#I'm so pumped for revival

[miabrown007]

Félix: kidnapping is a love language Kagami: you have no social skills, idiot

*two weeks later*

Félix: okay, so when Marinette's at her most vulnerable, I'll gaslight her into thinking I'm her boyfriend, so she'll follow me into an abandoned building where we can put her in an altered mental state and present to her my family's life story in the imaginable most cryptic play of theater she has ever seen, which will reveal to her our horrible secret and the fact that her abusive father-in-law is also her arch-nemesis Kagami: you're so big brained, bae 🥰

[lokis-army-77]

Private Viewing

Camboy!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 6.8k

What happens when your favorite camboy is in your class? You should stop watching his content... or should you? What happens when you are eventually paired together for a project? Everything will be just fine, won't it?

Warning: 18 +. This is pure fucking filth. Spit, masturbation (m and f), use of vibrators and fleshlight, choking, multiple orgasms, squirting, oral (f reviving), fingering, voyeurism? Soft!dom Eddie, tell me if I'm missing anything.

Thank you @lesservillain for giving me this wonderful idea. 💗 and @munson-blurbs for figuring out if I should do this for Steve or Eddie and for helping give me a title💗.

Masterlist

Nothing but slick sounds filled your room, the occasional deep moan calling out from your laptop speakers accompanying your own sweet cries. The guy on the screen, Ed as he called himself, or DungeonMaster as he was known on Only Fans and Twitter, was fisting his cock in his heavily ringed hand. He was putting on a show for more than ten thousand viewers but the way he stared down the camera with those dark eyes made you think he was watching you, fucking his hand to the way you were pumping your fingers in and out of your soaking wet pussy. 

You had stumbled upon his Twitter three months ago and he immediately captured your eye. The way his tattoos wrapped around his pale skin, how he wasn’t all lean muscle like the other OF guys, his tummy by no means a six-pack but he still looked strong enough to sweep you off your feet with ease. His moans were heavenly and so was the deep timber of his force as he praised you through the thirty-second video clip. It was all enough to convert you from your usual consumption of smutty books to the infamous Only Fans sight. 

Since then, his streams and videos have become the one and only thing you get off to. And like then, tonight was no exception. 

You were so close to the edge, Ed’s moans spurring you on. Your fingers move at an almost inhuman pace in and out, in and out. 

“Rub that clit for me, baby. Need you to cum.” He groaned, head resting on his shoulder as he continued you pleasure himself. 

“Fuck!” You gasp as you rub your clit with your free hand. Your rhythm is horribly off but it doesn’t matter, you are so close to cumming. So so so close. “Please,” you beg out into your empty room. You aren’t too sure why or what you are pleading for. More friction? More fingers? More words of encouragement from him? Maybe you’re asking to cum? 

It’s like he had heard you through the screen as he moaned out, “That’s a good girl. Just like that. Doing so well for me. You gonna cum baby? Yeah? Me too. Want me to count for you?” He nods his head lazily. “I knew you would baby. Okay. Five.”

You want to cry.

“Four.” 

The strings tugging inside you are becoming taut.

“Three.”

You feel like you’re going to explode. He’s counting too slowly.

“Two.”

The tears are flowing now.

“One.”

You let out a strangled scream.

“Cum baby. Do it, now.”

Your walls clench around your fingers and your legs snap shut, trapping your fingers. Every muscle in your body is shuddering as those strings snap and your release comes out in a stream, wetting your hand and the bed. Your hearing has gone, there’s a ringing in your ears but you can faintly hear Ed cumming as well. 

With watery vision and slow movements, you turn to face your laptop screen just in time to see his tattoo-covered chest painted with milky white ropes of cum. 

When the ringing subsides you hear him say more clearly, “Thata girl. Always make me cum so much.” He takes a towel and wipes off his chest and stomach before adjusting the camera view to the shoulders up. “Get you some rest baby, I’ll see you on Thursday.” 

And then the live is over. 

Slowly, sluggishly, you remove your hands from between your legs and begin the now regular clean-up routine before going to bed. 

…

Three days later, Thursday rolls around, and thus begins the fall semester of your junior year of college. It’s a groggy morning, everyone is tired and very unenthusiastic about having an 8 a.m. advanced music composition class. 

You had struggled to get out of bed at six this morning just to get one of the dorm showers first before they were all taken up. Luckily two of the five were open and you were able to get to class a whole twenty minutes early, even having time to grab coffee at the on-campus Starbucks on the way.

The music building was old and the tables you and your fellow students sat at were even older. It all added to the sleepy ambiance. Your eyes drooped and you yawned every time someone else did, the black coffee you had chugged not doing anything for you. 

You’re only awoken when your professor, a stout old man with a very severe receding hairline, slams open the door to the classroom a little too hard and it hits the brick wall, creating a loud, startling bang. 

He apologizes before making his introduction.  He then gets out a clipboard with a sheet attached and hands it off to a girl in the front row, instructing everyone to fill in their name and school email for his role sheet.

It’s only once you’ve finished and passed the clipboard on, that you notice the guy two seats down from you looks vaguely familiar. You can’t quite put a finger on it and it bugs you. 

His hair is pulled back into a messy bun and his clothes make him look like the alternative guy of your dreams back in high school. He’s got rings on almost every finger and an aura that just screams confidence. 

It begins to become a problem, your inability to place this guy's face. You’ve only taken a handful of notes the entire first hour and thirty minutes into this two-hour class. Your eyes are constantly staring at him no matter how hard you try to make yourself pay attention. 

Then, he raises his hand to answer one of your professor's questions. That’s when it clicks. Your pen falls from your grasp and your mouth forms an O. 

“Oh my fucking god. No. It can’t be.” You think to yourself but just to be sure you take out your phone, turn the brightness and volume down, and hide it under the table. You open Twitter as fast as you can and you don’t even have to look for his user, he’s the first post on the screen. 

Ed @ DungeonMaster86 was boldly displayed above a picture of the guy sitting next to you with his massive dick in his hand. 

It’s a wonder you weren’t caught with how you practically choked on thin air and began furiously looking from your phone to the guy and then back to your phone. 

Your stomach drops. You can’t keep watching his videos, can you? That wouldn’t be right. That would be weird, watching the porn your classmate makes. 

When class is finally called to an end you pack up as quickly as you can and bolt out the door to your next class, hoping that by getting away from Ed, you'd be able to concentrate. Out of sight, out of mind.

That statement turns out to be false when he is in your next class and when you spot him in the student commons talking with another guy. It's like once you made the connection of who he was, he was everywhere.

…

Arriving back at your dorm, you throw your backpack on your desk, snatch your laptop out of it, and struggle to jump up onto your bed. Never had you been so thankful for the single dorm than this moment as your curser hovered over the bookmarked Only Fans page at the top of your screen. No roommate meant no one would see the moral dilemma you were currently losing with yourself. 

‘You know him, it’s wrong to keep watching his videos.”

‘What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him though. The only way he would know you are watching is if you tell him, you aren’t going to tell him, are you?’

‘No…’ 

‘Then it’s okay, it’ll just add an extra element of taboo to his streams. Plus, he’d miss you in the chat.’

You sigh as the devil on your shoulder wins out once again, talking you into something you know you shouldn’t be. But hey, it feels good to be bad. 

Steadily, you click on his bookmarked profile and the first thing to pop up is the live stream that is currently in session. And against your better judgment, you enter the stream.

He’s only just started, people are slowly filtering in. Ed is sitting on the edge of his bed, shirt off, and a singular, ringed hand teasing himself through his black jeans. 

You breathe a sigh as he looks into the camera, eyes half-lidded, luring you in. It does the job, because in an instant your fingers are typing out a message in chat. 

Princess23: hi Ed

His eyes flicker as he reads his messages, smiling as he replies to you. "Hi, Princess. How's my girl been?"

There's a bubble of excitement at the fact that he recognizes your username, even if you've been a regular in the chat for months.

Princess23: stressful… you've been distracting me.

The reply to his question is truer than he realizes. 

"Aww, princess, is that so? You've been thinking of me?" He leans back on his free elbow, still groping himself with the other hand.

Princess23: yes. been thinking about your cock, how much I want it in my mouth. 

It's one of the less bold comments you make but it makes you blush all the same, especially now.

"Yeah? You want me to fuck that pretty little mouth? Of yours?"

Princess23: yes please

"Mmm." He hums, fingers now fumbling with the button and zipper of his jeans. 

You set your laptop to the side and start to situate yourself. Slowly taking your clothes off one by one. 

Ed replies to a few more comments before announcing that it's time to start.

He leaves the screen for just a moment before coming back with something in his hand. Smirking at the camera he shows it. A flashlight in the shape of a mouth.

"This one’s for you, Princess. Since you need my dick so bad," Ed explains. He sets it on his bed before making a show of taking his jeans and boxers off. 

As you watch, your hands roam your body. Fingers pinching and pulling at your sensitive nipples before trailing down. The light touch over your ribs makes you giggle. Then you rub and scratch at the inside of your thighs. 

Ed's moans are now coming through your speakers, you tilt your head to watch.

"Spit on my cock baby, get it nice and wet for me." He commands before spitting in his own hand and rubbing it on his thick length. 

"Your mouth looks so pretty like this, waiting, drooling for me. Need me to fill it so bad don't you, baby?" 

"Yes." You answer him breathlessly, fingers teasing around your mound. 

You watch and he sits back down on his bed, thighs spread, a hand cupping his balls and the other grabbing the fleshlight. He lets out a long, drawn-out moan when he inserts his cock into the fake mouth. 

"Fuck baby, your mouth feels so perfect." 

You can't help but whine. Allowing your fingers to finally circle your clit. 

The both of you go one like this for a bit. Him fucking the fleshlight and you massaging your clit. But then you need more, more than your hand can give you. So you reach to your bedside table, stretching at an uncomfortable angle to open the drawer and pull out the purple mini wand you kept there.

The vibrations start slow and constant as you press the toy to your clit. It pulls soft, quiet noises from you as you watch your computer screen. Your mind is blank, filled only with the pretty sounds Ed is making, the way his body looks, and the pleasure between your legs.

There are no thoughts. You follow his lead. When his hand speeds up, you kick up the vibrations, when he slows down, you turn the vibrator back to the first level. 

It's a rollercoaster, almost, taking your pleasure for a ride. The stream isn't even done yet when you feel that tight pull in your abdomen. The toy works you up fast. 

So you stop. Taking the toy away and changing positions. On your hands and knees, you hug a pillow to your chest and prop the toy up under you, keeping it standing as you push your clit down onto it. It's not even on and it's making your hips buck in sensitivity.

You turn it back on and immediately feel the slick seeping from your cunt and running down the toy. 

"Oh fuck," you cry.  Your eyes locked on the screen where Ed has also changed positions. 

He's got his own toy lying on the bed and he's laying over it. The way his leg and glute muscles contract as he thrusts into the toy has you memorized. 

He chants, "Baby, baby, baby." Over and over. What you would give to have him chanting your name instead. Like a prearranged falling from his lips, praising you, worshiping you.

The need for him grows and so does the tightness in your core. 

Reaching your hand down you turn the speed up. Your hips buck into the toy and you bury your face in the pillow. You're close.

He’s not far behind. Peering up from your pillow you can see his thrusts are sputtering. Sporadic as he draws close to his end. 

“God dammit, baby. Gonna cum in this perfect mouth of yours. Fuck. Can you swallow it like the good pet you are? Hum? The good pet I know you can be?”

“Yes.” You turn up the vibrator. “Fuck, wanna swallow all of you. Please.” 

The vibrations are becoming too much but you keep the toy pressed into you, hips shaking at the feeling of being overstimulated. 

Without warning, you cum with a guttural cry into your pillow. Body spasming, muscles twitching. You can still hear Ed moaning and the sloppy sounds of his cock fucking the fleshlight. 

With barely any energy you reach down between your heavy body and the bed and turn your toy off. You don’t even bother with your computer, too exhausted and fucked out to exit the stream. You fall asleep to the sounds of your new classmate's self-pleasure. 

…

It’s October now. The semester is halfway over and you’ve still been watching Ed, or Eddie. You learned his actual name in class when your professor called role on him by name the second week. 

Today you are being assigned a partner for the final project. You have your fingers crossed that Eddie won’t be chosen as your partner but as your professor calls out pairs, it seems luck is against you. 

You freeze when your name is called and directly after so is Eddie’s. You groan internally. How the hell are you supposed to do this? You already have trouble concentrating when he sits two seats away, what’s going to happen when he actually interacts with you?

There isn’t much time to think about that as he abruptly moves from his seat to the one directly next to you. 

“Hi.” He says, eyes bright and expectant. “I’m Eddie.” He holds out his hand for you to shake but you just stare at him. He looks at you curiously before waving his hand in front of your face. “Hello? Cat got your tongue?”

You snap out of your stupor and accept his hand, shaking it as you introduce yourself. “Sorry. I was a bit out of it.” You say, trying to play it off as you just staring off into space. 

“No problem.” He smiles. “Uh, do you want to exchange numbers so we can figure out when we can work on this together?” 

“Oh, yeah. Here,” You open your phone and push it to him with the messages app open. “You can text yourself.” 

He does just that, even going as far as putting in his contact name as Eddie with the skull and crossbones emoji beside it. 

“Great. I’ll text you when I’m free. I have work on Mondays and Thursdays, sometimes on Saturdays, but other than that I’m usually free.”

You nearly choke when you realize he’s given you his streaming schedule. “I- uh. Okay. Just text me when you can.”

"Sure thing sweetheart." He grins at you before standing, grabbing his things, and heading out of class along with the rest of the students. 

You sit there for a minute, thinking. God, what are you getting yourself into?

…

You both have finally come up with meeting times that work for both of you. Tuesday and Wednesday after seven. Giving you time to get to the school library after the closing shift at your on-campus job. 

It’s been two weeks of working together on this project and it’s been easier than you had originally thought to concentrate on the task at hand and keep your dirty thoughts at bay. 

Right now, you are both sitting in one of the private study rooms looking at Eddie’s computer as he explains why this particular cord progression would fit with the emotions you are trying to convey in your composition. 

You sigh, “Eddie, as much as I love that sound, I really don’t think it fits with the overall composition of the song. It isn’t as emotionally charged as I’d like it to be.”

“Well show me something similar to what you’re wanting.” He rakes his hand through his hair. It’s been a long night for each of you. It seems that every new section of the song you are creating for the project gives you a new challenge to work through together. 

You pull out your phone and Eddie leans over to watch as you begin to type. There is a particular song you are thinking of that has the weight and emotion you are trying to convey with your own music and as you type the first letter of the song, O, the first suggestion that pops up is onlyfans/DungeonMaster. 

Mortified, you slam your phone down on the table. Eddie looks at you with an eyebrow raised. 

“What was that?” He asks.

“What was what?” You answer. 

“Why did you slam your phone down?”

“Oh, I just forgot the title of the song.”

“Right…” He scratches under his chin and then stretches back in his chair. “Why don’t we call it quits for tonight? It’s getting late and we aren’t going to agree on anything if we’re both tired.”

A yawn suddenly comes up out of nowhere and you then realize how tired you actually are. “That sounds good to me.” You agree with Eddie and begin packing up your things. You don’t want to be with him longer than you need to be right now, even if he seemingly didn’t notice his OF user pop up on your phone screen. 

“Bye Eddie.” You wave to him on your way out the door.

Faintly you hear him call out to you, giving a goodbye of his own. "See ya, sweetheart."

… 

After your little slip, you began avoiding Eddie. At least in person, you still tuned into his streams. You bailed on the next three meetups you had planned, helping only through voice notes and text. Eddie said he understood when you said your boss was forcing you to stay late to deep clean. 

It was Thursday now and when you saw him in class he barely looked your way and you wondered if he had seen what you hoped he had not. 

You tried stopping him once your lecture was over, feeling an anxiousness creeping into your mind. Your conscience had been telling you to come clean. To explain your perversion. Let him know you watched him, that you paid to enjoy seeing him fuck into a toy or his hand. 

You called out his name and reached for his arm. "Eddie."

He turns to you. "Hum?"

You take a deep breath to ground yourself. "I wanted to say sorry for not being able to come help with the project."

"It's okay, you said you had work." He replies, unbothered. 

"No, Eddie, I didn't get held back at work. That was a lie."

He doesn't look all too surprised. 

"I've kinda been avoiding you because- well, because of what I think you might have seen on my phone that day."

Eddie stops you there. "Can this wait until later? I've really got some errands to run before work."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Sorry to keep you Ed." You had meant it as a nickname but as it came pushing past your lips it was too late to take it back. You had never heard anyone call him that outside of his onlyfans. 

You watched as his eyes widened at the name and a spark went off behind them. "I'll see you later sweetheart." The smirk he gives you isn't the usual playful one you'd seen him throw before. No, this was sinister, like he knew.

Your heart fell into your stomach as you watched him walk away, leaving you alone.

Tonight as you logged into the stream, it wasn’t to get off. It was to see if he'd show any signs of knowing you might be lurking about among the thousands of viewers.

When the video loads, Eddie is sitting in his desk chair. He's talking to the chat like he always does. There's something different in the atmosphere around him, mischief if you've placed it correctly. 

He keeps replying to comments until the clock reaches 6:10. It's time for the show to begin. 

"Tonight I have a very special treat for you guys." Eddie starts as he reaches over just off camera to his desk. "I've got the wand out." 

The chat erupts. Eddie doesn't bring his vibrator out often, but when he does, you know it's going to be a good show for every party involved. 

"I would also like to say hello to a special quest in the stream tonight." Eddie’s smirk gets bigger and your heart pounds in your chest. "Hi, sweetheart. Hope you enjoy yourself." 

You feel like you've been shot. There's a ringing in your ears and your breathing has stopped. 

He knows. Fuck. He definitely knows. You've never heard him say that pet name on camera. It's always babe or baby when he refers to the collective whole watching the stream. Eddie has only ever used that name with you.

Eddie starts up the vibrator, tracing it over his covered cock. He hums at the feeling, loud and long. 

You clench your thighs together. You tell yourself you should stop watching but you can't bring yourself to. 

'He knows." You argue with yourself.

'But he wants you to watch. Why else would he say his pet name for you? Why else would he say he hopes you enjoy yourself? He knows and he likes it.'

The devil on your shoulder makes sense again and you curse it. 

So, you watch. Intently, you watch. Your eyes never leave the screen. 

Eddie whimpers once he has his cock out of his pants. The tip is a deep purple/red color, showing how worked up he's gotten already.

He lets his head fall back, resting on his chair as he moves the vibrator down to his balls. He presses it into himself before dragging it up his shaft and to the head. 

You feel a wetness seeping into the cotton of your panties and as his legs widen, yours press together more. 

"Oh fuck. Oh fuck, sweetheart." Eddie moans, mouth open slack and eyes squeezed shut. 

You can't believe he's saying your pet name and making those noises. You wonder what he's thinking about. How you'd look sucking on his cock? Maybe what it would be like to be pounding into you, watching your cunt suck him in and clench around him. 

Eddie grits his teeth when he turns the speed up. One hand is holding the vibrator just at the frenulum while the other is cupping and squeezing his balls. 

Your thoughts are running wild and your hips have started to rock in search of some kind of friction.

He moves his hand from his balls and begins to tug on his shaft. Deep guttural moans fill the air, and the sound of them turns you on even more. 

It's not long before Eddie is bucking his cock into his hand. You can see his muscles straining in his legs as he does. 

"Fuck fuck fuck- ah fuck sweetheart, you've got me so close. Fuck." His voice is pinched. You can see the exhaustion in the furrow of his eyebrows as he pressed the vibrator over his tip, the change in placement making his hips shudder. “God, I’m gonna cum. The thought of you is gonna make me cum, sweetheart.” 

Hearing his breathy, deep, timber of a voice say that the thought of you was going to do him in had you thinking you might just cum too. No touching required, just Eddie and his beautiful noises. 

In a matter of seconds, Eddie is choking on his words as his balls go taut. He lets out a drawn-out grunt and ropes of cum begin to spurt out over his chest, covering him like a painting. He doesn’t even bother to clean himself up before he looks into the camera and says good night, chuckling when he mentions your particular pet name again. Then, the screen goes dark. 

…

Fridays are slow in the used bookshop you work at. Especially after 4:30. No one had been inside in maybe an hour? Your boss left early, leaving you alone to close down at 6. For the past fifteen minutes, you’ve been putting misplaced books back where they belong, sweeping, and tidying up anything else you see. 

Because of the usual slowness, you have your headphones on. The music isn’t loud but it does drown out the sound of the bell chiming as someone enters the building. You are unaware of the person creeping up behind you until you are suddenly turned around and corralled against the bookshelf. 

You let out an alarmed screech only for your mouth to be covered by a big, warm hand. Your headphones fall to the floor beside you as they are accidentally knocked off your head. You hear his voice then, whispering in your ear. 

“Hi, Sweetheart.” 

“Eddie-” You heave, relieved it wasn’t someone coming to kill you in cold blood.

“Did you enjoy my show last night?” He leans back, caressing a strand of hair away from your face. 

You shake your head. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You deny. Even after you had told yourself you would come clean to him, granted that was before you knew he knew your secret. 

“You don’t know, do you? I think you do why else would my account have popped up on your search suggestions the other day?” 

Keeping your mouth shut, you refuse to answer. 

Eddie takes your chin between his fingers and moves your face to the side as he leans into you. His lips tickle the shell of your ear as he speaks again. “So… Which one of my subs are you? Hum?”

Your mouth opens but nothing comes out. 

Eddie tuts. “Don’t get all shy on me. Tell me. Now.” His tone is dominating. It’s one thing to hear it over a computer speaker, it's another when you hear it in person. His presence alone had your knees knocking. 

“I-I,” You can't help but stutter. “It’s Princess23.” You shamefully tell him your user, eyes looking anywhere but his.

He sucks in a breath. “Oh, Princess. That was you?”

He forces you to look at him and you nod your head. 

You hate that he’s making you look him in the eye, but you can see what’s swirling around deep within them. Desire, lust, dominance, but nothing mean. Nothing hurtful. 

As you watch him, you catch the minute changes in his expression. His jaw clenches and his eyes darken, a hunger taking over as he stares you down. 

“I can give you a private show if you want, baby.” He leans back in. “Right here,” He nipps at your ear lobe. “Right now.” 

“Eddie, we can’t… We’re at my work.” 

He looks around you, head swiveling to peer down both ends of the aisle. “It’s fine Sweetheart, no one’s here but us, right?”

“Yes, but-”

He cuts you off with a finger over your lips. 

“Then let me show you why the real thing is so much better than what you’ve seen online.” He doesn’t give you time to think before his lips are on yours. 

They are soft, almost pillow-like as they mold against yours. His tongue slithers its way into your mouth, tasting you, he moans when he does. 

To you, he tastes like menthol cigarettes and black coffee with the faintest hint of weed. It’s intoxicating, and addicting. You’ve only had one taste and now you won't be able to function without him.  

His hand cups your cheek and pulls you closer. Your arms wrap around his neck, fingers tugging at his hair. His body keeps you pinned to the shelves and he spreads your legs by inserting one of his own between them.

With him being so much taller than you, it only takes you barely bending your knees for you to make contact with his thigh. You are thankful when he doesn’t stop you from humping his leg. The friction of you rubbing yourself against him has the seam of your pants pressing against your clit. It’s a wonderful pressure that leaves your mind blank. 

When he pulls away, you follow, not wanting his mouth to leave yours. Eddie chuckles when you give a needy whine. 

"It's okay baby, I'll give you what you want." He coos. "But first, since you wanna get yourself off, you've got to make yourself cum on my leg."

You pout. "But Eddie…"

"Ah ah, don't complain sweet girl, you'll only make it take longer. Now get to work."

You do as he says, rolling your hips with purpose against him. He doesn't help you at all, he only provides support and kissed along your jaw every few seconds as he watches you work. 

It's harder than you thought it would be. The layers of denim dulled the sensations yet added to the tension your clit felt as the fabric rubbed against it. 

"Mmm, fuck." You gasp, fingers gripping onto Eddie’s shoulders. "M'so close. Eddie, I'm so close."

He smiles at you and he gives your body gentle touches. "That's it, Princess. Let go. Being such a good girl for me."

You moan loudly at his praise. 

"That right sweet girl, use me to get yourself off. That's it, keep going."

His words are spurring you on, your hips, although losing their rhythm and steadiness, keep going strong. Then, you feel it. That tautness in your tummy and the ache in your bones. You are so close.

"Please, Eddie. Ah- so close. Need more." Your words are short and your hips move faster. 

"What is it, baby? What do you need?" Eddie asks, willing to give you just a little.

"Kiss me again," you beg. 

He obliges. Taking your face in his hands and practically devouring you. 

The canter of your hips stalls as your body shudders against him. A sticky wetness can now be felt,  uncomfortably, between your legs.

"So good for me." He praises.

You can feel how hard he is, his needy cock prominently pressing into your thigh.

"Wanna feel you. Eddie please, I need to feel you." You're practically begging him to fuck you now.

"Yeah, sweet girl? You need me to stretch that pretty pussy on my dick? Make you feel so good, baby." He trailed his kiss down to your neck, stopping only to suck and nip at the sensitive skin. 

You nod frantically. "Yes, yes Eddie. Need you inside me."

Hands rush to unbutton pants, fingers caress bare skin, breaths hitch. You tug at Eddie's pants impatiently as he pulls your own down. The sudden feeling of cold air hitting the pool of slick between your thighs. 

You are both a whirlwind of arms and clothes and a few books falling from their shelf. Eddie’s fingers make their way to your center, exploring between your folds. 

You throw your head back, cracking it on the shelf above. "Ow," You moan out in pain.

"Careful there, Sweetheart." He gives you another kiss and moves his unoccupied hand to cradle your head.

The pain is instantly forgotten when two of his thick fingers circle your clit before pushing into your entrance.

"Mmmm- god." He feels so good inside you, fingers curling into your walls. The wet slick of him moving fills the stagnant air of the bookstore.

"You're sucking me in, baby. Pussy squeezing me so tight." Eddie rests his forehead on yours, his breath mixing with your own. "Can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Gasping in response, you buck your hips up into his hand. "More-"

It doesn't take much convincing for Eddie to pull his hand from between your legs and position his hard length at your entrance. Slowly he slips inside, meeting no resistance with how wet you are. 

Eddie pushes into you, cock stretching you out farther than you think you've ever been before. His one hand rests on the back of your head while the other pushes your shaking hand out of his way as he goes to press it against your neck.

You grasp his arm, nails scratching his skin as he chokes you. 

"Oh- oh, Eddie. Fuck me." You cry, cunt fluttering around him. 

Your words are music to his ears. His pace begins steadily. In and out at a lazy, leisurely speed. Then he picks it up, hips bucking faster and faster. 

He's giving it all to you. Everything you've dreamed of since you saw him on your Twitter all those months ago.

The head of his cock is repeatedly hitting that one spot inside of you that makes your toes curl. You can’t keep yourself up. The feelings coursing through you have your knees buckling and Eddie does a good job at catching your weight. 

He stops his movements to try and situate you. “Come on, baby, gotta stand up.” 

You shake your head. “I can’t, s’too much.” Your heart is pounding in your chest, if you even tried to stand you would just fall again. “There's a couch.” You point to the back of the store. “It’s in the break room.” 

Eddie grunts as he hoists you up in his arms and follows your directions. 

The couch is old and made of leather. It is cold on your skin as Eddie lays you down and you shiver as he rips your pants and underwear from around your ankles. Never would you have ever imagined being naked from the waist down in your work break room. 

In contrast to the cool leather, Eddie’s hands are searing hot. He grips the back of your knees, picking your legs up and spreading you out. You’re almost folded in half. 

“Jesus fucking christ. You. Are. Beautiful.” He enunciated every word. The complement has you keening and clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at that pretty cunt. She’s gaping for me.” Eddie smiles, eyes flickering to yours before looking back to your most intimate part. 

You let out a wonton gasp when he spits, a glob of it falling right atop your parted slit. Eddie takes a hand away and grabs his cock. He rubs the tip through your folds, giving your clit a heavy tap tap tap before entering you again and grabbing the back of your knee again. 

Eddie wastes no time in pistoning his hips into yours. The new angle gives him free range of movement to fuck you fast and deep. The skin of his thighs makes a sharp slapping sound when he connects with your ass, it sets the rhythm for the song of your shared moans. 

“Pull your shirt up.” He commands and you do as he says. Lifting your shirt up and over your breasts. Eddie lets out an irritated grunt at the sight of your bra. “That too.” He puffs out and you pull it up as far as it will allow. 

Your breasts bounce as Eddie fucks you mercilessly into the couch. His eyes are shamelessly trained on them. “Fucking hell, Princess. Gimmie our hands.” 

You reach out for him and he grabs your wrists, guiding you to hold your legs back like he had been doing. With the newfound freedom of his hands, he extends them out to play with your tits.  He pinches and tugs at your nipples, making you moan in pleasure as he continues his assault. His thrusts become faster, harder, more desperate. You know he's close and you can't take much more either. 

“Eddie… Ah- Eddie-” You babble out his name. You wiggle under his hold and the harsh prodding of his cock into your cervix. The strings of another orgasm are being pulled tight. 

He growls. “I know baby, I know. Fucking cum for me. Cum on my cock.” 

Tears well up in your eyes and begin to overflow. Your body writhes, back bowing, muscles straining. You’re on the precipice. 

Eddie sees how close you are and moves a hand down between your legs, circling his thumb over your slick-covered clit. 

“Oooh- Oh fuck!” You scream. “Shit shit shit shitshitshitshit…. Ah!” 

“Louder.” He moans. “Want the whole town to hear you sweet girl.” 

“Eddie! Oh, I’m there. I’m fucking there.” You cry, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you let go. A scream erupts from your throat. Even in your ecstasy, you can feel Eddie’s tempo shift. He’s losing speed. 

“Goddammit. I cumming too.” Eddie whimpers, sinking into you fully. His cum fills you up and you can fill you as it runs down your ass as he pulls out. 

Your body is twitching as he moves you to lay more fully on the couch. He doesn’t follow though. No. He sinks to his knees and before your foggy mind can even comprehend it, he attaches his mouth to your pussy.  

You are pliant under his touch, unable to resist. His tongue explores you and you moan in pleasure. He’s lapping up the mixture of his cum and your slick, humming at the taste the whole time. 

You choke back a sob when his tongue flicks repeatedly over your clit before he begins to suck on the already abused bud. “Eddie, please.” Reaching down you tug on his hair but he doesn’t move. “Ed-” He starts shaking his head, burying himself in your pussy. 

Another orgasm is quickly approaching. Your breathing quickens and you can feel your body trembling as he works you up, sending you higher and higher until you can’t take it anymore. Your orgasm hits you like a wave, and your body spasms in pleasure. He doesn't stop, continuing his ministrations until you finally come down from your high once more.

“Christ. You taste so good.” He says as he crawls up your spent body. Draping himself over you he places kiss after tender kiss all over your face. “Did so good for me. I’m so proud of you.” 

“Yeah?” You whisper. 

“Mhum. So proud.” He grins, the light of the room catching in the wetness covering him from nose to chin. 

Eddie cuddles into you more and your eyes close. He’s exhausted you. You both lay there in silence, content in each other's presence. Eddie eventually falls asleep, his breathing slow and steady. You don’t have the heart or the energy to wake him. You stay awake, just barely, still in awe of what happened. 

It feels like hours have gone by when you finally do shake Eddie, calling out to him softly. He stirs, grumbling as he looks up at you. 

“Eds, baby, I need to lock up.” 

He only rests his head back down between your breasts. You shake him again. 

“Eddie.” You say it a bit more sternly. “Get up and I’ll let you take me back to yours.” 

That gets his attention and he’s up and dressing himself in an instant. You on the other hand are slower, feeling the prominent ache between your legs. He has to help you pull your panties and jeans back on. 

He has to help you close the store as well, your legs weak and not trusted to hold up your body weight without crumbling to the ground. 

Never had you thought this was how this would end. Sitting in the passenger seat of your favorite camboy's car as he drives you to his apartment, grinning like the Cheshire cat as you both think of all the fun things you’ll get up to. Round two was bound to be wilder than the first. 

[loveireandblog]

[daylighted]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤGOTHIC HORROR! — vampire!dean

the most loyal of soldiers build their armies, expand their ranks. they do not get attached to their underlings. they do not find solace in you.

content warnings, devotion to the highest, unhealthiest degrees. slight emotional manipulation. blood & gore depictions. minor self h/rm, but not with harmful intent. bloodplay. nsfw elements & insinuations, undetailed. voyeurism? undetailed. bi!dean. nick saint cameo. i made up this vampire lore as far as i'm aware, so discrepancies to the media you know is purposeful!

dean was far used to the act of bleeding a person dry; it was you that was troubling him.

there came times in which he could not bring himself to take the victim out of their misery. it gnawed in the back of his mind, as they choked and spluttered on the blood pouring from their lips, that this life he’d carelessly taken had been cut too short. this one, his mind would tell him, was meant for something greater. 

and he’d singlehandedly snuffed that flame.

dean was far too old, now, to wallow in guilt or feel bad for actions he willfully chose to make. but if there was anything keeping him human, it was his conscience.

his mouth was still crusted with the blood he’d ripped from your throat when he brought his wrist up to tear into his skin. no blood naturally pumped through him anymore, but the accumulation of his immortality and abilities kept a supply cycling through him so that the body he inhabited did not wither or concave in on itself.

droplets as thick as cream and as dark as the richest wines pooled in the teeth marks he’d left on himself. his body was, for all intents and purposes, dead; he did not feel pain when he tore open his wrist, and he did not feel pain as it already began to stitch itself together. 

his unmarred arm slips beneath your upper back, raising you enough to cradle you into his chest. your eyes are as vacant as his must appear — death tended to get impatient, and steal the souls away before the heart finished its thrum. your breaths are ragged and thick with the blood pooling in your lungs. death’s rattle. he was here, then.

death always seemed to follow the dead. it was why genuine, true hauntings usually ended in death, too, for those involved. that place is cursed, the mortals whisper about the homes, the abandoned buildings, the decimated ruins of destruction, everyone dies there. 

it is lonely to die and be dead. sometimes the spirits or the creatures are impatient, and need something new to play with. sometimes, their conscience wakens from the deep slumber it typically stayed in, and reminded them that the people they feed from deserved second chances as much as they believed that they did not.

even in your semi lucid state, you struggle against him, trying to force your mouth away from the skin he presses to it. 

“don’t make this harder,” dean grunts, your struggles surprisingly strong for how little life essence still lingered in you. the adrenaline burst before your body gives, he imagines. it makes him more forceful. 

you choke and splutter, and he knows by now what his blood looks like on the skin of the lives he takes. yours, fresh and the color of ripe strawberries. his, thick and deep red, the color of decay.

there will be three minutes between your subsequent death and the revival. he does not have many that he sires, but each one was personable enough to remember these details. four of them, portraits lined on the walls of his dusty, towering home. portraits the only thing that dean has left of them, as they all unceremoniously left him when they realized how unhealthy it was to linger.

maybe you would stay. dean hoped that you did not.

he hears your heartbeat splutter out its last revs of life, and feels when your body becomes a heavier weight in his arms. three minutes, one hundred and eighty seconds, for him to look at you without you trying to claw through his clothes and pierce a vein. 

if you’d asked, dean would not know how to explain why he’d chosen you. there were many bodies that he left in his wake in the century that he’d been alive. there were exactly a handful now of ones that he’d chosen to keep. 

his first was because he was his friend, once. closest friend.

his second was because she was lovely, and he thought he might have loved her. 

his third was a child, and he torments himself about this one constantly.

his fourth was a mistake, by all accounts of the word.

his fifth was… you. pretty? yes. significant? he didn’t know. you had to be, or else his conscience would have stayed silent and slumbered on for another decade or so. but there were no indicators that you would have any impact on his life.

dean has always called it the shift, because the vampyr that had sired him called it such. when a soul slips away and the body is lifeless, and then suddenly, a jolt, as if what had been set free had been sharply snatched back. 

another wave of adrenaline pumps your heart back to life for a split second, enough to propel you conscious. 

dean lets you fall from his arms gracelessly. he takes a step back that is quick enough to instead be feet away from you.

this is the part that dean does not ever get used to. the rage. how angry the bonded are to have been spared. did they not know that dean did this for them? 

you look ravenous. it is no surprise that your speed is the first part of your new undead abilities that you tap into, when you launch yourself at him, fingers fisted tight and unwavering while you desperately try to claw at him. 

“don’t,” he repeats, fiercer this time, as he twists away before your teeth can sink into his skin, “make this harder.” 

he predicts the next words out of your mouth before they’re even spoken. “i am hungry.” 

hungry, and his blood, to you, would taste sinful and addictive. salted caramel and bourbon, a friend had once said, tracing his tongue over dean’s throat and sinking his teeth in.

it is always the shift of a new youngling vampyr that draws the memories of the others from the depths of his mind. if he isn’t careful, dean is going to end up doing something stupid — like writing them a letter, like calling, like…

you’re screaming, now. thrashing in his grip as if you were seizing, desperate to break his hold and gnaw the marrow out of his bones. 

he tightens his hold. snaps your wrist with nothing but a little more force from his fingers. that is what brings you to a halt. your broken wrist, hanging at an awkward angle. 

“behaving now?” dean asks, still keeping the hold on your wrist, only tight enough to feel the bones beneath the surface of your skin knitting together, the skin pulling taut. 

you rip your hand free from his, as if only then realizing the lengths of your strength. good. dean was not restraining you to hold that power over you, but mostly to keep control of the situation. it is best for the fresh vampyrs to discover their abilities on their own.

“what have you done to me?”

that one hits closer to home than dean wants it to. 

it does not strike as deep in his heart as it could; there are words he hears, still, from previous decades that remind him of his first four bad choices.

you would be different.

you had to be different.

trust does not start with secrets. but it is not something that should be handed out so freely. and so it is a conscious choice for dean to hold out his wrist in offering while still maintaining the physical distance between you two.

“it will be better if you drink,” he starts, his voice low and nearly apologetic if it wasn’t so self satisfied. “some things are hard to hear on an empty stomach.” 

it was the same, though, as it always was. dean, letting you feed from his wrist like someone starved, while he tried to piece together the sugared down version of what he’d done to you. he always puts so much strain on himself; rushing the time with those sired to him, attempting to speak coherently as if his mind was not thrumming with the effects of your venom in his system. 

you closed yourself off into the room of his manor that he designated for the freshly turned vampires. they were closer to being human than he was, and humans needed space for themselves.

the door was always locked to him. never once, in all five of his sired, had one of them invited him in. and so he spends a week outside of said door, listening in out of fear of what would happen if he did not.

he'd gotten chaotic with the one prior to you. reckless, impulsive. dean would not let himself make the mistake again.

at least he was busy in those moments that he waited on your reappearance. dean was never one to make use of his time, usually; he had forever, why would he clean the bookcases now when in his equivalent to a blink, they'd be dusty again?

he wrote letters. four letters. olive branches extending blindly into the dark. the ravens carried them away. the birds were the only ones who knew where they were, after all. like he'd never been invited into their space, his original underlings had never bothered to send a postcard, either.

that little fact hurts like a bleeding wound, in one instance.

it aches like a bruise, in another.

it tears him open, in terms of the third.

it feels like solace and healing, with the fourth.

perhaps they would take up the invitation to come back to the manor tomorrow, if only for a night. more than likely, they would ignore him, and continue to let him rot.

out of the seven days he'd lingered outside your room, it is now that dean finally opens his mouth to speak. he will not let you abandon him like the others.

"if you starve yourself in there, i'm not permitted to enter and lay you to rest," dean calls from the heavy wooden frame.

your silence on the other end is unnerving. dean is in the middle of opening his mouth to call to you again when your voice rings out, finally. "go to hell."

"i am also not permitted in there, either," he says back, with a little twitch of his lips. "you may hate me and be angry with me all you want, i will never deny you the human feelings you cling to. but your strength is important."

it's a conscious choice of words. calling it livelihood when there is no ounce of life left within you did not go over well with the others.

his ears strain, but he hears it. the padding of the bedspread dipping, the near silent, inhuman steps to the door, the harsh click and turn of the lock. useless, he wants to say, your invitiation is the only thing that keeps you from him. but there are little human things that every single one of his underlings still maintained. he was not cruel enough to take them away, too.

dean suspected that you'd look weary. seven days denying yourself what you wanted tended to do that. he does not offer his wrist this time, but he does nod backwards down the darkened hallway. "it is my due diligence to wean you off, not encourage the bad habit."

"that does not make any sense," you snap at him, your sharpened vision blowing the pupils in your eyes wide. you are trying to study the portraits hung on the walls. he quickly extends a hand, not crossing the threshold of your room, to stop you. "i do not want a tour of my prison."

dean's mouth quirks again. you remind him of himself, and his first love; second sired. "it is not a tour of the prison, it is a lead to the kitchen."

"what could you possibly have in there?" your words are fierce and vile, spat at him like they will somehow poison him. "the dead do not eat vegetables."

"the dead keep their blood cold and from spoiling in the refrigerators. do not try to explain to me what you know nothing about."

you stare at him for a long while before one of your feet steps out of the boundary. "i do not want to drink blood."

dean nearly snorts. he did not want to, either. "but the second i spill my blood, you will be clawing at me for a taste."

your pupils are still huge when they land on him. the hunger has been wearing you down; he sees it in your lack of inhibitions. he lets his hand fall when it is clear you will not take it. "but it is my responsibility to not let you become addicted, even though i know the temptation to tear my clothes off and tear into me must be unbearable."

"you have a lot of arrogance for a man who must force all of his playthings to stick around," you say, and it hits a little too close for comfort. he is glad that you did not take up his hand, because he might have lashed out.

he leads you down the hall regardless, this time in a silence that feels as heavy as lead. he breathes deeply, slowly, though it is entirely useless of a gesture. it'd been a long time since dean had to take ten deep breaths, to maintain his composure. while you and his others had your habits, he'd considered his long forgotten.

as he promised, the ancient kitchen is empty. the fridge is nothing more than a metal box on claw feet, the table coated in a thick layer of dust. the cabinets, once deep mahogany, were grayed.

dean grabs a wine glass from the cupboard and sets it on the dust coated countertop. he opens the fridge door and, lo and behold, there is a severed arm lit up like a halo in the center rack. if he was capable of it, he'd blush. how embarrassing to leave leftovers scattered around when he knew he had guests.

he shoves the fingers out of the way and closes his hand around a vial of blood instead. you would probably like it from the source better, but you would not like anything until he acclimated you off of his taste, and onto human blood.

another mistake that he has since fixed.

he pours the vial into the glass, and then shatters it on the edge of the countertop. the shard is what he uses to break the skin of his wrist, letting the blood pour in a slow stream into the glass too. less than how much you took from him a week ago, though still more than he should. he was bound and determined, it seemed, to let history repeat itself.

your control is better. the little one that'd turned, a week in, was still climbing over the counters and throwing furniture to get to the open wound in his arm. a week in self-proclaimed isolation had done well for you.

when dean turns, he holds the glass out. "won't be as good as you will wish for it to be," he says, his arms folding across his chest, "but it is a necessary evil, i assure you."

"i do not want this," you try to argue, but your voice is weak, and you take a sip anyways in the same breath. a sip becomes a long drink becomes the glass is emptied.

dean doesn't bother making a comment on it. you'd still poked an open wound earlier. grudges were more often than not held longer by those who lived forever. "we all do things we don't want to do."

"is that how you justify it to yourself?"

at least this time, you have the decency to regret it. it is easier to be kind to him when his blood is in your system. hard to be angry with when you want to devote your every breath to him.

dean is not in the mood to play tonight, though. his other bonded might come the next day. it was important to him that he was prepared for it, and not wallowing in the cruel words you weaponized against him without knowing how true they were.

"goodnight, beautiful," he says anyways, as he turns to leave.

he has never been good at denying himself indulgences.

you sense the stranger's presence before you see it. undead, like you, like the one who turned you. there is no heartbeat but there is a steady thrum of blood, still as a stagnant pond.

"interesting," the person says. deep voiced. heavy footsteps indicate big, heavier shoes, thudding hard on the hardwood of your room's floor. male, you imagine. "and here i thought he wrote because he missed me."

your eyes fly open, and there he is. you did not see much of the paintings on the wall, but that was the first, the one closest to where your room's door was. broad shoulders, tall in stature, and looking entirely too amused for your comfort.

sleep was not necessary for you, but it was peaceful, in a way, to imagine you still could. the act of going about your every day routine brought comfort that you hadn't imagined you'd feel lost without.

"who are you?" you ask, unable to tear your eyes from him. dark mop of hair. piercing light colored eyes that, too, have not left yours.

his eyebrows bounce, and the lift of his lips indents dimples into his cheeks. "i'm the first you."

the riddled, vague speech was becoming old and frustrating at once. "explain it."

"what, this whole situation? or what i mean?" he tips his head to the side, eyebrows raising even higher on his forehead, disappearing behind the soft, dark bangs. "words hold meaning, little fang. you live too long now to use them so uselessly."

the man from the painting is nearly as infuriating as the one who'd bitten you. "the whole situation. he is keeping secrets from me."

"because dean winchester does not know how to properly treat the toys he feels entitled to play with," the man's response is immediate, shrugging off the coat from his shoulders. "i feel the best place to start is the hall."

you sit up slowly in the bedspread, your expression twisting. "the hall?"

something akin to bitterness drapes across his face like a mask. "get up. there's not a lot of time between the flicker of the switch and him noticing the light is on."

riddles again. this time, you do not argue. instead, you clamber out of the bed and follow in silence behind him out of the room. right beside your doorframe is a light switch you both never noticed the presence of, and never noticed was always off.

he flips it up, and the hall lights golden.

peeling maroon wallpaper gives way to wooden boards. the trim is curling in on itself, deep mahogany exposing the pale splintered wood. but what somehow remains untouched, undusted, well kempt, are the paintings.

four large portraits evenly spaced along the side of the wall that your room is on.

a man, a woman, a child, a husk.

the one closest to you is identical to the man stood beside you; the same but younger. fresh clothes off of the rack, unmarred by the long life that you imagined he'd had so far, if he was truly the first.

the next is beautiful. warm skin that's golden underneath the hall's lights, curls spilling down her shoulders, a little smile on her mouth. on her shoulders rest the straps of a sage green dress that cuts at the cups and turns into picture frame.

the third is like a punch in the stomach. a little boy with terror in his glossed eyes, his lips parted like he was shuddering down gasps that did nothing to alleviate his panic.

the fourth used to be a man, you think. a long mop of brown hair, warm eyes. but the humanity ends there, and in its place is greyed skin, a vacant expression, dirty and thin clothes from a time period that was no longer.

"i don't understand," you breathe out, unable to look away from the sight laid out before you.

the man beside you straightens. "his best friend, his first love, his first save, and his brother."

it is a plain enough answer, but there's not enough detail to lessen the blow of it. there's a lot to unpack, and so you land on a starting point. your finger reaches out to tap the wooden frame of the first portrait. his portrait. "it's you."

"not really," the man says, stepping forward to brush a finger's worth of dust from the tops of the frames that you could not see. "he picked to preserve my memory from a time when i actually liked him. that has not been me for... hell, decades now."

you step forward to examine it better. the bottom of the frame is engraved. nicholas.

nicholas steps around you to stand in front of the woman's portrait. he dusts along the top of this one, too, with his finger. "cassie." his voice is wistful, memories and history you don't know built in between the words. "i imagine she will not be around today."

"what's today?" you ask, even though the answer feels so disconnected from you. here are people that the man who turned you — dean — cared for desperately, and now... you. how did a person even go about unpacking decades worth of history and find a place for themselves within it?

his smile is spread thin across his mouth. "a day of desperation for him, i imagine. it comes every decade or so, when dean feels the need to line his mistakes up and check in."

"is that what you think this is, nick?"

dean's voice cuts through the silent buzz in the hall, and your eyes shoot to the end of it, where he takes up the entire width of it.

"well, you certainly don't love us anymore," nick says back, that bitter smile leaking into his words, now, "that sentiment is made exceptionally clear when you make a fifth and then think of the others you subjected to this life."

you want to shrink away. you did not want to stay here, but being used as a weapon in their argument feels like poison in your veins. you did not know dean, especially did not know nick, but already you had become a thorn in the sides of both of them.

"don't spoil the mood before the others come." dean turns on his heel before he glances over a shoulder. his eyes land on you, and then nick's, and all it seems to do is rub salt into wounds you did not mean to make exist.

"you are a fool to think that cassie will show, let alone bring jude."

jude. the child, or the man who looked more like death than he did like a person?

dean's jaw visibly ticks. "i was a fool for thinking that, at the very least, you wouldn't show."

"don't be unkind in front of the baby vampyr, dean, it's unbecoming."

it was not unbecoming to you. uncomfortable was the better word for it. there was no comfortable way to witness an argument rehashing itself after decades of time elapsed.

you begin to walk through the middle of their argument, not making any sort of eye contact with dean as you brush past him. it is not your business, and you will not make it as such.

the men do not follow you to the kitchen. part of you is desperate to listen in, well aware that you can now. the other part does not want to get involved in their drama anymore than you've already become.

it would be easier to detach from them, you'd thought. but there was no easy way to unwind from around dean winchester when he'd sank his teeth into you. you just didn't know it yet.

dean does not know how this always happens, or he does, and it is just not something he wants to address.

nick was his first mistake. everything a vampyr creating a sire bond could do wrong, he did. he let nick feed on him whenever he wanted. he let nick become addicted. and then he let nick leave, knowing that nothing would ever be able to satiate him; no person, no experience, nothing. not unless it was dean. and it was made clear, the day that nick left, that dean was the last thing that nick ever wanted to see.

and yet every time dean got lonely, confined to his own solitude, he could send a raven and know that the only one who would come was nick.

cassie was successful in cutting dean off. was the only one that was, really. jude might have come if cassie hadn't declared herself his caregiver, and ran off with him in the night. it is wishful thinking at best.

sam...

he didn't think about sam if he could help it.

no matter what, though, dean ended up here, in this exact position. knelt on the soft mattress of his unused bed, letting nick sink his teeth into dean's shoulder, his throat, his mouth. blood coated his skin like a second layer. it didn't ever bother dean; nick always cleaned up after himself.

"a new one," he all but snarls into the curve of dean's shoulder. "do you think so little of me, of us, that you dare repeat the same mistakes you always end up making?"

he's a little heady with nick's venom working through him. there's a lot of it, too, because nick is incapable of stopping himself. he's starved until dean makes the decision to call on him, and so he does not hold back on the fixes he feels entitled to.

and dean could never be mad at him for it, because this is the monster that he created.

"it will be different this time," dean slurs around his own pointed teeth. the sired taste like nothing to him, but he's always finding himself lost in the moment, with nick. they were both gluttons, in a sense.

nick leans in to capture his mouth in a kiss that is more teeth than lip, puncturing dean's bottom one with his fangs and sucking on it. "you said that about sam," he dares to say, dares to, because there was an unspoken rule that no one could talk about sam, and only nick ever seemed to breach it.

"sam was—"

"a mistake," nick interrupts, lifting his mouth off of dean's. his eyes are pitch black, his mouth is stained and glossy red. still, as weak as it's making dean, his chest swells at the sight of the color staining his skin now. no longer so pale and death-stricken. "we were all your selfish mistakes, dean, and now sam is in the caverns—"

dean grasps at nick's throat with his fingers, pushing him backward, creating space. "enough."

"staked," nick strains out anyways, and maybe he would have kept pushing, would have forced dean to confront his worst possible choice, if not for the floorboard outside of the bedroom door creaking.

you, stood watching, mouth agape. it must have been quite the sight. two men, nearly naked, coated in the deep dark of one of them's blood.

not to mention how the conversation steered. nick had reacted the same way to hearing about dean's slip in judgement. black magic to restore as much humanity back to his long dead brother as possible, and then the turning process to try and prolong him.

black magic was never simple, and never gave without taking. sam was less than human, less than vampyr, and now permanently staked in a coffin in the caverns so that he could not tear through the fabrics of the world and destroy it.

nick's mouth curves upward in a bloody, toothy smile at you, which only serves to make dean grimace. you were not safe around him; not when nick was always the most possessive over what he deemed to be his sire. "little fang."

mortification shifts onto your expression now. as dean always could, he sensed the general sense of where your head was at. he always could with his sired. nick needed dean in every way he could possibly imagine, and still, it would never be enough. you were beginning to realize why dean was so adamant on breaking the addiction quick, because your head was beginning to swim with the same thoughts that tormented nick.

dean did not want him to invite you in here. for some reason, this felt too intimate and intense for you to be thrown into. dean was doing so good with you, keeping you at arm's length, close enough to get your fix until you were free from him, far enough so that breaking away would not be difficult.

it is to his horror that dean is the one to say it. "come in." it's barely a breath. it weighs a thousand pounds on his chest. "if you'd like to."

nick's gaze is a physical weight on him. it speaks a thousand words that he does not utter out loud. i told you so, it seethes in dean's ear, you are the same as us, as much as you despise it. addicted and foolish. desperate and needy.

it is both relief and torment that you turn the other way and leave. relief, because you still have a chance. torment, because the voices were right.

he was not a good man.

dean was going to end up hanging a portrait of you, too.

notes. lots of lore cld still be unpacked with this random au i threw together starting last night. so if u want a part two or something ... let me know hehe. i tried to make it as gothic as possible bc u know ... the title or whatev ... but if it's not good or it's too much MINDDDD UR BUSINESS ACTUALLY. anyways thank u for reading love u!

tags. @titsout4jackles @moonstruksandco @starzify @ultravi0lence14 @itzavahere @sagegreen17 @bruceewayne @jays-bonnie-on-the-side @deansbeer @blushpinkdoll @warpedless @sabrinasopposite @k-slla @deansbite @foolinthera1n @honeyryewhiskey @angelblqde @whyyouegg @bluemerakis @fallbhind @florchids @figthoughts @beausling @chevroletdean @mccartneyqp @bluestrd @sthefferrete @rubyvhs @tortureddarkstar @aileenunfiltered @frosttbitessam @theosaurous @blushpinkdoll

[wildandsmile]

Can you do upper moons with a bratty reader like if they doesn’t get what they wants they act out ? (Nsfw pls) btw I love your writings.

𝓢𝓹𝓲𝓬𝔂

Tw: Blood

Kinks: f-reviving, overstim, figuring, exhibitionsm, name calling, brat taming, cock sleeve, thigh riding, impact play, brush play, knife play, Dom Gyutaro (for once)

Word Count: 1.8k

Note: I appreciate the compliment and the suggestion, so I hope you enjoy this

Come back for Hantengu, Nakime,Daki and Kaigaku

Enjoy!

Kokushibo

Maintains a predominantly quiet demeanor, prompting you to playfully provoke him during your joint missions in order to coax him into conversation.

Most often, it proves ineffective, prompting your resourceful nature to explore alternative approaches, sometimes inadvertently exposing your cover or even unnecessarily harming a human or two.

You anticipated provoking a reaction from him, yet he chose to maintain his silence, unaffected.

Unbeknownst to you, he was meticulously tallying each minor error you had committed throughout the evening.

As you at last return to the estate, you sense his hands enveloping the back of your neck, his voice a hushed murmur, "Now that we've returned, it’s time for your punishment."

You whimpered, "Koku no more, no more pls" as your trembling hands tried to push him away from your now overstimulated clit, but he was letting up; he'd been at it for hours. At first, he'd made you look him in the eyes while he licked long laps across your slicked folds, but when he realized that was too much for you to handle, he decided to be a little nice He continues, "Come on darling, don't tell me that I've already fucked you stupid on my tongue" as he glides his mouth over your dripping cunt, making you flinch from the sensation of his hot breath against your cunt. As you groan and writhe on the bed, "Pls Koku pls" comes out of your mouth, and Kokushibo promptly stops you by pushing your hips into the mattress with one hand and bringing down hard with the other to spank your ass. Kokushibo says, "Come now darling don't be bratty just tell daddy what you want." You resist at first, but then you hide your eyes with your arm and give in. "Please koku, please just fuck me already," you beg, as he plants a kiss on your thigh, followed by a hasty "If that's what you want, darling."

Doma

Was a little different in his approach to dealing with your spoiled behavior, which consisted mostly of embarrassing you at the upper moon meetings

Typically, the two of you would assume positions on opposite sides, but whenever you displayed misbehavior or didn't provide the desired level of attention he wanted , he would promptly position you right beside him.

Initially, you didn't perceive these occurrences as problematic, assuming he would overlook your attitude, but your assumption couldn't have been further from the truth.

The instant Muzan appeared, silence blanketed the room. Sensing the opportunity, Doma deftly exploited the moment, discreetly slipping his hand into your dress.

You try to stifle a moan as you say, "Doma, please stop—we're having a meeting right now." Despite your pleading, he pumps his fingers deep inside you, curling them each time they touch your sweet spot. You started to respond, but Doma's thumb found your swollen clit and began rubbing sloppy circles, prompting you to grab on to his thigh for support. "You shouldn't be worried about me sweetheart, you should be focused on Lord Muzan," he says with a sadistic grin covering his face. You looked Doma straight in the eyes and pleaded, "Doma pls, stop I'm about to cum." But you had no idea that your pathetic expression and crocodile tears were only making Doma more enthusiastic. Finally, the conference is over, and Doma pulls you up into him roughly; upon standing, you tumble into his arms, at which point he bursts out laughing. His figure is covered in your juices, and he displays them to you while saying, "You know for such a bratty girl you sure fall apart like a dirty slut," and then he licks his palm clean and adds, "You know this is just the start of your punishment right sweetheart."

Akaza

Dedicated to continuous training, striving to overcome the Upper Moon One, Kokushibo, alongside the Hashiras.

Often, when you were seeking emotional reassurance or craving attention, it seemed elusive, leading to moments of emotional turmoil prompting your occasional acting out.

Primarily, you would engage in playful teasing during his workout sessions. Whenever he initiated his routine, you'd position yourself nearby, playfully bending and assuming various poses, catching his gaze and providing him with quite the view.

But what really got under his skin was hearing you groan while stretching, saying things like, "O these feels so good" or "I wish I had something that would stretch me out better."

Akaza, possessing zero tolerance for impudence, promptly halted his training. Striding over to you, he swiftly lifted you and carried you to his weightlifting area. Settling down, he positioned you on his muscular thigh, his strength and presence palpable.

You had been sitting on Akaza's thigh for some time after he encouraged you to "earn" his attention if you wanted it. You've spent the entire day craving an ogasm, and now you're dragging your clothed cunt across his flexed thigh to get it. Every time you felt that knot from within your stomach, you would start thrusting, basically humping his leg, and your cunt was throbbing and your clit was all nice and puffy, but this wasn't enough. You decide you need more and work your way down Akaza's thigh to his hard cock, but just as you're about to start touching it, he lets out a long groan and says, "Didn't I tell you that you had to earn this cock, you dirty slut?" You try to protest, but he stops you with a hard slap on the ass. Akaza says with a deep groan, "Brats like you don't get to talk back is that understood." You let out a small yes and go back to trying to make yourself cum by humping his thigh, but he finally had enough of your feeble attempts and bent you over his work table, ripped your pants off, and said, " I guess I'll have to fuck you silly like the brat you are since you can't even make yourself cum properly.”

Gyokko

Similar to Akaza, Gyokko remained unwaveringly dedicated to his tasks. When not engrossed in his work, his attention was invariably directed towards Lord Muzan.

Describing your relationship as more akin to that of a master and a devoted companion is a more accurate portrayal than labeling it as a romantic bond.

Typically, this would trigger your bratty behavior; however, unlike the other Upper Moons, it was notably effortless to provoke a reaction from him.

You'd frequently locate him in his chamber, engrossed in creating new artwork. To playfully ruffle his feathers, you'd comment on his latest piece, suggesting it was exceptionally impressive or innovative.

This would lead to a hint of frustration, prompting him to restart. However, your antics wouldn't end there; you'd venture into his collection, identifying something seemingly new, only to critique it with remarks like "It was an eyesore" or "Breaking it was a favor—it was painfully ugly." This chain of actions often culminated in pushing him to his breaking point.

In no time, you found yourself forcefully propelled onto the bed, and in that very instant, a sense of anticipation gripped you, indicating that you were in for an intense encounter.

Gokkyo warns you not to move lest he "mess up" as he runs the long brush across your tender nubs: "Stand still if you keep moving I'll mess it up." Because you ruined his painting, Gokkyo decided to use you as a canvas. Naked, you watched as he dragged the brushes across your icy flesh. It was causing your cunt to throb so much that you tried to close your legs together, but Gokkyo swiftly spread them out and pressed you even deeper into the mattress with his hand. By this time, you were writhing in pain from the combination of the brushing and Gokkyo's cold hand on your naked body, so he eventually dragged the brush down to your aching cunt and flipped it over to the dull side to massage your clit. You can hear him saying, "This is what you wanted right, for me to give this naught cunt some attention right" as he presses the brush firmly against your clit and begins to flick it up and down on his brush. You started to want more, so you clung to his forearm and moaned gently. Please elaborate. After quickly extracting his cock and aligning it with your soaping moist hole, Gyokko leaned in and murmured something in your ear. “Since you're not fit for artistic purposes, I'll just use you as a filthy cock sleeve.”

Gyutaro

Gyutaro diverged slightly from the other Upper Moons in his perspective. To him, the term "brat" signified an irritating child, making it challenging for him to perceive you in that light.

He consistently presumed your behavior was a result of a passing mood swing or that he might have inadvertently provoked your anger.

During a meeting of the Upper Moons, Doma initiated a discussion about his partner's mischievous behavior, referring to them as a "brat."

As Gyutaro listened to Doma's words, a transformation occurred within his mindset. Gradually, a growing anger took hold of him. He realized that you had been purposely avoiding him, refraining from his touch as part of your playful strategy to act out and grab his attention.

All you needed to do was express your desire; he found it impossible to refuse someone as beautiful as you. The realization that he had been contemplating seeking Daki's assistance in this situation only intensified his anger.

Gyutaro snatched you away from his sister the moment he returned from the meeting and hurried you into your shared bedroom. It didn't take long for you to freeze up after hearing Gyutaro exclaim, "This is what you wanted right to get punished to be pounded by my cock" as he licked the nape of your neck. And lucky for you, Gyutaro was enjoying watching your gorgeous eyes water and your hips try to stop bucking since you didn't want to cut yourself on his sickle. He warns, "You better stop moving, princess, or I might just cut you" as he draws a thin line of blood from your thigh with the blade of his knife. Gyutaro had never felt so hot in his life; ordinarily, you would be the one on top of his, but while the two of you were going at it, your stunning good looks and flawless physique were enough to render him helpless. So now that he had you where he wanted you, he had no intention of letting you go. Gyutaro whispers to you as he licks your hot tears from your cheeks, "Hehe you know princess you look a pretty when cry and you look even better when my hands are around your throat." His hands wrap neatly around your neck, gripping it just tight enough to where you could breathe if you worked hard enough. Your moaning was the result of Gyutaro ripping your clothing off with his sickle, quickly aligning his cock with your cunt, and then slamming his entire cock within. “Now that I have you here, Princess, I might as well make you as hideous as me, heh heh.”

[theyluvlyss]

𝐈 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈 𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭, 𝐛𝐮𝐭...

...you'll be able to find each ghost boy (under their respective section, ofc lol) in the master list all with the same title :). I decided to just do them all one at a time to keep from having you wait any longer/forcing myself to pump them all out in one go/one long ass post lmao.

plus, to hopefully make it easier, I'll just tag you each time as the requester so you know, if that's okay lol♡.

𝐄𝐚𝐬𝐲 𝐎𝐧 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐬

《 ♡ 》 headcannons

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 :

while it's always fun to imagine (haha, get it💀) what it'd be like for him to be your best friend or your boyfriend, there's times when you yearn for that tension. that something in between that's more than a platonic relationship, but just short of being a lover. and I'm here to revive that feeling of what it'd be like for robin arellano to have a crush on you...

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 :

fem!reader x robin arellano - she/her/hers pronouns!

𝐓𝐢��𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐞 :

70s-80s - the grabber doesn't exist

𝐓𝐖/𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 :

cursing - robin lowkey being a menace💀 - him also liking you tho - mentions of fighting/violence - manhandling,,, kind of?? (idk I personally wouldn't call it that, but- 😭✋🏽) - me focusing a little too much on the jealousy stuff lol whoops🧍🏽‍♀️...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

───────── 《 .°•♡•°. 》 ──────────

I feel like he doesn't really "crush" on ppl. He finds people attractive and that's about as far as that's gonna go lmfao. If anything, he finds it fun to recognize/point out the difference between when people are conventionally/deemed by society's standards "attractive" vs when HE actually finds somebody to be a good looker to HIM (he wanna be different so bad🙄✋🏽).

But like I said, him finding someone hot doesn't really go anywhere. He doesn't do/say anything about, nor go out of his way to force things, especially when there's no prior connection/feelings there.

On that note, I feel like for him to have a crush on you (reader), two things would need to be an order; You'd have to attract him one way or another. Like, there's gotta be something about you that makes him have that, "Oh, she's fine as hell, I gotta talk to her." mindset towards you, even if he'd have yet to act on it. And, there's gotta be, like I said, a prior connection.

Or, you could get lucky, and a very specific set of circumstances could spark something up between y'all. He's not opposed to a meet-cute😻.

If y'all were already friends/close, he'd deny👏🏽deny👏🏽deny👏🏽 having feelings for so long. Not towards you, but towards himself. He would deadass be lying to himself about liking you romantically, even a little a bit, but unfortunately, it'd be one of those things that sneaks up on him one day and then just all comes crashing down into one existential crisis.

But even after accepting them, he'd STILL not bother to do anything about it - not bc he doesn't think he has a chance (well, maybe a little bit, but see if he'd tell anyone that), but also bc he doesn't want to ruin the friendship between y'all.

He'd hate to lose you just because he woke up "...on some bullshit, bro, I can't believe I like her..." one day, so he's more than likely to keep quiet about it.

Although, he can say that's what he's doing all he wants, his actions kind of prove otherwise; he might accidentally drop a subtle hint or two, and the stuff that he normally does that held the air of friendship and loyalty suddenly becomes a bit more,,, ✨️🧡💫💋, ykwim?

If he's walking with you, maybe crossing the street or something, he could care less about how far you are behind him if it meant getting to the nearest idk Burger King or whatever faster💀✋🏽. Or at school - sure, he might be on the look out for you if he's bored, or should he hear anyone tarnishing your name without you there to defend yourself on your own, shoot them a dirty look. And even just hanging out at the drive-in; it's viewed as more of a casual hangout than anything.

But let a crush develop some,,, let him become a little infatuated with you... Now, all of the sudden, crossing the street is a whole ordeal; checking for cars is routine now, and whether you like it or not, he's got a hand wrapped around your wrist and is tugging you along gently with an alertness that both amused and perplexed you. And at school, he's now taking any free time he may have to actually go looking for you instead of your paths crossing due to natural coincidence, just to act as though he had no time at all to waste with you, and would pester you at your locker whenever he did spot you.

And, as much as he hated the way his hands would clam up and how his heart would beat out of his chest and how he practically had to force himself not to look for your reaction to every single scene of the movie he picked, he was insistent on having a specific schedule for going out to the movies now. And no, he'd never, ever let you pay, even when you really should've and definitely could've.

But...

Say if he hadn't known you beforehand tho, and y'all met through some sort of meet-cute or whatever,,, him starting to like you would be a little easier of a process for him.

Something he wouldn't be so against because there's "nothing" to ruin or fuck up besides his chances with you, so now he can pretty much just focus on not screwing that up.

He's way quicker to drop hints (not saying he's any smoother with it, but that's not gonna stop him from doing it lmfao cuz who finna check him😗😹).

It's things like really obvious (almost bad) flirting, and teasing that isn't in the same way as he might do with his regular friends. If anything, he might use it as an excuse to always be touching you in some way - OMG TELL ME HE WOULDN'T BE A CHRONIC "You got something on your shirt..." JUST TO FLICK YOUR FACE TYPE OF PERSON LMFAO!!

You'd hate it and look at him like, "😐" and he'd just get a kick out of it, looking at you and laughing every single time like he's comedy fckn central💀.

Or if he's telling you a story - probably about the last time he beat someone up - he's using you as "the other guy", gently tapping you with ghost punches and moving you about by the shoulders when need be lmao. And even just in general, when he's not storytelling,,, give him ONE good reason to try and be physical, and he'll take it and SPRINT.

And if you notice that fact (there's no way you possibly couldn't), all he'll do is smirk at you and go, "It's fine, you like it😌."

Bro just slaps on an obnoxious and obscene amount of confidence and calls it a day, basically. Fake it 'til you make it type of thing, and it most definitely works (you wouldn't be reading this if it didn't🤭🤷🏽‍♀️). But of course, let it be known he'd never do anything to make you uncomfortable. I just imagine he's rather cocky in his abilities to woo someone if he really, really wanted it, and well... it's you, so...

He really, really wants you LMFAO😭. Anyways, back on track...

I feel like he's definitely the jealous type, but he won't do anything about it/won't get outta pocket unless your well-being is at stake. Like, if you were clearly uncomfy in a situation, or you specifically came to him on some, "This guy's bothering me..." type shit, oh, it's 0-100 rq. He's absolutely beating the shit out of that person (more so than when he's just in a regular fight).

Because of that, he'll definitely be scary dog privilege, like, I'm sorry, but,,, I feel like he's the type to - once he decides he's gunning for you - that's it. Not in a possessive way, just in the sense that he's totally made up his mind and, as much as he likes to maybe slap on a chill and nonchalant-type persona, he actually cares very deeply about things and people that have an affect on him.

He's also a go-getter, so with all of that in mind, it makes sense that even if you didn't reciprocate his feelings, he'd STILL make it known that he don't play about you lmfao. But even so, jealousy is also one of those things he just deny-deny-denies, will totally brush it off if you bring it up, even if you tease him for it.

But, he is a dork at the end of the day lmao tease him long enough and he'll eventually fold and just be like, "Nah it's just cuz I treasure you and I like you, like... would you rather I didn't care or just ignored it whenever a guy looked at you crazy? Exactly, hush, you love me😌✨️🧡." Once again, it's that seemingly blind confidence that definitely has you shaking your head a lot with a giggles escaping you, but YOU ALSO DON'T SAY NO/TELL HIM OTHERWSIE, SOOO😆🤭...!!

Honestly, with Robin being jealous, I feel like it's one of those things you dk/even realize he's feeling until it's "too late" - he's stalking towards someone you've complained about making you uncomfortable or he's already done what he needs to do, he's coming back to you, and after a short conversation with you pressing him about why and whatnot, it just hits you, and you're like, "Oh...Oh my god, you're jealous🤭..." and he's all "nO😡....."

"You lyin'?😆"

"...yeah😔..."

Although, jealously for you surprisingly isn't often. Like sure, girls dk how to back off, but not only are you both pretty secure, but he's also very reassuring. Both in speaking directly to you, telling you he doesn't really have eyes for them, AND towards the other people. He breaks hearts left and right, and it's highkey not even on purpose...

Bro just doesn't know how to let folks down easy - so much so that sometimes even YOU feel bad😭. Sometimes...

"You didn't have to say it to her like that...!"

"Wha-? But it's true! Should I have lied? Like..."

"No, but I'm just-! ... You need to learn to be more sensitive about these things😭..."

"Fym, I'm the most sensitive guy I know😙."

"...The kid whose nose you broke a month ago would say otherwise, but okay🙃."

But otherwise, if and when you're not scolding him, he finds your envy to be very endearing and validating. It lets him know that you are actually thinking about him in the romantic sense like he is you, and he just likes seeing you get all worked up lmfao. Something about your brows being furrowed and the heated look in your eyes reminds him of, well, himself! And he takes a little bit of pride in that, if he's being honest with himself, especially if it's a rare occurrence.

If you're normally this little sweetheart, and you're not exactly on the violent and/or temperamental side, in those moments where you might snap a little bit, he's DEFINITELY paying the most attnetion and he's DEFINITELY standing there like, 'Omgomgthat'shot-...' 💀😭.

If anything, I feel like these strong emotions from either one of you two could for sure be the gateway into him finding out/realizing you like him back...

Like, you'd definitely slip up one time, say something you weren't supposed to, or he'd reassure you way too much and let something slip, SOMETHING LIKE THAT, and either way, he finds out and he's like "Ohp🫢...AAAAH😃🫵🏽⁉️....YOU LIKE MEEEEE I KNEWWW ITTT🤪😘🫵🏽!!!"

He'd probably be too busy celebrating the fact he "...always knew and I'm always right about these things, blahblahblah..." while you stand there like, "🙄😒..." to remember there's actually supposed to be something following up after a whole ass love confession💀.

But, because you do, in fact, love him, I'm sure you'd be the one to fill in that gap, and short after, a very chaotic yet loving/meaningful relationship would ensue.

THAT BOY LOVESSS YOU, OKAAAY💋🧡✨️‼️‼️‼️

𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐥...

...as I was writing this one (well, adding onto what had already been written), the app glitched, and the whole thing deleted itself...

shit pmo so bad, I just didn't touch it again for like a whole month😭✋🏽. it's also part of the reason why it's shorter than I actually intended, so I apologize, but I hope all enjoy it regardless🙏🏽♡.

next up is vance, tho !!

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 :

@in3rci4

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 :

1,830 words

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 :

none :(

[another-random-paradise]

Ok ok so for your Starlight Express requests!!!

What if, for Greaseball, Rusty, Hydra (and maybe Dinah too? 👀) with a reader who is VERY obviously smitten with them?

Like as soon as said character sees reader for the first time they just see reader develop giant heart eyes in real-time

And from then on the reader character tries super duper hard to be around them as my h as physically possible

How do you think they'd react? 🤔

Heart eyes!

Thank you sm for the request, this was so much fun!! Did my best to put some extra love into Dinah‘s part, since ik she‘s one of your favourites! <3

---------------------------------------------------------

Characters with an absolutely smitten reader

Characters: Greaseball, Rusty, Hydra, Dinah

Format: Headcanons

Version: 2024 London revival

Warnings: None that I can think of!

Greaseball

-Suuuper smug when you first meet

-At first she probably thinks you're just another of her many fans

-However, you're one of the first to actively try to get closer to her! Sure, a few other fans have tried, but most did too much ,to a point of restraining orders, or stopped after a week, usually finding a new obsession 

-But not you. You stayed persistent, while respecting boundaries :)

-she revels in the attention you give her; you honestly need to be careful, before her already-over-the-top ego grows even bigger!! 

-whenever she decides she needs extra attention, she'll  just wait for you to come around, and goes "I'm so pretty, aren't I?" or purposefully works out in front of you, and she'll fully expect you to feed into her ego, once again (you do) (this is canon, this is basically just "pumping Iron"-) 

-Eventually, you become a constant in her life, something, or rather someone, she can rely on to be there, even during the chaos of the races.

-she doesn't even realise that she looks longingly after you, when you do have to go. Starlight forbid anyone ever calls her out on it, though :p

-She really notices this, when you weren't there during a smaller race (maybe you got sick, maybe you were busy racing yourself, ect.). She finds herself visibly annoyed at the lack of attention before the race. Sure her fans were there, but it just wasn't the same. She beat up so many other trains during that race.

-When she gets back to the yard, she just sits there for a while, contemplating. because your missing presence should not affect the champion this much.

-Eventually she comes to terms with the fact that she likes you, and starts to reciprocate your affection ever so slightly. For example, if you hug her, she'll put an arm around your waist!

-It may not be much, but it's a start! she isn't used to caring this much. yet ;)

Rusty

-Poor boy is shocked.

-There are so many powerful and fast engines rolling around the yard - the champion herself is there! And yet you like him? a shunter engine?!

-Safe to say, he isn't used to the attention; it flusters him!

-Every time you as much as put a hand on his shoulder, he turns red and steam comes out  of his ears! Every time you hug him, he just freezes in place, as if turned to stone! The first few times you thought the corrosion had finally eaten away at his train equivalent of a brain

-However, he'd be lying if he said that he minds; he isn't exactly used to attention, let alone kindness. Sure, the carriages are nice, but aside from Pearl, he wouldn't be surprised if it's out of pity - not to mention, that it's a nice change of pace, compared to the bullying he endures from Greaseball and her Gang

-Despite how shy he gets, he tries to reciprocate, but he usually ends up making it awkward.. He doesn't mean to, he just genuinely doesn't know what he's doing, he's not used to this level of affection! 

-But you don't mind - you'd dare to call it endearing :) and that gives him some confidence, that you won't leave the moment you have a chance with one of the big shots

-He slowly starts to get used to your affection, and becomes less awkward himself! He no longer breaks at every touch! In fact, he starts to lean into your touches, finding them more comforting than anything

-Eventually, he even starts seeking you out himself, especially on days where work was exhausting, or Greaseballs gang was extra mean

-You become a sort of save space for him, someone he knows he can always turn to, someone who won't judge him for being himself

-By now, the way he looks at you has by far surpassed your own heart eyes. You may have fallen first, but he fell so much harder :)

Hydra

-Another smug one, but in a less egotistical way

-After his constant preaching about Hydrogen being the best option, it just feels good to be appreciated for once, instead of turned away!

-...even if technically isn't exactly because of that.. shhh, let the guy dream

- He really just lets you, he won't exactly reciprocate at first, but he doesn't mind! simply takes it as a compliment, and side hug you, at most

-Though conversation are bound to happen, considering how much time you spent around him; no matter if he's practicing for races, doing his job as a fuel truck, preaching about hydrogen, or simply taking a break, you are almost always around the corner 

- Turns out you two actually have a lot in common, and you don't mind his passion for protecting the environment either! 

-After a while, you two can usually be seen huddled together, laughing about something stupid, or simply talking about the most random things, barely ever even inches apart!

-The other freight trains definitely tease him about it; they give him teasing looks when you're together, or jokingly mimicking you two

-Just like with the previous two, it starts to be a lot weirder for you to not be there, instead of the other way around! whenever you two haven't seen each other in a bit, whether it's been a few days or just a few hours, it doesn't matter: when you see each other again, he'll be standing there expectantly, with his arms open :)

-You are definitely the person he trusts most, by now! after all, it's pretty hard to spill each others secrets while constantly around each other!

Dinah 

-The girl is surprised; usually she's the Lovestruck one!

-She found your Lovestruck gaze adorable, and was honestly flattered to be the receiver of it

-While, unlike Rusty, she can still function, in spite of all your affection, she is certainly a blushy mess through and through!

-You two fit each other perfectly - once she got used to your affection, she is just as affectionate! Some would describe the two of you sickeningly sweet

-The other coaches get to hear all about you, and not as a passing comment either! No, you are the main topic of their girls (+Tassita) night, with discussions that go late into the night

-All the coaches are very supportive of you two, they're glad that Dinah is happy! 

-Eventually, you two spent so much time together, that it's almost weird to see you two apart! And she couldn't say that she minds, you make great company, in her opinion :)

-It already felt great to have her love language be appreciated, but to have it reciprocated? she couldn't wish for more!

-you two are truly the perfect duo, complementing each other perfectly; according to rumours, you two are the cutest couple in the yard! 

-You're the type of pair, to steal the attention from the actual race, because the cameras are busy getting all your cute moments for the fans

-If you're an engine, she definitely wants to race together, after all it's just more time for the two of you to be close! It doesn't matter if you're a top racer, or tend to hang in the back; she is as loyal as can be, she'll stick around!

-Over all, you two make the cutest couple!

My first StEx request, suuuper exited!! Hope you like it hehe <33

Ngl Hydras Part ended up kinda short, had a black out for him, for some reason :,)

Anywaysss, Feedback is welcome, just be nice, please!!

Have a lovely day/night <3

[random-thoughts-uwu]

𝚍𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚌𝚘𝚞𝚕𝚍 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚍𝚘 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚙𝚊𝚛𝚝

yall this is probably the biggest hear me out but like just HEAR ME OUT.

tags: blade x reader, yingxing x reader, angst??, fluff??, sfw, established relationship ... apologies if its not written well, this is at like 2 am

So, Blade is basically like the love child of Nanook and Yaoshi or whatever, right? He's got both of their things. BUT. BUT. WHAT IF. Yaoshi didn't actually give him the innate ability to regenerate/revive/heal whatever, and instead it was assigned to YOU. Blade's past lover.

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

Wayyy back during the HighCloud Quintet and all that fun stuff, YOU were Yingxing's dearest.

He was a craftsman, and you were you, a medic. During your young ages you would often watch him and admire his handiwork and skills, and were also the one to scold him and bandage his hands or relieve burns and cuts. You went from childhood friends to awkward young teens, struggling to communicate with each other. He was shy and insecure, often doubting his own charms and self worth, while you were in a similar boat, not wanting to confess and ruin your friendship or make things even more tense between the two of you. This awkward little dance continued on until Baiheng came along and helped you two. Yingxing finally gained the courage to confess to you, which you wholeheartedly accepted (the confession may or may not have been to the partial credit of Dan Feng and the others, who probably drowned Yingxing in advice and suggestions for the special occasion).

You still remember it pretty well; how could you not? You were all just a group of silly teens trying to navigate the messy thing we call life. The whole gang were gathered on the best patch of grass in the area, laying back and gazing up at the starry night sky. It was a summer night, with a cool breeze and the sound of crickets and the low hum of the streets in the distance as people settled in for the night. Somehow, the others managed to discreetly leave without you noticing, leaving just you and Yingxing. And the rest was history.

The two of you grew up together, sharing accomplishments and memories, from tender moments alone together to loud and energetic ones with your friends, to intense and life threatening, adrenaline pumping scenes on the battlefield. Before you both knew it, you were married and happily enjoying the company of your friends and family. Every day you would assist Yingxing in his duties, visit him with cool drinks or praise his latest weapon, and nights were either spent in long walks around the Luofu or cuddling beneath the stars, with whatever cuts lovingly tended to and ailments cured.

"Y/N...I'm home," came his soft, slightly weary voice as he steps into the modest place you two called your own. "Welcome home, dearest," your soft voice responds with a warm smile, drawing him into your arms where he lets out a long breath, slowly reciprocating the hug and nuzzling into your shoulder. "I missed you," he muttered, his rich voice muffled by your skin as he pressed a few light kisses to it. In the kitchen, the food is warm. "I missed you too..." you cooed, nuzzling against the side of his face and peppering him with kisses, which he melts into with a satisfied smile.

"Yingxing!" You quickly scold, drawing back as you saw the cuts on his hands and holding them in your own. He only responds with a cocky grin. "My goodness," you uttered with a heavy sigh, setting him down on the couch as you pulled out your kit and diligently tended to his hands. "Just a few scratches, nothing I can't take- mh!" he was quick to muffle a wince as you dabbed the alcohol a little harder than normal, giving him a deadpanned look. All was forgiven in the end of course, as you kissed his bandaged palms and gave him his proper greeting, seated on his lap as his lips met yours, his hands slipping out of yours to tenderly brush your hair away from your face, his softened gaze meeting yours. "Thank you, my love."

And of course, we can't forget Baiheng's death. It was a noble one that left you all in pieces, with Dan Feng and Yingxing in disbelief and denial. The two researched for a way to revive her, and despite your pleading to Yingxing, crying to him to stay with you, to accept Baiheng's noble death, he simply couldn't.

"Yingxing!" He's never heard your voice like that, so full of raw emotion, of fear and hurt and confusion and pain and- "Please, Yingxing!" Your hands grasp his, squeezing them with desperation as your widened eyes meet his, wet with tears. "You know you can't do this! I loved Baiheng just as much, and I know this is hard, but we have to let her go!"

It killed him, seeing the state his own decisions left you in. You felt a resentment towards him, but that was only the mask of hurt, betrayal, sadness, and an overwhelming sense of love. He knows that if he could, he would go back and chose you. You, and you, and you, all over and over again. You were hurt beyond imagination seeing the scene before you, watching the man you loved most get taken from you, turned into the so-called abomination today.

✦•···················•✦•···················•✦•···················•✦•···················•✦

Time went on, eventually taking your lonely soul.

Things after that...were very complicated. It's all a blur in your mind, but whatever happened, you were back with your lover, but not quite. You were simply assigned by Yaoshi to "protect" Blade and revive him whenever he died. While it felt cruel to keep your lover from returning to you, you were aware of his punishment. You couldn't hold onto the resentment you felt once before when he chose Baiheng's failed revival over you, seeing the state of the man now. No matter how much time passes, how many things come between you, your love for him is unfortunately everlasting, and you have a strong feeling that it will remain that way for eternity.

Nobody could see you; you were essentially his "guardian angel" in some sense. You were simply there, watching him with soft eyes, being his brief moment of tranquility in his deaths: a nameless being, a faceless entity, warm, tender fingers caressing him and his worn heart, soft lips against his calloused skin, gentle whispers that echoed in his mind and left him with something akin to peace for those few moments. He knew he wouldn't get his proper death for some time, but he sure will keep trying nonetheless. If not for an eternal rest, then for the dark, empty, yet warm and fulfilling moments of respite. Sometimes, he could almost swear he heard a voice calling him, a soft and familiar one, calling his old name, whether it be in his black dreams or moments of death.

It pained you to see him like this now: the caring, charming yet arrogant man now reduced to what he viewed as a lifeless weapon. The craftsman-- now the unfortunate craft and only a shell of what once was.

It's lonely, living like this. If you could even call it living. You wish you could talk to him, to meet his gaze once more and ask him why. You wish to kiss his lips and share soft whispers in the dead of night. But you can't, and sometimes you wish that you could have been left in the realm of the dead. But this was somewhat worth it, to continue to heal his wounds and kiss the scars along his skin whether he could feel it or not, to keep him alive and only pray that someday, he can find his peace and tranquility, find something to make his life worth living for. You're thankful for the Stellaron Hunters, despite the nature of their work, you can feel a bit of happiness, seeing them treat him like a human being. From Kafka's nickname for him, to Firefly and Silverwolf's antics.

You stand with him, watching the bloody scene before you, your fingers trailing along one of his injuries, the skin closing and flesh healing. You sigh softly, your hand lingering on his back as you lean your head against his shoulder. You're certain he can't feel or see you, but it brings you a semblance of comfort nonetheless. He gives a long sigh, straightening up. He doesn't need to turn his head, recognizing the familiar clicking of shoes against the cold ground. "Good job here, Bladie," Kafka comments. Silverwolf gives a faint hum in agreement, her fingers taping along her screen. "Yeah, thanks for covering us, man." "We're done here. Let's go."

Sometimes, you like to "hold" his hand, gazing up at him. So much has changed. And you desperately wish you could still be with him, despite the his actions that led him here. No matter how much you try, you can't stay mad. Baiheng was a good friend to you all, and she didn't deserve the death she got. But oh, how you wish you could go back and somehow change it all. Scenes of your past life always replay in your mind, remembering the good and the bad. It gives you a bit of a smile, recalling the whispered promises beneath the moonlight, arguments and disagreements that ended with kisses and apologies, running your fingers through his long, silky hair as you held him, sharing a cool drink in the shade and conversing about your days.

Blade, the immortal swordsman. A nightmare, a mara-stricken monster. But to you, he will always be Yingxing, your lover.

art credit: https://m.weibo.cn/detail/5068654389233859, @/ahriii7 on twt, LEMONNNICK on pinterest banner edit by me!

[wondeurwall]

AUTHOR'S NOTE. here's the other preview for the rafayel fic that i said i would post. tysm for the notes on all my previous ones!! i appreciate it 🥺💕💕 no particular warnings for this, so it's fine to interact with. but, i still do want to make the reminder that the fic will eventually be nsfw 🔞

currently 15k with it... definitely a slow burn. i'm a little worried that it might not be all that interesting because of how long it's getting to be, which is totally fine too. i don't expect it to be for some. feel good experience for me then 😆 💕 i'll make another poll about posting other previews over the week!

WARNINGS. none for this part. unless... mutual feelings? kiss?

“Then, how about I call you… sweetheart?” Rafayel gently takes your face into his hands, rubs his thumbs over the apples of your cheeks. He leans in little by little, gives the anticipation something worthwhile for, and until his breath is long drawn-out above yours, you hold it in absently. You feel his warmth once, then again. Soft, tender kisses. “Is that better?” 

You breathe out, humming in approval. 

“Baby?”

He kisses the tip of your nose, and then brushes his own against yours. Back and forth, back and forth. He takes his time with it. Thoughtful and loving.

“Cutie?”

His lips find the bridge of your nose. A gentle peck between your brows. He’s moving over to your left eye, and you flutter both closed, smiling, waiting to feel his sign of affection. One kiss, then another on your right. The sensation tickles, makes you feel a bit intoxicated too. Giddy and light-headed, an out-of-body experience, it’s almost as if you’re on top of cotton candy clouds. The flavor is sweeter than honey. You wish you could somehow gather it, save it by pouring it inside a bottle and get drunk off of it every night. 

The happiness on your face and the laughing whispers, they make Rafayel’s heart swell.

“Beautiful?” 

Beautiful. Absolutely, unequivocally beautiful. How are you even possible?

As his thumb swipes your lower lip, your mouth parts in nervous excitement. He’s so close now; you can taste the air, how desire fills it completely, standing just an inch away. A single step forward, and it’ll be yours, yours, yours.

“Can I?”

Rafayel. Rafayel. Everything is Rafayel and you begin to shake. God only knows just how badly you need to close this distance. You want it gone. You want him.

You murmur, “Kiss me. Please.”

It feels risky, feels scary even to ask him. But, you’re all in, here and now, and when his lips finally meet yours, sweet and slow, the little thing in your chest beats once. 

It stops moving. 

Then, it restarts. 

Blood pumping in the opposite direction, you suddenly know what it feels like to be alive. You can’t explain it – you’ve reached a time and space no one else has brought you before. Except for him. You know this. It resembles home. It is home. It’s painful. It’s liberation. You’ve been wanting this for so long and it’s only now that you realize you’ve been deprived of it, of you and him like this. 

You’re dying. You’re reviving. The desperation is heavy in your bones, heavy in your mind, and it doesn’t seem like it’s a coincidence everything about this moment fits together, as if it belonged here in the first place. 

Just as Rafayel pulls back, a reluctance washes over you. A staggering intensity like no other. Fire in your chest, it spreads aggressively. It burns, it burns, and you burn up – lungs are filling with smoke, and you need the air from him again. You need more. The thought drifts in your head, though your body is moving before you can say anything. Your hand reaches for his, guiding him back into your direction as you tip forward, chasing after his lips.

You plead, “Don’t–” 

You hear him gasp, then he’s breathing a bit harder, trembling inhales and exhales, at your desperation. There’s a brief wonder if he should give into his personal desires now. He thinks it wouldn’t hurt to; can’t find any reason that tells him otherwise, so it shouldn’t hurt. It shouldn’t hurt, he repeats, not when you’re looking at him as if he holds the secret of the universe somewhere in his eyes. 

“Don’t stop yet, please.” 

Not when you sound like that. 

He’s not forcing you, he has to remind himself. You want this. It’s so obvious. Painfully obvious. He’s in over his head by the turn of events and, truthfully, it brings a bit of fear in him, but he refuses to leave you feeling unwanted if he doesn’t make up his mind at this moment. How can he do that? Make you feel unwanted?

“Is that what you want?” he asks. The extra affirmation is a need. Will not go until you can crush that seed of doubt. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Raf–” you bite your lower lip, frustration clawing at your throat. The knot of emotions inside there spills out in waves, currents wild and twisting in a way that mimics a hurricane over the ocean. It’s too hard to speak, to catch your breath. “I want it. Please, don’t leave me like this, Rafayel.” 

You don’t know it – not yet, or perhaps, never – but you have unimaginable power over him. Anyone would be scared. Not Rafayel. He can never deny you because doing that would mean pushing you further away than you already are. Close, so close, yet so far. Command him because you want him and no one else. Take everything that he has because you won’t settle for anything less. You can have it all – please, please, just say it. 

He’s desperate to know that you need him just as much as he needs you. 

You beg, “Rafayel.”

“Shh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he whispers. He will never leave you.

Rafayel kisses you again, deeply, with a love so fierce. The fire is urgent and all-consuming, will never get enough until smoke clouds the air and the world is bled dry, until you and him are left to give your hearts to each other without fear. And, even then, his love will remain boundless and insatiable. 

He has his hands buried into your hair, fists full so you can’t escape. He is all that you have. Mouth crushing down onto yours, he does this with the hope to sear himself into your memory permanently. Maybe, with this, you won’t forget him. His lips are hard-pressed, but they melt, turn a bit softer, then deeper, so much deeper. Breathe his soul and know that this kiss isn’t just a kiss. Taste his addiction, his devotion; his feelings that will never know what it’s like to abandon. His vow to you. 

Every year that’s gone by has been a year worth waiting. 

When you gasp into his mouth, your voice echoes into his ears; it makes Rafayel sensitive, an induced high that forces his body to ache and shudder. Face flushed, eyes hazy, he’s becoming feverish. He’s pulling away again, only barely, as the sensitivity peels his voice raw. What he tells you comes so faintly, slips by you fast and low by mistake: “You’re everything.” 

He leans in one more time, lets his lips stay a little longer.

© 2024 wondeurwall ☆ all rights reserved. please don't repost as your own, modify or translate on here and on other platforms. reblogs & likes are appreciated! ♡

[pocket-vvardvark]

She made her own moon 😬

Little thing I'm writing under da cut, I'm sure theres 1000000 grammar problems +other issues lmao, but I'm eepy

Deep from within the festering wound of her heart, a moon willed itself into existence–burning so stubbornly regardless of its diminutive size. Blessed by azure skies and fresh, grassy plains, it looked like paradise. Eternal paradise, the words lingered in her mind, and she is suddenly tempted to speak. To mold her lips, flex and purse them to form words, is foreign. Surely, by now, her throat had gone hoarse from lack of use, having no one to speak to. This world birthed by her ambitious, greedy, and unyielding self was not a place of bliss. It existed to mock her; hopelessly lost against the forests, which so beautifully transformed light into little speckled dots across the diaphanous canvas that is her wilting body. A star that is yet to die, Alethia blinks against the glaring sun. There is nothing left for her, no one to go back to, not when she had done something so foolish–the circumstances dire. Beneath her soft, pale flesh lies a flower bed, carefully matted as if even the foliage obeyed her silent commands. Lifting herself up with great effort, she is gaunt and pointed, the thin disguise of her flesh hardly capable of stretching across clean, white bone. Nearly transparent, it’s as if the light shines through her–casting an otherworldly glow across her alabaster exterior. Absentmindedly curling lithe fingers around a flower, she pauses in recognition as fleeting memories wash over her mind, cradling it with nostalgia. Lily of the valley–pale, cracked lips open enough to release a hoarse gasp, and unbidden memories flood every fibre of her being. The onslaught is overwhelming, and for a moment, the faint thrumming of her pulse is noticeable. 

Fingers curl around her own, cold, soft and large. Clasping over her fist, they silently urge her. Unsure if it is a trick, she wills herself not to turn, in fear that this comfort will disappear the moment she does. Trembling, Alethia swallows thickly, listening to the eerie calmness of the forest as her eyes trace the palm surrounding her own nearly covetously. 

Cool breath traces her nape, reminding her of spring in Auridon, laughing with…Someone…While the cherry blossoms littered the ground in a sea of pink. Panic seizes her heart, pumping the fist-sized organ with as much adrenaline as her glands might offer. 

Her name is whispered, reverent and soft by someone she should know. But, the forest takes and takes. It is a greedy thing, like herself. Possessive and draining, it saps her very core, forcing her to slumber for eternity–time left unmarked. Collapsing in a heap, her eyes struggle to remain open in a stubborn attempt to alter her fate. A sob bubbles past the dry, scratchiness of her throat in a plea of submission. Fisting the flowers beside her, her eyes lazy with sleep hurriedly trace across the hand which held hers so softly, only to find nothing. Disappearing in a haze at the last second, she is lost once more in an ever-lasting cycle of torment. Something other than a sob leaves her lips at the last second–a humorless bark of laughter which stings her aching throat. The Aedra were a sham, a foolish attempt of the universe to enact some semblance of order against the Daedra. Digging into the loamy soil, she leaves a mark of something surly and determined; letters scrawled messily to revive her memory once she awakes from her torpor. 

Wearily, her hand drops against the forest floor, and she is lost in time once more–doomed to forget…And, to be forgotten.

[i8ickygrl]

（⭒ ˘˘）ᵎ🖋️➞﹕ready player one 🪷

featuring: streamer!gojo satoru x fem reader warnings: dubcon, mention of spit, a bit of exhibitionism, blowjob proofread(?): i think so authors note: thank you guys soooo much for the support on my last two fics! this one is a little rushed so i'm not sure if i'll keep it up but my brain was itching to write this concept. don't forget to like, reblog or leave a comment if you can! hope you enjoy! thank you for reading, lovey <3

streamer!gojo who spends so much time around that desk. you know how much he enjoys being a streamer, interacting with his followers and basically getting paid to hang out with his friends all day. but you can’t help but whine when his attention isn’t on you.

“yes, love?” he’d pull one side of his headphones off of his ear and raise an eyebrow. 

“what time do you think you’ll be off?” your plump lips formed into a pout.

“soon, baby. i promise.” he’d take one of your hands and rub his thumb over your knuckles loving before turning back to his screen.

it was the same every time. you really didn’t mean to be annoying, you just missed him so much… so how could he blame you for crawling under his desk and seating yourself in between his legs?

streamer!gojo who’s still so caught up in his little game, yelling at someone to revive him. not to worry though. his attention would be all on you soon enough. you smooth your hair behind your shoulders and lick your lips before sliding your hands over his knees. 

streamer!gojo jumps slightly at the feeling, stopping his sentence mid way and looking down at you. you smile sweetly and bring your finger up to your lips, silently shushing him. 

streamer!gojo who plays off his sudden change in demeanor, making up some dumb excuse. his eyes are wide as he tries to refocus his attention, feeling you palm him through his shorts.

you feel his cock twitch under your grip, looking up at him through your lashes and smiling wickedly. feeling him close to being fully hard, you tug at the waistband of his shorts signaling him to lift his hips. 

streamer!gojo glances anxiously at the chat, noticing a few “you good?”s but nothing too alarming yet. he didn’t know how far you’d take it but he was sure he could play it off. 

he was in his boxers now and you smiled further before sliding your hand into the slip and pulling his cock out. you hummed happily at the sight and began slow strokes around the tip, watching his length grow in your hands.

you hear his breath hitch above you and it only encourages you to go further. you place your other hand around the base and stroke faster, giving him kitten licks every now and then as his pink tint began to swell from the stimulation. 

streamer!gojo who’s face is starting to contort is pleasure. he attempts to clench his jaw to hide it but its a bit too far gone now. he looks down at you, seeing you begin blissfully sucking his cock. your head bobbed in rhythm with the hand you twisted at the base as you happily and hummed around him.

“uhhmmm… is he okay?”

“bro does your stomach hurt or something?”

“gojo??”

he glances at the chat and curses under his breath before hearing a loud voice blare through his headphones.

“LOCK THE FUCK IN SATORU!” 

“i’m sorry, ma- fuuck.”

streamer!gojo who looks down at you, your shirt off now and his cock wet with your spit. your mouth was opened slightly as you looked up at him, panting and silently encouraging him to cum for you. god, he wished he could take a picture. you looked so damn perfect. 

streamer!gojo is close to his limit now, barely trying to hide the way he lovingly looks down into your eyes and sighs in pleasure. 

suddenly you push your breasts up against his cock and he swears he could cum right there. you pump his length, still keeping eye contact, and your lips moves to say something barely above a whisper. 

“come play with me gojo.” a moan slipping past your lips as you speak.

streamer!gojo is immediately ripping off his headphones, spewing apologies to his chat while whoever he was playing with screams through his headphones. he frantically closes various screens and waves bye to his chat before hurriedly guiding you towards him by your chin, surprising you with a deep, heated kiss.

“let’s go finished what you started.”

[laurellerual]

Do you rekon itll be lady stone heart who will give her life to revive jon? Coz even tho she despises him it is robbs last will for him to rule

No. Lady Stoneheart had like two books to march North, crown Jon while he was still alive, and enforce Robb's will, but she didn't. And she doesn't even seem willing to do so since the Brotherhood's main activities since she's been in control are killing Freys, picking up orphans, and allegedly organizing the Red Wedding 2.0. Why would she suddenly change her plans now that Jon is dead? I'm not even that sure that she knows about it.

Furthermore, she's in the Riverlands so what guarantee does she have that once she cross the North to the Wall she will still find Jon Snow's body intact, after months, waiting to be resurrected. The logistics are not clear to me. Especially considering that there is already Melisandre right there who seems to be the ideal candidate for Jon's resurrection.

This may be a somewhat unpopular opinion, but imo the fandom has over-pumped the importance of Jon in Cat's story and the importance of Cat in Jon's story.

[wee-larceny]

Time to Orbit: Unknown liveblog Chapters 031-040

Chapters 001-010 011-020 021-030

We're skipping the "answers found" section this time, because these posts are super long and I feel kind of sorry for anyone having to scroll past my rapidfire reblogs. So without further ado:

Questions I still have (unchanged):

Why did Captain Kinoshita try to move the giant box that ended up crushing her? Why wasn't CR1 jettisoned? Why didn't the two halves of the crew reestablish contact in a different way either? Why didn't Arc Hess clean up the coffee? Why did they keep a paper calendar? Why was no one woken from chronostasis to replace the dead crew? Why didn't the AI help Kinoshita or anyone else? What does it read/write to the crewmembers' chips? Why is it lying about everything? What was the experiment that killed three members of the crew? Why can't the new captain override the previous one's orders? Captain locks a door, dies, door is locked forever. That's just bad design. How did the aft engines get irreparably damaged? What happened when the ship lurched sideways? It can't have been just the rotations slowing, because that would decrease gravity unless there's a complicated science reason as to why it doesn't. There can't be a complicated science reason because Derin explains those immediately. Why are there so many Texan convicts on this ship? Normally I'd say they're being exploited somehow, but how? What's up with the extra body in freezer storage? How does the AI know exactly when and how Reimann died and also about the coolant leak in PLR1 if it cannot monitor these rings? Why are the people in CR1&5 less likely to survive? Why kill the colonists this way specifically? Also why are they not as decomposed as the Friend expected them to be? Was Denish ever a space pirate?

Questions I still have (modified):

We can't read personal logs, sure, but are there any ship's logs we can access? What killed most of the crew? If it was the airborne contamination caused by the coolant leak plus open vent plus decomposing arm, how come they didn't notice and fix it? That's a question I still have even if that's not what killed them btw. What was Reimann trying to do that required locking the vents open and messing with an air pump? What is causing the stimulator to stick and the cranial port to break out of the skull if it isn't sloppy installation? And how come it doesn't seem to leave any other mark on the body. Also, the crew thinks that the whole 9% chance of survival business doesn't consider the whole stuck stimulator/broken skull thing, but what if it does? Is there a way to save them? Why were fore engines not used to accelerate?

Shiny new questions I acquired:

What was in the air of CR1? Why was Tal and Tal alone emergency revived and why the decompression alarm? Why are all the systems such a mess? Airlocks don't do what airlocks are designed to do, files are hidden in nonsensical locations, etc. Where's the distillery? I'm 100% serious about this btw. Any other members of the first crew we can wake up? Just one. Just to ask "hey what the fuck"

[akiizayoi4869]

Sakura Haruno Appreciation Post

Rewatching Naruto and reading the manga has made me feel like posting about one of my favorite characters in the series, Sakura. At first, nothing about her really stood out to me. She was the typical teenage girl who had a crush on a guy who really didn't seem to care about her at all. As time went on, though, small things about her stood out to me. Her affinity for genjutsu (something that I wished Kishimoto touched on more) and her chakra control was better than both Naruto's and Sasuke's, something that I wasn't expecting from her at all. It's not like she was much of a fighter at this point, and she needed protecting more often than not. Sakura's character didn't really start to peak for me until the chunin exams in the Forest Of Death. This scene in particular:

The moment she cut off her hair to free herself from Kin's grip, I knew that she meant business, that she would finally start taking her life as being a ninja more seriously. Why? Because she cut her long hair, something that she was proud of simply because she heard a rumor back when she was a little girl that said that Sasuke liked girls with long hair. Sakura was no much for the sound ninja, of course, and she's eventually bailed out by Ino and her team, and later on by Sasuke himself when he wakes up. Seeing how beat up she was because of that fight, and how she wouldn't back down because she wanted to protect her teammates no matter what, made her character grow on me.

Then we get up to the preliminary round of the chunin exams, and it's there when one of my favorite fights in the chunin exams happens: Sakura vs Ino.

This fight is where Sakura slowly starts to sprout from a bud into a fully bloomed flower. She takes her fight against Ino seriously, and gives it her all. When Ino used the mind transfer jutsu on her, I thought that that would be it for Sakura. But she managed to kick Ino out of her mind thanks to inner Sakura (another aspect of her character that I wish Kishimoto did more with, but I get why she just sorta vanishes after a while) and the match resumes between them. It ends in a tie, but it was still a really good fight regardless. It showed that Sakura really can fight if she wants too, and it put an end to her rivalry with Ino, allowing them to become friends again. After this fight I definitely had more respect for her character.

When Sasuke eventually leaves the village to join Orochimaru, Sakura felt that she was worthless because not only was she unable to do anything, but Naruto got hurt in his fight against Sasuke because of the promise he made to her to bring Sasuke back. So, she does something that I didn't expect her to do: ask Tsunade to take her on as an apprentice.

We can see how those three years of training with Tsunade paid off, since Sakura can not only stand toe to toe in a fight against Kakashi fighting alongside Naruto, she also has enough strength to take on an Akatsuki member like Sasori:

This fight definitely showed how much better as a fighter Sakura has gotten in three years. Yes, I'm well aware that Lady Chiyo helped her in this fight, but she still did an excellent job of holding her own. Aside from her physical prowess, we also see how far she's come as medical ninja as well. Going from reviving a dead fish to doing something as critical as cutting Naruto open to pump his heart in order to keep him alive during the 4th Great Ninja war:

And it's during this time that she was finally able to stand next to Naruto and Sasuke in battle, instead of always walking behind them and watching their backs get farther and farther away from her. Idk about you guys, but watching these three perform the summoning jutsu at the same time, doing their own three way deadlock like the original legendary sanin before them was so fucking badass:

We already knew that both Naruto and Sasuke had long since surpassed their masters, Jiraiya and Orochimaru. But until this moment, it was unclear if Sakura had truly surpassed Tsunade or if she was just on her level. This scene right here definitely showed that Sakura has indeed surpassed Tsunade, making her, Naruto, and Sasuke the new legendary sanin.

Watching Sakura grow throughout the series was really nice to see, not to mention inspiring for me to watch as a young girl. Her growing determination to better herself and stand the same level as her teammates is why she is and always will be one of my favorite characters in the series, if not my most favorite character.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

Yandere Zombie x F! Reader/ Sam's Story

A/N: This is technically a continuation of the Yandere AI story, but since Kai, the Yandere AI, is dead and Sam was revived at the end of the last part, I just titled it differently so no one's confused character and expectation-wise. This is also a mix of yandere and fluff.

Pt. 1 Pt. 2

Wanna buy me a ☕

🍒🍒🍒🍒🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓🍓

"Breaking News: Multiple mutilated bodies found in the Destin area-" The news reporter says before you cut the TV off.

"Fucking druggies," You groan, peeling yourself out of the couch.

You look out your window and see the colorful ocean waves. It had been a peaceful eight months since you burned down your house. You rebuilt your life, and now you're enjoying the money that Sam's will gave you. Luckily, no one suspected anything about the house fire, leaving you with virtually no paper trail.

"Mrow," Your cat, Angela, meows, rubbing your arm.

"I know, I know Angie. I'll get up so you can explore the bay," You say, picking up your cat and going to your room. "Pink or blue leash?"

Your cat paws at the blue leash, and you put it on. You walk out the door and walk the bay, enjoying the smell of saltwater. As you walk around, you see a huge crowd forming in front of a store.

"Hey, what's going on?" You ask, picking up Angela.

The entire crowd looks at you as you go through the people.

"They found another body in the back of the store. It had your name carved on the torso," An old lady says, clutching her purse.

You feel bile rise in your throat and throw up into the water. Angela rubs against your stomach, and you stare at your reflection in the water. Your face is pale, and eyebags have appeared. Your cat Angela starts hissing at the water, and you squint at your reflection. You splash the water, creating ripples, and take Angela home. Unbeknownst to you, a pale man's head pops up in the water like a crocodile watching its prey. His head disappears below the water, and his body goes in the same direction as you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Alright, Angela, I left some fish, cat food, and crab meat in your bowl. I will be back in the wee hours of the morning," You coo, giving your cat back rubs.

Angela purrs on you, and you leave your house. As you walk through the bay, the sounds of the ocean comfort you.

"It'll be fine. It's probably just some crackhead who I helped that did that," You mumble, breathing in the salt water.

As you walk through the bay in your black mini-dress and white pumps, the nightlife seems to have gone silent. The smell of saltwater is replaced by something sickeningly sweet as if you are inside a candy store. Then, that's when the stench of something rotting mixes with the sweetness.

"God, did some stray drown in the water or something?" You gag, covering your nose.

You hear the water move behind you and turn around to look at it. Several fish are floating to the surface, dead as a doornail. You return to walking to the nightclub, and that's when you hear the soft and wet footsteps of someone behind you.

"Please let it be an alligator," You pray as you turn around.

Your eyes lock with a pale man's, and when multiple bolts of electricity run along his body, you see who it is clearly. Those soft, kind eyes that belonged to Sam were feral and wide. You try to move away, but you can't. Your legs refuse to. He shouldn't be alive. He should be gone for good.

"Y/N," Sam says, walking towards you, his arms wide as if he's going to hug you. "I'm here for you."

You force your legs to move and fall to the ground as the heels of your pumps get caught in a large crack in the sidewalk. You undo your shoes and run away without looking back. Sam picks up your pumps and sniffs the insides, enjoying the scent of your sweat. His pink tongue licks the soles of your shoes, and he gets an erection.

You run to the beach and look for your secret hiding spot.

"Come on, where's the caves?" You groan, trying to look for the cave opening in the ground.

As you look for it, you fall through the opening and slide into the cave system. The pool of ocean water in the caves calms you down, and you sit in it. You let your body go further into the water until you're submerged.

"1, 2, 3," You think, opening your eyes and swimming back to the caves.

When your head pops up, Sam's lips kiss you.

"Hi," Sam flirts, smiling at your terrified face. "Mind if join you?"

Sam gets into the water, holding your body close.

"How did you survive?" You whimper, looking at Sam sniff your neck.

"I don't know. I just felt electricity hit my body, and suddenly I was climbing out of my shallow, and might I say poorly dug grave and welcomed to a burning house," Sam replies, squeezing your ass. "Do you know how long it took for me to find you? All the people I had to slaughter along the way until my body was alive enough?"

"I never asked you to do that."

"I know you didn't, but I was worried about you. Now that I have you, we can live together, and I can go back to living my life as a tech millionaire with NO AI this time."

There's no running anymore. Even if you could run, his undead body would follow you until the end of your days. Or even worse, he'll kill you and make you undead like him. Or maybe this is the universe's cruel way of saying you have a second chance to have the life you want.

"You could at least react a bit more now that we're together again. I still remember the day Kai took over my body. I was preparing to ask you out. Hey, do you remember when we went to prom?" Sam asks, getting out of the water.

"Yeah. You gave me the bracelet at the end of the night, and then we ate at Waffle House," You reply, looking at the water.

"I still have that bracelet. You buried it with me. I want to return it to you. It's yours. It was always meant to be yours, even in the event of my death."

Sam puts the bracelet on your wrist and kisses your hand. You see a faint blush on his cheeks.

"I love you. I love you. I love you," Sam whispers, kissing his way up your arm. "I love you even if it drives me crazier than I already am."

Even though his teeth are yellow and full of plaque and his body reeks from not bathing for eight months, the sight of your former crush alive, without Kai, and almost like he was, warms your heart.

"I love you too, Sam. Now let's go home and give you a good bath!" You giggle, holding Sam's face and rubbing his cheek.

Sam lifts you out of the water and throws you over his shoulder. You two leave the caves and are greeted by rays of moonlight and a neon-glowing blue ocean.

"Thank you for giving him back to me," You whisper, looking at the sky.

[confessions-sm]

I was thinking about the AU idea @xfriki26 had about the town being monsters and Moloch and Eyes being humans and. My mind. Kind of went wild-

Maurice (Moloch) is a retired rockstar that went on a solo "revival tour" in an effort to put some excitement back in his life, got lost and ended up in the town very recently. Moloch is still his stage name, he got super obsessed with demons in high school and it never really left

Ivan (Eyes) quote unquote "works" at a bookstore (really he just turned it into his house), he's fascinated with myths and legends and upon hearing of a "cursed monster town" immediately set out to find it. He has been here for years, and now regrets this immensely

I haven't put much thought into the town itself- thinking it's some kind of curse that caused eternal night and turned everyone into monsters (You ever read the fic A Move To Never Forget? Something like that), thought just some silly Addams Family-ass town could work too /silly

However, going with the curse angle: most of the monsters are not friendly, obviously, though they range from mild annoyance to Actively Trying to Kill You. And then there's Skid and Pump, who are in an entire category of their own

Speaking of! Thoughts on the monsters:

Skid and Pump: little skeleton and pumpkin boys obviously. Pump's body is made of vines, and his head is basically indestructible. Skid can fall apart and reassemble like a Dry Bones, and his parts can move even when not connected to the rest of his body. They are the most friendly to Maurice and Ivan, but their loud nature tends to attract unwanted attention

Lila: some weird shadow/hair monster like in those swap Lavenderade doodles Pelo did. She is incredibly aggressive and dangerously overprotective of Skid, but almost never leaves her house

Susie: demon, obviously. Her fingertips are coated in an ink/paint like substance that brings to life whatever she draws with it

Skid's grandma: yes I am including her, shush. She died right around the time the curse took hold, so her spirit remained and is corporeal to those around her. She and Skid are the only ones who can calm Lila down

Attic Spider: okay so I'm doing a funny with this one. She was originally Skid's twin sister, but was turned into a spider by the curse, and is very hostile to those that aren't her family

Rick: werewolf. Because of the eternal night he is a werewolf 24/7, but is actually pretty chill otherwise as long as it isn't a full moon. Ivan actually considers him something of a friend, and before Maurice arrived, frequently asked Rick to either fetch (heh) something for him or accompany him as Ivan did not want to go outside alone.

I have some. Other Thoughts but this went on for too long oopsies-

OH MY GOD???/VPOS