taken to hitting the books (which really means the internet… and admittedly, a few vampire romance novels), boldly showing up at his mother’s door with questions, and simply observing him in the four corners of your shared home.

To someone like Suguru, considered undead from the moment he was reborn into this world by a stray vampire that got their claws in him when he was younger, blood— especially human blood— was essential. A necessity, like water was to humans, to the soil and the plants and the birds.

You’ve noticed something, though. Suguru drives fear into himself— the fear of what that knowledge, the taste of human blood, would do to him. If it would consume him, desire and hunger rotting him from the inside out as Suguru kept it from morphing into what he thinks will be an uncontrollable bloodlust. He denies himself his biggest necessity, the one that lined his very being.

You heard it from the lips of his mother himself, whose tiredly-etched face had been tipped down to her special blend of tea as you conversed during an impromptu brunch.

Mei’s a beautiful woman. You can see where your boyfriend got his almost wraithly elegance in those lavender-hued eyes that exude a calm that drugs you, her black hair that swings over her shoulder in a long braid. That signature Geto smile that she gives you as she pours you your own cup.

But she’s weathered in a way that Suguru isn’t and will never be, forever trapped in a body that cannot age. He’ll never have the crow’s feet that crinkle her eyes just so. The silvery streaks crowning her head. The plumpness of her hips and her neck that her slowing metabolism brings about. The slow decay of self.

“Thank you,” you say, taking a sip of tea. Not wanting to waste her time, you dive right into the nitty gritty. “I’m hoping you can give me some insight on the whole… Suguru thing. He survives off of animal blood just fine, but I know it’s not enough to sustain him for good. Like, at all. I’ve taken a shot at the more obvious reasons as to why he’s adamant about abstaining from human blood in conversations with him, but…”

Mei waits patiently. Your shoulders wilt. “He just doesn’t see that I’m worried about his health. I feel like a bad partner for not being able to help him or get through to him.”

The older woman sets her teacup down with a quiet clink, her expression softening with understanding. She exhales a gentle sigh as she reaches across the table to squeeze the top of your clenched fist.

"You’re not a bad partner, dear. Far from it. And Suguru loves you with his whole heart," Mei reassures, her voice fond but tinged with something heavier—something like grief. “That boy… Suguru’s always been stubborn when it comes to his ideals. He clings to them like they’re his lifeline."

A flicker of bittersweetness and a shadow of something else crosses her features before she continues, "Even as a little boy, he was like that— always putting others before himself, always worrying about being a burden or punishing himself for things beyond his control.”

You purse your lips and trace the rim of your cup. Her eyes follow your fingertips. “Tell me about it,” you quip quietly, earning a twinkling of laughter from her.

But then she sighs, long and weary. It feels like her exhaustion passes to you, for you suddenly feel bone-tired. Helplessly so. “I do think you could get through to him, though. You’re different from me. You’re not his mother. You’re someone that’s chosen him over and over again, connected by a love that you’ve forged together rather than by blood ties. He’ll always see my offers as ones born from maternal obligation.”

“Just because I’m not family doesn’t mean he’ll fold,” you bemoan even though you see her point. You’re just frustrated and a little lost— and trying to figure out how to ask her about how this all started without being overly blunt.

You don’t even know if Mei would be comfortable with sharing such a private piece of information, let alone how Suguru himself would feel if you asked him. When he mentioned his turning to you during a casual conversation, he breezed over it as if discussing the weather. All he said was that he was turned when he was young, and that he’d live with this new change. Would have to live with it.

That made it sound incredibly depressing. Which it was.

She doesn’t even need to say anything. The purposely pregnant pause that follows and the look she gives you is a glaring scarlet letter— you can practically hear her scoffed ‘you’re very obviously part of our family’ that she’s too polite to let spill.

Still, she comments on it regardless. Mei picks her words like they’re little cherries. “You’re family in every way that counts. But you know that.” Another slow sip of her tea, the silver bangles on her wrist jingling softly.

“When Suguru was turned... he was so young. My baby was barely nine— just a child forced to grapple with instincts he barely understood, desperate and terrified. He didn’t want to hurt anyone, not even the man who turned him. Suguru clearly doesn’t trust what he might awaken in himself if he indulges in human blood. He holds onto the fear that he’ll lose control and hurt the people he loves.”

Mei raises her eyebrows, silently encouraging you to take notes. You sit up a little straighter, heart picking up, leaning towards her like a flower greeting the spring sun.

"Normally I’d say that it’s best not to push and instead let him come to you. Clearly, though, he’s willing to wait us all out until the end of time. Considering that… I’d wager your best bet is this— strike when the iron is hot. When you offer your aid, make sure he knows you’re offering because you want to and that it’s your choice. Never because you pity him. Show him that it’s safe to accept something that you want to give to him and that he can trust in everything being alright.”

You had silently taken this in, thanked Mei upon leaving a few hours after you shared brunch with her, and trotted on home with bags of Mei’s tea to make for Suguru.

There’s been a few incidents where you offered up your forearms whenever Suguru’s stashes started to run dry. Your willingness to satiate his appetite made the vampire instantly round on you with a blend of fear and concern that rivaled the intensity of a thousand desert suns.

Animal blood, he promised, was enough and would have to be enough to tide him over. He would not let you come to harm for something he considered unnecessary. You still think it peculiar.

Suguru acted as though instinct was as taboo as the cardinal sins. Suguru acted as though feeding from you was like leading not one but two lambs to their untimely slaughter.

You haven't tried to serve Suguru your blood on a silver platter since, instead choosing to wait for the right moment. Now, with your conversation with his mother still fresh on your mind and Suguru blinking slowly, exhaustion heavy on his eyelids as he cranes his neck to look at you, you think this may be it.

“You can’t keep holding your hunger at bay like this. It’s unhealthy, Suguru.”

One hand goes to the cold stone of the counter and the other tentatively lands on the slope of his shoulder. You rub at his shoulder consolingly. Suguru’s tongue peeks out once more, the same color as the soft gummy pink of a wolf’s mouth seconds before it strikes, and you watch a tremble race through him.

“I’m fine, and I’m well, and I will continue to be so,” Suguru defends himself at last after a drawn out silence that made your skin prickle with the beginnings of fear of already fucking this up. He’s almost struggling to fashion the words together, slurring just barely. His eyes glide down to your hand and burn through you as if spotting the veins beneath your skin, but he doesn’t shrug you off.

You’re immediately thrown— when Suguru gets into a starved state like this, his nature crying out for human blood only to be barely kept at bay by the tanginess of an animal’s, he retreats into himself and shies away from everyone, even Mei and Satoru and Shoko, even you.

Now, though, he just seems… resigned. None of the usual testiness and attempts at self-isolation when Suguru yearns for salvation rears its head. The concern heavy in your stomach like a stone slices further into your insides the longer he lets you stay close.

“That isn’t what I meant, and you know that,” you point out, as you’ve done time and time again whenever the topic of Suguru’s hunger crops up and he tries to dodge it with the grace of someone that’s dodged way too many misdirected swings from drunks at the bar he works at while trying to break up fights. “You need more than just the blood of animals.”

His shapely eyebrows slant with the beginnings of an uncharacteristic scowl. There’s that hangriness, you think humorlessly. “It does its job,” Suguru shoots back, a warning laced into his tone. With barely a glance at you, he turns away, his dismissal coming out short. “Save your breath. I’m about to eat.”

Your hand naturally falls from him when your boyfriend crouches to flick open the cupboards beneath the counter. Your fingers curl midair, wanting to bend down and reach out to him, but your arm drops to your side.

Suguru pulls out the wedge at the top of his small ice-box and frowns when he’s greeted with crinkled, blood-sprinkled packets. You watch Suguru yank out the fullest (a very generous word, considering it only holds a puddle) and rises back up, his shoulder brushing against you like a cat greeting another.

“Will that be enough?” You press.

You know it isn’t; far from it, in fact. Suguru knows that too.

He opens it anyways with a firm nod, the tightness between his brows smoothing out at the first scent of blood. Your body betrays him, and your heart, already thumping a few beats too fast, races faster. Suguru glances at you, at the pulse that thrums heavy beneath your jaw, and wraps his lips around the opening.

Oh, Christ.

Suguru drinks. Feeds. He pushes the blood up to the rim of the packet with massaging thumbs, wringing and coaxing every drop towards his mouth. You’re reminded of the near-empty bottle of toothpaste you share that you’ve pointlessly been stringing out even though it should’ve been tossed a week ago.

His throat visibly catches when he trickles it onto his tongue. Within seconds, he gulps it all down, left practically panting with how fast he knocks it back. Your attention never leaves his lips.

“See?” He tosses the mangled packet into the trash and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. Blood smears just below his bottom lip and he swipes his tongue over it, then licks at the remnants on his teeth.

You feel strangely faint, like you’ve been wrung just as dry. You think it inexplicable– the feeling that drums through you every time you witness Suguru ingest blood– but you know its meaning. Even humans have their vices, as odd as they may be.

“I’ve had my fill,” Suguru reassures you the longer you continue to stare unblinkingly like you’ve just bluescreened, but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself more than he is you. You catch the flash of his canines as he speaks and you swallow instinctively.

The vampire must realize his face says as much, so he clears his throat and crouches again to toss the packet, forcing the wedge back into the box. Suguru stands and decisively kicks the cabinet shut. The soft bang rattles you into action.

“Somehow,” you begin, voice blessedly calm, “I don’t believe that to be the case.”

“Doll—“

“It’s never enough, is it?” Surprisingly, Suguru doesn’t retort. Instead, he purses his lips. He looks a tiny bit better with what he had ingested, but he still looks worn. His unblemished skin runs unnaturally dry. “That packet held barely enough blood in it to be considered an appetizer, let alone a full meal. You’re surviving, baby. Not living. You know that.”

Suguru’s continued silence speaks volume. He’s exhausted. He’s hungry, but not irreversibly so. A solution sits warm on the horizon, and you, willing to do anything if it means your beloved will be healthy and happy and satisfied and full, hold the sun out to Suguru in the palm of your hands.

“Your reserves are completely depleted. In your current state, weak as you are, you know that there’s no way you can go out and hunt either.” A huff escapes you, laden with concern. “And, just as well, you know that I’m more than willing to quench your thirst with my own blood.”

“Why are you so eager to offer yourself up, knowing that I’ll only hurt you?” Suguru suddenly snaps. Some of his lucidity returns to him as his annoyance and desperation mounts. Ozone seems to come out of nowhere like a distant fog rolling in over the hills, crackling, blanketing the air over you until it’s so thick that you nearly choke on it.

He tosses his hands in the air in an uncharacteristic burst of frustration, the sharp movement a far cry from the elegant grace he carries himself with. A gently placed hand on your hip to slowly coax you to melt into the security of his side, a slow-moving pace when at your side as if he has all the time in the world to revel in it with you.

Careful. Controlled.

That’s not what that was, though.

Before you can comment on it or stare wide-eyed at him for a second longer, Suguru’s lowering his arms. Smoothing a hand through his glossy dark tresses, he lowers his gaze to collect himself.

“I’ve survived without it for years just fine.” Suguru’s voice wavers, just barely. He sounds desperate. “There’s no need to add further blood to my hands. Not yours.”

“Lemme repeat something you’ve said to me before then. In pain, there is love, and in love, there is pain,” you answer simply. You shift, intending to draw him close, but his hand instantly catches around your wrist when you go to reach out for him. “And that blood? You’re not ripping it from me. I’d be giving it to you willingly. It’d be my choice.”

You stare at each other, your irises meeting purple ones as Suguru keeps you at bay. There’s thinly veiled terror in his eyes, terror at what he himself could do should you get closer. Your pulse staccatos beneath Suguru’s thumb.

“Let me say this—“

“You’ve been doing nothing but saying this and that. Is speaking your favorite pastime?” Suguru cuts in snarkily.

“Suguru. C’mon now.”

He purses his lips as his deflection is knocked aside. The nail of his pointer scrapes against the skin of your arm. “Sorry. Yeah. Go on.”

“Let me say this,” you repeat, smiling for only a moment before it fades. Your thoughts of months past coalesce on your tongue, turning everything that tumbles out raw. “I worry about you. I worry about you just as much as you worry about me. It’s not out of pity; it’s all love.” You steadily curl your hand around Suguru’s wrist until you’re interlinked. Watching his face carefully, you lift your tangled grip until your lips skate across his knuckles.

“If I have to experience even a little bit of pain to see you healthy, then so be it. I trust you. I trust the control you have over yourself, and I know that you’re not gonna drain me dry and leave me for dead.”

Against all rationale, you think you wouldn’t mind it. If Suguru wanted your bones, organs, your bleeding heart cradled in the palms of his hands and wanted to keep taking more and more, you would give it all to him.

No hesitation. No request for anything in return. Just unwavering devotion.

“You’ve managed what, like, more than twenty years without human blood? But can you withstand another ten without it? Twenty?” You hold the back of Suguru’s hand to your mouth as if whispering it against his skin will make your concern sink in, nestle itself into the marrow of his bones. “The last thing I wanna see is the one I love deteriorate in front of me. You think I want that?”

You swear Suguru’s bottom lip quivers. You know that resonates a little too much. You didn’t really want to strike at the whole ‘hey, I’m painfully mortal and you’re immortal so you’re bound to leave me behind’ topic, but you don’t have many other options. “Angel…”

“Suguru, just listen to me,” you stress, interrupting. “You’re not some beast or sinner for being hungry, and you shouldn’t punish yourself as if you’re either one,” you murmur, voice gone sweet even as Suguru grips your wrist tight. His palm burns against your skin, icy-hot and firm. Shackling you in place, tying you down to the plate of a teetering scale. You wonder if you’re damning you both. “Don’t let your morals hinder your instincts. I want to help you, so take what you want from me. I can handle it.”

Suguru’s mouth parts, as if catching the scent of your truthfulness and letting it sit on his tongue. He ruminates for only a minute, then slowly, his grip slackens until his hold becomes a gentle tether. You take the opportunity to rock towards him, a boat to a dock, and he steps in closer to hold you by the forearms as if you were the one close to crumpling from thirst.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Suguru warns. His nostrils flare.

When you give him a look, repeating everything you had voiced with only your eyes, Suguru meets you stride for stride, struggling to stay stony-faced. His eyes keep flicking to your neck, the smooth expanse of your skin peeking out from beneath the rolled-up sleeves of your cream sweater that he bought for you, as if watching the blood course through you.

“Seriously, doll. I don’t…” he licks his lips. “Neither of us know how I will react the second your blood falls on my tongue, nor do I think I want to find out. I don’t enjoy the thought of hurting you.”

A sweet sentiment— entirely unnecessary, though.

You glance over Suguru again. You take in the glassines of his eyes that threatens to drown them both in his yawning desire, the almost sickly quality to his skin, and gods above— you think for the thousandth time that you’d do anything to relieve even a fraction of the wrongness and hunger that Suguru must feel.

“Set aside your burdens for me to take on and lemme worry about the consequences. All you gotta do is focus on what you need, and I’ll handle the rest.”

You briefly close your eyes and the words burn sharper than fire-water as they crawl up your throat— “Although I don’t want to see you destroy yourself, I’ll respect your wishes and drop the subject entirely if you deny me. Again. This has and will always be in your hands, Suguru. You’re the only one who can decide this for yourself. I’m just giving you… another option, one that’ll always be on the table.”

Suguru simply dips his head after a moment’s deliberation, voice solemn. “I appreciate your words.”

I appreciate your words— the choice to come to his own decision. He speaks with the weight of someone who has rarely been dealt the cards that he has wanted; being attacked, ‘killed,’ reborn again as something he never wished to be, every time that the old management of the bar he works at pulled his leash taut and ground him underfoot whenever he strayed too close to their spoils before he fought tooth and claw to rework it from the foundations and up.

Not for the first time, you want to dig up the strings of fate and rip and shred them thread by thread until you can weave it all into something kinder for Suguru.

The silence that stretches thin between you starts to feel like a dismissal. Resigning yourself to the nth refusal, you begin to tactfully back off. Suguru reaches for you before he can put more distance between you two.

“Sorry. That wasn’t a no— I was just trying to collect my thoughts.” Suguru lets go of you. The lingering ozone in the air finally snuffs out, and you feel like you can breathe proper lungfuls again. “You’re right. I know you are, angel.” Suguru’s lips part so sweetly around the pet name creased with care and use; a folded-up letter from a lover.

“Really?” You utter blankly, the ball of your foot still off the ground from your aborted step backwards.

Suguru levels you with a disbelieving gaze. “What did you think your little speech would do? Roll off of my back?”

“Can you blame me for thinking so?” You retort, thinking of your previous attempts, the small hints you’ve scattered at Suguru’s feet only for them to get swept away. You settle your full weight back onto the floorboards.

“I’ve been… dismissive about it before,” Suguru admits; that’s the best you’ll get out of him for sure. “To be honest, I’ve found myself considering drinking from you for the last month or two, but I still had my doubts and reservations,” he near-mumbles, then. He crosses his arms and scrunches his nose. “But I needed that extra push.”

The vampire keeps one arm pressed to his chest and rubs at his temple. “I’ve been apprehensive about this since the day my life was flipped on itself. You know that.”

“I do.”

“And you’re truly just… not worried?”

“Not particularly, no.”

He searches your expression. “I just want to make sure that you’re certain and not doing this because you think you owe it to me.” Suguru speaks carefully.

You blow out a sigh through your nose. “My silly Suguru. I’ve always been sure, especially when it comes down to your health being at stake. I never say things that I don’t mean.”

Suguru surprisingly— or unsurprisingly, really, given his track-record of picking off of Satoru’s stupid puns— cracks a small smile at that. “At stake, huh?”

“Don’t.” You catch on immediately with a groan. You wipe a hand down your face to hide the uptick of your lips. Some degree of relief at Suguru’s quip fills you despite your amused exasperation.

Emboldened and hopeful, you press yourself against Suguru. His shoulder is solid against your own. “So,” you prod, light and airy, “if your answer isn’t a no, then what is it?”

Suguru hums under his breath, presses his weight back against you. Purple irises crawl skywards. “I guess it’s a yes.” He points at you before you can utter a loud woop, but your budding smile speaks volumes. “If this goes wrong, this will never happen again. Literally never.”

“Say,” you drawl, mind already wandering off five steps ahead even as a vicious relief unspools from your chest and spreads through your body at his yes, “hypothetically, if all goes well, would you continue to feed from me? Like, habitually?”

“Provided you don’t taste gross, yes.”

“What the— hey!” You cry, openly giggling at the shade. “You’re so meaaaan, Suguru. Don’t knock it until you try it. I’m sure I taste a billion times better than animal blood.” Squinting, you rub your chin. “… what does it even taste like, anyways?”

Suguru visibly shudders a little. “Depends on what kind,” he says, voice thick as if growing nauseous. Or being haunted by something particularly disturbing. “It’s usually really… chalky. Muddy and kinda sour, too. Imagine swallowing a whole cloth that was used to wipe up vomit.”

The flavor that immediately tries to replicate itself on your tongue makes your face screw up in disgust. “Okay, ew.” You tug at his arm, glancing towards the nearest divan. “Let’s sit down for this.”

Suguru follows along with an amused huff. Your linked arms lightly swing between your bodies. “I’m beginning to suspect that you have a little more stake in this than one of a concerned lover.”

“Drop that word, will you?” You snort.

Suguru flashes you a real, genuine grin at the noise. It’s toothy, revealing a fleeting glimpse of unnaturally sharp canines. “Well?”

Thoughts of Suguru’s fangs have chased you to work, to lunch breaks, to your doorstep, your dreams. Going from peacefully sleeping through the night for a majority of your life to waking up in a cold sweat with an imprint of Suguru against the inside of your eyelids, poised over your prone body with fangs kissing your throat, proved to be a very jarring wake-up call.

Would it hurt? You asked yourself over a glass of water that you poured himself in the middle of the night after one such dream with shaking hands. Would you enjoy it? The heat that settled decisively in your gut as you leaned against the counter and stared at the moon spoke for itself. You’ve always been intrigued, both in an intellectual, genuinely inquisitive way— and in a how would those fangs of his feel on my jugular? way.

Despite your traitorous mind, you’ve always put Suguru and his values first. Your feelings and interest in the matter have always been only an aside.

You have no shame in voicing any of this, but, well. You’re sure Suguru knows somehow, anyways. You clear your throat. “Consider me curious.”

“Ah, curiosity,” Suguru drags his voice out honey-slow, clearly amused. When you sigh dramatically, long-suffering, he raises his eyebrows and herds you closer to the divan until your legs graze its edge. Your heart thrills. “A person’s weapon, vice, and downfall. Would I be right to assume that there’s more cards on the table than just that?”

Those purple eyes sweep over you. You childishly avert your own and don't grace him with an answer.

“I want you on your back, angel,” Suguru orders in the next beat, his tone switching tracks so rapidly that it leaves you reeling. A delicious thrill licks up your spine. “And still.”

Embarrassingly, your body already began to run hot the second Suguru’s fangs flashed through your head again, so you’re quietly grateful that you need to shed your sweater to make room for Suguru. You wiggle it off, not missing the appreciation that curls Suguru’s lips, and sling it over the back of the furniture.

Satisfied, Suguru lays a gentle hand on your chest and towers over you. You follow his guidance and obediently sink back until you’re practically splayed out, a butterfly pinned to a corkboard, completely at his mercy.

Memories of Suguru tracking you down the street by scent alone to give you your wallet that you left behind at the bar that he works at swims through your head. That was your first meeting. Every whisper of cloth, every subtle brush of shoes against the ground had your heart pounding until you jumped with a shriek when he abruptly grabbed your wrist from behind, giving you an apologetic smile when you whipped around.

You know what it is to be hunted, intimately so.

But nothing compares to being caught.

Not when Suguru collars you so sweetly, measuring out your demise in spoonfuls of sugar; a hand with sharp fingernails ghosting along the newly exposed skin of your shoulders, his purple eyes trickling down your body like a stream, the gentle but grounding weight of him settling onto your lap like he belongs there, trapping you beneath him.

Oh, you think, feeling terribly like prey. Oh.

Suguru slips his arms beneath your own and his hands land on your lower back to feel your warmth that he latches onto. He cradles you close like a boa, all tightly wound power, curling around you and enveloping you in nothing but Suguru.

He’s fucking freezing against you. Unnaturally so— yet, you suppose, it’s natural for him considering his vampiric constitution. His body runs even colder with the beginnings of starvation. You’re sure that if you carved out a space between his ribs, squirreling yourself away into the alcove next to Suguru’s heart that his ribs protect, even his insides would run frigid enough to eternally preserve you both.

You both exhale when Suguru ducks down to peck your nose, raven locks spilling down his shoulders and around you like a veil of safety that promises his attention is on nothing but you. Then he tucks his face into your neck, lips brushing over your pulse point.

Your heartbeat flutters wildly beneath your skin like a caged animal and you know that Suguru can feel it thrumming eagerly at his mouth. He says nothing of it, but you hear his breath come quicker.

“Just… shove me off if I somehow can’t stop myself,” Suguru murmurs into you. You nod a little, mostly to placate him, and tilt your head back in invitation.

“I trust that it won’t come to that. You should have more faith in yourself,” you sigh back. You gently squeezes his waist, then run your touch down the leg caging in your own. “Now stop stalling with your needless worrying. Everything will be fine.”

“I’m not stalling.” Suguru sounds a smidge petulant at being read like an open book, but there’s an undercurrent of amusement to his tone. “Can I not take a minute to savor this moment?”

“There’ll be plenty of other moments like this for you to savor in the future,” you point out with a confident puff of your chest, pleased by the fact you can say so knowing that your words possibly hold water, but you go quiet and indulgently rub at Suguru’s thigh. He huffs out a laugh, and the first whisper of incisors nicking at you as Suguru’s lips part around a smile makes you shudder.

“I won’t remind you again that this will hurt. But this is your last chance to back out,” he warns.

“I have no plans of doing so.” Your voice is breathier than you intended it to be. “Have you had your fill? I know you’re enjoying yourself, but I’d hate to be kept waiting.”

“My baby is such a nuisance.” Suguru laughs. His shoulders shake with it, bright and airy. “Use some of that patience of yours and wait.”

And you do. Suguru’s fingers curl into your side. You almost wish you had a mirror nearby, if only to watch the way Suguru noses at you, breathing in slowly as he searches for a place to sink his teeth into. Languidly, he laps at the junction between your neck and shoulder, slicking the delicately thin skin with spit.

For a beat, there’s nothing from him. His breathing settles and goes near-silent, as if he’s been lulled into a trance, until you can only hear your own. The chimes at the kitchen window jingle. You feel and hear Suguru’s jeans chafe beneath your palms when you flex your hands. You sit still, patiently and impatiently.

Teeth eventually poke at your skin, like they’re asking you to make way. You suck in an anticipatory breath, Suguru whispers a low “relax, I’ve got you always,” and his fangs finally slide home.

His mouth fully seals itself against your neck as he breaks the skin with ease and lets blood rush forth. You register the odd sensation of being impaled by fangs— it’s kind of like being struck by a needle, only they have more pressure behind them— seconds before the sharpness of them kicks at your senses like a jackrabbit. You tighten with surprise and Suguru’s quick to soothe you with a gentle squeeze at your side; another relax before he hungrily swallows his first mouthful with a satisfied noise.

You aren’t sure if Suguru’s utilizing some secret vampiric trick that allows him to sedate his prey or if it’s simply the trust you have in him, but regardless, you slowly unwind beneath him. First your fingers, which had somehow twisted into Suguru’s pants so hard that your knuckles surely went white with the force of it, then your shoulders, neck, the rest of your body gradually unthawing— the same way the coolness of him begins to unthaw as he draws in your warmth.

Your body submits to his needs without hesitation. You know he could drain you dry if he wanted to (hell, part of you admires that he could) but, feeling completely safe, you just focus on the way he gratefully melts into you.

An oddly soothing feeling seizes you in wake of the fading stiffness. It flows molten through your veins, pools heavily where those blade-sharp teeth dig into you. It clouds your head and makes your eyelashes flutter. There’s a warmth to it that feels strangely good, overwhelmingly so.

All people are a little bit mad. It just so happens that you’ve never been an exception to that fact of life.

Once you gather yourself enough you try to focus on the vampire on top of you. Fine trembles wrack Suguru, noticeable enough that you can feel each one vibrating off of him. You take a steadying breath and stay stock still, wondering if he’s alright— until a broken, muffled noise slips from him.

Your hand darts for Suguru’s hair before you can use your brain. Wincing, you unceremoniously drag Suguru’s teeth from your skin with your heart lodged in your throat. Blood drips from the wound unconstrained, the smell stinging at the fine hairs of your nostril.

All you can think is that maybe, just maybe, you’ve made a grave error. Did you just ruin what you have with him? Was Suguru losing it? Was he disgusted? You have no fucking clue.

A glassy sheen marches across Suguru’s hauntingly beautiful plum-rich eyes the second they open and land on you. He looks beyond wrecked, spit and blood clinging to his bottom lip and eyes wild despite their far-away look. His deceptively soft mouth glistens, crimson; fangs stark white and like marble that’s been sharpened into the spear point shape of blades.

Your mouth parts as you stare up at him, chest heaving. You don't know what suddenly possesses you but your hands curl tighter into Suguru’s long soft hair, an incoherent mumble falls from you, and the rest of it gets swallowed up by his mouth as you drag your bodies impossibly more flush until it’s hard to remember where you end and where he begins. Only then do you kiss him.

The flats of your teeth click with how fast you descend upon each other and it stings and you do not care and you want, want, want—

Suguru’s sinful tongue slots into your mouth with a noise that crawls into the hollow of your ears and destroys you from the inside out. The taste of metallic blood— your blood— that he shares with you should disgust you to no end, but you hungrily lick along the silkiness of Suguru’s mouth to get at more of it. You part for a breath and Suguru snaps his teeth at your bottom lip in mockery of the deeper bite on your neck. Brain fizzling, you eagerly arch up to kiss him again.

Holy shit. Your thoughts buoy back to you, tied down by the tiny strings that keep your mind from floating up to join the singular cobweb blanketing a corner of the roof.

There was something incredibly, deeply intimate about letting your lover swallow down your blood, more so than you thought it would be. Suguru has you lining the softness of his throat, filling the hole in his stomach that has ached for two decades that felt longer for him than they did you. You satiate Suguru’s unquenched hunger with all of yourself.

You groan.

He drags his lips down your cheek, your jaw, chases the scent of your blood further down your neck like a bloodhound and damn near growls. “Little more.” Teeth sink back into your skin with a vengeance but never once does it feel too rough, too painful, and you squeeze your eyes shut, breathing out a sigh as you continue to let Suguru take what he so rightfully deserves. He swallows; savoring rather than devouring.

“Good,” you choke out. “That’s okay. Take your fill, baby.”

You can practically feel how his mind, usually so disciplined, teeters dangerously close to frenzy at your words—but the soft press of your fingers through his hair anchors him. Despite his desperation that swells even further, it remains checked. He flicks the flat of his tongue out to lap up each wet rush of pumping blood with an intense desire that makes your insides do cartwheels.

(For the first time in his life, Suguru understands why drunks lose themselves to their bottles, why vampires lose themselves to bloodlust. It’s euphoric. It’s agony. He wants more. He wants to bury himself so deep in the heat of your veins that he forgets what it means to be anything but ravenous.

The taste is nothing like the animal blood he convinced himself to survive on without ever truly satisfying himself. It sweetens his tongue like cherry wine. This is ambrosia, thick and metallic and alive. It crashes against every neglected corner of his being in gentle waves, filling up that monstrous hollow that threatens to be his ruin. With how good he abruptly feels, Suguru thinks he could almost mistake himself for a human again.

But there’s guilt there, too— his conscience clawing at him despite the pleasure surging through him. Just this once, though, he lets himself indulge— and dream of a future where this is your new normal. Quiet moments in bed where he sucks gently from your wrist or forearm between kisses that he presses there, gazing at you as if wondering how on earth such a flawed being like himself could be touched to his core by someone as special as you.

You trust him. This is you giving him something no one else ever has. Every appreciative swallow is a revelation and a promise, every pulse of your blood against his tongue a brand-new addiction. The sweetest of sins that he’d willingly die once more for.)

Suguru drinks you down like a mortal laying their lips to a goblet of nectar— quickly, messily, greedily, blood pooling too fast for his lips to catch. A tendril of it slowly spools down your neck, catching in the dip of your collarbone. You’re near dizzy with it, but you think Suguru dizzier with the way his lips lazily smush against the skin of your neck as if inebriated.

“I want you to eat well,” you murmur against the side of Suguru’s head, breath puffing over the shell of his ear. He jerks against you, just slightly, and you have to suck your teeth to keep from groaning. “I want you to be full.”

A honeyed melody drips from Suguru’s lips, returning to your skin. Feed, feed, feed, your very blood a siren-song. Suguru kneels over you, swaying, drunk on you, before sobering enough to sink down and lick his spoils back up with a greedy tongue.

He follows the steady stream down to your collarbone, lapping what strayed from the punctures, before returning to the wound with shuddering breaths. Suguru sinks his teeth back in to keep the blood pooling, and this time, you’re the one who jerks. Your hips kick up and you jostle you both.

You can’t hold back the noise you make at the pleasure-pain blossoming like a dragonfruit that’s been shredded into with a knife and left to bleed its juices freely and the way Suguru rolls down against you, almost unthinkingly. Your hands somehow find their way to Suguru’s hair and tangle into the dark strands. He hisses through his mouthful of skin and blood, and you find that you’ve never felt this awed and turned on in your entire life.

“Shit.” Shit. A shudder sings through you in a hot-flash. Words slip between your fingers faster than you can think them. All you know is Suguru. “Suguru.”

He keens in response. Unlatching himself, he’s quick to groan out “Jesus Christ,” all raspily before dipping back down and lapping over you again. You let loose another curse and drag your hands over every crevice of his body, futilely trying to hold onto him for dear life.

You lose yourself to the pull of blood between teeth, the shuddering grind you find yourselves falling into. Time rolls into a small disjointed ball. The fog settled over you starts to take on a different shape. Your neck painfully throbs like a drum, beating faster and faster until the cacophony drowns out all sound, forcing all of your senses to lock onto the overwhelming scent of copper filling your lungs. You claw at his back in prayer.

“Okay,” you manage to wheeze out when it finally becomes too much, voice cracking on the last syllable as your vision washes black. Blearily, you wonder if Suguru can even hear you over the roar of blood as it races through your veins— hell, if he even wants to hear you, but Suguru instantly unfastens himself from the wound with a wet, sticky pop.

The pressure that clung fierce to your skin lets up all at once, and you choke on your stumbling breaths. Your head tips forward dangerously. You think you black out to the sound of Suguru’s labored breaths and panicked mutterings, because when everything filters back in, Suguru’s inhales and exhales are a little more slower, relaxed.

You’re tilted slightly to the side as if you started to tip over and got caught. You drink in the weight of your partner still sitting astride your hips for a moment before gently bumping your forehead against Suguru’s collarbone to alert him to your returning consciousness.

“Hey,” Suguru murmurs, voice rumbling pleasantly near your ear.

“Give me a moment,” you rasp, near apologetic. Suguru merely cups the back of your head in response, promising his presence and patience.

With that, you let yourself soak in the sensations and smells of your shared house for a while longer as you recuperate, then you take stock of yourself. You feel incredibly lightheaded, but not a drop of regret darkens the calm waters of your thoughts. You slowly drag a hand through sweaty hair and find that there’s blood beneath your nails when you go to drop your hand back down.

You stare at the scarlet flakes that fall from them like petals and have to close your eyes at the sight. The phantom sensation of your fingers digging into Suguru’s back makes the tendons in your palm grow stiff.

“Did I hurt you?” You croak, a wave of guilt slamming into you. Your hand moves to do— you don’t know what, but when it ends up hanging uselessly between you both, Suguru gently takes it between his own.

“Not at all. A few drops of blood is nothing compared to the amount I took from you, doll.” Suguru sounds concerned.

You peel your eyelids apart at that, hoping to reassure him that you’re fine, and manage to catch the relief flooding Suguru’s features as you blink a few times.

He stares at you for a long moment, something soft flickering in his gaze when he assures himself that you’re well before he smooths a thumb over your tender puncture marks, wiping away the remaining blood. Calloused palms come up to cup your face, cradling your head and keeping you from listing sideways any further.

“You’re not a monster for that, y’know,” you mumble instinctively, feeling the urge to say it. There’s no way you’ll let him sit alone with his thoughts later and convince himself that the basic necessity of feeding is deserving of penance. Not when he’s finally just now had a taste of what breathing without a weight crushing through his chest is like. “It’s totally fine. I’m fine, see? Still alive and kicking and happy to talk your ear off in the morning.” Almost comically, that’s right when you yawn.

The chuckle that rumbles from deep within his chest makes you beam, feeling all warm and gooey in a way that has nothing to do with blood loss. “I very much look forward to that.”

Looping back a few seconds in your conversation, voice pitching impossibly softer, “I just… you wouldn’t respond for a moment,” Suguru informs you. The tightness of his jaw suggests that it affected him more than he wished it to. You feel a pang, hoping you didn’t spook him. “Nothing crazy, roughly forty seconds. I should’ve stopped sooner. If anything, I’m the one that needs to apologize.”

You’re sure you look a mess, what with the stupid dopey smile on your face as you drift through a fog of aching pain and desire. You attempt to school your face into something more firm. “Ugh, stop with that. You really don’t have anything to say sorry for. But you’re sure that you’re fine?” You toss back at him.

God. Between the two of you, you could easily secure a gold in the ‘fussing over each other’ Olympics.

Suguru rolls his eyes but fondly drops a kiss to your forehead, a soft assurance. You tilt into it with something akin to a happy purr. “Seriously, don’t worry about me,” he soothes, smiling slightly all the while. “It’s already healing.”

Letting you lean your cheek into the palm of one hand, Suguru takes one of your hands and guides it to the expanse of his back, helping you search for where your nails bit into him. He drags your fingers over miniscule raises on his back, and you’re pleased to find the skin already stitching itself back together.

“Faster than usual?” You rub your face against him like a cat, eyes threatening to fall shut again. Peering up at him, you admire the gentleness in his gaze that Suguru reserves only for you.

“Definitely. I knew to expect it, but it’s still surprising.” Then, “hold on, let me get you something.”

His warmth vanishes from your lap. You’re momentarily thrown, brain lagging, before focusing on Suguru slipping around the counter and into the kitchen. He returns with a glass filled to the brim with juice.

“You need the sugar,” he explains simply. He cards your hair further away from your face and he gracefully curls in at your side, pulling you sideways onto his lap.

It would be so easy for Suguru to allow his instincts to raze all rational thought, to let himself finish the job and go for your jugular like an unleashed hound and rip your throat out with scarlet-stained canines.

But he’s doting. Achingly so. Even now, even after feeding, his first instinct is to make sure you aren’t suffering for his sake.

He sweeps a soothing hand up and down the scoop of your shoulder and his other comes up to carefully coax your head back as he brings the glass to your lips. Drowsy eyes flicker up to Suguru, who meets yours with a relaxed smile, and you let Suguru trickle the juice onto your tongue.

You obediently drink your fill, taking another sip when Suguru’s pointer finger curls away from the glass and pokes your lips until you let them part again with a sigh. You half-focus on not choking, even as Suguru siphons it out carefully enough that it would be impossible, but all you want to do is drink in his handsome figure.

For a moment, you think yourself truly out of it and stupidly love-drunk until you realize that Suguru does look positively radiant. You blink slowly, once, twice, and squint through the haze.

Color blooms prettily in Suguru’s cheeks and the shadows beneath his eyes have entirely been chased away, his entire being humming with renewed vitality. He looks incredibly loose-limbed and relaxed; more so than he does when dozing off to the feeling of you scratching at his scalp and the smooth tenor of your voice as you read to him after a long day.

Edward Cullen sparkles, you internally giggle to yourself.

Suguru catches you staring and shakes his head fondly. “Let’s get you to bed.”

Glass clinks as Suguru leans over to table the cup before rising. His hand curls around your bicep and he helps haul you from the divan. When you immediately sway on your feet with a disgruntled moan, trying to blink back the twilight creeping in on your vision, Suguru steadies you with a quietly confident, “I’ve got you.”

An arm wraps around your midsection and you return the hold with your own draped lazily over Suguru’s shoulders. The slow shuffle to the hallway and into the bathroom feels like an eternity and a half.

Artificial light blares against your irises and you grumble under your breath. It dims into something less harsh and you peel your eyes back open, your reflection wavering in the mirror before you. Your attention glides down to your chewed lips, a tiny thumbprint of blood pressed along the curve of your jaw, the bruised junction between your neck and shoulder.

You flatten your pads against the dark spot and stare some more. Suguru shuffles behind you and his mouth comes to rest against the back of your shoulder, ghosting over your nape. His eyes, usually deep violet, glow faintly crimson. His lips are still stained a sinful red.

“Mine,” Suguru mumbles.

“You sound like a caveman,” you hum in reply, earning a snort, and you let Suguru kindly direct you around the bathroom, ushering you through fragments of your usual routine instead of the full thing. Something about leaving yourself to Suguru calms you.

“This has to have gone against some sort of protocol,” you mumble as Suguru finally lowers you into your bed, mouth tasting vaguely of the mouthwash he managed to make you swish around and clothes switched out for loose sleepwear.

Blankets tuck up and around your shoulders, and both an exhale through Suguru’s nose and multiple kisses ghost across your cheek. You shiver. “I’m sure there was something in one of the books I read about vampire and donor relationships— professionality and boundaries and whatnot.”

“When have you ever cared about rules,“ Suguru gets out, mostly to himself, then snorts. Somehow, the noise sounds attractive coming from him. “You are so ridiculous.” He presses another kiss against your face and entertains you with a smile in his voice. “I suppose I’m being pretty damn unprofessional then.”

“Oh, no, you’re very professional,” you argue. You instantly whine as the bed creaks when Suguru leaves you, but you’re quickly satiated by his swift return. You have no shame in your neediness.

The rest of your thoughts wash out as Suguru burrows into the blankets next to you and gathers you close to protectively curl around you. You settle in together, face to face and skin to skin. It’s familiar.

Your eyes flutter back open once it occurs to you. You don’t know how many minutes have passed you by.

“Did I taste good?” Comes barreling out of you.

Your partner hums in brief contemplation. A curtain of hair whispers across the punctures in his neck as Suguru props himself up on one elbow, peering down at you. Another kiss presses against your cheek and Suguru’s breath fans over you. “I’d certainly make taste to drink from you again.”

“I’m going to sleep now.”

Suguru shakes with silent laughter.

(Long after you finally doze off, lips adorably parted and legs tangled together like the roots of a tree intertwining with another’s, looking cuter than a kitten in his rolled up flannel pants and old college sweatshirt, Suguru allows his head to fall, cheek squished against the chest cavity that houses your humanity. Your heart thumps steadily beneath his ear. Reassuringly so.

A soft exhale escapes him, half fondness, half awe. “Thank you, baby.”)

author’s note: this old fic of mine fits suguru so well it makes me sickkkktkshrkdja I LOVE YOU VAMPIRE SUGURU I LOVE YOUUUUUU

if you listened to the playlist while reading this… i heart u forever. also I’m thinking of when my mutual of 4 years read the original version of this fic and said she’s never been so turned on and frazzled by smth that was sfw which was truly the highest of compliments. MISS MY BAE!

perma tags: @libr4sonsa @spirit-kat @kaitospo @m1nrrva @enchantinghonymoon @shokogasm @dairyfaerie @pvmpkingod @skz8stay @floriophrastus @originalsaucy @loyalguma @wormplant @amane1271 @oporotheca @teachmehowtodokiaye @dogwhiskey @sunnydayqq

[whimsicalwritingfeline]

Smol blurb before I serve the main dish (I just had an idea while I was in the shower and decided to write this off mid-shampoo lmao also is kind of a teeny tiny spoiler for my upcoming fic)

We all have seen Young tween/teen Damian Wayne in the animated movies right?? This Morally grey gremlin who's ready to chop off anyone's ankles?

Bro grows up to be a doctor. He's like a person who's not only emotionally in touch with others, but also helps other through his skills. He's well aware of boundaries and space at this age, something that he wasn't aware of when he was a child (remember how he went through Kor'i's laptop and put trackers on all of the Teen Titans? Yeah, bro's come a long way).

Except with you. He's a total ass with you though (affectionately). So melodramatic, so clingy. Literal leech mode 24/7 with you when he's at home. Also snoops a lot. Like a lot a lot. Goes through your phone like it's his own.

And when your girl friends point out that this is a red flag behavior and Damian is insecure as fuck, you just shrug and say it's because you trust him. Because you do, and it's not about him being insecure, it's more like Damian wants to know about every inch of your life. Privacy goodbye.

Acts like the cats on internet that will follow you to the bathroom/shower to "protect you" from the water but will stand behind the shower curtain because they don't wanna get wet.

(He opened your yaoi tabs on chrome once. Never again.)

All in all, Damian invades your privacy all the time. Not in an annoying "I'm watching your every move" kind of way, but more of a "I'm here to take a peek into your life because if I don't know everything about you I might just die".

[allyeilishh]

I’m begging for maybe an angsty party scene where Billie ends up saying something mean to Y/N in front of their friends. Y/N leaves the party and Billie acts like she doesn’t care and then a couple hours go by and Y/N hasn’t texted so Billie starts freaking out. Possibly ending in smut because I love. 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

ᥫ᭡ PARTY 4 U ── .✦ B.E.

pairing: Billie Eilish x Fem!reader

Genre: angst, faded smut

synopsis: Billie got jealous of you being too close to Quen at a party, saying things she didn’t mean. Making you leave early, and for her to worry about your well being.

w/c: 1.9k

The loud music from the speakers blasted through your veins, making the hairs on your arms stand up. The scent of the room was a mix of multiple flavors of vapes, heavy alcohol, and unfiltered B.O. that reeked throughout the house.

The house was dark for the most part, but the little flashes of colorful lights passed by as they moved around like they were looking for someone specific. You were currently in the kitchen, giggling with Quen about some stupid joke you both saw online.

You and Quen were close friends, and you both had been friends since the early stages of your lives. Like, diapers, early stage. And you two never seemed to grow apart, no matter how many arguments you had.

You both were insanely close, on a deep level. Like sharing things you wouldn’t ever share to anyone else, let alone the internet. Something only you two knew about, and it would forever stay that way. But you had begun to see that Billie was getting jealous of that closeness.

When you had begun to lean onto Quen when you were laughing too hard, Billie had gently pulled you to lean on her instead. You didn’t think much of it at first, thinking she just thought that you were going to fall. But when Quen reached out to touch your shoulder, you felt Billie pull you closer to her side.

When you looked up at her to see what was wrong, all you could see was a piercing gaze, going straight through Quen. Like she was ready to murder the girl. You knew Billie and Quen were good friends, best friends, which was why it confused you when she looked so pissed off just looking at the girl.

You looked up at Billie, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. You didn’t know what was happening, or even why. Did you somehow piss Billie off? How? You were just talking to your friend. You didn’t understand why Billie was being like this.

Billie eventually looked down to look at you, her eyes sharp and demanding. Like she was trying to pull something out of you.

"Why are you so touchy with Quen all of a sudden?” Billie questioned, but it felt more like an accusation than just being curious.

"What? We’re not being touchy, baby.” You said, confusion instantly filling your voice. You looked at Billie with confusion in your eyes, trying to figure out what was happening. Even over the loud music, you could practically hear Billie’s heartbeat. Loud and no doubt full of jealousy.

"Yes, you are. You were just all over her like she was some girl you would take to your place by the end of the night.” Billie said, her voice sharp and unforgiving. You both knew it wasn’t like that. It was never like that. You and Quen were friends, and that was it. No benefits, nothing. Where was this even coming from?

"Baby, what? It’s not like that. We’re just friends, we have always just been friends—“ you tried to speak, but Billie cut you off, her voice rough and cold.

"It’s exactly what it looks like. You and Quen look like you’re about to pounce on each other, and you wouldn’t even stop it because you’re too damn hungry for someone else.”

Those words hit you harder than any hand could’ve hit you.

You stood there, in complete shock, your heart suddenly beating a lot faster than it was before. Billie really thought you were just hungry for sex? Did she really think that lowly of you, that you would go out and cheat just to get off? You couldn’t believe it. But she didn’t even stop.

"You just wanted someone to make you feel like you’re worth something. But guess what, Princess? You’re not.” Billie spoke sharply, leaning in close to your face, so close you felt her breath on your lips. Something you would usually crave, but right now, it felt like you were going to sob. And you barely even noticed it.

You could hear Quen in the background, trying to defend you, knowing that your friendship was purely just a friendship, no ifs, ands, or buts. But Billie didn’t listen to Quen. She just stared at you, like you would say something. But you never did. You were just a ball of redness and embarrassment.

You felt tears welling up in your eyes, your heart crumbling into a thousand tiny pieces. You pushed Billie off of you, before storming away, pushing the door to Quen’s house open, and quickly shutting it behind you. No thoughts except that you didn’t want to see Billie.

Billie stared at the closed door for a moment, a lingering guilt bubbling into her heart. But she quickly pushed it down. You heard what you needed. Because all you were was a whore. All you wanted was to feel cared for, even for a moment. You were just a whore, right?

"Why the hell would you say that?! You know me and her have nothing going on!” Quen practically shouted, her own anger beginning to bubble to the surface. They both knew nothing ever happened between you and Quen before, and nothing ever would. So why was Billie even doing this?

Billie rolled her eyes, leaning against the kitchen island, like she just didn’t care about how she made her own girlfriend feel. Like she barely even registered her own words.

"She needs to grow a pair. She’ll be fine. She wouldn’t have run out if it wasn’t true.” Billie said, her voice so cold, so distant. Like a shadow of your loving, sweet Billie. She desperately pushed away the guilt building up in her chest, trying to believe that her words were right.

But as the party went on, people began to leave, the music began to quiet, and zero texts or calls from you, Billie began to worry. She knew her words were harsh, but you needed to hear them, right? You weren’t loyal.

She tried to tell herself that. But the evidence was slapped right across her face every single day. The way you wouldn’t have a sparkle in your eyes when you talked to another woman. How you could only focus on Billie if she was the one talking, with the sparkle in your eyes.

Billie suddenly felt like she was just slapped across the face. How could she be so dumb, just over some jealousy? Just because you were talking to one of your closest friends? She let out a curse, before instantly beginning to run out of the house, phone in hand.

She was texting you, her thumbs working overtime on the keyboard, needing you to answer her. She typed and typed multiple messages, waiting for your response. But as minutes passed without even opening the messages, Billie began to panic.

Why did she let you leave on your own? It was dangerous, and she just let you leave. All by yourself. You could’ve gotten kidnapped, and she wasn’t there to protect you. She was so stupid. She quickly got into her car, starting up the engine before speeding down the road. She needed to get to your house, and now.

She anxiously tapped on the steering wheel at a red light, her heart pounding in her chest. She needed to know you were safe. She needed to know that you were untouched, that nothing had happened to you. She felt like ripping out her hair.

This was all her fault. She shouldn’t have gotten so jealous over something so scant. She knew you and Quen were just friends, but in the moment, her brain wasn’t working right, and she was being a complete and utter idiot. You could be hurt—or worse, and it would be all because of her.

When she reached your house, she was practically flying out of her car and rushing onto the front porch. She stood there for a moment, listening for any sort of noises, something that would show you were home. Nothing. She cursed, before rushing inside, calling out your name eagerly.

She checked every single inch of the house, rushing through each room like she was a bounty hunter trying to find a missing person. Because she needed to find you. She needed to hold you and tell you how stupid she was.

And when she reached your bedroom, she paused for a moment. She went completely silent, because inside, she could hear soft sobbing, muffled from the door. And her heart broke.

She gently pushed open the door, calling out your name, softer and more gentle than before. She saw the way your body froze up. Her heart broke in that moment. She couldn’t believe she was the one who did this to you. who made you look so broken.

"Go away.” You said, your voice trying to hold some anger, but all you could feel was an overwhelming sense of sorrow. Billie should’ve trusted you, she could’ve. But she decided not to, and then she said those words like they were nothing. You wanted to feel angry, but you only felt sorrow and heartache.

Billie let out a defeated sigh, knowing she messed up, and badly. You could hear the soft footsteps coming closer, and the bed shifting in weight. A warm hand was placed on your shoulder, and you fought the urge to shove it away. You were going to speak, but before you could, Billie cut you off.

"Please, just listen to me, okay? Please. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I was just jealous, and I didn’t know what I was thinking. That doesn’t make up for anything, I know. I just need you to know that I feel so stupid for ever saying that to you. It was completely idiotic of me.”

"You’re damn right you were idiotic,” You said, flipping around onto your other side so you were facing Billie. A soft smile was being placed on your lips. "But you’re my idiot, and only mine.”

Billie couldn’t help but smile when she saw yours. She hesitantly leaned in closer to you, and when you didn’t pull away, she gently enveloped you into a warm hug, both of you lying down on your bed. This felt so much better.

You buried your face into Billie’s shoulder, taking in her scent. She still smelt like alcohol and a little sweat, but there was something about it that was just purely her. You held her close, letting out a content sigh.

"I’m sorry for getting jealous. It was so stupid.” Billie spoke with a soft chuckle, embarrassed of how she acted.

You let out a chuckle with her, pulling away just enough to look at her pretty face. "It was stupid. But Quen will forever and always only be a friend. Only you, baby.”

Billie nodded, letting out a relieved sigh. She was glad that this could all get resolved. That all of this was just a stupid inconvenience. She bit on her bottom lip gently, looking at you with love and affection sewed into her eyes, but there was an underlying need.

"Promise, only me?” She spoke quietly, her hand traveling up your shirt, stopping just under your bra wire.

A shiver went up your spine, and you nodded, speaking just as quiet as she did. "Promise. O-only you, baby.”

Billie stared at you for a second, as if watching for a hint of hesitation. But there was none. She attached her lips to your neck, sucking and biting, leaving hickies all over your neck. You let out a small moan, which mixed in with a whine.

"All mine. And I’m gonna make you remember that.” ⋆. 𐙚 ̊

a/n: hiii sorry I wasn’t exactly comfortable writing smut so you get a fade out I hope that’s good enough 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

[luuvprincess]

☆࿎Introducing࿎☆

Summary: A female American rapper and a American male wrestler share a passionate and intense love, built on mutual respect for each other's careers and personalities. However, their fast-paced, high-profile lives bring their own set of challenges. Aubree Aka Big Latto is a bold, independent, and highly ambitious individual, thriving in the music industry, while Joshua Aka MAIN EVENT Jey uso is dedicated to his physically demanding career, often away due to events and training.

Their busy schedules and contrasting lifestyles create tension, as they struggle to find time for each other amidst their demanding careers. Despite their deep affection, they face moments of doubt, insecurity, and miscommunication, especially when their worlds seem too different. Yet, both are committed to navigating these ups and downs, learning to balance their personal ambitions with their love for one another. Their bond is tested, but their love remains resilient as they strive to overcome obstacles and grow together.

☆࿎CAST࿎☆

Aubree "Bree" Mulan Nelsons 🍒

Played by Alyssa Stephens

Stage Name: Latto or Miss Mulatto

The 27 year old independent Female American rapper Dating Joshua Fatu.

Joshua "Jey" Samuel Fatu 🩸

Played as himself

Stage Name: Main Event Jey USO

The 35 year old hot head American male wrestler Dating Aubree Nelsons.

☆࿎Sneak Peek࿎☆

"Do I need to remind you that you are not single?" Aubree says just as Jey entered the house. Jey closed the door looking at his girlfriend confused. "What are you tryna start up now mama?" He asked.

"You in the club letting bi-first of all mama imma go ahead stop you right there, you ain't ask me what happened now did you?" He asked cutting her off.

"Nigga Ion gotta ask you shit it was fucking obvious clear as fucking day Joshua!" She yelled.

"Why you yelling? Am I yelling at you?" He asked. She rolled her eyes and let out a deep sigh. "Exactly imma take a shower because I just got off the road this ain't the shit I ain't wanna come home to Aubree."

"Fuck you Joshua you do this all the time." She said.

"I do this all time? So do you Bree it's the same shit you see the shit on internet you don't ask me you just jump straight to conclusions." He said.

She hated that he always had a comeback when they augured. "That bitch was rubbing on your thigh."

"I said I'm not dealing with this shit Bree." Jey said walking past her. He stopped in his tracks feeling something hit his back, he looked down seeing the ring that's supposed to be in her finger on the stairs. He chuckled as he bent down picking it up. "You funny ass hell you better put this shit back on Aubree."

"No you don't wanna deal with me I don't wanna deal with you so can have that ring back." She said. He blood started boiling immediately. He stepped down the stairs walking up to her.

"I ain't say that shit Aubree. I said I'm not dealing with this shit right here." He said grabbing her hand putting her ring on where it belonged. "Don't take this shit off again."

She gave up knowing she lost the fight she started. She knew she pushed some buttons. She could see it all in her man's face.

"Do you see what you do to me Aubree? You really think I'm worried about other women when I got your crazy ass right here, I got everything I need right here at home." He said.

They looked at each other. She pouted he grabbed her hand kissing her knuckles. "I love you girl and I don't want anyone else but you." He said

"I love you and I'm sorry, I just really miss you and when I seen the video it just pissed me because you weren't answering my calls or text I thought you were mad at me." She tells him.

"What I tell you about that shit Bree you got a problem say something you can't just jump to conclusions about things you get jealous to quick." Jey tells her.

"I can't help it your my man you know ion play that shit I don't care that your around females I trust you but if a another bitch touching on you and you just let it happen yes it's sets me off." She tells him.

"It sets you off?" Jey asked swaying them side to side as he rubbed her ass. She nodded her head as her fingers played in his mullet. He chuckled shaking his head.

"You think you innocent little angel?" He asked her.

"Yes very, I don't do anything." She said smiling innocently.

"You hit nerves that only my momma can hit so no you're not innocent." Jey says. She laughed kissing him.

"Sorry daddy." She mumbled against his lips. He smacked and gripped her ass making her moan quietly. "You playing around mama, join me in the shower." He tells her and without letting her answer he picked her up carrying her to their shared bathroom.

Tag list 🏷️❣️: @uceyliyahh @mselenalovebug @theusotwinzcom @isabella-2025 @dstark-0706 @4milly @zillasvilla @charmed-dreamssss @sheaabuttaababyy @levissslutt @marababyyyy

[em-harlsnow]

Hi Em! 💖

9 and 21 for the ask meme please?

Hi! so these are from the gallavich asks

9. What really random/weird thing do they love about each other?

So I think Mickey likes Ian's angry chin thing, probably because it makes him look much less angry than Ian thinks he looks. Mickey probably thinks the chin thing is cute and he can't take Ian seriously when he's mad and doing that.

For Ian, I think he likes Mickey's very creative insults. I know that's not too weird, but I just know Ian finds it funny whenever Mickey comes up with a crazy nickname that's somehow really accurate for Lip or one of their annoying neighbours.

21. What are their last 5 searches on the internet?

For Ian there's definitely a range. He's asking 'how long do tomatoes take to grow?', 'how to get out of baby sitting without being mean?', 'cheap but good quality sex toys', 'is stealing from the laundry room breaking parole?' 'what to do if your husband won't stop stealing' and of course a range of different porn searches lol.

For Mickey, I think it's mostly porn. Just because he doesn't seem like he uses his phone much. But other than that, he probably searches things like 'how to steal without your husband finding out' or 'does weed show up in urine samples'/'how long does weed take to stop being in your piss' or 'what to do if husband steals bed covers' 'how to convince husband to stay in bed for sex in the mornings instead of going on run really early'.

Thank you for the ask!!

[idlingintheimpalapodcast]

New Episode Alert: “I never throw away an idea.” Interview with kittenofdoomage, FanFic Author

Sandra and Kasey got to check a guest off their podcast bucket list! Listeners may have heard them collectively agree, “We’ll have made it when we can interview @kittenofdoomage!”

That day has arrived!!!

Rhi, known in fandom writing circles as kittenofdoomage, has been posting fics on AO3 since 2016 and is one of the most prolific reader-insert writers around. She writes for many fandoms, but Supernatural makes up the bulk of her stories, which total well over a thousand. If you love Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, you could survive quite happily on a diet of her fics for, well, forever.

If all that weren't enough to grab you, Rhi is also a Brit & her & Kasey bonded HARD over growing up in the UK. And she's responsibly for the best brit-ism Sandra has ever heard (kinda gutted it didn't make the episode title tbh loool)

Listen on Spotify Watch on Youtube:

Chapter Timestamps 00:00:00 - Intro 00:04:04 - “Live Free and Twi-Hard” sparked kitten’s journey back into fic writing 00:06:49 - Buffy started it all 00:11:06 - Which Winchester got its claws in kitten? 00:14:47 - SPN viewing habits 00:16:17 - Real-life reaction to writing fanfic 00:20:39 - Thoughts on the show 00:24:33 - The JDM Effect 00:30:18 - Favorite characters on SPN 00:31:48 - John Winchester 00:34:16 - Writing characters into canon 00:36:05 - Plot twists and cliffhangers 00:39:30 - Kitten’s writing start 00:40:46 - The community around fanfic and reader engagement 00:45:26 - Reader-insert realm 00:48:47 - Imposter syndrome 00:51:30 - Does kitten herself into fic as the reader? 00:53:43 - Unlearning the wrong thing to improve 00:55:35 - Has a reader insert ever become an OC? 00:57:32 - Everyone loves a happy ending? 01:00:52 - Where do the ideas come from? 01:02:56 - The privilege of making people feel 01:04:46 - The ideas list 01:10:24 - Threesome logistics 01:12:13 - Omegaverse 01:14:46 - Teens on the Internet and finding fanfic 01:18:42 - Writing fancy stories for adults 01:21:19 - Kitten’s Patreon 01:27:24 - Kitten’s fave fanfic authors 01:30:35 - Does kitten have a fave fic she’s written? 01:33:54 - Kitten’s fanfic limits 01:39:38 - Fandom popularity 01:47:58 - Kasey’s questions 01:51:28 - Kitten’s words of wisdom 01:56:06 - Final thoughts and outro

[miserablebete]

Wow. You’re so passionate and yet still ignore the fact your blog is literally a nazi dog whistle all over. Maybe add an about me pinned post or something….i fear the fact your followers are prob mostly nazis or nazi sympathizers

Also just because you want to claim the g slur for yourself as a Romani it is still considered a slur. This has been stated by the Romani community time and time again, and I will respect the majority ruling over a singular stranger from the internet 👍🏽

And no one is going to go through your entire blog if it’s just making fun of groups of people you personally find gross. That’s weird!

Also, since you got mad I made assumptions I find it hilarious you’re think I don’t know anything about paganism lol! I know so much about Norse paganism since I am a follower of Freyja and the Vanir and a practicing of modern seiðr.

I have practicing paganism and witchcraft for over 20 years. I have only seen Norse pagans call themselves Vikings when they are using Norse paganism as a nazi dog whistle.

I think you might need to reevaluate how you interact on this website and how nazis use certain words and personal presentations so you can make sure no one in the future assumes the worst about you. This is me helping you out.

Also your cousin is not every single ginger man and many people will find that offensive as many have in the notes of this post. You can’t get mad that people are getting upset and use your personal real life relationships to get out of offending strangers.

You say you’re an adult but you’re acting like a child. Grow up and accept the criticism i know for a fact you’re getting. You can’t have fun on the internet but it’s on you if you offend someone because your fun is offensive and targeted. Being criticized is not “horrible shit” being said to you and the fact you think my criticism is and your claim that all men are gross esp ginger men isn’t “horrible shit” tells me a lot about you as a person.

I do not want nor need your blessing or your wishes. Bauldr would not look kindly upon you and your actions.

I hope you have the day you deserve.

ATTENTION JUST FUCKIN EVERYBODY

This is Jason Todd in his first appearances pre-crisis

HIS HAIR IS MOTHER FUCKING GOD DAMNED BLONDE. I am tired of them taking the blonde out of superheros hair when they bring them to live action, I will not fucking stand for doing the same to my boy jason, especially when y'all make him G I N G E R (ginger men are EW, ginger girls are fine so if you gonna take away his soul at least trans his gender first)

[reveriebae]

Chapter 8 - Can We Save Hex?

ICE ON MY TITS SERIES

<< PREVIOUS CHAPTER| NEXT CHAPTER >>

It’s one of those days.

No makeup, no plans. Just you, your bed, and a criminally tight bodycon dress that feels more like a second skin than clothing. No bra. No panties. No shame.

Your thighs are bare, your hair’s a mess, and you’ve been scrolling on Instagram like a sloth on NyQuil—half-dead but committed.

And then—

Boom.

There he is.

Wooyoung.

Shirtless.

Sweaty.

Drenched from a workout or a dance session—who cares? All that matters is that his abs look like they were sculpted by petty gods with something to prove.

Caption? “This filter ain’t even needed.”

The fucking audacity.

You blink, zoom in like a creep, then grin like the devil’s favorite whore.

Comment:

"can we save hex?"

A joke, sure. Playful. A little slutty. Harmless, even.

Or so you thought.

Because thirty seconds later, someone bangs on your door like they’re trying to break in.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

You jolt up, dress riding higher.

Another knock—no, pound.

“OPEN UP!” Wooyoung’s voice cracks through the hallway. “YOU WANNA SAVE HEX?! LET’S FUCKING SAVE IT THEN—”

You scramble off your bed, hair flying, half-laughing, half-panicking, horny as fuck.

“Wooyoung—!”

“Don’t ‘Wooyoung’ me!” he yells. “I WAS MINDING MY BUSINESS—AND YOU WANNA DROP THAT COMMENT?? IN FRONT OF MY THOUSANDS OF FOLLOWERS?? YOU WANNA GET DICKED DOWN OR WHAT?!”

You sprint to the door.

Fling it open.

And there he is.

Black tank top. Sweaty neck. Hair pushed back. Breathing heavy like he ran from the elevator just to yell at you.

You blink up at him, biting your lip. “Hey.”

His eyes rake you down.

The tight dress. The bare thighs. The braless perfection.

Silence.

Then:

“You’re not wearing shit under that,” he whispers.

You shrug. “Wasn’t planning to leave the house.”

He sucks in a breath through his teeth. “You’re a fucking menace.”

“You knocked.”

“YOU COMMENTED.”

“You could’ve ignored it.”

“You could’ve covered your nipples,” he shoots back.

You smirk. “Wanna come in and talk about it?”

He pushes past you without waiting.

Door slams shut.

The second the door shuts, Wooyoung grabs your wrist and pulls you toward the mirror.

Not the one in your bathroom.

The full-length mirror in your bedroom.

The one you only use when you’re feeling extra slutty. The one angled just right so you can see your curves in HD.

“You wanna talk about saving hex?” he mutters, standing behind you, crowding you, breathing hot against your neck. “Let’s record that shit.”

Your breath hitches. “What?”

He pulls his phone from his pocket and opens the camera—front facing, selfie style. The moment he flips it to video, his gaze drops to your ass.

“No panties,” he mutters, voice dark and fucking dangerous.

You press your thighs together.

“Fucking knew it,” he grunts, setting the phone on your nightstand, perfectly angled at the mirror. It captures everything—your flushed face, your nipples poking through the thin fabric, the sinful curve of your hips under that tight bodycon.

And him.

Towering behind you, shirt yanked off in one motion, his abs flexing with every breath.

“Let’s give the internet a real thirst trap, baby.”

His hands find your waist. Then lower. Lower. Until he’s gripping the bottom of your dress and slowly dragging it up—inch by inch—exposing your bare ass.

You gasp. “Wooyoung—”

“Shh. Just watch, slut.”

You whimper as he sinks to his knees behind you, spreading your thighs. You see it—clear as day in the mirror—his tongue dragging over your folds, through your shorts.

The wet spot grows with each pass.

You’re trembling already. Clutching the edges of the mirror for support.

He yanks your shorts aside, not even bothering to remove them. “You want my mouth or you wanna keep playing with your little comments?”

“Wooyoung, please—”

He spits on your pussy.

You see it—see the glisten, the glint of spit and slick as he dives in.

Your back arches. Moans echo. The mirror fogs.

Then—

SLAP.

His palm lands square on your ass. You yelp.

“Look at yourself,” he growls. “You started this shit. Take it.”

He eats you out like a man starved. Loud. Messy. Filthy. Your thighs shake. Your makeup’s halfway gone. You look fucked up—gorgeous.

He stands suddenly, cock already out, thick and twitching, dragging it against your ass with a groan.

“You wanted ‘hex’ saved, right?” he pants. “Say it. Say the fucking line.”

You barely manage it—high and breathless.

“C-Can we… save hex?”

He pushes in.

One thrust. Deep.

Your mouth drops open. His grip is bruising on your hips. Your moans turn ragged, echoing off the walls, mixing with the slick slap of skin.

“You’re—fucking—viral now,” he growls between each thrust. “Whole floor’s gonna hear how you get dicked down for a damn comment.”

“F-Fuck, Woo—”

“That’s right, bitch. Say it. Moan for your likes.”

You both watch the mirror.

Every expression.

Every bounce.

Every drag of his cock inside you while he whispers filth in your ear.

He grabs your phone too, snapping a pic of your dazed expression, your dress bunched at your waist, your juices running down your thighs.

“For memories,” he says.

You’re shaking when he cums.

He stays in you, panting against your shoulder, then leans in to whisper:

“Post that, and I swear I’ll knock again.”

You’re still catching your breath.

“Hex successfully saved,” you mumble.

You barely have time to clean yourself up.

Dress still halfway twisted around your waist. Wooyoung flopped face-down on your bed like he just ran a marathon. Your mirror's foggy. Your legs are still shaking. The sex tape is still playing on mute.

And then—BANG. BANG. BANG.

Someone’s at your door.

You both freeze.

Another round of angry-ass knocking.

Then—

“IT’S A TUESDAY, YOU SICK FUCKS!”

Wooyoung groans. “Oh my god, it’s Joong.”

You start laughing. "He sounds like he’s gonna file a noise complaint.”

“No, no—he sounds like he's about to draft a lawsuit."

You try to walk to the door, but your knees nearly give out. Wooyoung, ever the menace, grabs your ass on the way like he didn’t just cause all this.

You crack the door open.

Hongjoong stands there, hoodie on, glasses askew, hair a mess, arms crossed like the mother of Eden Heights.

“You. Two.” He points at you. Then at Wooyoung behind you, shirtless and smirking. “I don’t care if she commented ‘can we save hex.’ I don’t care if you’re roleplaying OnlyFans. I just want one quiet Tuesday.”

“Technically, it’s Wednesday now,” Wooyoung offers unhelpfully.

You slap his arm.

Hongjoong blinks. “Oh, that’s cute. You’re defending him? Guess that mirror isn’t the only thing foggy.”

You bite your lip. “...You saw?”

“Oh, everyone’s seen. Half the floor’s in the group chat talking about the earthquake in unit 203.”

Then he leans in slightly, lowering his voice.

“I will ask for a copy though.”

And walks off like nothing happened.

[centrally-unplanned]

What do you think changed that useful protest seems so much harder these days? Like it seems like older protests were frequently more disciplined and less counterproductive -- is that a real change and if so what happened? Something about the internet, or the general decline of the many in-person organizations that used to exist? I feel like there's something to be explained here.

Am on mobile so ill be brief on a super-complex topic - I have discussed this before so you can search the blog if you wish - but while the internet is the deeper cause it is tied up in growing partisan political dynamics. Protests can ofc be "step one for a revolution" which is its own thing (and no US protests are that), but otherwise they have a model of salience-raising; making political elites take notice of an issue. But all issues today are in a way maximally salient all the time - everyone has a take, an opinion, and those opinions are party-aligned. "Everyone knows" the LA protests are a bunch of Dems, doing Dem stuff. No Republican will care - and vice versa ofc. Protests in the past had an audience that could truly be persuaded to care - that can happen still but it's much more fickle.

There are also changes in the "supply side", if you will. People used to belong to much more structured, heirarchical orgs, and those orgs could "mobilize" for protest. But they could also be accountable, be a seat at the table. The classic is ofc the church orgs of the civil rights movement - they drove out supporters and also could meet with President Kennedy or whoever and strike a deal. That isn't how protests work today, they are incredibly bottom-up and vibe-based. Hell, when they have leaders, they are often openly at-odds with their "followers", talking to them is a net negative. See the Women's March; still one of the biggest protests ever, representing the entire Dem establishment, but "led" by a very fringe, far-left org structure that the median attendee literally didnt even know existed. With no structure, there is no stakeholder, no bargains, etc, so no reason to listen. (If the US cut arms sales to Israel by 50% in 2024, would protests calm down? Of course not.)

To be clear, protests can still do things, protests aren't all one thing, all the above is marginal, etc. Just explaining the relative shift.

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

No one asked, yet here are my headcanons for some of the characters regarding books and reading :P

Grandpa Sano is an avid reader, the most frequent one amongst the Sano household. Has his regular newspaper to read and definitely some shelves full of post-war Japanese literature, mostly nonfictions or historical stuff. Maybe some western classics in japanese translation.

Izana doesn't actively read - but he has a few books he keeps in his room which he rereads. And that's some heavy and painful stuff, like 'No longer human' or 'Kokoro', but he'd rather die than admit that.

Emma occasionally read/reads romance novels or love short stories. Since she's into fortune-telling, she probably has at least one or two books onto that as well, all highlighted and annotated.

Mikey is totally into manga about bikes, action and cars. Shinchiro probably had a collection of them from his childhood and gave them to Mikey.

Chifuyu is an avid 'girly' manga reader. Romance, fairies, happy endings - you name it. (This might be canon, I forgot).

Baji has some books in his room but never finished them - either they're too boring, he gets distracted or they're too difficult (he might just have undiagnosed ADHD)

Takeomi tried to get Senju into romance novels, but she yawned when reading them. Prefers action comics.

(Idk where this hc comes from but) Draken has bought a western classic and a philosophical book once to try and get into the intellectual world, or at least try it out. He figured it's not his favourite thing, but he can drop a few smart sentences in a conversation due to it.

Like another anon said before, Kisaki definitely read the 48 Laws of Power, Izana just might have too.

Hanma hasn't touched in book since his twelfth birthday.

Pah and Peh likely threw a book they had to read for school into a puddle. They prefer manga or comics, not thick complicated novels.

Mitsuya isn't big on reading but has a good and stable collection of fictional books.

For Luna and Mana I imagine one of them to grow up into a totally romantic reader and the other one to dislike the idea of reading. Otherwise they get along great.

Hanma has probably found a list (in a modern setting or timeline on the internet) titled 'Red flags/Male manipulator books' (like those you see on TikTok as a joke sometimes) and gifted Kisaki some books from that list. ("The title reminded me of you~ ♥️")

Koko canonically has read multiple books, mostly on how to make money though. He knows which one are good and scoffs at those internet popular ones like 'rich dad, poor dad'. Still, he read lots of romance stories as a teen/kid, but refuses to admit that.

Inupi on the other hand comes to the library solely to sleep. (Or to get kissed LMAO sorry, I had to)

Rindou probably has some nonfictional books, half to flex, half because he genuinely finds them interesting.

Ran has definitely told Rindou to read something out of them to him, just for Ran to fall asleep after a page. Rindou didn't mind it though.

Kakucho and Rindou probably talked about books some time (but they don't bond over it as much as over the gym/working out/Yakuza hideout's if you get the reference), and whilst Rindou prefers nonfictional, Kakucho likes fictional a bit better. None of them are super big readers tho, just occasionally.

Last but not least (I like the number 20): Shion probably wanted to impress or tease someone by pretending to read but he ended up holding the book upside down. When Mochi saw that, he smacked Shion on the back of his head. Mochi would never admit reading anything besides some newspapers, but during his time in juvie he picked up a few books, doesn't have a favourite author/genre tho.

Those are my takes :3 what do you say to them? Love sharing my hc and thoughts with you btw 🤭❤️

Ah these are really cool! I think the only one I'd disagree with is Baji since it goes against the canon. In the first character book, Baji lists reading animal encyclopedia's as one of his hobbies, his also shown to have a lot of animal themed mangas.

This is also why they're trying to win an animal book collection in the spinoff and why Baji get's a little upset when they lose.

He likes reading, he just likes reading about animals!

[wreaking-havoc0315]

Hi I just need you to know that I'm hopelessly in love with blaze bro I CANT HES SUCH A LITTLE SHIT do you have anymore headcannons about him? Drawings anything he deserves more love

(AHHHHH!!! Thank you for liking him, He is indeed a lil shit! And we love him in this household!!)

I've had these sitting on my gallery for a bit and I finally get to talk abt it!!

Blaze Headcanons:

-His hair grows a bit too long every month and reluctantly asks his sister to cute it for him, He is afraid of her weilding scissors

-Blaze's favorite food is MANGO. Philippine Mango, to be exact. That's it, He doesn't need any more convincing. As long as it has mango on it, it's immediately in his mouth.

-He does smoke joints, His parents didn't mind so long as he doesn't do it daily. Messes up his noggin.

-Despite his subtle fear for Bill, He wouldn't hesitate to show hands with the mf. It's more so abt comments on his sister, Only Blaze gets to make fun of her.

-It's rare for him to get angry, especially since he doesn't always do so other than raise his voice but when he does? It's a different level. He'll get worked up and physical if he has to, but when he's done, he'd be a bit out of it, practically smoking from the rage but calmed either way.

-He's on good terms with the club (except Bill) so he doesn't exactly have anything against them, more on bc he has too much internet dirt on them and they'd rather not mess with that.

-Blaze and Pete are cool friends, They rock to the same music genre and would more likely share their likings to horror or horror games. They're close close but Blaze just doesn't see Pete that way despite the other's obvious advances. He just plays it off and hope he'll get tired eventually.

-Now Blaze and Jerry, that's a duo. Since Jerry did introduce him to the club, Blaze still wasn't too sure abt the others so he sticks with Jerry most of the time. They rant and blabber on and on abt their interests in games, Blaze tries to be good at coding and developing RPG games so he doesn't mind letting Jerry watch sometimes. They also geek out about D&D, Blaze was the only cleric bc he ain't a pussy to not be a fighter type. Jerry was Blaze's first irl crush, His usual interests were fictional characters so he wasn't sure how to handle an actual person. Never said anything tho. "No Homo".

-Blaze and Josh actually do get along pretty well, They just don't show it too much since they're still skeptical abt the other at first. Blaze was a good hacker and (sometimes) inventor so when Josh started to find interest in it, He didn't mind having Josh over to watch him work. Lets him test out whatever the hell he's working on too so that's a plus. Blaze also thinks that Josh is warm and soft so he actually grew to like being close to him when they're alone. Did I mention that Josh is his second irl crush? No? Well, now you know.

-Blaze and Bill? Ehhhh... Does it count as friendship if they just tolerate each other? Bill isn't exactly pleasant company, Blaze sees him as a man-child with a short fuse and gets intimidated by it. He doesn't like how Bill talks too much shit abt his sister or females in general so he's not too shy on defending it, Is one of the less misogynistic ones in the club but is the loudest abt it. Bill isn't too bad other than that, Blaze just chooses to close his mouth when Bill gets heated in other topics.

-But lets be honest, He had a scale of 1-10 from how attracted he was to them. It was one of his bi awakenings, It was bound to happen.

-The obvious contenders were Jerry and Josh, both having closer to his similar interests and he just likes them more in general. In an emotional and physical range, How comfortable he is with them.

-Pete is kind of a 50/50 bc Blaze doesn't see him as anything other than a friend but also finds him oddly endearing? It's like a passing infatuation, Thinks he's cool and shit but wouldn't think it'd work out so he doesn't go down that path.

-Bill is just on the bottom of the barrel, Blaze would consider it but not entirely. Both personality and lack of interactions with Bill was what made up Blaze's mind on it. Wouldn't mind tho, But he wouldn't say anyway.

(That's all I've got for him. Thanks for leaving this ask! Thanks so much for liking my dumbass emo boy!!💙)

[biohorror-human]

(after writing this, I realize that this is sort of like the opposite of a suicide note. "Hey guys, here's a long emotional explanation about why I'm going away forever. It's because I'm ready to be alive")

Coming to the horrific realization that as much as my internet friends are fun, their purpose in the ecosystem of internet apps is to give you a social attachment to the app they are on so that you feel guilty for wanting for leave.

Everything I've ever experienced has been a simulation. I played so many video games growing up. Now I recognize that I never even really liked it, I just liked having something to do. I liked being able to talk to my friends when I couldn't see them in real life. I got into so many internet arguments, and now I realize that after all those arguments, I've only ever changed the minds of 2 or 3 people. And I don't even remember who they were. I don't remember anyone else either. I don't remember anything I've ever done on my phone because every mobile game is a waste of fucking time, and every mobile app was built in part by corporate psychologists to maximize engagement, destroying any possibility of authentic or natural interaction.

I initially made this account for the art. I just wanted to find hotline Miami wallpapers for my phone. I stayed longer because I liked the cult of the lamb queer art. Then I stayed longer because I got told I have a lot of trans thoughts, and you all have been so helpful in helping me come to terms with that. And of course, I'm a communist now because of you all. Becoming a trans communist; that's all the good this app ever did for me. everything else was engagement bait drivel. All the terfs I saw weren't on my fyp because they were saying something true and beautiful, they were there because morons like me will waste another 2 hours of my life arguing with them. Nobody changes their mind, and Tumblr gains another 3 pennies off of ad money. This app means nothing to me because I cannot use it in a way that matters to me.

I was denied the ability to move freely in my youth and I developed a pattern of sedentary life. I didn't even know how much I loved just being out with friends, and going to small shows. And I'll probably love joining some direct action groups, and being a girl, and making a sick ass t4t polycule. All shit I'm NOT currently doing because I'm playing video games or using social media in my free time instead of being a living human person outside where all my other living human people are.

Some people self-actualize into nerdy introverts, and those people are still cool despite this because when they nerd out about super niche Star wars character trivia, they're doing it from a place of authentic love. They are cool because they are having genuine fun and making memories. I've been a nerdy introvert all these years because it kept me safe. What I am doing right now does not come from a place of authentic love. it is internalized defensive habits I developed from growing up in a house where my parents yelled at each other every day of my childhood, and I wasn't allowed to leave. It is dissociative disorder fused with identity. But I'm an adult now. I can put my guard down and finally walk under the warm sun and know that nothing can stop me. I deserve all the respect in the world because I am alive and love everyone in it more than I hate the capitalists and racists and fascists who want to ruin it.

What if I'm gonna use every resource I have to make my life into this dream I have? What if I do this and become effortlessly cool all because I know who I am and love doing what I do? Because being exactly who I want to be and loving this self-actualized version of myself makes me happy. I want to know what it means to look in the mirror and see something you love. I want to be able to know that I'm living the life I would fantasize about when I was younger.

And so, to the four people who might be confused if I suddenly disappeared: this whole social media thing was never for me. Not my business, it's safe to say I'm just not very good at posting. The act of posting doesn't bring me joy, I do it because I seek approval through it, and a lot of the time it shows. It's stopping me from self-actualizing because I'm still relying on others for validation instead of myself. This isn't what I love doing. And for what it's worth, if social media is part of your self-actualization, then good for you. Personally, it just doesn't work for me. I know who I want to be, and social media hinders me on that journey more than it helps. Smoking weed and watching Paul the Alien did more for my self-actualization than a whole lifetime of social media. Maybe I'll come back after I'm self-actualized, a very different person.

That's all. I'll Reblog with more if I think of anything else to say. But this is going to be my last post for the foreseeable future. If anybody wants to say bye, or give me any last minute advice before I go, now's your time.

[itsnothingofinterest]

So, spoilers discussed below:

Chapters 3 & 4 came out & revealed who the Knight was. So, was I right? Was I wrong?

...Kind both, as it happens?

So like...Kris isn't the Knight, in so far as there is a person called the "Roaring Knight" who is not Kris...

...But also everything else about why we thought Kris could be the Knight looks to be true from what we can immediately tell.

We/I just underestimated the complexity of the operations of the Knight and number of allies/agents they had.

To start off; strictly speaking, yes the Knight is another character. Looks to be either Carol Holiday, or Carol is just another Lightner agent and it's really Dess. The antlers really give the impression that it's a Holiday woman, but it's hard to tell if the weapon in their hand is a katana or a bat. Since Carol was at her home for chapter 4 and also the 2nd idea seems more interesting; I'll be acting under the assumption that Dess is the Knight. That said, the Knight seems to have 1 or more Lightner agents; Kris at minimum, Carol if she isn't the Knight, and maybe Asgore for all we know (kinda doubt it but it's on the table).

However: Assuming the Knight is December, then she's probably been doing a lot less stuff that we've expected of the Knight, instead delegating it to the Lightner agents. After all; call it an educated guess but I don't think December is able to just walk around the Light world as normal. At least if we're at all right in our assumptions of everyone's motives. And even if she could; she has the least ability to walk around casually, as she's supposed to be a missing person and anyone in this small town would squeal if they saw her. Meanwhile Kris and Carol, local harmless mischief maker and the friggin' mayor, could go probably anywhere around town and not be an odd sight.

On that note though, even if Kris isn't the Knight, it seems they did do nearly everything we'd assumed they did in pursuit of the Knight's goal. In reverse order:

Did they set up TV World for the Knight's plan? Yes that looks to be the case with around 90% certainty. Prior to chapter 2, Kris plugged in Tenna who mentions a deal and following Kris' instructions; plus it's pretty clear they left the door open so the Knight could get in.

Did Kris open Cyber World? We can't say for certain but I think it's likely. Queen does attribute it to the Knight but her visual aid still shows a knife like Kris' and they were probably doing something in pursuit of team Knight's plan the night between chapters 1 & 2. I doubt it was just plugging in Tenna.

Did they shut off the internet? Actually, that one was probably Carol. As mayor, she'd have far more power to do that.

Did they open Card Kingdom? Maybe. They are a student of the school and thus would have the easiest time accessing the unused classroom; but when the other agents of the Knight are 2 parents of the school children, that ease is not by much. Like we're looking at 34:33:33 odds between Kris, Carol, & Asgore.

The only thing the obviously didn't do is open the Dark Sanctuary; which at present I'm actually guessing might've been done by Carol.

So yeah, even if Kris wasn't the Knight; the also kinda were. They're part of the team anyway; potentially reluctantly but that's a discussion for another day (thought if I can tip my hand on that topic; I'm growing some guesses as to how Kirs is gonna warm up to the Red Soul in the non-Snowgrave routes.)

So here’s a post I’d been meaning to make for a good long while. Get out there with my interest in Deltarune. And with chapter 3 & 4 coming out in just one more tomorrow; it’s now or never to talk about something I’d been meaning to for a while:

Kris Could be the Knight and that’s okay

A very “popular” take I’m sure we’re all aware (although it actually has been having a resurgence); but this might be my favourite Deltarune theory since chapter 2 came out. So I wanted to go over not only the evidence I see supporting it & why I don’t believe the evidence against it; but also touch on why I like it and maybe why others have a problem with it on a more emotional level. With that established: let’s get started: (Be warned though, this is a very long post.)

Basic run-down & evidence

So, let’s go over the basics to start with.

Deltarune’s 1st Chapter established an entity known as “the Knight”; the person who set up King as the sole ruler of Card Castle by locking up the other kings & created the Dark Fountains the protagonists have to handle. We don’t really here learn much more, there’s no evidence pointing to anyone; we just know of a future antagonist.

We also get a closing scene of Kris late at night pulling out their soul, followed by a knife, and then a creepy grin as they took control away from the player.

Years later, we’d learn they ate a whole pie that night and Torial was rather upset about it. Guess that was…just a misdirect?

‘Unrelated’; Chapter 2 would also have Kris & Susie find a new Dark Fountain in the computer lab of their local library, which was not there the day before. We’re once again told the Knight made the Fountain for this Cyber World, although this time they seemed much less involved in otherwise setting up the plot; Queen’s gone crazy on her own due to the internet being down and her wanting to make Dark Fountains herself after seeing one get made. Despite this, we get way more hints towards the knight’s identity (which isn’t saying much but still); Queen tells us it’s a Lightner & apparently got a video of the Knight making a fountain in the lab by stabbing the ground with a blade, and while the light & smoke obscured their appearance, she did inform us the Knight did the job using a knife…huh.

Later that night, after Susie stops over at Kris’ house; Kris once again rips out their soul to do…well all sorts of stuff to a) get Susie to stay over, b) set up the house in weird ways, and c) …create Chapter 3’s Dark Fountain by stabbing the ground with their knife.

The basic conclusion people drew was this: Chapter 1’s end was not a red herring, Kris snuck off that night to open the Library Fountain, and they’re the Knight.

“Wow” some thought, “how interesting, to have our player character be our own main antagonist. Now that’s a cool twist.”

But others said “Wait hold on, that doesn’t make sense!”

Keep reading

[clumsypuppy]

littlest furth shop

@laikascomet

[svnflowermoon]

hey btw before you start being angry at the 10 year old sephora kids and the ipad kids, remember that we should feel bad for them. because the world has failed them. it is not these kids faults that the world is so focused on materialistic things and that their parents don't know how to talk to them. that is the fault of social media and bad parenting. i said what i said.

[essektheylyss]

I do think some of the handwringing I've seen about "hate" is funny because from what I can tell, even on twitter people are being surprisingly civil. The cast hasn't even had to make a big announcement clarifying a situation because everyone misinterpreted something and worked themselves into a furor. It took less than 12 hours after the c2 finale before Matt and Liam were like, "Uh, what do you mean, we literally said on stream Caleb and Essek get together." But there's also been a significant shift online since then to the point where anything short of "the precious baby blorbos were treated so niceys :3" is considered vicious hate, for some reason*, so I can't say I'm really surprised.