#Not tagging as shit post cuz I made it look good for some reason it's more of a

[braindeadlosrrr]

Wtf even is this

Look into his beady lil eyes he's so full of childlike joy and whimsy just like he was in canon guys nothing bad happened to him guys.... </3

[goldenlol]

also this is sword anon again and honestly your cookie run art is partially why i wanna get back into it after a long time but i remember some drama circulating around that darkmilk has a significant age gap n stuff and in extension so does yammilk (ik your pinned post doesnt include them I just added that since that was part of the discussion) so whats your take on their age thing cuz idk what type of shipper you are lol

HII AGAIN LFMAOO BUT OKFG RLLYYY?? YAYYY

I don’t talk about milkyam cause I just don’t like the ship, or most of its shippers. I don’t like a lot of choco ships tbh..but all I will say, is milk would protect choco from yam BUT THATS IT. THATS ALL.

for me, I hc young prince as 15 and milk around the same age, idk maybe 13? I cant see how people think young prince choco was an adult...?? Yes she went out to find a sword by herself but I think she was only allowed that because she is a good fighter and can survive on her own, it’s obvious cacao had trust that choco will return safely.

She just looks tall or mature for her age ig?? I think it’s because how she was raised, never allowed to be a child and trained to be better but yea no, I fr can’t see her as an adult here

edit: I forgot to add but she still kind of had that “oblivious” mindset I guess? Believing she can save her kingdom and could change her fathers mind even tho he’s so stubborn and that mentality of being “a hero just like his father”, I’m sure thats associated w younger people because “ur just a child you don’t know any better”

after she comes back she sees what her father rlly is and basically calls him a coward. It’s fr someone maturing and seeing someone for what they rlly are, not blinded by the child mentality anymore and only seeing someone as perfect when they’re not at all (not saying cacao is a coward mb minty, but bro wasn’t the best father 🙏😔 I love cacao) but also choco is manipulated easily because of her weak mentality.. my girl.

I know a lot of people are iffy or just hate chocomilk and that’s alr ig but god pls enough w tagging the ship and making threads telling people to hate it.

I know someone whose too afraid to draw it because of what people say and I’m like !! I got you bro I’ll draw it for us!!

Also I don’t think devsis would even allow such a ship to exist if it was wrong?? (it’s funny cause they make art of it n even make captions like that one where choco and lico go to an amusement park together, w “don’t tell milk” )

also I just hate how mischaracterized milk is w choco... my god y’all are weird as fuck w him. Milk wouldn’t harass choco or stalk him pls stop that, it’s uncomfortable..

he respects his space and choco’s life. When he met choco in that cutscene, people took choco being “uncomfortable” around milk, he wasn’t? He was just shocked or just “?? Rlly??” Kind of reaction because this man hasn’t been told anything nice after he became “bad” or whatever, so having someone tell him that he was the reason they became stronger and “want to be just like him” is obviously shocking to her, she wouldn’t believe that she made someone life better because she thought she only hurt people and deserved to be hated and treated in any way.

Anyway yea, they def both met as teens, didn’t see eachother til adults and it’s obvious milk is in love w choco idc (me too bro)

this is long as fuck sorry but GOD I NEEDED TO SAY SHIT!!

Take the cute art tho I love them sm (I think choco just has the mentality that no one could love him after what he’s done so he doesn’t understand why milk faints all flustered n shit but the idea of her being oblivious is cute too 😭 fuck it shes both!!)

also what type of shipper I am?? Wym

[w0w0zella]

um hello!!! im gonna be making a. bugbo murderstuck au Masterpost of sorts! I guess! ill format it like a q&a but im making up some of these questions myself. So lets get into it :3

this is a really long post! b careful :3

"what is murderstuck?" murderstuck is a Bugbo AU that made/am making (complicated wip status lol)! its a story that takes place a month and a bit after the events of familiar foe. Very long story short, gerbo ends up getting killed (on accident), joe then kills bugbo (On purpose) and joe seeks out thomas flyswatter for help. i have a post here that goes more into the story if you'd like to see it! vvv https://www.tumblr.com/w0w0zella/728157783124574208/ill-post-these-together-awawy-from-the-rest-of-the?source=share 

currently it is a well defined plot line that i and a couple other people have made art for,, and a work in progress fanfiction!

"why is it called "murderstuck"?"

murderstuck is actually (Believe it or not lol) a Homestuck thing! murderstuck is a specific part in act 5 act 2 of homestuck where one character kills someone and then someone else kills THEM, so i was like  Fuck yeah that makes total sense for this au. In all honesty, i just called it that cuz i needed a name to jump back to in discord for easy finding and it. Stuck i guess GIGGLES lol.

i am currently.  Semi looking for new name suggestions! so if anyone has any ideas !!!   Tell me !! Please !! I have No idea!! ((by the way, because murderstuck is already technically a thing, you need to tag murderstuck posts with #bugbo murderstuck or #bugbo murderstuck au or else it will be drowned out by all the homestuck art :3

(question by geluga on discord) "where did joe get his cleaver ? is it the same way he just happened to have an axe in episode 2 or is it from something else?"

yeah no i didnt really think out him having a meat cleaver lol. lets say thaat. umm. He got it becuase he was preparing bugbo a Yummy Meal (Steak is his Favourite or some  shit idk) !!!

i do NOT rmember why i gave him a meat cleaver aswell. If you want a Good answer, the reason i gave him a meat cleaver and not his Trusty Axe is because his axe would have been far too dull and bulky to slit bugbos throat. if you want the TRUE answer Its because i forgot he had an axe at all and thought the meat cleaver would look cool

(question by onyx on discord) "did gj feel bad after The thing or did he feel like totally justified"

AMAZING QUESTION !!!! Gradient Joe feels EXTREME remorse. of course when he looks back on it he knows why he did it, but if we're being completely honest; bugbo was immobilized. he did not need to kill bugbo. if he had killed him while bugbo was choking him, that would be a different story. but he killed him while he was backed up into a tree, immobilized and begging for his life.

he feels extremely bad ! Very extremely bad!

(question from ANON in my ASK BOX) "DUDE I LOVE YOUR AU SM RAUGHHHHH also question uhh where is hoppo in the au? we havent really heard about her"

So. During the events of this au. she is. away. like she usually is. Dont really know where! Shopping at grocery market. back at war. lost at sea. you decide. (More info on hoppo in the next question

(question by kets on discord) "uuhhmmmm what is the absolute WORST ending this au could have realistically?????????? like if it didn't end whene thomas was ocmforting joe idk :3333333"

OKAY i coudl see this one of a couple ways. First way is, bugbo wins. bugbo succeeds in choking joe to death, And now he is alone (til hoppo gets back) i said this one first cuz its probably not the worst possible thing, but i think it would be pretty terrible!

second worst would be if Joe waited for hoppo to come back instead of going to thomas for help. In my humble opinion, i think that hoppo is very stubborn and VERY loyal. so. (to me at least) it stands to reason that if hoppo came back, she would side with bugbo VERY hard. she would probably fucking hate joes guts, and that would be the worst  thing for him after everything he already went through. Maybe they would Fight too idk…

Very first worst would be if joe just straight up killed himself after killing bugbo. I could see this as a thing he contemplated, but if he actually went through with it?  Oh my god Fucking imagine. all of there corpses there for hoppo to find when she comes back. Thomas rotting away in his lair without anyone to talk to (and without knowledge of bugbos death) for years? Devastating.

other notable endings include Joe OR bugbo Killing themselves directly after gerbos death, hoppo ending up killing joe out of anger when she comes back, Or (In a silly alternate universe that We made on Disc Ord…) bugbo comes BACK to life and DRAGS himself to go kill joe HIMSELF!!!!!!

(question by DEMO on DISCORD) "is gradient joe book smart or money smart" i am going to kill myself and its your fault i think. never speak to me again (Joke)

NOTABLE INFORMATION:

as stated before, you need to tag murderstuck posts with #bugbo murderstuck or #bugbo murderstuck au or else it will be drowned out by Homestuck stuff !! i want to see all of your art and things!! Thank you!!

you are ONE HUNDRED PERCENT WELCOMED AND ENCOURAGED to make stuff surrounding this au! Please Please Show It To Me!!!

if you are drawing During Fight or. During Murdering bugbo or joe, here are some things to note! - bugbo attempts to choke joe to death during a part in the fight, and he almost succeds! This causes Permanent scarring on gradient joes neck, and scratch marks all over bugbos arms from joe clawing at them!!!

- joe ends the fight with his shirt partially open and his tie missing!

- joe breaks bugbos right leg! there is a noticable gash on his inner right knee!

- joe kills bugbo by slitting his throat with a meat cleaver!- after joe is done, he drags bugbos body over to where gerbo died! (he was crushed by the fallen Stone Structure!)

thank you all so much for the love and support with this au It means so much to me. thank you from the botom of my hart.  IF YOU HAVE ANY COOL IDEAS, MORE QUESTIONS, OR ANYTHING ELSE YOU WANNA SHOW/TELL ME, MY MESSAGES AND ASK BOX ARE ALWAYS OPEN!!!!!!

[ryuichirou]

Replies

Some replies!

Anonymous asked:

I didn't realize it was possible to filter without tags. Thank you!

No problem, Anon! I’m glad we could help. Have a nice day!

Anonymous asked:

Hnnng…booba…

(this is about this art)

Hehe yeah…

I was looking at my first sketches of fem!Azul recently, and wow I draw her boobs bigger and bigger every single time. She wasn’t supposed to be this big… but alas.

Anonymous asked:

I feel like 2 bottoms and 1 top is more fun if the top has an extra dick situation going on, like 2 tops 1 bottom is great because humans come with AT LEAST two holes perfect for taking dick, and sometimes more 😌✨ so basically Ortho is the master dom of them all, but like, we already knew this ♥️

First of all, YES, this is usually our reasoning as well for preferring 2 tops 1 bottom, it’s just easier to navigate the holes and all lol But also you made such a good point??  Ortho absolutely would be able to have multiple of those, as many as he needs in fact! And also have a lot of different kinds of stimulation… wow, that’s OP. Ortho, your niichan created an unstoppable master dom…

Anonymous asked:

I just saw the Jellyfish post and the image of Silver bowing and pleading for others to golden shower him, so good

Lillia would love this, he trained his son so well, and he will of course give his cute son his pee as a treat

(this is about this post)

You imagined it!! I’m so happy, Anon. But also, sorry for that… (but also, you are welcome)

Poor Silver doesn’t even realise how it looks, oof… Lilia would almost pass away out of the sheer excitement and pride he felt at that moment.

Anonymous asked:

Kalim and idia would be a funny ship because idia could not handle how happy and positive Kalim is during the entire time they do it including aftercare

Awww, don’t be silly, Idia, what else should he do while doing it, cry?

Facts, Anon. Absolute facts. Kalim always behaves like this is the best moment of his life and it’s all about how awesome it is for him to be with Idia and to do what they are doing right now!!! How does one even react to that?..

But also I’m not sure if Kalim knows how to do aftercare... He is very used to just falling asleep afterwards and then suddenly waking up after a nap to continue the cuddles. Idia would suffer either way because he would try to carefully run away while Kalim is asleep… instantly waking him up and prompting him to start cuddling him with the widest smile possible!

Anonymous asked:

Hey Ryu! Hope you're having a nice day.

Real quick, what would Ortho do if he was replacing?

(I was doing some stupid shit on c.ai and it just popped into my head.)

What if Idia had a lover (you can use Azul or Lilia for this cuz we ship it. Or any other top that fits this scenario) and they died so Idia, just like he did with Ortho, tried to bring them back to life? Bc of this he became so possessive in an unhealthy way over them, shutting away the world like he did before, but that includes Ortho.

Hi Anon! I hope you’re having a nice day too :)

Ohh, interesting; honestly, it kind of sounds like an anxiety that Ortho could have. Similarly to how he usually treats Idia being in a relationship with someone: he is very happy, excited and supportive, but also very jealous because he actually really doesn’t want to share Idia with anyone.

In a way, I think he could make peace with Idia being with someone by thinking that what they have with Idia is special and totally different from what Idia and his boyfriend have. So if Idia’s boyfriend suddenly passes away, and Idia grief pushes him to shut away the world and focus on recreating that person, Ortho would feel horrible on many levels: both because of Idia pushing him away and because of Idia doing for that person something that was supposed to be special and their thing. And even though Ortho would recognise that Idia is hurting, and it’s probably selfish of him to be so against it, he might even try to act supportive, like “isn’t it cool, there will be the second one like me”, but he would probably hate that thing. I don’t know, I feel like it would end badly lol

Anonymous asked:

do you have any thoughts/ideas about a shroudswap au, in which ortho lived and it was idia who died? how do you think a human ortho like that would turn out?

Oof, I wonder if he would be better or much worse than Idia… I feel like Idia tortures himself for the most part (mentally), but with Ortho, even though he would still torture himself because of guilt, could also be more of a danger to others. At least because he is less secluded and more sociable in general.

Hmmm.

Ortho was younger than Idia when the incident happened + he isn’t as insanely skilled as him, so I don’t think he would be able to build a robot and write an AI as fast as Idia (even for Idia it took a couple of years), but he would still try to do it. I think it would be his work-in-progress at the age of 16; he would just have a bunch of junk on his floor + an android torso with a silicon face that doesn’t move, because it’s not done yet. Ortho would still talk to it a lot.

I think Ortho would combat his grief and guilt by thinking that it’s up to him to honour Idia’s legacy, and he’ll talk about it a lot: about how he tries his best to be a good technomagician and a mechanic, and he would indeed be the best at his dorm, but not quite as good as Idia would’ve been in Ortho’s head.

Ortho would almost look like a normal guy, somewhat similar to Ace in the way he acts at times, but there would always be something uncanny about him because he is never 100% genuine and his heart is clearly closed from others. He would be the type to say “what? I’m friends with everyone” but have zero people whom he actually trusts. He prefers to talk to his half-built robot-brother more anyways.

Now, what I mean when I say that he is more likely to be dangerous is that while Idia is in terrible shape and his coping mechanisms aren’t the best, Ortho would bottle up his emotions more, as if he can’t allow himself to grieve properly because it is his fault. It would become very clear that he is still not over it once something triggers him and he becomes super resentful towards everyone and everything that isn’t Idia, or rather an idea of Idia in his head that gets more vague with every single day because he gets older, and he hates himself for “losing” him that way too. I think Ortho could express this frustration by being destructive because he would be in a very bad mental space…

Wow that turned dark lol

Anonymous asked:

I mean, that can be incorporated too!

My idea is that Azul is surrounded by a faceless mob and he is forced to sign contract after contract. None of them are for his benefit, though, they are basically trading away any and all of his skills and talents while the crowd laughs at him. After a few times, the contracts start ripping away body parts that correspond to his talents (I.e. singing would be his vocal cords, swimming would be his tentacles/legs, etc.) until there’s barely anything left of him. Whatever is left is then served up as delicious takoyaki.

I swear I do like Azul.

(this is about Azul’s danganronpa-style execution)

Wow, that sounds perfect, Anon. destroyed by the very thing that empowered him in the first place and reduced to what the most helpless form there is available to him: an actual snack.

I would love to see it.

Anonymous asked:

Did you watch the lyric video for No Me Diga or this one: https://youtu.be/UrFH772ytzM?si=yjd1dMNYhAPp6Ybf because the linked version makes the song worse with the visuals 😂😂😂😂😂

Yep, I watched this one lol

[madlad-sadgal]

Goldenheart AU Pt. 3

I FOUND MY NOTEBOOK!

If you couldn't tell, I have found my notes about this AU and am finally able to make more parts (I could've just made new notes but for some reason my mind stopped everytime I tried to do that, so yeah). This part is gonna be about the band members' (Bal, Nimona and Meredith) backstories.

I highly suggest you check out these first if you wanna understand this, cuz it might not make sense: [Part 1] [Part 2]

(Edit: I'm an idiot and forgot to put the links when I first posted it)

Part 1 is just the base of the AU, and part 2 explains the Director/Livia's (the name I gave her) reasons to not want Goldenheart to be a thing.

Also, feel free to put any idea you might want to add on in the comments or the tags! I tend to look at them and take them in consideration. I don't tag you (some people don't want to be tagged), but if you want to be credited, just message me and I'll tag you if I use your idea!

Anyways, Enjoy!

Ballister Boldheart

Although he didn't live on the streets, Ballister wasn't part of a very fortunate family when it came to money.

Education was something his family struggled to provide to him, and food was thoroughly enjoyed as one never knew if the next meal would be provided or not

His parents worked in a quite successful company but were paid barely enough to survive despite the amount of work they did

Ballister also worked small jobs, such as helping the park keeper clean up garbage, helping the mailman deliver his letters and packages, and so on

When he properly met Ambrosius was when he was cleaning up the park

I say properly because everyone knows Ambrosius Goldenloin, future heir to the Goldenloin company, so when he walked up to a little boy with long dirty hair and worn down clothes, it was pretty safe to say he was wary of him at first

Slowly but surely, after they met up more and more, Ballister started to warm up to him until they became great friends

Ambrosius had tried many times to give money to his family or to buy him something, but Ballister always refused because 1) He wanted to prove he could help on his own, not thanks to some charity money, and 2) He really didn't need the rest of Ambrosius' friends to start rumors about how he was using him for money (It was pretty clear they didn't like him, mainly Todd Sureblade, the Sureblade's being long friends of the Goldenloins)

At some point in time, when they were about 9-10, Ambrosius had to leave cities because of something and the two boys wouldn't be able to talk anymore, so he left with heart wrenching goodbyes

After that, everything was basically shit

With Ambrosius no longer around, some of his old friends who had stayed behind picked on him (hiding the stuff he needed to work, throwing random objects at him when he was in the park, etc.)

His father succumbed to an illness he had been suffering from for a while which sent his mother spiraling into a depression and turning to drinks. She didn't abuse him, but behind her curtain of sadness, she basically forgot about him and it was up to Ballister to provide food and take care of the both of them

It didn't take long for child protection services to take note of this and, at 16, Ballister was placed in a foster home while his mother went to therapy and rehab

It was in the foster home that Ballister met Nimona (backstory later)

Nimona was younger than him by around ten years, a little six year old kid who looked harmless until you realized just how much chaos she could cause

Still, he enjoyed Nimona's company and his foster parents could tell, so they let the two kids be. It was a struggle to stop Nimona from causing chaos everytime they went to the market, but it was worth it if it meant they'd stay up until late into the night arguing about whether freestyle jazz was good or not, if pineapple belonged on pizza or not and what animals would be the best to have if you were running away from the police

Back to that last point, music (except freestyle jazz) was something that the two enjoyed greatly. Nimona enjoyed the drums, always getting a boost out of watching others go crazy on them. Ballister preferred bass (it may or may not be because he remembered Ambrosius had mentioned it being his favourite instrument once and he was desperately holding on to his old friend)

When Nimona turned 7, their parents' rights were terminated and Vivian and William (their foster parents) adopted them, and he was also adopted not long after because his mother's rights had been terminated as well, so now they were an actual little family

Ballister recieved a bass set on his seventeenth birthday, and Nimona received a drum set about three years later on her tenth birthday. By then, Ballister had gotten a lot better with handling and playing the bass and helped Nimona a little with her drums

When they were respectively 22 and 12, money became thin in their household and, having already been through it, Ballaiter didn't want to go through it again, so he decided he was gonna find a way to help his parents, except this time he knew little jobs at the park or helping the mailman wouldn't cut it

They knew they were talented and they could put their talents to good use, and the idea to create a band was somehow thrown into conversations

Only problem is, Bal is pretty good in technology, but he can't work backstage and on the bass at the same time, they'd need at least a third member

Enter Meredith Blitzmeyer

So I'm gonna stop this here because it's already pretty long, I'm exhausted and I'm pretty sure you can tell I got tired towards the end of this, but oh well.

Nimona's backstory's next.

And again, please add on to this with your ideas if you have any, I like hearing what you guys think.

[that-hippie-user]

hedonism as a means of healing

seems tumblr sh@dowbans posts involving w33d in the tags, so let’s try this again, sft style

yesterday i achieved ego d34th and entered a state of animalistic bliss without fear. i became fully freed of all my worries, and developed a new leese on life

i’ve always been a hedonism in practice, agreeing that pleasure seeking is an ideal way of living when done within reason. no other philosophy is as succinct and easy to argue as “pleasure good, pain bad.” but until now my own depression and self loathing had twisted that mindset into an unhealthy one.

i was content to, as my therapist put it, lie on the ground and be miserable. because it may hurt, but it’s easier than taking risks.

anyone who knows me knows that’s no secret. yes, i’m on disability for legit reasons, i got ptsd, autism, panic anxiety, among several other things which prove i’m not ready for the workplace. that much is true and the diagnosis have already been made. but i can’t deny it’s been a massive weight off my shoulders to not have to work. by the end of highschool, i became so dissolutioned with capitalism that i actually considered joining a group home to get away from my family and not have to be employed. literally i was willing to sacrifice personal freedoms for the sake of a miserable safe space. i’m glad i didn’t go through with it, that would’ve been hellish for me

but the problem with embracing base pleasures and avoiding uncomfortable risks, is that i conditioned myself to waste away into nothing. letting my ai roommate (the youtube algorithm) decide my entertainment all day every day, laying in bed binging leftist video essays, game reviews, and niche indie music as if ANY of that would give personal fulfilment.

i avoided painting despite my legit talent for it, i avoid guitar lessons despite investing in a decent starter guitar and lessons being free, i avoid learning game design despite Unreal Engine 5 being FREE and free assets being given away every month on the Unreal storefront. literally i can buy, and have bought, premade assets that bestow full freedom with minimal effort to make my own games with assets that are easy to rearange and rework, yet i do nothing.

i have this idea in me that i’m some kind of genius, that fame and fortune are already set for me, and that someday in some vague future i’m going to end up beloved by all for my achievements.

and i LOVE getting praise. somehow i get gender euphoria from being called a game designer, or any other fancy title. if i was a beloved novelist, game dev, musician, heck ALL these things, my transition would be complete. i’m beautiful when people recognize my talent.

but that’s just it. i like results, i like when i have something finished and can show it off. but i HATE the learning process. writing comes easy to me because i’ve got years of practice from fanfic and essay writing in highschool. but music? games? art? i don’t have definitive results to tell me i’m good enough to persue those things. writing is easy cuz as long as you can string together some nice words in a good order, the work is good. comprehensive knowledge on english is all you really need as a baseline for writing. do it right and you can SEE genius on the page in front of you. but game design takes programming and troubleshooting, art takes mountains of bad sketches before you see the good stuff, music takes hearing yourself fumble with an instrument until you get something good.

art, in all its forms, is built on a MOUNTAIN of garbage. name any artist you look up to, they’re bound to have some shit work from their early days.

but yesterday, i got st0ned. i let go of all my worries and fears and achieved complete and full embrace of human id, and knew what it truly was to stop second guessing myself. and now i have a new lease on life.

youtube, gone. deleted and replaced with youtube music. i can watch essays on my tv while i eat bekfast. but during the day? when i have stuff i can do? i want ALBUMS. i want albums and nothing BUT albums reccomended to me on the regular. i don’t wanna have to deal with the bullshit of ENDLESS essays to detract me from my work. i may as well be shoving potato chips and twinkies into my gullet till my stomach aches for all the good it would do me. the youtube algorithm is a curse that destroys your ability to create.

i’m still autistic, i still need SOMETHING to occupy my headphones while i do stuff. so i’m getting the app that gives nothing but music.

i was paying for youtube red anyway, i use mobile for the most part and can’t easily install adblock on my phone, so i get premium access to youtube music by default. might as well use it.

my lesson, to whoever may be reading, is thusly: EMBRACE IMPULSE. dare i say, get STOOPID.

i congratulate my romantic partners every time they misspell or mispronounce something. know why? because humans are beautiful and so are our mistakes. if you’re neurodivergent, chances are you’ve spent your whole life being put down by authority figures telling you you “don’t work hard enough” or are “too lazy” dogging on you for every mistake you make. well FAWK THAT.

i say this now because you likely don’t hear it enough. I’M PROUD OF YOU.

let your mistakes flow freely, your genius is somewhere inside of it. embrace your impulses no matter how insane they may sound, and that means embracing whatever hobby or hyperfixation you get that month, LIVE YOUR LIFE WITHOUT HESITATION OR SHAME.

here’s a maxim for you. BE MORE BOLD. because the bigots and morons of the world get stronger every time you beat yourself down for them. YOU are strong. stronger than you know. so prove it.

cringe culture is dead, life is too short to worry about wether your place in it is significant, wether you exist or not means nothing next to what you do with yourself, and you CAN get out of bed and do something, if you address the things that are leaving you miserable in the first place and find passions to follow.

i write this ramble/essay on a keyboard built by me. her name is Eva. Eva is a beautiful purple and green 65% gasket mounted keyboard with ASA keycaps, modded with electrical tape, polyethaline foam, and fitted with custom switches lubed by hand. it is the product of years of research, obsession, craft refinement, and embrace of cringe.

i divined this keyboard in a fanfic i wrote for my own entertainment, and diving headfirst into cringe i built it and made it my main.

her name is Eva because of the Evangeleon Eva-01 keycaps i chose for her, she’s neurodivergent cuz she has LED lights that don’t always function like they should, and she’s trans cuz she’s had trans affirming surgery (mods to the top and bottom of the pcb) and voice training (parts assembled in such a way to achieve a WONDERFUL sound profile)

i made this. i did this through my own hardwork and effort, and it’s paid off.

and now, i’m gonna write my magnum opus, work on making my first game, dedicate the year to learning guitar, listen to LOTS of new music while i do, avoid the brainrot of 24/7 essays, and become the jack of all trades genious i wanna be.

i have chronic clinical depression. i’m in pain. i cry at night and lie in bed wondering if i’m worth anything in this world.

and i. can. do this.

you can to.

[johnsuhsposts]

NCT 127 x Songs that suit them cuz why not

some sucky scenarios by me

~~~

a/n: hiii<3. this is my first ever tumblr post. i just wanted to write this because i needed some inspiration to write smut for some of the members and i didn't know where to start like at all. anyways... this isn't for the faint of heart. i just needed to get this outta my system. like i have so many ideas for fanfics and this is how i'll get my motivation to actually write something decent. anywho, there will be more to come in the future!! so enjoy this meal.

~~~

(tags are at the bottom!)

warnings: explicit shit. that's all. xx

–

TAEYONG - Over Some Wine - RINI ft. Maeta

Taeyong would play this song while he goes down on you. I'm sorry but it's true. He would do everything slow just so you could get impatient but the more you whine the slower he'd go. Everything from touching you slowly, to him fucking you slow or playing with his thrusts to the beat. It's just... wowowwww.

–

JAEHYUN - Touch - Cigarettes After Sex

This song just SCREAMS Jaehyun. The whole vibe would just be a song that would play in the background as he holds you close to his chest and plays with your hair, and he would sing it a little to you, like ugh. He would teasingly kiss your neck under the dim lights of his room while his record player hums in the background, and you'd feel his cold yet wandering hands on your burning skin.

-

DOYOUNG - Thinkin about You - Frank Ocean

All I gotta say is, he would make out with you to this song. Making out would eventually lead to other things but he'd take his time and when you stop kissing to catch your breath, you guys would giggle at each other which is so cute. Though he'd use songs of a different vibe to fuck you, this would be one of the ones you'd hear while you make out with him.

–

JUNGWOO - Messages From The Stars - RAH Band

I'm not sure why I chose this as his song, but it fits him for some reason. Jungwoo, as innocent as he looks, is lowkey freaky as hell; say I'm lying. He'd literally have you seeing stars while he's fingering you to this song and laugh when you moan because he knows he's got you wrapped around his finger. Like, this man is a sadistic masochist and doesn't even try to hide his freaky side when he's with you.

–

HYUCK - Savita (feat. Swae Lee)

Donghyuck is literally a drama queen. But he's also so hot. Like smokin' hot. He would have this song playing while giving you backshots most def. He groans everytime you clench around him and it just makes him fall in love all over again with you. He would continue to fuck you so good that it'd have your legs shaking. He'd have no shame in breeding you either. Seeing you full of his cum was mind-blowing. It made him so hard to see his cum leaking out of you. He literally loved it.

-

YUTA - Rosemary - Deftones

Yuta loves the sound of guitars playing in the background mixing in with your heavenly moans. Half of his playlist would consist of rock music while he rearranges your guts and listens to your sweet sounds, spurring him on further. He enjoys just spending time with you period, and he'd do anything to have you go dumb on his cock with his favorite song playing.

-

MARK - Change Your Life (feat. Jhené Aiko)

Mark is the type to take everything slow. He loves having Kehlani playing from his phone as he's leaving hickeys all over your body and watching you shudder under his fingertips. He gets so hard everytime you whisper to him to fuck the absolute shit out of you. He just likes spending his time with you and doesn't regret any second of it. He would never get used to this.

-

JOHNNY - Daddy Issues - The Neighborhood

Johnny is the whole fucking definition of this song. While fucking the shit out of you with this playing in the background, he'd most definitely become an actual dad- minus the issues. He just loves the way you feel around him, and he'd cum so much just from being inside you, it's just shocking. Johnny would be the best daddy to your babies.

-

Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a like if you enjoyed. More will be published in the future.

(Original work. Please DO NOT copy.)

(Not my original idea but the scenarios do belong to me.)

(feel free to reblog if you'd like!)

[hellishcreep101]

BIKER GIRL

ft. Ken Ryuguji, Baji Keisuke, Mitsuya Takashi x f!reader

content: Toman boys finding out their s/o owns a motorcycle

warnings: none

A/N: Hello, there. This is my first time posting here on an old Tumblr account I haven’t used in years. Honestly, after watching Tokyo Revengers, the show made me remember how much I’ve always wanted a motorcycle of my own growing up (I’m 21 now and still want one). But, y’all know how most families can be about the idea and/or are against their child wanting or even buying their own motorcycle (for good reason cuz people can’t drive for shit sometimes). Anyways, enjoy~

KEN RYUGUJI:

Motorcycle: 2005 Kawasaki Ninja ZX-6RR

You were driving around town one day and just happened to run into Draken at a red light

He didn’t know it was you since you had a helmet on. Honestly, you weren’t even paying attention and didn’t realize he was right next to you

Lowkey thought it was hot that a girl drove a motorcycle

You happened to run into Draken again on the way home at a gas station and he noticed you this time

Pretty surprised that you owned a motorcycle and never told him about it

“Because you never asked…?”

Asked if you wanted to ride with him some time and even offered to fix your bike if it had any problems

Late night motorcycle rides

Got Draken’s tattoo on the side of your bike to match his bike

KEISUKE BAJI:

Motorcycle: 2003 Suzuki GSX-R 1000

You were invited to tag along with Emma at a Toman meeting since she was with Draken and wanted to hang out

Casually rolled up to the meeting and a few members asked you why you were there, then told you to leave or they would scrap your motorcycle for parts

“You dickwads lay a finger on my bike and I’ll make sure you’ll never be able to ride yours again.”

Out of everyone else, Baji was the only one who never knew you owned a motorcycle

Would definitely try to race you if you guys were out and about

Loser would owe the winner lunch

Of course, he’d lose to you most of the time and owe you lunch

If you lost to him, not only did you owe your boyfriend lunch, you’d also pay him with cuddles and kisses

MITSUYA TAKASHI:

Motorcycle: 2003 Suzuki GSF 1200S Bandit

Surprised him by bringing him over to your place and telling him your uncle got it for your birthday

A bit skeptical and worried about you owning a motorcycle after being taught to ride on his for only a month, but is still happy for you cuz he loves you

Is lowkey like your dad

Will bring you to a store and buy you the proper gear when you ride and find you the best highly recommended durable helmet

“Babe…you literally wear your helmet around your neck and almost never wear any gear when you drive.”

“I just want my babygirl to be safe, that’s all. Plus, I think this helmet would look pretty cute on you. It even matched the color of your bike!”

He’s a dork, but you love him anyways and just go with it

Eventually gains enough trust to let you drive without a helmet or protective gear every now and then

Will text you at 3am to ride with him if he couldn’t go to sleep and tell him to stay the night instead of drive home

[autumn-foxfire]

The whole thing about Toorus cover has already been frustrating enough but whats even worse is the amount of ppl that had come out of woodwork to yell 'its not even the first time he sexualized a minor!!!' or 'this is shonen what did you expect??? Other mangaka do it too'

Like you understand that first is just worse and second is no excuse. Like yeah Hori probs wont see any of the outrage and that cover will sell like hotcakes but these are still important conversations to have in fandom about the standards of the way women are treated in manga. Like why no try to build a mood in fandom where mangaka are held to higher expectations instead of just giving up cuz 'its shonen standard'. Drawing cute girls for teen boys to swoon over is one thing, putting an almost completely naked minor on the cover of ur very popular (and publicly sold like i cant imagine how this will look on BOOKSTORE SHELVES) is another. I also see many ppl bitch about like 'oh ppl who complain the most are those who write explicit bakudeku smut' which like, wild conclusion to some to and probably not true but also i think ppl have to understand that influence of a random fic writer in a fandom (even if a popular one) is Very different from influence of a popular mangaka whos work influences the fandom culture anyway. Like there will be ppl who write freaky shit in every fandom but the mangaka very much sets up the bar there i feel.

Like, Witch Hat Atelier is extremly non sexual manga (aside from Qifrey whos sad and wet) and the only sexual content ive encountered for it was between the two adults in it. There IS a creator there that draws minor x adult explicit stuff (as i said freaks in every fandom) but the only reason i know of them is cuz there were warnings from other users like 'hey this person is posting yxz art tagged under the main manga tag, it can be p upseting so make sure to block them!' its a whole different climate for real.

Uhhhh long story short like ppl are allowed to discuss weird stuff a mangaka pulls, thats good for the fandom, why is everyone on twitter so damn ready for this to be their hill to die on lmao all ppl are saying is 'wow pretty gross for Hori to put a naked teenager on the cover' hows that controversial

....long time no rant at foxy i hope i made sense

I completely agree with you, Lucy and I'm mad that the attitude in fandom a lot of the time is "well there's nothing you can do about it so why complain?"

Why aren't we allowed to hold Mangaka, grown men, accountable for the shit they draw and sell to a wide audience. Why can't I be upset that yet again a female body is being exploited by a grown man for sales.

Yes, she's fictional but that's not the issue! It's an issue that it's okay just because she's female and this has been normalized! Imagine the outrage in public that would have caused if it was Deku in such a pose?! It probably wouldn't be allowed to be printed, let alone on the cover of such a popular magazine that is sold to young boys.

It's because people brush it off that it's everywhere that NOTHING WILL CHANGE. Yes, my voice will probably go unheard regardless but at least I'm saying something about it, at least I'm supporting people who are also upset that their bodies are used like this. It's better than ignoring it and the people hurt by Hori's choice (which you'll notice are mostly females).

And the argument that fandom creates content just as bad is null. Firstly, a fandom creator who barely gets over 100 views most of the time will NEVER carry the same influence that a man who draws in over 10s of 1000s. Not to mention, it's deflecting the issue. We're not talking about the creation of porn, we're talking about how Hori has exploited the female body, using a character of his that is a minor, for profit as representation for his work.

My question is WHAT DOES THIS COVER DO. It doesn't represent Hagakure as a character nor it doesn't represent his story of heroism. It exists just for people to, frankly, jerk off over. As a fan of BNHA, I don't want what was once one of my favourite stories represented in such a way! I don't want a character to be reduced to this!

If Hori wanted to draw sexy females for young males, he should have created an ecchi manga, not a shonen one. At least then I wouldn't have to see this bullshit with my own eyes and have it supposed to represent something I used to love.

I'm upset as a female because I'm tired of shonen artists getting away with using girls like this, especially teenage girls.

[retrievablememories]

picture me | johnny (m)

title: picture me pairing: vampire!johnny x black!reader genre: fantasy, romance, smut, fluff, angst summary: you meet a vampire-slash-photographer whose self-identity is increasingly lost to him, and you try to help him find some purpose again. word count: 18.3k warnings: age gap (cuz you know, vampires...but everyone is legal), mentions of discrimination/prejudice based on species, self-identity issues/self-deprecation, general angst, sheltered!reader, mentions of blood and drinking blood, oral sex (female and male receiving), fingering, thigh riding, loss of virginity, corruption kink, use of lube, unprotected sex (do not try at home), creampie, johnny is packing in this fic ok! a/n: today (the 28th) is my birthday, so i’m posting this 100% self-indulgent fic that i’ve been working on between requests since september. it was very hard to get johnny’s characterization right for this fic and idk if i actually succeeded but i’m not revising this for the 1000th time lol. i love this fic with my whole heart tho.

i haven’t seen many vampire fics that really explore the whole “doesn’t show up in mirrors/photos” concept (shout em out if you know em) and...there’s probably a reason for that, this shit is hard af to write and there are some logic issues but whatever 🤪

(the beginning quote is from “criminal,” stan taemin!!)

The moment I fall for you is the end of my innocence

—

He sits in the same coffee shop everyday, like it’s a habit he just can’t break. But who are you to judge? You’re there, too. Watching him like a creep. Or maybe like an interested coffee shop patron, trying to be discreet and failing at it.

He wasn’t hard to notice. You’d never been to this coffee shop before, but your friend recommended it to you mostly for their in-house-made pastries; she claimed the coffee was good, too, but she wasn’t much of a caffeine person. You decided to give it a try when you had time between classes and a moment to breathe, not needing to talk to this advisor or that professor.

You saw him immediately when you walked past the shop window. He was sitting at a table near the front, staring down at his phone with a small cup of coffee sitting in front of him. Its miniscule size was almost comical in contrast to his...everything. He was tall—that much was obvious even with him sitting down—and imposing, wearing all black. His hair was equally pitch-black, his bangs hanging to one side and the rest shaved in an undercut. If you didn’t know much better, you’d think you’d stepped back into 2007 and landed dead in the middle of the emo craze.

He was interesting to look at. Not in a bad way, but in a way you don’t see very often. Deciding to walk in before you made yourself look totally weird staring at him through the window, you’d stepped into the coffee shop, the small bell dinging above your head. A barista greeted you at your entrance. Out of the corner of your eye you saw the man, to your left, still looking at his phone.

You’d given your order and waited for it to be ready before taking it to a table on the other side of the shop. From that vantage point, you had a good view of the man. You tried to keep your eyes on your food and your phone, not wanting to spend the whole time looking at him, but it was a little hard not to.

When you took a bite of your pastry, you quickly discovered it was just as delicious as your friend promised—probably even more so. You made a noise of approval before you could catch yourself, and you glanced around the shop in embarrassment to see if anyone nearby noticed. Didn’t seem like it, at first. But then you glanced over to the man again only to find him looking at you below his eyelashes with a small, amused smile on his lips. He only kept his gaze on you for a second before returning to his phone.

What? You hadn’t thought you were that loud. How did he hear you from over there, and above the noise of the café? Even now, you remember how embarrassed you’d felt, ducking your head and looking away.

The man finished his coffee not long after that; he slipped his phone into his pocket and stood up. You glanced up only momentarily when he stood, but your eyes soon slid back to his form when you noticed something odd. On the wall behind him, there was a big oval mirror sitting pretty in its elaborate silver frame. He stood just a few feet in front of it, yet there was no reflection of him. The only thing you could see was the other side of the café reflected back, with another man sitting alone at a booth enjoying his own coffee. The tall man’s reflection was nowhere to be found.

That was when you figured he must be a vampire.

You’d never met one before. At least, you didn’t think you had until then.

Unbeknownst to you, vampires are notoriously able to blend in more easily than most other supernatural beings—until faced with situations like that one in the coffee shop. Ultimately, there’s no faking a reflection no matter how hard you try to remain inconspicuous.

The man had caught your eye again. Thinking back on it, you aren’t sure of what expression you had on your face or what it must’ve looked like to him. It must’ve been something akin to surprise, though; you weren’t quick enough to disguise your reaction at his lack of a reflection.

He gave you another smile, though it felt sadder than the previous one, and walked out of the store, the small bell on the door ringing at his departure. He disappeared down the street in a swirl of black fabric, almost like something out of a movie, and you watched him retreat until you could see him no more.

You scraped your index fingernail over the wood table your food was resting on, your mind whirring with all kinds of thoughts. Your interest was piqued. And yet there was no way for you to know if you’d see him again.

—

At least, that’s what you believed then. Luckily for you, your subsequent visits to the coffee shop have proven fruitful; the strange, tall vampire is there more often than not, always in the same spot in front of that same mirror. Sometimes he reads a book, other times he looks at his phone, and other times still, he stares out the window at the passersby.

He acknowledges you whenever he sees you, either with a nod or a smile. You’ve never spoken to each other, though you know what his voice sounds like from hearing him talk to the baristas. It’s a nice voice, rich and handsome like him, and you find yourself gradually wanting to hear it spoken in your direction. But you aren’t sure how to talk to him, or what you should say.

There’s a lot you want to know about him and his vampirism, but you don’t think it’s fair to bombard him with questions right after meeting him—if you could somehow work up the nerve for that first step.

When you were young, your parents made sure to keep you safely sheltered away from anyone who could potentially be a vampire or any other nonhuman being. This game kept up until you went to college, where they could no longer “shield” you. Because of their lifelong fear and disgust, your knowledge of nonhuman beings is scarce and mostly inaccurate.

The man’s skin isn’t deathly pale like you’ve heard others say vampires always are. It’s nicely tanned, in fact. Nor are his eyes red, or his canine teeth abnormally sharp. And obviously, he has no aversion to sunlight, otherwise he wouldn’t be out here during the day. The only visible marker of his inhuman nature is his lack of a reflection. Maybe he’s not a vampire at all? Maybe he’s another type of being entirely. That only makes you more curious.

It’s not rare to come across supernatural beings, but they only make themselves known if they want to, or if it’s imperative to their survival. Most of them would rather quietly assimilate amongst humans or stay safe and hidden within their own communities. Humans are still too judgmental towards those who are different from themselves for nonhumans to feel truly safe or welcomed—at least not on a global scale. Small pockets of communities forged with human allies are helpful and sometimes vital for survival, but not always enough.

These small tidbits of information cycle through your mind as September gradually bleeds into October. You continue watching the thoughtful man in the coffee shop and making up your own secret theories about his life. You haven’t told anyone from school about this, because you already know the reaction would be nothing short of awful. Your parents would only let you go to school at the one university in the city that explicitly didn’t allow supernatural beings; it goes without saying that your classmates don’t view them in a positive light.

Part of you feels like you might be breaking the unspoken rules just by being at this coffee shop all the time and allowing this man to take up space in your mind. But who will know what’s inside your thoughts except you?

One day, your friend decides to accompany you on your lunch break, finally stopping by the café she recommended to you. The man is already there, as usual, and he smiles slightly when you and your friend enter. She doesn’t catch this, too busy wondering what she’s going to get off the menu today.

“I haven’t been here in forever, I wonder if Sam still remembers me?” You know Sam to be one of the baristas there, having read it on their name tag before.

“I doubt there are very many people who’d forget you,” you answer.

When you both have your food, you take a booth farther away from where the man sits, though you can still see him easily from this distance. Your friend settles into the seat in front of you.

You try to keep things inconspicuous throughout your conversation, but you must glance over at him one too many times, because your friend eventually raises her eyebrows questioningly. She turns around in her seat, making it obvious that she’s looking, and you groan as you keep your eyes in the opposite direction towards the window.

“Who’s that guy you keep staring at?”

You cough. “No one.”

“He’s obviously someone. Someone interesting enough to hold your attention.”

“I don’t know the man,” you say curtly. You shuffle your napkin and spoon aimlessly, your nervousness rising. What if he has some kind of enhanced hearing and can hear what you’re saying right now? He definitely heard you make that noise that first day.

Your friend looks at the ceiling and blows air out of her mouth. “Whatever. I’ll find out who he is sooner or later.”

You take a sip of your drink and lower your voice to just above a whisper. Although you want to leave the subject alone, you’re curious about one thing. “You mean you’ve never seen him before? This café was your hangout spot before it was mine.”

She shrugs. “No, I think I would’ve remembered someone as...visually striking as him. Why are we whispering, anyway? It’s not like he can hear us above all this noise.”

You think to yourself, I’m not so sure about that, but you merely shake your head.

You spend a few more minutes talking before movement catches the corner of your eye. At this point, it’s practically a reflex for you to look in that direction. You try not to, but your friend has already caught you and turns her head to spy, too. The man has gotten up for whatever reason to say something to one of the baristas at the counter. Your gaze darts back to your cup after you’ve gotten your eyeful, but you’re nearly startled into dropping the cup at your friend’s gasp.

Oh. The mirror.

She grips the edge of the table. “He’s a vampire…?”

You don’t know what to say to that, and you feel oddly guilty for some reason you can’t pinpoint. Like you’ve been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. “U-um, I don’t know…?” You can hardly finish your thought before your friend is scrambling to grab her purse. She hurriedly stands out of the seat, tugging your arm as she does.

“Come on. We shouldn’t stay here.”

“Are you serious—?” You feel embarrassed heat rip through your body at her display; some other café-goers are already looking at her curiously, probably wondering what the hell she’s doing. She tugs more incessantly, and you already know she’ll get louder if you don’t get up now and defuse the situation. Leaving your half-full cup behind, you grab your things and follow her out of the store, keeping your eyes firmly on her back as you pass by the man. You don’t know if he looked up, or if he could sense the reason for your sudden departure—you’ve never left the shop before him until now—and you don’t want to know.

Neither of you talk until you’re well down the street and around the corner. “That wasn’t necessary,” you huff, your hands still sweating from the spiked adrenaline at suddenly being rushed out.

“Yes it was! We all know bloodsuckers and all these other weirdos are dangerous...even if they think they’re being well-intentioned by living among humans. I hope you don’t go back there.”

“Whatever...you’re the one who told me to visit the café,” you mumble, unable to muster up the energy to say anything more. You both know very well she can’t tell you where to go, but you hope she doesn’t mention this to your other acquaintances on campus and make it into a bigger deal than it is.

When you part ways with your friend and get back to your dorm, you realize you’re missing your planner. The planner with all your upcoming assignment dates in it. You sigh heavily and roll your eyes, knowing it must’ve happened in the chaos of her pulling you out of the shop. Maybe if you’re really lucky, it’ll still be there, picked up by an employee or simply left untouched. Knowing how many people go through that café in a day, you’re not optimistic.

For the first time since visiting the quaint little shop, you’re not anticipating returning and seeing the man again, afraid he’ll ignore you or look at you with distaste—like you’re just another unsympathetic human. And would he be wrong to think that? You’re only strangers to each other.

You try not to dwell on it too hard when you go to bed that night.

When lunch rolls around the next day, you hesitate a couple times on your way to the café, not wanting to show up. However, the desire to see what became of your planner pushes you forward. You don’t even have to stay; if it’s there, you’ll take it and leave. If it’s not—oh well. You can still leave. It’s not hard to buy another.

He’s there when you arrive, of course.

He nods at you when you step inside, though he doesn’t smile as he’s become accustomed to doing. You nod back, but you can’t ignore the renewed rush of embarrassment you feel. You linger at the entrance for a second longer, wondering if maybe you should say something. Apologize, even? But what if he really didn’t know what was going on yesterday? Then how odd would you look for bringing it up?

You decide to move on and go back to the booth to search for your belongings, but his voice stops you. This takes you by surprise.

“Did you come back for this?”

You turn to him to see him holding your planner in his hand. You stare, momentarily dumbfounded, and almost shake your head before realizing it is yours. Definitely the same sticker-covered, scribbled-all-over planner.

“Oh—y-yeah. Thank you.” He passes it to you, though you notice he’s very careful not to let your hands touch. You’re a little perplexed about why, but then the rumors about vampires having cold skin pop up in your mind. Maybe that’s actually true, too. “I usually don’t lose things so easily, but…” Your voice falters, and you don’t know how to finish that sentence without bringing up the other day’s events.

He doesn’t seem to mind as he replies, “It happens to all of us sometimes...I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my camera.”

“You take pictures?” you ask, a tinge of curiosity in your voice.

He nods. “I take photos of anything that interests me. Which often ends up being everything I see. I work at an art museum, so I guess having an eye for photography comes in handy.” He hesitates for a second, then says, “I could show you some?” He waves his phone, indicating that the photos are there.

“Oh, sure.” The man gestures for you to sit down in the empty chair in front of him, and you do so. He swipes through his phone a few times until he settles on what he’s searching for, then puts the device on the table and slides it to you. You lean forward to look at it and see that it displays an album full of pictures, simply titled with the emoji “🌌.”

“It’s okay, you can pick it up.” He chuckles. You pick up the phone and swipe through the numerous pictures. Many of them are nighttime shots of the moon, trees, half-empty streets, darkened storefronts. Others depict nature scenes at sunset or the beginning of sunrise, with the sky colored in darker hues. No matter what the subject matter is, they all look to be professionally taken, even for an iPhone.

“Wow, these are nice. You said you work at a museum…are you a professional photographer, too?”

The man shrugs, and as you look at his slight grin, you realize you still don’t know his name. “Something like that, I guess.”

“You should be if you aren’t already,” you say, looking through more photos. “I’m sure you’d make a lot of money.” When you reach the end of the album, you go to hand the phone back to him but realize he’ll probably want to avoid contact again, so you slide it across the table. He takes it and slips it into his pocket.

“I don’t really care about the money,” he responds. “I just like it because…” He trails off, unsure how to convey his thoughts, wondering if he should even get that personal with a stranger. “It...helps me pass the time.” He’s not quite satisfied by that answer—it doesn’t feel like enough—but it’s all he can think of on the spot.

“Well, that’s nice too. It’s always good to have a hobby just for the sake of it...not for anyone’s benefit but your own.”

“Do you have one?” He takes a sip of his coffee. You don’t expect to be asked about your own interests, and your mind goes blank as you try to think. Why does this always happen when I’m asked these kinds of questions?

“Um, just different things here and there.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” he says, amused.

“It’s not that, I just don’t have a ton of hobbies or anything. I’m kinda boring, so…” And wasn’t allowed to do much of anything until I left home.

“Being boring isn’t always a bad thing.”

You lean back in your seat, shrugging slightly. “Maybe if you see it that way. My friends don’t.”

“Would one of those happen to be the same one who dragged you out of here yesterday?” He speaks casually, putting his cheek in his hand. You slump further down in your seat, feeling exposed. Of course there was no escaping this topic. He notices your mood shift and shakes his head. “You don’t have to feel so bad about it. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.”

“I’m sorry for all that mess,” you murmur, unable to meet his eyes. “Really, I am.” You stand up from the seat, gripping your planner. “Thanks again for this. I don’t want to take up any more of your time today.” You’re about to turn to leave when he speaks again.

“You don’t have to be afraid of me, you know…you could talk with me whenever you feel like it.” That’s the last thing you expect him to say. His voice takes on a quality that’s...not what you’d call begging, but it’s clear he’d enjoy some company. Maybe he’s doing this for your benefit as well as his own, because it’s obvious how your eyes always stray to his little corner.

You nod, giving him an apprehensive smile. “I’ll keep that in mind, then.”

The rest of your day after that is uneventful, full of classes and unexciting lectures, but you keep thinking of one thing. Though he appears to enjoy his time in the coffee shop, how lonely must he really be? There’s never anyone else around him. His eyes when he’d spoken to you held a certain sadness.

And you still didn’t get his name.

You don’t see him for the next few days, mostly because you aren’t at the café. You’ve gotten busy with a new project and haven’t had as much time to return to the coffee shop, mostly spending your time in the library instead.

When you finally get a chance to buy lunch outside campus, he’s not there. This disappoints you more than you thought it would, and you wonder what his absence means. Did he just decide not to come today, or has he found another place to frequent? You kind of hope the second option isn’t the case, though you also don’t know why you’re even caring this much about where someone else goes on their own time.

You get a drink to-go this time, deciding you’ll just take it back to the library and continue your studies there. The entryway bell rings behind you as you wait for your order to be made, though you don’t pay it much attention; half of your mind is still occupied with what you need to do next for your project.

When you turn around to leave the shop with your drink, you’re surprised to see the man standing there, waiting to get his own coffee. “You’re late,” you blurt out. You immediately feel silly for saying it, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

He gives you a slight smile. “Yes, I am.” Then he spots your to-go cup. “Are you leaving?”

“Uh, well,” you glance at your drink, “are you staying?”

He nods as he steps up to the counter. “Yeah, I’m staying. My offer’s still open, by the way.”

Right. The offer to talk to him sometimes. You’re tempted to stay awhile and talk to him now, though you don’t even know what about. Your project? That’s boring. Him being a vampire? Too invasive. Your school? Also boring, and probably not the best idea considering which one you attend.

“I...think I’ll stay, then.”

You both sit at his usual table, with you grinning nervously.

“How are you? I noticed you hadn’t showed up in a while,” he asks, settling back in his chair.

“Yeah, I’m doing fine, I’m just busy with school stuff. These teachers don’t give us a break.” You laugh a little, shaking your head.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” He grins. “I never did go to college, but I’ve always heard others talk about how tiring it is. And expensive.”

“They’re right.” You roll your eyes at the thought of it. “But I guess it’ll all be worth it in the end. Maybe. If the economy isn’t in the toilet.” The sound of his laughter is nice, and you’re glad you could make him laugh. “Also, I’m sorry—I don’t know how this flew under the radar, but I don’t know your name.”

He shrugs. “Nothing to apologize for, really. It’s Johnny.”

You tell him your name, too. “Since I haven’t seen you lately...how are you doing?” You circle your hands around your to-go cup, feeling its warmth transfer to your palms as you await his answer.

“I think I can say I’m the same as always—which is fine. Life slows down a little when you have a lot of time on your hands.” Johnny’s lips quirk up at that, and you think he might be referring to his vampirism. Your eyes widen a little.

“What’s that like? Having so much free time. I wouldn’t know much about that right now, but…”

“Maybe not as pleasant as you think it’d be. But there’s good in it. Like coming and going when you want to. And you can take up whatever interests you want without worrying as much about busy schedules.” You already know he’s alluding to his photography. “I do like having a job, though…it gives me structure.”

“You’re probably right…I wouldn’t know the first thing to do if I had a ton of free time…like, which hobbies to pick up first.” You consider how you initially thought about him being lonely and wonder if that’s one of the unpleasant parts he hinted to. “Speaking of hobbies...did you take any new pictures lately?”

Johnny nods. “Most of them were on my camera this time, but some are on my phone. You want to see?”

“Yes!”

Johnny lets you have his phone again to look through the newest pictures he’s taken. There are varying shots of car-lined streets and storefronts, some of the latter decorated with glowing jack-o-lanterns for the onset of October. A pigeon sits on a streetlamp during the daytime, holding its head up like royalty upon a throne. In another image, a stray cat and her kittens huddle in an alley, the babies grooming each other while the mother looks quizzically at the camera.

You recognize a few photos from the nearby park; he also had some pictures of it the last time you looked. “Do you go to this park often?”

“Yeah, it offers some great shots. It’s especially pretty if you go just before the sun sets...the light filters through the tree leaves and it looks kinda like a kaleidoscope.”

“Ah, I’ve never seen that before…” you say a little sadly. Your parents didn’t much like taking you to that park when you were younger because of how far it is from their house. And since living away from them, you’ve only been able to visit it during the early hours of the day—like now.

Johnny looks closely at you. “Would you ever want to?”

“If it’s as pretty as you say, I should.” You slide the phone back across the table to him, not catching what he’s trying to hint at as you keep talking. “Do you go anywhere else besides here and the park?” As soon as you say it, you realize this might sound a little rude and try to make a quick save. “I mean, do you have any other favorite places? I’m not trying to say you don’t have a life or anything!”

Johnny laughs at your slight panic at thinking you’ve offended him. “Nothing too out-there, I guess. The bookstore, the photography store, the theater. Pretty much all the same places others visit.”

“The movies are fun.” You trace your finger across the table’s surface, thinking of your own favorite spots. “Me and my friends like to go downtown. There are a lot of cute little shops down there…”

You and Johnny talk for a while longer, and you almost forget you have to get back to campus until you glance at the wall clock. “Oh no, I’m gonna be late.” Flustered, you jump out of your seat and crumple your empty cup. “Sorry to cut it short, Johnny, but I gotta go back now.”

He smiles good-naturedly and nods, his dark bangs sweeping his face. “I understand.” As he watches you gather your things and get ready to go, he speaks up again. “Actually, if you want to see the park at sunset sometime...I could show you? It’s up to you.”

You pause, suddenly curious at the thought of seeing him outside the café. In the back of your mind, you feel a little paranoid and afraid of your friend or maybe even your parents seeing you there with him, though the latter is extremely unlikely. It’s hard to shake that familiar fear of judgment and ostracism when it’s been ingrained in you since childhood. “That sounds good. If it’s not any trouble for you…?”

“Never too much trouble. I usually get off around 4 on Fridays, just before the sun sets at 5. Unless the weekend is better for you?”

You nod, holding your books tighter to your chest. “Friday will work for me! I’ll meet up with you then.”

Johnny smiles. “Great; I’ll see you then, kind stranger.”

Maybe he says it to be joking or quirky, to sound like one of those characters in a movie or drama, but it makes you smile. Nodding to him again, you step out of the café and rush towards the direction of your school. Johnny watches as you retreat, your roles reversed.

You meet up with Johnny at the park that Friday, just as you both agreed. You spot him sitting on a bench near the park entrance, waiting on your arrival.

Johnny’s wardrobe is still mostly dark, but it’s a little lighter than usual today. He’s changed things up with a white polo shirt underneath his black sweater. Seeing him dressed like this, you wonder what he’d be like as a student, or maybe even a university professor.

He stands up when you get closer, hearing the sound of your footsteps approaching and turning towards you. His camera sits safely around his neck, the lens catching in the light of the sun.

When you stop in front of him, he smiles at you warmly. You try to relax into the genuineness of that smile and ignore the still-lingering traces of anxiety about being out with him. “Hi, Johnny!”

“Hi, Y/N.”

You and Johnny walk around the park as he looks for something interesting to shoot. He snaps a few shots of the trees, fallen leaves, bushes, and other natural elements along the way, though it seems like he hasn’t quite captured what he wants yet.

“Are you looking for something specific?” you ask, peering at his camera as he holds it in his hands.

“There’s an aster bush around here,” he responds. “It hadn’t fully bloomed yet the last time I was here, but it should be open by now.”

It turns out he’s right as you two finally come up on the bush. Its blooms make bright purple smudges against the rest of the landscape, which is a monochrome red-and-orange palette from the leaves changing their hues. You watch as he comes up to the bush carefully and quietly, like it’s a small animal he’s afraid to scare away. Johnny is very attentive while taking pictures of it, always conscious of getting the correct lighting and securing the exact angles he wants to capture. “Compassionate” is not a word you’d usually associate with the act of taking photos, but that’s the only word you can currently think of to describe this display. He treats the flowers with a peculiar sense of respect, as if they’re a human subject.

After he’s gotten the images he wants, Johnny offers you his camera to take a few of your own. You’re anxious about holding his prized possession and are afraid you’ll find a way to mess something up, but he promises you it’s fine. You take a few shots of the sky, still with a few wisps of clouds left, and a nearby tree that’s almost stripped bare of leaves. You know the shots will probably end up blurry from your unsteady hands, but Johnny tells you you’ve done a good job anyway.

Something about getting his approval makes a pleasant warmth settle in your chest.

As you both walk down a long trail, you finally ask him, “Sorry if this is invasive, but I was wondering how old are you? Like...as a vampire.” Your voice becomes hesitant on the word vampire, even though you’re the only two in this part of the park.

He chuckles a bit. “I’m 85.” You try not to look surprised. “I’ve been turned for 60 years. Old, but probably a little younger than most vampires you’d think of.”

“Kinda,” you say quietly. “They’re always like 2,000 years old in movies.”

“The ancient vampires are purebloods. They keep to themselves and avoid mingling with turned vampires, let alone humans. Some people are even skeptical if they exist. Supposedly, they use humans as servants or blood banks.” He gives you an apologetic look after saying this, though you don’t really know why. You don’t get the feeling he’d do that to another being, but he is still mostly a stranger... “At least, that’s what my mentor told me.”

Your curiosity is roused at all this new knowledge. “You had a mentor?”

“An older woman. She was also a turned vampire.”

“Turned, huh…”

Johnny nods, toeing at a small pile of leaves on the ground. “She went away eventually, said people are meant to pass in and out of each other’s lives. I don’t think she ever had intentions to stay. But I enjoyed her company while she was there.” Johnny stops at a short bridge above a small manmade lake, and you both look down into the water.

You place your arms on the bridge railing so you can lean over more. You notice he doesn’t have a reflection in the water, and this startles you more than you expected. Before meeting this strange man, you’d never thought much before about why vampires don’t have mirror reflections, but it seems even more unnatural to see this phenomenon happen again in the lake.

You find yourself looking at the side of Johnny’s face, trying to read his expression as he peers into the water’s depths. He turns to you, and you flinch at being caught staring, but he only smiles slightly. You force yourself to form words and break the silence. “What—what did you do after she left?”

“Lived on my own. She taught me a lot of things to help me live independently as a vampire, so it wasn’t too difficult to get along without her...but emotionally? A different story.”

“You sound like you had a very close relationship with her.”

“Yes. Quite close…” Johnny’s tone suggests something deeper, more intimate than a regular friendship. You feel a bit astounded at the idea of him having an older, more worldly lover while being only a newly changed vampire. Your reaction makes you feel foolish, inexperienced. Still, you can’t help imagining a scenario of them living in a big, dark mansion somewhere in the mountains, rolling around in a bed with bloody red sheets—and maybe drinking from the occasional naïve, misled human hiker.

Strangely, too, you feel jealous at his freedom, his ability to go wherever and do whatever with whoever he wants without overbearing relatives always just a step away.

You continue staring at the ripples as they circle in and out of the water’s surface, the motions triggered by a small orange leaf falling into the lake. You’re unsure of what could be the right thing to say to his admission, so you blurt out whatever comes to mind next. “You said she taught you to live independently as a vampire. What does that mean? How do you get...you know. Blood?”

“There are ways,” Johnny says cryptically, which makes your own blood rush faster. He turns to you with a grin, like he finds your naivety endearing. “It’s nothing drastic, though. At least, not for me. I never drink directly.” It does make sense that there are other ways to drink human blood without taking it straight from their necks, though you can only speculate on which methods he prefers. “Drinking directly is lethal, and often not worth it.”

“So, it’s true that vampire bites can kill?” You watch as Johnny pushes himself off the railing, and you follow him as he continues down the trail.

“It’s not false. But it’s never really that simple.” Johnny’s answer is mysterious, and he doesn’t elaborate further. He turns to you. “Where did you hear that, anyway? Your university? The one that bans all nonhuman beings?”

“You know where I go to school?” You feel embarrassed, thinking he must assume you’re like the rest of the student body who hates nonhumans but still nurtures an odd obsession with them.

“I saw it on your notebook one day, the school insignia. I’m not a stalker, by the way.” You laugh only slightly, and Johnny seems crestfallen when he notices your apprehension. “I don’t care if you attend school there. Just because you do doesn’t mean you think the way they do.”

“You must think I’m some weird opportunist, then,” you mutter, heat finding its way to your face. “Asking you all these questions...I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think anything except that you’re a pleasant person to be around.”

You’re quiet for a moment, letting the compliment sink in. You think you should probably give him one of his own, but before you can, he says, “Look. The sun’s already setting.” Just like he told you before, the dying rays filter through the tree leaves and create impossibly intricate patterns on your surroundings. You hold your hand out and watch the latticework that the leaves create dance over your open palm.

You let Johnny take a picture of your hand with the tree shadows flitting over it, but you shy away from the camera’s lens when he points it higher to your face, a questioning look in his eyes. “Maybe some other day.”

You walk around for a while longer until the sky bleeds into a dark purple. “I guess I should be going soon. It’s getting late,” you say, though you’re also a bit sad over your evening with Johnny meeting its end.

“Do you want me to take you back to campus? You shouldn’t walk back alone. My car is just in the parking lot there.” He points to it where it sits in the distance.

You look at Johnny with a confused gaze. “But you can’t come on campus. They have...things to ward off vampires.” Like gates made of pure silver, displaying intimidating, elaborately designed crosses. You don’t know if any of it actually works, but it’s probably better not to find out.

Johnny doesn’t seem bothered by this information. ���Yeah…I know. I can just drop you at the street across from the main gate.”

You hesitate a moment longer but eventually agree. He is right; you’d rather not walk alone at night, and getting a ride with him is better—and cheaper—than calling for a rideshare.

The ride to the college is fairly quiet, with the radio filling the silence. It’s not an awkward type of stillness, at least, which you’re grateful for.

As he said he would, Johnny parks on the side of the street that sits in front of the main gate, just outside the immediate vicinity of the campus. The metal crosses stare back at the both of you, glinting in the light of nearby streetlamps. You turn your face away from them, biting the inside of your cheek.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Thanks again for the ride. I guess I’ll see you back at the shop next week, yeah?” Again, you get the urge to say something, anything, to remedy or cover up the foreboding source of discomfort sitting just in front of you, but there’s no one sentence you could say to wipe away decades of hatred.

Johnny nods and smiles, and still he shows no signs of being disturbed. He doesn’t cast another glance at the gates. “It’s no problem. See you then.”

You get out of his car and cross the street to get inside the gate; it’s early enough in the evening for it to still be open. Any later, and it’d be locked shut to even humans. You risk another wave at him before turning back around and heading for your dorm, which sits a few yards from the entrance. Johnny lets the car idle on the side of the street until you’ve walked into the dorm, and only then does he drive away.

It doesn’t take very long for you to warm up to Johnny inviting you to other places. The next time you and him go somewhere other than the coffee shop, you accompany him as he buys some film for his camera on one of his free days. You don’t know a ton about photography, so you’re more than happy to let him tell you all about how film works and why he buys certain kinds over others.

The place he frequents is a specialty photography shop that still carries older varieties of film—ones that fell out of favor once digital cameras became a thing. The store looks noticeably old, but not in an unkempt or decrepit way. You can tell it’s been around for a while, holding all kinds of history in its structure.

“There are so many different types.” You look over a shelf of film rolls in awe. “How can you tell them all apart?”

Johnny laughs. “It gets easier if you’ve been doing it for a while…or a few decades.” He picks one up from a row of them and holds it in front of you. “35mm is the most common type, which is what you’ll find the most of when you look through any film shop. That’s what I use.”

He sets that one down and walks past another display of film rolls, gesturing toward them. “There’s also 120 and 220 film formats here…those work for even older cameras, sorta like ones you’d see in 1930s movies. You can even turn a film camera into a digital camera.”

You nod to his words, looking over what seems like millions of film canisters—and occasionally glancing at the lines of his broad back as he walks ahead of you. “You should teach a photography class. I’d be more willing to listen to you than some old professor.”

Johnny snickers. “Huh, I don’t know. Not a professor, but I am old.”

You both continue walking through the store, with Johnny giving you the rundown on every item that catches your interest.

Like the coffee shop, there’s another mirror in this store. Many more, actually—there are whole rows of them on a series of shelves, all in varying sizes and shapes. They create a fragmented view of your form as you stand in front of them, though you don’t initially realize you’ve crossed into their glassy line of sight. You’re busier with looking at a roll of film Johnny’s handed you. When you notice your reflection shifting in your peripheral view, you look up.

Johnny’s only a few feet behind you, and you know this because you can hear him and feel his presence. Yet, it’s strange to see yourself as the only person in the aisle.

Eventually, he notices what’s got you preoccupied and comes to stand next to you. Though you see him clearly in front of your eyes, there’s no trace of him in the glass reflections.

Suddenly, you’re hit with the aching loneliness of it—how it must feel to never see yourself. You can see him with your own eyes, and so can everyone else who encounters him, but what must it be like to be virtually invisible outside of other peoples’ perceptions of you? You almost feel utterly alone even though you know he’s beside you.

Noticing your sudden melancholy, Johnny takes the film roll from your hand and tosses it up in the air, making it look like it’s moving on its own in the mirrors. He means to lighten the mood, if only to see the cloudiness disappear from your expression. It works to a degree, though you still feel downcast deep below.

“It’s not good to dwell on it.” Johnny presses the film roll back into your hand, still carefully avoiding skin contact. He has no problem meeting your eyes, though, and you shyly look away from his dark gaze after a few prolonged moments.

“You’re right,” you say softly, turning back to the aisle and away from the rows of mirrors.

—

You and Johnny head to the coffee shop after your trip to the photography store. Once you get your drinks and sit down in your usual spot, he speaks suddenly. “Something’s wrong.”

Your eyes dart around the shop, thinking he’s referring to one of the patrons around you. “What? What’s wrong?” Your voice comes out a bit panicked. He doesn’t want to laugh, but he does.

“No, I mean...something’s wrong with you. You seem far away.”

“Oh…” You wonder if you should even bring it up and potentially ruin the mood. But you have been curious for weeks now, and you don’t think you’ll get a trustworthy answer by asking anyone other than him. “I just...I was wondering why you don’t have a reflection. I know it’s a vampire thing, but I’ve never really known why...you don’t need to answer, though. Like you said, it’s not good to dwell on it.”

Johnny makes a motion like a half-nod once your question is revealed, his eyes darting to the window and back to the table. His fingers trace across the rim of his coffee cup, a thoughtful but stormy expression on his face, and you’re afraid you shouldn’t have reawakened this topic. “You know...being undead means being in two places at once.”

“Two places?”

“We are caught between the living world and the world of the dead. Something that’s not really supposed to exist, yet…” He’s quiet for a moment. “You can only imagine the kind of issues and side effects that can cause. One of them being no reflection.”

“I never thought of it like that,” you say. “Two planes of existence...what does it mean to be a part of the world of the dead?”

“Our blood runs slower. Ours is more like sludge compared to yours. The heart beats only a few times per minute. Don’t need to eat or sleep, either, though many vampires still do.” Johnny pauses. “How much do you really know about vampires?”

“I don’t know much about any of this...stuff.” You gesture vaguely, meaning all supernatural beings and not just vampires. “No one ever told me these things growing up, and it’s hard to tell truth from fiction at school. People will say anything, horrible things, and you just take it at face value, I guess. I never really thought to try to find the reality.” You sigh. “Sometimes I feel like I’m the only person in the world who doesn’t know anything.”

“Learning is good. You can always learn. I don’t think it’s too late for that.” Johnny’s voice is a little lighter. “Anyway, everyone’s knowledge is different. Sometimes it slips my mind that everyone doesn’t know what it’s like to live as a vampire, though the world never lets me forget for long.”

“Then…do you hang out with other vampires who do understand? Or…maybe humans who can sympathize?”

Johnny gives a humorless laugh. “Most humans are hesitant to interact with us, if not full-out terrified or disgusted. At the museum...it’s less pronounced because all the employees already know. They…tolerate it. But every time someone else realizes what I am and doesn’t take well to it?” He shakes his head, acts like he’ll say something else, and then abandons that line of thought. “And do you really think I’d want to spend my free time around other bloodsuckers?” He tries to play it off as a joke, but you’re more inclined to think he actually feels that way. You can only nod, feeling bad for him but also a little disturbed by his view of his own kind.

“I think you’re a kind person, and you being a vampire doesn’t affect that,” you say hesitantly. “I like talking to you. And even if you feel that way about other vampires, I…wish you wouldn’t feel that about yourself.”

Johnny remains quiet, but he nods. You wonder about the struggle occurring in his mind. The only outward hint of his uneasy state shows in the furrow of his eyebrows and the tense set of his mouth. With his right hand resting on the table, he rubs his fingers together absentmindedly, like he’s analyzing your words. You have a sudden and startling desire to hold his hand, to twine your fingers together and feel his skin on yours for the first time, but you don’t dare cross that boundary.

He finally replies with, “You’re much kinder to me, an old and bitter vampire, than you probably should be. But maybe that’s a good thing about you.”

“I think it’s a good thing,” you agree, your voice low. “Every living being needs companionship. Good companionship, anyway.”

The corners of Johnny’s lips shift in something reminiscent of a smile. He turns a rueful gaze once again to the window, lifting his coffee cup to his lips. “Aren’t I lucky to have yours, then.”

On a day when you don’t have as many responsibilities to juggle, you visit Johnny at the art museum after his working hours are up. He’d already invited you to come to the museum any day you felt like so he could show you around. 

When you get there, he’s waiting in the visitor’s lobby for you, framed by receding sunlight as the day starts fading into night. He looks the same as he always does when you see him in the café on his lunch breaks, but within the context of the museum, he suddenly seems more…alive? Vibrant? He could’ve served as a muse for one of the many statuesque, perfectly proportional sculptures in the museum, and you’d never know anything different.

Your heartbeat increases at the sight of him, just enough to be outside the normal range.

“Hi, Johnny. I hope your day went well?”

“It was fine, nothing too crazy. But it’s better now.” And he smiles at you, sincere enough to make your heart ache.

“Oh—that’s great.” That’s it? You scold yourself internally, but you aren’t quick enough to think up a witty reply to his comment before the topic shifts.

“Is there anything in particular you wanna see first?” Johnny asks, leading you further into the museum.

“I guess I hadn’t thought too deeply about that…do you have a favorite exhibit? I want to see what you like.”

Johnny smiles faintly. “Let’s see, then.”

The dark-haired man takes you to a section of the museum filled with oil paintings, all by one singular artist. At first, all you see is varying shades of black and gray and red, with some white splashed in between. When you begin looking at the paintings more closely, it’s easier to see that each one depicts a different scene of chaos. Maybe a sort of organized chaos, but disarray all the same.

There is one picture that holds a clearer subject than the rest. One of the oil paintings is of a vampire—obvious by the fangs—with bloodied lips and anguished eyes. You pause when you catch sight of it, your steps stilled by the sheer frenzy in the other being’s painted eyes. Their hands reach out for the viewer as if begging for an escape that can only be provided by whoever’s observing.

“This one was painted by a fellow vampire, you know. The same one who did all the rest of the paintings in this gallery,” Johnny explains. He points at the placard next to the painting that displays the artist’s name and a short description of the piece. The word fellow comes off his tongue wrapped in cynicism. “And it was one of the ones I personally chose for this exhibit.”

You glance at him, a tinge of surprise blooming in your chest. “Really?”

He nods. “Who better to depict the ills of vampirism than a vampire themselves? I thought it was a…fascinating change of pace from all the humans who try and fail to do so, ironic as that is.”

If you look at the painting for long enough, you think you can recognize sadness in the corners of the vampire’s eyes—pure, unadulterated sadness. Different from anguish or panic. A similar mask of sadness you’ve seen on the man next to you.

You say nothing for a while. You simply feel the painful throb of your heart in your chest and listen to the small sounds around you. Even now, there are still other people exploring the museum and walking through this very exhibit, but you can’t hear or see any of them. Johnny notices the disconcerted look on your face, and his forehead creases. “But I’m sure you want to see something less…morbid than this, right? Come on.”

“Uh, I-I don’t mind,” you insist, even though you feel like you’ve just awoken from a painful trance by the sound of his voice. But he’s already gesturing for you to follow him elsewhere.

The next set of paintings you end up in front of are a series of sunflower studies. One frame depicts the long green stems; another provides an up-close view of their lined petals. One zooms in close on the flower’s brown center, only small glimpses of yellow left at the edges of the frame.

“This is definitely very different.” You look at him, a small smile pulling at your lips. “But it fits you. I see why you like it.” You remember him back in the park, taking careful pictures of the aster bush and of your hands…and then offering to take one of you. You don’t know why that last one makes your stomach jump.

“I thought you might like it.” Johnny’s eyes linger on your face as he observes your reaction to the paintings. He’s seen these flowers probably a hundred times by now in this permanent exhibit, but the wonder in your expression is new to him.

—

You both walk through a few more exhibitions after that, all with different subjects and mediums—some consist of sculptures, others are clay vases and figures. There’s still a lot to see in the museum, but you’re starting to get hungry, and you know Johnny has already heard your stomach growling.

After the 2nd time it happens and you think you might melt from embarrassment, he grins at you and makes a suggestion. “Let’s go to my office. I’ll get my things and we can eat. The restaurant here is pretty good—or at least that’s what everyone else says…”

When you get to his office, you feel almost like you’ve stepped into a room from years past. Your gaze drifts across his desk immediately; it’s not sleek and modern like you’d expect, considering the rest of the museum’s aesthetic, but wooden and heavy and vintage-looking. It’s olden quality resembles everything else in his personal space. Even his desk chair, a big and plush thing, feels vintage with its soft leather and rustic design.

This feeling is far from a bad thing, though. You enjoy the aged look of the bookcases, the picture frames, the chairs, the small decorations here and there—everything about this room.

Johnny notices how you look around, studying everything in sight, and smiles. “It’s not the most modern, but I like it.”

“It’s perfect. Like a world of its own.”

“A woman of taste, I see.” Johnny puts a hand over his heart, giving an expression like he’s truly touched, and you can only grin sheepishly. When he has his belongings, he leads you out and locks the door behind him.

“Let’s see what they have on the menu today, then.”

—

You get dinner at the museum’s restaurant, just as Johnny recommended, and he even decides to eat too. Maybe he does it so you won’t look odd being the only one eating, or because he really just wants to; he doesn’t let on. Either way, sitting across from him like this in a fancy restaurant with both of you having a nice meal feels almost like a date. You let that thought amble around for a few minutes longer before tucking it back into one of your mind’s many small niches.

“I’ll probably be digesting this for the next few weeks,” he says jokingly, pulling a mock-disappointed face at his plate.

“That sounds like the worst constipation in history.” He snorts at your comment, his eyes creasing as he laughs. You notice he has a dimple when he smiles, and your grin mirrors his. You don’t think you’ve seen him laugh quite so genuinely before, but now that you’ve experienced it, you want to hear it again and again.

Anything is preferable to the perpetual gloom, always slinking around the corner.

—

When Johnny gets back home after dropping you off at the university, he undresses himself and showers and pulls on his bedclothes, which are nothing more than his underwear and a pair of sweatpants. His upper canines ache in his gums the entire time he goes through these motions, like two pulses of red-hot heat positioned on either side of his mouth.

He takes a blood bag from the fridge and drinks it in bed, leaning his arms against his knees. A sudden remembrance manifests itself in his mind; he hears the hazy echo of his mother’s decades-past voice in his head, reprimanding him for eating in bed. A sharp pain grips his chest, and he tries to send it back to the depths where it belongs.

When the blood hits his stomach, the pain is eclipsed by the bloodlust, which is no better. His fangs drop immediately, spiking into his lower lip. Johnny closes his eyes and, very gingerly, allows himself to draw a picture of you in his mind, of your blood in his mouth and your heartbeat roaring in his ears. The way your blood would flow out so delicately, crashing into his tastebuds like the high tide. He is usually better than this at curtailing his bloodlust, not even letting it reach the point of his canines hurting—he can’t remember the last time that’s happened—but being around you sets him on edge. Awakens him in some strange, raw way.

That only makes him more wary. And more guilty about imagining himself drinking your blood. He shouldn’t even be around you if he’s losing his grip on his hard-won control. But although it makes him feel ashamed, it also causes his heart to rush.

He drains the blood bag to the last possible drop. To his relief, it calms him significantly, though the thoughts of you don’t leave. More innocent ones now, of your outing earlier in the evening. Deep beneath, they are tinged with his ever-present guilt at his vampiric nature.

Johnny doesn’t need the sleep, but he drifts off anyway, if only to quiet the conflict sending daggers into his mind.

You’ve known Johnny for a few weeks now, not counting the time you spent silently staring at him in the café, but you find yourself intertwining yourself further into his life. You end up visiting his apartment sooner than you anticipated. You didn’t think of anything as ridiculous as him living in a coffin or sleeping in the rafters like a bat, but you also had a hard time imagining what his place might look like.

You come over on a weekend when you have more time to simply hang out and not worry so much about anything else.

Like usual, he waits in that spot on the side of the street for you to come out. In the daytime, you’re more apprehensive about him being here and someone potentially seeing him and trying to cause trouble for him, but there’s a part of you that likes the rebellious aspect of it. And if he truly doesn’t mind coming near the campus to pick you up, you don’t have much issue with him doing it.

Johnny’s apartment is clean—and a little sparser than you’d expected. Maybe he’s a fan of minimalism. One side of the wall is taken up by a wide bookcase, which features a bunch of different knickknacks, books, and a collection of larger hardcovers that look like photo albums. On the other walls are a few framed pictures of different scenes, and you assume they’re ones he must’ve taken.

“This is a nice place,” you say as he takes your jacket for you and puts it up. “It must cost quite a bit, too…” You sit down on the couch, stroking the soft material of it.

Johnny shrugs. “Thanks. It’s nothing I can’t handle...being nearly a century old gives you plenty of time to save money.” He appears charmingly self-satisfied when he’s able to make you laugh. “Do you want anything?”

“Water is fine…thank you.” Johnny nods and goes off to the kitchen.

Despite trying to keep your eyes on the wall photos, your gaze follows him as he leaves. You discreetly watch him move around his kitchen. With his dark clothes, he’s like a splash of black paint against the pale tile and stainless steel.

There are blood packs in Johnny’s fridge. Lots of them. You know because you saw them from your vantage point on the couch when he opened the fridge door. They look like the blood bags you’d see in a hospital, which makes you wonder how he even gets access to those. Another mystery you struggle to wrap your head around.

He comes back to the living room with your water, and you take it gratefully, though you also feel a little awkward. You think maybe the blood bags are something you shouldn’t have seen, although you know he probably would’ve made more effort to hide them or put them away if that were the case.

“You have a good supply of blood, a nice apartment, and a great job. Does every vampire get these kinds of perks?” Admittedly, it sounded better in your head. Your attempt to stave off the awkward feeling—which was really only coming from your end—only makes it more intense. Johnny laughs dryly in response. You can’t tell if he actually finds it amusing or is just trying to humor you, which makes you feel incredibly silly.

“All of it’s government-issued if you promise never to bite any humans.” Johnny gives a wry smile. “But it’s a mistake to think vampires live glamorous lives, filling up on blood and having no cares in the world.”

“N-no, I get it,” you stutter. “Bad joke.”

“I’m not trying to embarrass you or be mean. It’s just the way things are.” Your roles are suddenly reversed, and now he seems to feel some sort of sympathy for you, like you’re just an ignorant little human who doesn’t know any better. The last part of that is more your insecurities speaking out than anything else, but you try to ignore that and take him for his word.

Johnny gets up from the couch to go over to the bookcase as you sip your water. After looking through the photo albums intently, he takes one off the shelf and hands it to you. You set your water down and hold the album carefully as you open the front cover. The cover itself has a neat little label that reads Telluride 1976 - 1980, so you can already expect what you’ll find in it. There are numerous photos of trees, bushes, snowy mountain ranges, lakes, brilliantly vibrant flowers, and woodland creatures. You stop at a picture of a deer looking straight ahead, its black eyes wide and curious as it examines the lens.

“I lived in the mountains back then, a little after my mentor had left. I spent some time trying to reconnect with nature...and all that other hippie shit people used to do back in that era.”

You chuckle. “Did you wear the same kinds of clothes, too? Bell bottoms and tie-dye T-shirts and all?”

Johnny laughs and shrugs. “Maybe…but that’s only for me to know.”

You grin and look at the photos again. “Well…did your plan work, at least?”

Johnny gives a wistful smile. “In some ways, I think it did.”

You continue looking through the rest of the album, which you could probably do for hours if you had the time—just sit and trace every possible line, curve, and ray of light. Johnny sits beside you as you do, occasionally explaining some pictures and their backstories.

“Lately, I���ve been wanting something else to take pictures of...someone else, maybe.”

“What, like a subject?” you ask.

“Yeah, it’d be nice...I haven’t taken pictures of another person in a while.”

You nod quietly as you flip through the pages—another possible hint flying right over your head. Then a thought comes to you—one that makes your skin warm. “Have you ever taken pictures of anyone you were...involved with?” You don’t say it directly, but you hope he can get the gist of what you’re asking.

Johnny nods as if he doesn’t want to admit to it, a nervous smile gracing his lips. “A few different people…but I always gave them the pictures after we, you know, stopped seeing each other...so there’s none left here.”

“I see…” For a few moments, your thoughts circle around that concept. What was it like to bare yourself in front of someone else like that, immortalized on film? What might it be like to allow Johnny to see you like that, to take pictures of you in your most vulnerable form? The idea doesn’t make you as downright anxious as you expected it to, though you can’t completely shake the lingering embarrassment about it.

After you finish looking through the entirety of his Telluride adventures, Johnny shows you some recent pictures he’s developed, and you’re giddy to see your own blurry creations among them. Now that you’re holding them physically in your hands, you can agree that they look nice, each with its own little personality.

“I thought about putting them in a new photo album,” he says, “but you can keep them, if you prefer.”

You hold them to your chest. “Yes, I’d like to keep them. Thank you.” You smile. “I’m sure I’ll leave you with plenty other photos to put in your album, anyway.”

—

The sun is close to setting again. You aren’t ready to leave yet, though, and Johnny is content to let you stay longer. He pulls out another album for you to look at, this one dated with 1960 - 1964. Unlike the others, there’s no title to describe what’s in it except for that year range.

“This is a picture of me someone took before I was turned,” Johnny murmurs, sitting back down beside you. He turns the album to you, and in the middle of the first page is a sepia-toned photo of him sitting on a bed—or maybe a couch?—wearing a suit. White, handwritten lettering on the bottom right of the photograph reads August 4, 1960.

“Oh wow...” You touch the photo gently over its protective lining. “You look exactly the same. Of course.”

“It’s the only photo I have left of myself,” he sighs, leaning back on the sofa. “If it weren’t for that...I’d feel almost like I didn’t exist at all.”

“Do you remember this day?” you ask.

“…Vaguely.” His answer doesn’t feel like the whole truth, and the way his eyes dart anxiously as he says it confirms your suspicions. Then he sighs again, heavier this time, and he seems to be exhaling all 60 years of his burden along with it. “I was...going to be married. It was for our wedding shoot.”

You’re surprised for a reason you’re unsure of, never even imagining that Johnny could’ve been married at one point in time. Could’ve had an entire life and a family, if it hadn’t been for...

“I’m sorry, Johnny.” You know you never would’ve met him if things hadn’t happened this way, and that knowledge tugs at your heart in a way that makes you feel intensely selfish.

Johnny shakes his head and avoids your eyes. “It was long ago.” He wets his lips and his jaw clenches like maybe he wants to say something else, but he remains silent for a while.

You continue exploring the photo album in silence. With its thin size, there aren’t as many pictures in it as the others—much less, in fact, but each one is still enough to keep your interest. Your mind keeps drifting back to the one of Johnny.

You hand the album back to him when you’re done. He takes it from you, but in a gesture you don’t foresee, he allows your hands to touch for the first time. You make a tiny flinch at the unexpected coolness—not ice-cold, but enough to be noticeable—but you don’t draw away from him. You let his fingers slide across yours as the photo album leaves your hands, and it sends electricity racing up and down your spine.

“S-sorry.” You’re not sure if you’re apologizing for flinching or for making contact at all, though there is no reason to because he initiated it.

“Doesn’t it ever disturb you at all that I’m not human?” Johnny asks softly, still holding the album.

“What?”

“You’ve taken all this so easily...much more easily than many others. You aren’t even disgusted at my cold hands.” A ghost of a grin comes over his face.

“If I were disgusted, I wouldn’t even be here,” you say, trying to lighten the tension. It’s not the kind of tension that arises from anger, offense, or upset, but something else that you are lost on comprehending in this moment. “Some of it’s unfamiliar, obviously, but I’m not disgusted.”

He glances down at the album in his hands, as if contemplating something. Maybe thinking about the only living photo of himself beneath the cover. Or maybe he’s thinking back to how he was turned in the first place and subsequently lost the life he was about to have. He still hasn’t told you anything about how he became a vampire, and though you’d like to know, it’s obviously a sore spot for him.

Eventually, he nods, willing himself to smile at you. “I’m glad.”

—

Night has fallen by the time you’re done exploring the decades of his life, though there is still much you haven’t seen and don’t yet know. You let him drive you back to the school as you stare out at the passing cars, wondering how many more of these people sitting in their vehicles are nonhuman and you’d never know it.

You hesitate after he pulls up across from the main gate.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Uh, nothing really, it’s just—I still don’t have your number or anything.” And I want to talk to you more often. I want to hear your voice more often. You don’t want to say anything overly dramatic or cheesy, so you just keep those last thoughts to yourself.

Thinking it had been something serious, he smirks at your concern. “Oh, I see. I’ll give it to you now, then.”

Once your numbers are safely in each other’s phones, you finally bid each other goodnight. 

Though you try to steer your thoughts towards other things, you keep veering back to Johnny. His apartment. His fridge full of blood bags. His photo albums full of years of history. Even when you get into bed that night, you can’t keep him off your mind.

You wake up gasping and sweating when you dream of him with his fangs in your neck, your own blood running down your neck and chest. You glance over at your roommate to make sure you haven’t woken her and rest your head on your knees, trying to catch your breath and settle your racing heart. Your skin still prickles with how you could practically feel his heated breaths on your neck, ice-cold hands gripping your shoulders.

The worst part of it is that you can’t quite say you completely disliked it.

“It doesn’t make much sense to have a Halloween party and dress up as the very beings that you hate, but whatever…” you mumble, looking through a rack of costumes with a certain impassivity. You’re not very enthusiastic about going to this Halloween party, but your friend refuses to go alone. You haven’t been spending as much time with her anymore—partly because of Johnny and partly because you feel even more out of place around her than normal—and with all her begging and pleading, she refuses to let you opt out of this one.

“It’s about having fun, no one really cares Y/N. They’re freaks, aren’t they? That’s why people dress up as them, they’re practically meant for this.”

You become even more apprehensive about the party after hearing that, if that’s even possible. You smooth your hand over the fabric of a witch’s robe and sigh again, shaking your head. It doesn’t feel quite right to keep spending time in her presence—or anyone else who goes to your school—but you feel trapped on all sides, left without much of a choice. You would never hear the end of it if you tried to switch universities…or even drop out.

Your mind strays back to Johnny as always, with his melancholy aura and weird jokes and pretty pictures and monochrome clothes. The smell of his cologne, the lingering scent of roasted coffee beans, and his toothy smile, when he does show it to you. Something in you makes you want to drop everything you’re doing right now and go to him. It might even be nice to settle in his arms, feel them strong and solid around you—though he’d probably need just as much comforting as you.

“Dress up as this!” Your friend breaks the reverie as she prances over to you with a pair of fake fangs, the tips of them painted in acrylic blood. She holds them up to your mouth, and you struggle to manage a smile, if only to sate her enthusiasm. “It actually reminds me of…that vampire at the café. Say, have you seen him since then?”

You shake your head, moving away to sift through another rack of outfits as you try to maintain a detached expression. “Nope, not a glimpse. Haven’t even thought about him.”

When your friend doesn’t suspect anything, you let your expression drop just a tad, breathing out quietly.

The night of the party, the full moon is heavy and bold against the black blanket of the sky, which feels horribly cliché. You wonder if there are any werewolves out tonight, and what they might be doing right now.

“We’re going to have a good time tonight,” your friend insists as you both walk up the front steps of the host’s house. It’s someone you only vaguely know, a friend of a friend of a friend, but clearly a person who has an abundance of money judging by this expansive home. You don’t know why she feels the need to convince you, but maybe it’s because you haven’t seemed very enthusiastic so far. You only give a thumbs up to her words, which feels like an unconvincing gesture. Luckily for you, it works.

After a few hours, the party is still going strong but your head is starting to hurt from the music, and you’re growing weary of all the men crowding in too close, looking at you in your angel costume like you’re something to be devoured. You’ve rolled your eyes at way too many of them and their haphazardly put-together costumes, dressed up as vampires with terrible fake fangs or werewolves with manes of matted up fur.

Your friend keeps flitting around the party, talking to whoever she recognizes from classes or campus organizations, and you’ve given up on trying to follow her around any longer. Every time you turn around, she’s somewhere else. Noticing that you’re currently solo, a guy from one of your history classes comes up to you and begins what he thinks is an interesting conversation on how angels actually look more like Eldritch abominations than the cherubic humans depicted in paintings—so your costume is “technically inaccurate” —and your eyes glaze over as you pretend to listen to him.

You eventually manage to get away from him and get to an undisturbed corner, wedged next to two girls drinking cider and critically rating all the guys’ costumes. You pull your phone out and think about calling for a ride back to campus, but your thumb hovers over the message icon. You press it without thinking too much about it, and Johnny’s name appears as one of your most recent conversations. Though you feel somewhat nervous, you will yourself to open the box and begin typing.

To: Hi Johnny. I hope I’m not bothering you, but can I come over? 🙏🏿🙏🏿🙏🏿 I’m over this party

You put your phone back in your purse, trying not to get your hopes up for a quick response. You know there’s a good chance he’d still be awake at this time of night since he doesn’t need to sleep, but he has his own life and is probably off doing...vampire-y things. Whatever those things could be.

However, your hopes are met when your phone pings only a couple minutes later.

From: Of course. You’re not scared about spending your Halloween with a vampire? 😏

You smile at that.

To: I think I’ll be fine…as long as you don’t bite me.

From: 🦷🩸

—

You get to Johnny’s studio apartment not too long after, and you hang around outside his door for a few moments before knocking, suddenly feeling bashful about your costume. Maybe you should’ve changed before coming over here; what if he thinks it’s childish? Or maybe too revealing? Does he even care about that kind of stuff? Doesn’t matter now, though. You’re here, and there’s no way you’re turning back around.

He answers a few seconds after you knock, wearing a sweater and black pants. You notice his sweater is a cream color and not the usual black. He looks a little surprised to see your costume, and his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.

“Wow, you look pretty. Nice of you to visit me after falling straight from Heaven.” You cringe at his cheesy line, though you also cannot deny that you secretly enjoy every bit of it.

“Thanks, Johnny...” you say timidly, stepping into his home as he lets you in. “Nice work with changing up the color scheme.”

He’s confused for a moment before realizing you’re talking about his clothes. “Oh yeah, that...um, haha. Thanks.”

Unbeknownst to you, the back of his mind is buzzing with a form of excitement he hasn’t felt in a while. Not the clawing, frantic spikes of bloodlust, but a more physical kind of desire. It’s pleasurable, but he also feels guilty about pining over how sweet and innocent you look in your all-white outfit, stockings hugging your legs perfectly and your dress just short enough to tempt the imagination. Really, you’ve painted a picture of perfect purity, and the only thing he can think about is ruining you. Putting his hands on you and peeling your dress off to reveal the soft skin underneath.

He casts those thoughts aside as you sit prettily on his couch, legs crossed at the ankles—though it’s hard to do so. “Do you want something to drink? Or eat? There isn’t a whole lot of food here, but I can order something…”

“Do you ever make your own coffee?” The question seems a bit random at first, and you try to explain. “You know, since you always get it from the café.”

Johnny smiles. “Do you want coffee? I can make it.”

You nod. “That would be nice…whatever you have.”

“I pretty much have your usual order memorized by now, so I should be good on making it.” Johnny walks to the kitchen. “You can look through the albums while you’re in there. The ones you haven’t seen yet.”

“Oh, thanks.” You feel a little nervous to be looking through the shelf of his treasured photo albums by yourself, but you’re also glad he trusts you enough to let you do it. It makes you feel important. Maybe even important to him, as silly as that might sound.

It isn’t long before the scent of coffee wafts out into the living room. Johnny returns soon with two cups of it, and just as he promised, yours is made just the way you like it.

“Thank you.” You set the album back on the shelf and take the cup from Johnny. For a while, both of you talk of nothing important—just filling the space with the details of your days.

“So how was the party?” Johnny finally asks, and he raises his eyebrows as he scans your outfit again. You grin halfheartedly.

“It was…alright. Kinda weird. I think it’d be more fun if I went to a regular university, but you know…”

Johnny shakes his head. “I can’t blame you for bailing out.”

“Yeah…I’ve been to college parties before, but the Halloween theme was a bit…”

“Strange for an institution that bans all supernatural beings?” Johnny finishes your sentence. He doesn’t look offended or irritated by it—only slightly amused.

You shrug, biting your lip. “Yeah, that.”

“Well, look on the bright side. I wouldn’t have gotten to see you in your natural form otherwise.”

This one almost goes over your head, too, but you catch it just in time. Johnny’s compliments make you feel warm all over, like you’re sitting under the sun. You grin and look down into your cup of coffee, unused to receiving such bold praise and unsure how to respond to it. Something pops into your mind, though, and you think it might be a good idea to run with it.

“You could...take a picture of me, you know. If you want to...since I’m all dressed up now anyway.” You meet his eyes only for a second and then look away, twisting the mug in your hands.

Johnny sits up a little straighter at your words, trying to catch your eyes, though you don’t hold his gaze for long. “You’re sure?” he asks.

“I’m sure. Go ahead! Before I change my mind.” You laugh nervously and carefully set your half-empty mug on the table.

Johnny’s camera is never too far away from him, so he grabs it and plays with the settings for a bit before looking back to you, a small smile on his face. “I’m gonna start, okay?” His voice is surprisingly soft. This, yet again, reminds you of him and the aster bush. He acts as if you might run away at the first shutter click, which makes you feel babied, but you don’t totally hate it.

The first few photos are a little awkward—at least to you. You aren’t sure how to pose, or if you should try to look more casual, though Johnny assures you you’re doing well. He gives you directives throughout, telling you to look in his direction or angle your face a certain way, and you follow his instructions to the best of your ability.

At one point, one of your dress straps slips down. When you go to fix it, Johnny says, “Wait. Could you keep it like that?”

You look at him, your body heating from the suggestion.

“Is that okay with you?”

“…Yes.” Your throat is dry, and your body reacts in a way you don’t expect—little nervous thrills in your hands and feet, though you try to internally explain it away as the coffee’s effects. Johnny takes a few more photos like this, and then he steps closer to gently touch your chin, guiding your face to the angle he’s looking for.

“So good for me.” It slips past his lips in a reverential murmur before he can really consider what he’s saying, and you both freeze. Your heart rate increases, and you wonder if he can hear how hard the red organ is beating in your chest. Probably.

You want to hear him say it again.

Johnny laughs awkwardly, his hand coming back to his side almost a little too quickly to be natural. “Um, I’m really sorry. That was a bit...”

“It…it’s fine.” You avoid his eyes. Johnny takes a few more photos, but the set of his mouth is a little tight, as if he’s stressed about something. Or regretting what he let slip, maybe. You want to tell him you really don’t feel bad about it, but you aren’t sure how to do that without making things more awkward…or revealing your true desires.

When Johnny has taken enough pictures of you to be satisfied with, he sits next to you on the couch, setting his camera on the coffee table and looking suddenly timid.

“I can’t wait to see them,” you say, attempting to break the tension that never really cleared the room after his earlier comment. He blinks for a moment like he doesn’t know what you mean, and then realizes—obviously, he’ll be developing the photos.

“They’ll come out nice, I’m sure. I think you’ll photograph well.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, and now it’s your turn to be unsure of how to resurrect the conversation.

“You’re beautiful.” It’s an abrupt comment. It makes your stomach twist in a pleasant, fluttery way, and you become hyperaware of his form sitting next to yours.

“Haven’t heard that one much, but thanks.”

Johnny turns to you. “Anyone who’d think otherwise is a fool.”

There’s a pause after this where you both simply study each other, watching for hidden reactions that can’t be read on the surface. The way he says it is…decisive, assured. But it also manages to be tender, as if he needs you to know what he thinks of you. Needs you to see yourself the way he does—the same way you do for him. You don’t know where the confidence comes from, but maybe his tone and his words and his endlessly dark eyes have pulled it out of you. “I want to kiss you.”

Johnny’s lips part. “Are you certain?”

“I’m certain.”

He doesn’t hesitate anymore. Johnny moves closer to you and cups the back of your neck. Something awakens in his eyes in the seconds before he presses his mouth to yours. Though he wants to drink eagerly from your lips, his kiss is languid to avoid overwhelming you, and there is an audible smack of your lips whenever he pulls away and presses back in.

His mouth tastes like the coffee you just drank, but underneath that you swear you can taste a hint of the deep iron of blood, and you don’t know how to feel about that. You think about what his fangs would feel like scraping against your bottom lip, if he’d ever show them to you, and you moan quietly.

“Do you want this? With me?” Johnny confirms once more, pulling his gaze away from your lips and up to your eyes. His own eyes are yearning, but there is also an element of something like fear roiling in them. As if you’d turn him away, even though you’ve already shown your desire for him.

“Yes. Just you. No one else.”

Johnny’s body gravitates towards yours, and you think he’s going to push you down onto the sofa, but he scoops your legs up and carries you to his bedroom instead. Even his hands on your waist and legs makes you burn inside.

This is the first time you've seen his bedroom. The sheets are cloud-soft when he sets you down on them, and his window lets moonlight shine through the open blinds and scatter in thick beams across the floor. The only other light source is the bedside lamp, which emits a comfortable yellowish glow.

Johnny joins you on the bed and lets you climb into his lap—encourages you to do so. His cool hands pulling at your thighs as you settle them on either side of his waist makes tingles go through your body. You don’t hesitate to bring your lips back together, kissing each other deeply as one of his hands cradles the back of your head and the other settles on the small of your back.

You are certain vampires don’t have any powers of enchantment—that’s for magic wielders. And yet, you feel like you’ve been put in a trance by his kisses alone, and you wonder how you could’ve lived this long without knowing how his lips feel—how they fit perfectly against your own. As if everything up to now has purposely led you together.

You shift in Johnny’s embrace, and the movement causes his thigh to slide between your legs. Your heat is pressed against his thigh directly now, your silken panties catching against the denim of his pants. You murmur against his lips, not really saying anything of substance but wanting to vocalize your desire to him. Johnny’s hand tightens slightly on your back, and he experimentally lifts his leg higher and slides his thigh across you. That draws a gasp from you.

Noticing your positive response, Johnny continues rocking his thigh up against your pussy and kissing you until you’re breathless and your nipples are straining against the fabric of your dress. You pull away from him for a moment to try to ground yourself, feeling like your nerves are already being singed with fiery pleasure. Johnny’s face is noticeably more flushed than before, but he also looks much more composed than you feel at the moment.

“It takes longer to get hard,” he explains, as if reading the lingering question in your own expression. “Since...you know. Slow blood.” You rock your hips over his thigh more enthusiastically, motivated to get him hard underneath you, and you listen to his choppy breaths as you move. Your movements aren’t the smoothest, but he helps you guide your hips in a way that feels good for you both. You’ve never been with anyone before, so it doesn’t much matter to you how long or quick it takes for him to get there as long as he does.

Feeling the bulge grow underneath you excites you. Johnny groans against your lips as you kiss him and rub yourself over his member. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside him, as if it’s something he’s been containing for a long time. Your hand goes to his waist and tugs at his belt loops, then drifts closer to his belt buckle, pulling the leather and metal apart. Johnny pauses when you get off his lap and slide further down, grips your arms like he doesn’t want you to go. “Are…you sure? You don’t have to…if it’s too much—”

“I want to, Johnny.”

With your affirmative, he lets you kneel between his legs, pull his zipper apart, and trace your curious fingers over the bulge beneath the fabric of his underwear. Johnny loses his breath when you drag his underwear down, sliding it over the heated skin of his dick. His length is thick and long—even with him not being fully hard yet—and the tip glistens wet with precum. You weren’t sure what to expect, but this is much bigger than you think you might be able to handle. It makes your face warm and your stomach do another series of flips. Still, you want it and you want him, so you aren’t going to stop now.

You lean closer to press your lips against his shaft, leaving a few soft kisses behind. Johnny’s mouth parts when your mouth touches him.

Johnny gently holds the back of your head as you leave small licks over his shaft, tasting the salty skin on your tongue. He lets out a shaky breath as he watches you, his other hand brushing the side of your face.

“Just like that…” he murmurs, his voice heavy with lust as you circle your tongue around the thick, darkened tip, catching drops of his precum. He never takes his eyes off you, and this makes you feel a little exposed, but you continue with your actions. When you suck Johnny’s tip past your lips, his thighs tense under you, the thick muscle reacting beautifully to your actions on his body.

More precum drips from him, and you find the taste strangely pleasing. It makes you want more of him, of whatever he has to offer you. You wrap your hand around his shaft, though it doesn’t fit entirely around, and begin stroking him in a way you hope feels good.

Johnny’s hand slips over yours to guide your movements and show you how much pressure to apply, what pace to stroke him at. “Like this, baby…yes, that’s so good…” He showers you with praise as you get the hang of it, and he eventually lets your hand go so you can do it on your own, his own hand drifting back to the bed to grip the comforter.

It’s hard to quantify just how much seeing you like this turns him on, you kneeling between his legs with his cock between your lips while wearing your pretty, angelic outfit. His previous guilt about “corrupting” you descends to the very back of his mind as he savors every moment of your hands on his cock and your tongue circling his slit.

“I’m close,” he whispers. You quicken your movements on him, hollowing your cheeks tighter around his dick, and the moan he gives shoots straight between your legs.

Johnny carefully pulls your head back so you won’t choke before he comes, streams of his seed shooting into your mouth and running down his cock. Your hand still squeezes around him as he comes, and he slowly thrusts into the tight circle of your fist as you milk every drop from him. By the time he’s spent, your mouth and hand and part of the sheets are completely sticky with his release. You imagine it must have been a long time since he’s last had an orgasm.

The vampire watches intently as you swallow his cum, which causes his softening dick to throb in your hand. He takes your face in his hands and kisses you deeply, uncaring of the taste of himself in your mouth. His hair tickles your face as he kisses you feverishly, his nose bumping yours and his tongue prodding past your lips.

“Come here, angel.” Johnny pulls your body up onto the bed before you can get yourself up there first. The pet name makes warmth flood through your body, like drinking a hot chocolate at the café, except a thousand times more satisfying. Johnny’s hands are once again caressing your thighs, though this time they slide up underneath your dress and squeeze your hips. “Can I take these pretty panties off you?”

“Please.”

He hooks his fingers into the sides of them and pulls them down your legs and past your ankles. One of his hands goes underneath your dress to feel you soft and wet against his fingers, and you both moan at the same time. He slides his digits through your lips and over your clit, and him leaning forward to bring his mouth to your throat is enough to have you nearly overwhelmed. His fingers tease your entrance but don’t push inside until you nearly have to beg him.

“Please, Johnny…” You push your hips up to get his attention.

“Do you want my fingers?” he asks softly.

“Y-yes…” At your words, he eases the middle one into you, slowly enough to avoid discomfort. It feels strange to have someone else’s fingers inside you. His finger reaches further than yours can, touching you more deeply than you’ve felt before; it makes you gasp a bit too sharply.

“Are you hurt?” he asks, freezing and thinking he might’ve done something wrong.

“N-no, I’m fine. Keep going.”

Johnny’s mouth edges closer to the cleavage of your dress as he starts thrusting his finger into you, warming you up enough to take a second digit. Shakily, you bring your hands up to slide the straps down and make it easier for him, and his breath hitches when you pull the top of your dress down.

His mouth envelopes one of your nipples as he slides the second finger into you. His fingers encounter a part of you that makes you moan unexpectedly and grab onto him, a little surprised at the sudden spike of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he purrs, his lips moving against the curve of your breast as he speaks. “And so responsive.”

As Johnny’s mouth and fingers work you closer to an orgasm, you marvel at how handsome he looks and how good he feels. He opens his eyes to see you staring at him, your pupils wide and mouth desperate, and he separates himself from your chest to kiss you deeply once again.

When you come around his fingers, Johnny whispers more compliments to you about how good you are and how he wants to watch you come undone because of him all the time. When he thinks you might be on the brink of overstimulation, he takes his fingers out of you, slipping them into his mouth to taste you.

“I’ll take this off now. Is that okay?” He whispers this into your ear with his hands on either side of your hips, caressing the fabric of your dress.

“I-it’s okay.”

Johnny slips your dress off, leaving you in nothing but your white sheer stockings. The sight of you sitting there on his bed, breathing heavily from your climax in your pretty thigh-highs, has his cock throbbing and rising to life once again.

“Lay back on the bed.” You do, and he settles himself between your legs like you did for him earlier. When you glance at him, his eyes are heavy and piercing. In this moment, you are acutely reminded of the fact that he is not a human, with how he looks like a beast of prey about to devour a meal. You are too nervous to look back at him for long, so you stare at the ceiling with your legs shaking from anticipation.

Johnny’s mouth on you is almost jarring in how wet it is, and you arch up into him in surprise and a rush of pleasure. He gently presses your legs back onto the bed and continues licking into you, parting your lower lips with his tongue and making your thighs tremble under his grasp.

If you had to describe it in words, you probably wouldn’t be able to. He kisses your pussy the same way he kisses you on the mouth, passionately and with more than enough tongue to satisfy. Johnny slips his fingers into you again as he curls his lips around your clit, and you moan unabashedly.

You’re quickly spiraling towards another orgasm, maybe quicker than you expected; but it makes sense with you still being so raw from the climax you just had. You gain enough courage to give another glance down at Johnny, and you see the way his other arm moves back and forth from beneath the bed, stroking himself while he eats you out. Something about that pushes you over the edge, and you cry out as you come on his tongue.

As Johnny gives you time to calm down again, he stands and finally pulls his clothes off, baring his body to you. You’re not sure if you’ve ever seen a man so beautiful.

He goes to get a condom, and your words stumble from your lips before you can psych yourself out of saying them. “I-I’m on birth control.” Johnny looks back at you, his gaze filled with something you can’t quite read. He comes closer to you, holding himself above you on the bed so his face is hovering just above yours.

“You want to feel me raw?” he whispers.

You nod under his burning stare, feeling like you’re on a high you won’t be able to get off of. “I need you, Johnny.”

Johnny climbs fully onto the bed then and positions himself between your legs. His cock is thick and heavy between his thighs as it bumps against your inner thigh and leaves a smear of precum behind. After putting some lube in his hand, he slicks himself with the sticky substance, preparing himself to fuck you open. Something deep in your abdomen shudders, and your walls clench around nothing as you watch him stroke his shaft, the squelching, wet sound of his hand on his dick loud in the quiet room.

When he’s done, he grabs your thighs and pulls you a little closer to him. “If it hurts, tell me, okay?”

“O-okay.”

The slick tip prodding at your hole makes you want more, though you are a bit afraid of how this is going to feel. When it finally pushes inside of you, you gasp. Johnny watches your face for signs of pain as he slides forward further.

With two previous orgasms and the lube to help, his cock stretches you open with some discomfort, but not the kind of sharp pain you expected. Your nails leave little half-moon shapes on Johnny’s biceps as you squeeze his arms and try to keep your lower half relaxed, wanting to take all of him in—or as much as you can manage, anyway. You try to keep your breathing even as he pushes into you slowly.

Your eyebrows crease and your mouth tightens when he slides deeper still, and he pauses. “Johnny…” You worry your lip with your teeth, feeling like you’ve been stuffed to the brim—and he’s not even all the way in yet.

“Do you want me to stop?”

“No,” you beg, maintaining your grip on his arms. “Just…try moving.”

Johnny pulls out and slowly thrusts back in again, angling his dick to find that sensitive spot within you. Your mouth falls open silently when he does; this feels much, much different from his fingers. This is better.

Johnny repeats the movement, being mindful not to push himself too deep—only enough for you to handle. Beneath him, your body begins unwinding at the pleasure he’s delivering to you, and your eyes flutter closed as the ecstasy takes over your mind. One of his hands goes to tease your clit as he settles into a good rhythm, and you cry out at the extra dose of pleasure.

“You’re taking me so well,” Johnny mumbles as he sits back and watches himself slide into you, both of your lower halves slick from lube and your own wetness. “So warm and wet, angel…” You can tell he’s using a lot of his energy to keep his pace controlled and gentle enough for you to actually enjoy. The idea of being fucked harder makes you ache deep inside, but you figure it’s best to save that for when you’re more used to this. You already know it’ll be difficult to walk in the morning after this.

Johnny leans forward to kiss your lips, changing the angle again and circling his pelvis into you, and a choked gasp escapes your mouth at the slow wind of his hips.

Johnny lavishes your neck and throat with kisses, and though he is a vampire, you aren’t worried about him biting you. His fangs have not made an appearance since all this started, and you doubt if he would ever bring them out in front of you. You don’t know if you should ask about it, either, wondering if it’s too soon after only a month and a half of knowing each other—but maybe you could say the same about him being inside of you right now.

“Johnny…” you whisper into the air, your fingers scrabbling against his sweaty skin. The mounting tension in your abdomen is close to snapping, and you are almost frightened by how intense it already feels. He moves his face from your neck to be face-to-face with you again and plants a heavy, dizzying kiss on your lips.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs against your kiss-swollen lips. “I’ve got you, Y/N.”

Falling apart in Johnny’s arms feels like a form of Heaven that’s meant to be kept hidden, because you might become addicted to it otherwise. Your inner muscles squeeze around his dick as you come. His name flows from your lips in a high song. You can’t imagine any physical sensation that could be better than this, his hips rocking into you as you tighten and cream around him, and you know innately that Johnny has ruined all chances of you ever feeling this fulfilled with anyone but him.

The constant pulse of your walls against his dick is too much to withstand for long, and Johnny’s muscles pull taut with pleasure when he comes, groaning into your neck and spilling overflowing streams of thick cum into you. His hips falter in their former rhythm, and he resists the urge to push himself as deep as he can into you.

When he pulls out, you whine from the discomfort of it, but also because you wish he could stay in you forever. You know you’ll be sore when you wake up—and you can already feel the very beginnings of exhaustion and ache settling in your body—but you’d do it a hundred times over without changing a thing.

—

Johnny curls himself around you after he’s cleaned the both of you up, as if he means to shield you from the world. You’re quiet for a while as you listen to his slow-beating heart and feel his cool skin against yours.

You look up at his face, which is hard to see distinctly in the dark of the room. With the lamp turned out, the only source of light comes from the moon now, but you can decipher enough to make out the shape of his lips and his glittering eyes. You know he can see much better than you in this light, and he takes his time tracing his fingers across your face and cheek, studying your features.

“Would you ever…make me a vampire?”

His body tenses at your question. “Don’t say anything ridiculous. You still have a whole life ahead of you to live. What I have here...this is no existence.” He’s not mad, at least not at you, but his voice hardens at the very idea of it.

“But what if I wanted to live it with you?”

Johnny takes a breath, but he doesn’t say anything to that. He just continues stroking your face and looks at you for a long time, like he’s searching for something. You don’t know if you truly expected an answer from him, or how you would feel if he did give one.

Eventually, your eyes begin to fall low, and sleep overcomes you. The last thing you register is Johnny’s chilly hand touching your cheek. When he notices you’ve drifted off, he pulls the covers tighter around you both. Then he presses you to his chest as he tunes out the sound of cars rumbling on the streets below in exchange for the beating of your heart—still alive, so red with blood.

[anapologethicc]

happy diwali💛💖 i let out my inner louis😌

those not wanting to read abt my feelings pls scroll to the bottom:)

i'm in bed and all diwali celebrations are finally over and i just spent like 15 minutes just sobbing in bed🙈 firstly because i don't think i've ever felt so happy and comfortable with myself as i did this diwali🥺🥰

i didn't need to wear a ghagra (long heavy skirts not that i hate them) or sth frilly or a fricking blouse of any sort. i got to wear clothes which were so so comfortable and so so gender affirming (idk if that's a term lmao). i've worn similar stuff before and never realized why i had felt so happy in them and i don't think i really understood how much this would mean to me and my gender to be wearing clothes that felt so ME.

i got to be whoever i wanted to be. i got a chance to embrace my own gender and i'm still cuddled up in bed sobbing at how wonderful i felt these past two days.😭😭😭💖💖💖

for once i wore sth for myself and dressed up for myself and MYSELF only. i didn't care that i got told i look too chubby or that my clothes were "boy" clothes or that i should've kept my hair long becuz short hair doesn't suit me or that short hair and traditional clothes don't go tgt (BITCH HAVE U SEEN HOW BOMB I LOOK?!?! HOTTEST NB LESBIAN IN TOWN!!😂 more like only lesbian in town lmfao)or judged for the fact that i changed nail polish colours so many times in like 2 days (i think my nails are abt to disintegrate)

i didn't fucking care this year because i was so happy to finally feel good in my skin (tpwk ref👅). i've always had so many issues with myself and with my mental health. it's taken me such a while to get to where i am and accept myself for the way i am.

i still struggle daily with my relationship with my body, my relationship with food, my relationship with painkillers, my relationship with my adhd my depression or my anxiety, my relationship with school with friends with family with myself. i wake up everyday and just try to grow and be a better person for myself to be someone worthy💕

i just wanted to take this moment to thank everyone for any and all interactions they may have directly or indirectly had with me🥺. becuz i don't really follow a lot of people nor am i good at making any new friends (i suck at it becuz ppl find my personality over the top cuz i'm loud and flamboyant and so fking talkative and i feel like i'm never enough :/) BUT i made a resolution this year that if i couldn't get myself to interact with real life people becuz i find ppl generally really fking annoying😂 that i'd at least finally try and make some online becuz i've been in this fandom and on this site for wayy too long now😌😌

i know i'm just some person in your phone you just made u read a rubbish emo essay all abt myself😂 but i just wanted to let you know that every single interaction has made me feel happy and validated and i just wanna say thank you for somedays being my reason to want to live to see another day🥺💖 thank you for creating a safe space for me knowingly or unknowingly and thank you for being absolutely fantastic human beings😚😚❤❤

i'm sending all the love❤, happiness😂, kindness🥰 and gender joy🥳 in the world that i possible have in me to every single one of you🥺💖

so here's to everyone who has talked to me, liked my tags or post i've made/rbed, rbed sth from me, tagged me in sth or answered/sent an ask💖 and whatever else we get up to on this hellsite😂💕

because every single one of you has made me smile on days i didn't wanna get out of bed or felt like absolute fucking shit🙈💕 i'm so so grateful and so so thankful and just so overwhelmed with love😭💖 i love you❤ (every single one of you)

so thank you my most wonderful mutuals🥺😚 @littlegenderbean emme💕 @quickpauseinconversations cande 💕@mamaharry eli💕 @littlespoongf mehar💕@grimmpitch moon💕 @louisandharry yuktha💕 @casuallycrruell arrow💕 @justmehernthemoon kaitlyn💕 @heartshaped-lou gio💕 @dorothyharry rachel💕 @1800louis sab💕 @swimmingleo leo💕 @holyshit kay💕 @ladychlo chay💕 @rainbowparadisebht kaw💕 @laurelier meg💕 @stylinsuns adheera💕 @softlouve debbie💕 (hopefully i got everyone's name right and didn't miss anyone😳)

for anyone who ever wants to talk /cry/ scream/ infodump to a non-stop oversharing chatterbox / human embodiment of an over excited puppy my dms are always open and i'm always ready to talk😂😂😚😚 you know where to find me!! HAPPY DIWALI💛💖

[n00dl3gal]

Like Old Times (Father-Son Bonding AU)

A direct sequel to the “Expiration Date” fic, which I’ll link in a reblog. I’ve also posted all my fics in this AU to AO3!! Thanks again to @thetriggeredhappy for their help and just generally being a cool dude, and the Scoutsune Discord server for indulging my brainrot

No warnings beyond family schmoop!

Less than an hour after the bread monster incident, the Administrator called for a ceasefire. “Only while your base is repaired,” she said over the TV screen. “BLU is quite disappointed in this negligence- as am I. Regardless, you may use these three days as you see fit. Go home, stay here- whatever you do, no more bread monsters.” The screen turned off with a click. 

Scout exhaled through his nose. He was thankful there was no mention of him or Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

Spy decloaked behind him. “Less time than I wanted, but c’est la vie.” Scout looked at him over his shoulder. “I’m meeting with an old contact during our break,” Spy said in Italian. “Would you like to come along? It’ll be like old times.” 

Scout’s brow furrowed, but he nodded. At least this way, he’d get out of helping Engie and Heavy with repairs. And possibly meeting Miss Pauling’s woodchipper. 

“Excellent. Our flight is at 7 AM tomorrow.” 

“We’re flying commercial?” Scout asked, also in (more hesitant) Italian. 

“Our destination is continental. We’ll leave the base by 5:30.” Scout groaned as Spy started to leave. But- wait, he hadn’t- 

“Oi, where are we going, anyway?” he called back in English. 

Spy paused to look at him and smile. “Boston.” 

“Why do we always get the ass-crack-of-dawn flights?” Jeremy asked groggily, reclining his seat.

“They are the ones with first-class seats available,” Raphael replied. He took a sip from his mimosa. 

“Yeah, cuz God forbid you fly coach for once.” Jeremy shifted, trying to get comfortable. “Hey. Have I ever been to Boston before?”

Raphael didn’t answer immediately. His lip sucked in, as if in thought. “Yes. When you were very, very young. You wouldn’t remember.” 

Jeremy nodded. He wanted to ask more, there was something Raphael wasn’t saying but… well, he was never a morning person. He fell asleep before the plane even took off. 

. . .

It was mid-afternoon by the time they landed in Boston. Jeremy was never fond of long flights; having his legs cramped like that for extended periods of time was murder. He was half tempted to take a jog around Logan International. Raphael, on the other hand, was ushering them both to the car rental. “Can’t even get a stretch in, huh?”

“Unfortunately, we are expected by 4, and I would hate to keep my contact waiting,” Raphael explained in French, accepting the keys from the girl at the counter. “She’s not a very patient woman, in some regards.” 

Jeremy huffed but didn’t argue. He just followed his father to the rental, tossing his suitcase in the backseat. “Y’know, the girl at the counter-” 

“We will not have time for you to go out on a date, Jeremy.” 

“No! No, it was- her accent’s kinda like mine, it’s weird,” Jeremy said. Raphael started the car. “Cuz I’ve only been here as a baby, and I got mine from TV and shit. It’s just… really strange, is all.” 

Raphael made a quiet noise of agreement. “Some of the shows you watched as a child were filmed here. It’s not as complex as you think it is.” 

“Yeah, probably not…” 

The pair lapsed into silence as Raphael drove. Storefronts and high rises morphed into houses. It had been a while since they were in a residential area. RED, for understandable reasons, kept away from civilians. 

Raphael took the roads with practiced experience. Sure, it had been implied he knew the area. If he had a contact here- one with a house, presumably- he must’ve spent time here. But this- this was far too familiar. A bit suspicious, actually. 

Eventually, Raphael slowed in front of a more rundown Brownstone. Still quite nice, just needed a little work. It felt… welcoming, in a way Jeremy couldn’t name.

“Lotta cars,” he observed as Raphael parallel parked. “Must be a party going on somewhere.” 

“Hmm, perhaps,” Raphael said, turning the car off. “Would you mind ringing the doorbell for me? I need to grab something from the trunk. Ask for Sara Jane.” 

OK, now Jeremy knew something was up. He was never the one to make the first contact, that was always Dad’s job. Jeremy might be a full-grown adult, but there were some things that didn’t change. This was one of them. 

Still, he nodded. He climbed up the front steps and ringed the doorbell. He heard- multiple voices from inside, predominantly male, but they quickly silenced themselves. A TV, perhaps? They really ought to get that flower box on the second story window fixed- 

The woman who opened the door was a bit shorter than him, though not by much. She was wearing a simple dress, hoop earrings, and flats. Her hair was dark, curved to her chin. But her nose and earlobes felt… achingly familiar. Like Jeremy saw them all the time. 

“Um, hi, I’m looking for Sara Jane? My name’s-” The rest of his speech was knocked out of him as the woman launched herself at him. Jeremy braced for an attack, but quickly realized she was… hugging him. 

She was hugging him, sobbing, and choked out the word “Jeremy.” 

Wait. He knew that voice. He had only heard it a few times in his life, few enough he could count them on one hand, but he knew it. “M-Ma?” he whispered. 

The woman- Sara Jane- Ma looked up at him, still crying. Her hands found his face as she observed him. “Y-yeah, sweetie, it’s me, it’s-it’s your ma,” she said. 

“Ma!” he laughed, tears of his own dancing down his cheeks. He hugged her back, practically lifting her off her feet. “Oh my God, Ma! I-I never thought I’d-” 

“Oh Jeremy, sweetie, look how tall you’ve gotten! Last I saw you, you fit in my arms! My baby, my handsome baby,” she spoke over him. She rubbed circles into his back as they embraced. It felt so, so right. 

Jeremy laughed even harder. “Are you kiddin’? I got it from you, you’re beautiful, Ma!” He stared at her, trying to commit every mole and wrinkle and perfect flaw to memory. “I can’t believe- oh my God, I’m actually meeting you!” 

“It was long overdue,” another voice said, as Raphael joined them on the front stoop. “I had put it off for safety reasons, but considering our current, ah, situation… I felt it was worth the risk.” 

Sara Jane squealed, pulling Raphael into the hug as well. “You’ve been taking good care of my boy, you promise me, Raphael?” 

“Don’t worry Ma, he’s the best dad I could ask for, considering,” Jeremy teased. 

“Oh, don’t I know it. Called me up last night and told me to get the whole motley crew together. Even managed to get Melvin to bring his twin daughters, bless his wife’s heart,” she explained. 

Jeremy blinked. “Uh- Melvin? Daughters?”

Sara Jane laughed. It sounded so much like Jeremy’s it practically hurt. This was his mother. Lord, he’s finally seeing her. “Melvin’s your older brother, sweetie. Eh, sixth oldest. Bobby’s the oldest.” 

“I have a brother?”

“Oh honey, you’re the youngest of eight,” Sara Jane said plainly. 

“...fuck,” Jeremy whispered. 

. . .

He didn’t just have seven brothers. He had seven brothers, four of which brought their wives, one who brought his boyfriend, and three who brought their kids. And the kids totaled to an additional six, counting the babies. 

It was… an admittedly tight squeeze in the living room. 

Sara Jane introduced Jeremy. Jeremy had been expecting to be treated like a stranger. He had vanished when he was a baby, after all, and his younger-older brothers probably wouldn’t remember him at all. 

And yet, it was like he knew them all his life. 

They teased him and punched him playfully and acted so friendly, so familial it nearly made Jeremy break down. He was still crying from meeting Ma, but being dogpiled with so much affection was suffocating. In a good way. He had seen on sitcoms the intrinsic bond between family, and while he felt it with Dad, they also risked their lives nearly daily. But it was real, it was here, and it was wrapping him in a warm blanket. 

Despite the chaos and the sheer number of people, Jeremy didn’t feel overwhelmed. He laughed and played along with their jokes, cracking some back when he could get a word in. Scott ragged on his dog tags, he countered by pointing out the hole in his pants. Michael told him he was still a shortass, he replied with “it takes one to know one.” Elliot and Ricky were the closest to actually getting hurt, and that was only because Jeremy elbowed them both so hard they nearly fell over. 

For the first time in 25 years, Jeremy understood what “home” meant. 

The kids were especially curious, eager to meet their uncle and step-grandfather. Within seconds, young Rebecca- only four years old- was challenging Jeremy to a race around the house. “I’m the fastest kid in the world,” she bragged, puffing out her chest. 

“Oh yeah?” Jeremy asked. “That a fact?”

“You wanna test me? I beat Johnny Three-Legs at running, and he’s got three legs!” Jeremy laughed and stood from the couch, letting her lead him outside. “On the count of three, OK?”

“You’re on, pipsqueak,” Jeremy teased.

“Onetwothree GO!” Rebecca yelled, taking off in a sprint. Jeremy knew that, by all accounts, he should beat her. His legs were longer, she didn’t have the proper running stance, and it was his job to be fast. That’s what he got paid to do. But some small voice was telling him to let her win, so he did. “Ha! I told ya!” 

“Ya sure did,” he replied, mock panting. “Look at you, a freaking blur on the green. You’re goin’ to the Olympics, kid.” 

Rebecca beamed and hugged his leg. “Promise, Uncle Jeremy?” He nodded because, after that display, there was no way he could speak without squeaking like a chew toy. 

Rebecca skipped back inside, past Raphael, who was watching on the stoop. “You’re a natural with children,” he observed. “I used to do the same thing when you were that age.” 

“Wait- wait, really? You sure fooled me,” Jeremy said. 

Raphael rolled his eyes. “What’s my job again, mon lapin?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Jeremy leaned against the railing, watching Raphael’s cigarette smoke in the wind. “Hey. Uh… thanks for arranging all of this. You really didn’t need to.”

“But I did. I meant it when I said this was overdue. I’ve been wanting to introduce you to the rest of the family for a while, but have been unable. Then that whole ordeal with the supposed tumors, and-” Raphael exhaled slowly. “It wouldn’t have been fair to you if you died without knowing them. I would’ve never forgiven myself.” 

Jeremy punched his shoulder lightly. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, pops. It all worked out, we’re still kicking, and that roast chicken Ma’s making smells incredible. Everything’s perfect.” 

Raphael finished his cigarette and smiled. “Oui. It is.” 

. . .

While Sara Jane had been able to get the rest of the family here, it was a school night. Kids needed to be tucked in by 9:30, so most of Jeremy’s brothers were gone by 8. Elliot was staying overnight, as was his boyfriend. Otherwise, the house quickly went from bustling to barren. 

It gave Jeremy a chance to explore his would-be childhood home.

He made his way upstairs, pushing open one of the doors. It led- to little surprise- to a bedroom. It was set up like a nursery, with a crib in one corner and a toddler bed in the other. Toys were scattered about across the floor. 

He heard Sara Jane sigh behind him. “This was your room, you know.” Jeremy turned to look at her as she flipped the light switch. “That crib… I had put you to bed the night your father planned to fake his death. I was in on the whole plan, naturally. He wanted to hold you one last time, so I said OK. When I woke up the next morning… you were both gone.” She exhaled slowly, grabbing onto his shoulder. “I wrote both of you off as dead, but I knew what had happened. Honestly, should’ve figured it out before then. You hadn’t woken me up crying,” she joked. Her eyes were watering. 

Jeremy hugged her, pulling her close. “You never took the crib down?” 

“By the time I was ready, Bobby’s wife was pregnant, so I kept it up for my grandbabies. I knew- I knew you were out there, sweetie. Both of you.” She kissed his cheek, squeezing him.

“I-I never got to be a normal kid, really,” he confessed. “I mean, Dad did his best, gave me comic books and board games and stuff, but-but I never went to school or made friends or anything like that. I-I didn’t even know I had a family. It took me forever to even realize I had a Ma. An-and everything I did-” The tears were flowing again, more freely than earlier. “Ya missed me losing my first tooth, and potty trainin’, and all that stuff parents should know about. I-I’m sorry,” he whispered. 

Sara Jane wiped his cheek dry. “Don’t apologize for what your father did, Jeremy. And definitely don’t apologize for me not potty training another kid. Besides… hold on, I’ll be right back.” She made her way down the hallway. Jeremy didn’t follow, instead deciding to examine the crib. This was where he grew up. It was a simple crib, obviously well-used. Not worn-down, mind, just… used. It had a history. A history that Jeremy wanted to decode, but unlike his dad’s ciphers, he didn’t have the key. 

“Took me a second to find it,” Sara Jane said. She handed him what appeared to be a scrapbook. “Raphael- he wrote when he can. Taught me some basic codes, would send out letters whenever you’d leave a town. Never left a return address, but…” Jeremy flipped through the pages, moving to sit on the small bed. The letters were all coded but appeared to be about how much Raphael missed Sara Jane. Updates on Jeremy’s growth. Letters from a father to his lover and son’s mother. 

One page jumped out to him, though. “I remember this,” he said, running his fingers against the paper. It was a simple drawing of a young boy, holding a catcher’s mitt, and a taller man next to him. “I drew this after Dad took me to my first baseball game, for my eighth birthday. I thought I lost the drawing after we skipped town, but- he sent them to you?”

Sara Jane nodded. “And I kept them all. Oh, honey, the day I first heard your voice on the phone- Mikey can tell you, I damn near fell over. You sounded so happy, and even if I couldn’t see you, that’s all a mother wants.” Jeremy leaned against her and she shut the book. “That’s all a mother wants, sweetie. To see her kids be safe and happy.” 

“I am, Ma,” he assured her. “I promise.” 

They sat like that for a while, with Sara Jane commenting on various letters and drawings in the scrapbook. Apparently, Raphael sent her money when he could- more frequently now that Mann Co. paid so well. She also had a rough idea of their current occupations. “I figure, if you and your father are working for the same company- with his skills, there’s gotta be a whole lot of nonsense going on out in that desert.” Jeremy laughed at that because she wasn’t wrong. “But I also figure since he raised you right, he’ll keep the both of you safe.” 

“I keep him safe too, don’t worry,” Jeremy added. “Uh- listen, it’s touching and all you kept the crib, but I don’t have to sleep in it, right?” 

They both had a good chuckle over that. Their laughs were in perfect harmony. 

. . .

The next two days were a mix of learning the family history and exploring Boston. It was the offseason, so there weren’t any games going on at Fenway, but Jeremy still got a picture in front of the park. Sara Jane took the pair to a restaurant that served “the best damn clam chowder in the contiguous United States.” Which, incidentally, led them to discover Jeremy was allergic to clams. Thankfully they didn’t have to go to the hospital- he just sort of immediately got sick before it passed- but it did suck.

It was damn good chowder, though. 

They went down to the harbor where the Boston Tea Party happened. It was crowded with people, resulting in them not staying long. Jeremy was a bit better with crowds than Raphael, but neither was great with them. Came with the job. Getting overpriced memorabilia from a nearby gift shop, though, went over much more smoothly. 

When not out on the town, Sara Jane dug out more scrapbooks and photo albums, catching Raphael up on what his stepsons had been up to. She showed Jeremy pictures from Ricky’s first school play to Scott opening up his butcher shop. Graduation pictures, wedding pictures, baby pictures- it was all there, and Jeremy devoured it. He wanted to know these people. He wanted to know his family. And he did. He learned about Michael’s stint in the Navy, Melvin meeting his wife, how Bobby’s son could dribble a basketball for twenty minutes straight. He learned about how his parents met. How Raphael loved each of Sara Jane’s children, even if they weren’t biologically his. How Jeremy wasn’t planned- few of the kids were - but they were both so, so happy to realize he was coming. 

He also learned that, while diner food would remain the undisputed king, homemade meatloaf came pretty close. 

. . .

The only problem came when it was time to leave. It wasn’t that Jeremy didn’t want to return to work, or leave his Ma behind. Sara Jane wasn’t even torn up over losing her son and lover again. It just felt like there was so much left to say, to do. There was uncertainty as to when they’d be able to return. “We get time off for Smissmas, I know that’s months away but I’ll be here, I promise,” Jeremy swore, hugging Sara Jane for the eighth time. 

“You better,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You have 25 years worth of gifts to catch up on, not to mention birthday gifts-”

“Ma, you don’t have to go that far,” he whined. He was touched, sure, but the thought of that much luggage was truly frightening. Oh God, he was going to have to get gifts for everybody, wasn’t he? What do kids even want for Smissmas? 

“Hush, let me spoil my baby,” Sara Jane told him, kissing his cheek. “Oh, Jeremy…” 

Jeremy nodded. “I know, but I’ll call. I’ll write, too. Send pictures if I can.” 

“I’ll make sure he does,” Raphael assured her. Sara Jane stood to kiss his lips, with Jeremy looking away pointedly. “You have my word, ma petite chou-fleur.” 

“Alright, alright- now get going, I don’t want you two missing your flight. That boss of yours sounds like she’ll tear you both a new one if you’re late,” Sara Jane said, shooing them away. “Love you boys!” 

“I love you too, Ma!” Jeremy shouted back, for the very first time. 

The drive back to the airport was quiet. Jeremy stared out the window, watching his hometown- he had a hometown- pass by. “Hey, dad?” he asked, still looking outside. Raphael grunted to acknowledge he was listening. “One of these days, our contracts with Mann Co. are gonna expire. We’re gonna have to find new jobs.” 

“Yes, that’s correct,” Raphael said. He tapped a rhythm against the steering wheel. 

“And-and I was thinking when that time comes… maybe we could come back to Boston. Find some gigs out here,” Jeremy suggested. 

Raphael sighed. “Unfortunately, being a spy means that you don’t have the option of retiring, Jeremy. Not until you’re unable to complete your job. At that point, though, you’ve probably died a dozen times over,” he explained. “Even if I could retire, settling down somewhere so close to people I care about- I would still have enemies.” 

“Right. ‘Course,” Jeremy said. “It’s OK.” 

“That being said,” Raphael continued, “you have the luxury of youth and not being tied down to such a career. If you want to find a job in Boston after we finish with RED, there’s nothing stopping you.” 

“But people will still be after me, since I’m your son. And you wouldn’t be around.”

“Every child leaves their parents someday. And you’re strong, Jeremy. You can protect yourself and your family.” Raphael smiled. “I don’t believe Sara Jane needs much protecting, but I do worry.” 

Jeremy laughed. “I mean, did ya see the muscles on Scott and Michael? Guys can probably bench press a tractor!” 

They both chuckled before settling into quietude. Eventually, though, Jeremy had to break the silence. His voice was barely above a whisper. “I love you.” 

“I love you too, mon lapin.”

“...so your nickname for Ma is fucking ‘little cauliflower?’ What the hell, Dad?” 

[metize]

Valentione’s Day Chocolate

Emet-Selch x WoL (AFAB) smut Tags: Valentione's Day ; No Spoilers ; AFAB Warrior of Light ;They/Them Pronouns for Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Gender-Neutral Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV) ; Fluff and Smut

A/N:Emet smut! Finally posting my FFXIV fics on tumblr. Cuz I want to do headcanons and requests and stuff...... Anyways! This is just fluff and smut. No warnings just pure bastard ascian thirst quenching material.

You were resting in your room in the Pendants, sitting down at the dining table when Emet-Selch waltzed in. You were over trying to get him to leave at this point, the recurring encounters made you more accustomed to his insufferable personality.

"Hey! Stop it, this isn't for you!" You pulled the box of chocolates away from the Ascian, who already held one in his hand.

"Oh, please, you have dozens more on you little pile there, Hero, selfishness is not a good look  for you." He said unbothered by your reaction. Emet-Selch gestured towards your stack of heart-shaped boxes, they were gifted to you by the people of the Crystarium all of them very eager to show their appreciation for the Warrior of Darkness.

"This one's different. This one….  It's from the Exarch." You mutter, tracing your fingers along the container.

"And? Is the chocolate any sweeter when it's handed to you by our friendly neighborhood hooded freak?"

"He's not-" you don't know why you feel the urge to defend the Crystal Exarch, but you feel very close to him, his devotion and wisdom are admirable and you felt a growing sense of fondness towards the anonymous Crystarium ruler. "I don't know why I'd even bother explaining these things to you." You shake your head, telling yourself not to waste your breath. "Looking at you Ascians I scarcely believe your kind would understand feelings."

Emet-Selch popped the round bonbon into his mouth before saying. "How cruel, Hero. I will have you know I feel as much as you do." He sighs disappointed "Perhaps even more, I'd argue." He muttered under his breath.

"Well then understand that this box is full of feelings, fondness, appreciation…"

"Strange, those don't translate that well into taste." He mused and crossed his legs "I must say I find your day of courtship is severely lacking. Is this all you do to show you care for another?"

You rolled your eyes "Well excuse us mortals for letting you down yet again." You close the violated box, sealing it back by tying the red ribbon over it. "Here you can have this one if you want candy that badly." You push a random package, pink and sparkly, towards Emet-Selch.

“Oh, Warrior, you shouldn’t have!” he feigned bashfulness and you couldn’t help but let out a chuckle. “I am very flattered, oh look you even wrote me a letter, let me see.” There was indeed a small piece of paper attached to the present, Emet-Selch unfolded the card before reciting “Dear Emet-Selch,” You huff in amusement, curious as to what the Ascian would make up “I pale in comparison to you and your kind, I am so grateful for your selflessness and your assistance during my meaningless quests.” You crossed your arms, not surprised by his antics, but then you weren’t expecting him to continue. “We are sworn enemies and yet I cannot quell the flames burning inside of me whenever I see you. I want nothing more than be ravished by you, every night I touch myself to the thought of y-”

“G-gods! That’s it your Valentione’s candy rights have been revoked.” You grab the box he held in his hands, taking it away from him, your face burning up at his shameless smirk. “Do you have nothing else to do besides teasing me for your own amusement? Just walk into your creepy portal and get a hobby already.” You get up from the table, pretending to be cleaning things up.

“Ah, you’d be surprised at how enjoyable it is to watch you squirm.” But he got up right behind you. “So much passion, Hero. Who would’ve thought you garnered such feelings for me.”

“Pff, you wish. And there is no passion or feelings in that letter, who’s to say I didn’t just want you to fuck me and that’s it.” You turned around to face him. He was way closer than you expected him to be and you stumble backward a bit, yet he steps right back into your personal space.

“If I were to fuck you, Hero, it'd most certainly be with passion, I can assure you." He smiled and reached to caress your hair.

“You’re the worst.” You averted your gaze, embarrassed by the closeness and his gentle touch, yet you didn’t move away. Of course you didn’t, you were attracted to that bastard for some reason and you cursed yourself endlessly for it. “Don’t say shit you don’t mean just to get a reaction out of me.”

He grabbed your face by your chin, his touch now rough, forcing you to look at him. “I’ve told you before, Hero. I do not lie.” His tone is now low and he delights himself seeing you get goosebumps on your skin as he caresses your arm with his free hand. “Though I cannot deny how much I enjoy your reactions.”

It annoyed you how readable you were to him, every part of your body seemed to betray you and clearly show him exactly how much you were affected by his presence. You couldn’t even process the fact he started closing the gap between you until you felt his lips press against yours. You let out a tiny gasp in surprise, parting your lips slightly, he pressed himself closer deepening the kiss and pushing his tongue into your mouth. You started kissing him back and you could feel him smile against your lips, his mouth growing hungrier as he guided you back against the table you were just talking on.

You sat on the table, glad you managed to put away the gifts giving you some space to rest on. Emet nudged himself in between your legs, you spread them wider unconsciously giving him more space, welcoming him closer. “So pliant to my touch, dear hero.” He murmurs, his hands gripping your waist as he starts kissing your neck. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Please… Touch me…” You plead softly before you can get too self-conscious about sounding needy. You’re instantly rewarded with the feeling of his gloved hand slipping under your top, reaching to play with one of your breasts. His other hand slowly unbuttoning said blouse, while he peppered your revealed skin with kisses. Once your torso was fully exposed you fought the urge to cover yourself as Emet-Selch’s persistent gaze never left your upper body.

“You’ve tempted me for far too long, Warrior of Light…” he spoke more to himself than to you, shaking his head before diving to kiss one of your nipples while his hand tugged at the other. You bit your lips to try and stifle your groans, but Emet tsked at you. “Don’t hide your voice from me, I wish to hear it.” He smiled devilishly. “The more pathetic you sound the happier I get.” To punctuate his phrase he blew on your slickened pink bud, making your breath hitch.

“Y-you really are the worse.” You shook your head, cheeks flushed at the way he played with your body as a practiced musician did with their instrument.

“Maybe so…” He mused, gripping your bottoms to undress you further. “But will I find you dripping for the awful being before you? How come my virtuous hero finds themselves in this predicament? Submissive, pliant, needy, beneath their villain’s touch…” He smirked and kissed his way down your body as your garments were pulled down, leaving you completely bare while the Ascian was fully clothed. The contrast made you shiver with anticipation, his words were going straight to your core, the sheer wrongness of this whole setting was infuriatingly arousing. Emet was on his knees between your legs, you could feel his hot breath on your skin. He looked at you straight in the eyes as he pulled his glove off with his teeth, right before using his now bare fingers to spread your lips open. “Maybe you’re not such a good warrior to your Goddess after all, are you? From here all I see is a depraved, needy little thing.”

“Emet, p-please…” His touches were fleeting and his mouth left wet kisses on her inner thigh.

“Hm?” He looked up, feigning innocence.

“Please I need you…”

“You are so greedy with your words, pray share them with me. What do you need of me?” His fingers gently rubbed your entrance, you moan still trying to sort your words out while he teased you. He sighed. “What is it, do you want my fingers deep inside your cunt? Want me to spread you open with my fingers and make you come on them?” You nodded profusely at his suggestions and he plunged a digit into your entrance with no warning pulling a gasp from your lips before he kept talking. “You want my mouth on you? Want me to use my tongue to bring you to completion while you whine and try to grind against my mouth?”

“Yes! Gods yes.” With that his lips were on you.

He kissed your pussy still stretching it with his finger, he added a second digit as he started licking and teasing your clit. You couldn’t help but gasp and moan under his ministrations, his hands reached everywhere inside of you and his mouth was absolutely sinful. You softly begged him not to stop, as his fingers curled inside you and his warm tongue circled your sensitive nub. You cried out coming around him, you didn’t even notice you had you hand gripping his hair until you were coming down from the high. You were aching still, you were pretty sure you’d go insane if you didn’t get filled with the Ascian’s cock in the next few minutes.

“M-more…”

“Insatiable little thing, aren’t you?” his usual condescending tone was betrayed by his visible erection. “Want your pretty little cunt filled with my cum? Broken little thing, you are…” Your vision was hazy, you were lost in both the afterglow and the arousal that was building up again inside you. You weren’t watching his movements, all you could focus on was his amber eyes blown out with lust and the filthy words he spoke into your ear, soon enough you felt his tip tease your entrance, rubbing it up and down against your slit.

“Don- Don’t do this… ah… to me.” you were tired of his teasing, it was bordering on cruelty at this point. “Need you inside me…”

That seemed to persuade him enough because he started pressing into your warm entrance at once. His lips went back to kissing yours as he bottomed out inside, the kiss was desperate and passionate, the way his mouth consumed you arousing you further as you felt his dick stretching your walls.

“All the way in…” he announced and kissed your forehead gently, giving you a moment to adjust. You nodded violently giving him permission to move already and he smiled at your eagerness. His thrusts started deep and steady, your moans filling the room each time he hit just the right spot inside of you. “Is this what you need, Hero? You need to be filled, hm? Only I can make you feel complete, my dear warrior.” He pulled your hair and looked into your eyes, as you struggled to keep your eyes open. “I see you. I know what you need and only I can give it to you.”

You cried out for him as his pace quickened, you could feel your second orgasm approaching quickly but you wanted to come to his voice speaking more filthy things to you. He noticed it too, smirking at you before continuing to speak. “Come around my cock, my needy broken little hero. Do it and I’ll give you my cum, I’ll fill you up like you need to be filled. I will ruin you for anyone else.” You moaned and scratched his clothed back as he fucked you through your climax. He didn’t stop pounding you. “That’s it, that’s my good little hero… Fuck…” He groaned feeling you clenching around him, his pace faltering until he came inside you.

The both of you breathe heavily before Emet kissed your forehead. You close your eyes still catching your breath as you hear the familiar ‘snap’ of the Ascians fingers, you open your eyes to find you both in bed.

“Didn’t take you for a cuddler.” you teased him as you felt his arms holding you from behind. “You’ll find I am full of surprises.” You can hear the smirk on his voice, you huffed before nudging closer to him and closing your eyes, sinking into sleep.

You wake up alone, a red box of chocolates placed on your nightstand addressed to “my good little hero”.

[gracy-simsie]

Tagging game

I was tagged by @queenofvraquin ♥ Thank you !

Why did you choose your URL?

Well, my name is Grace and I wanted something similar to my name, so here you go! But I've felt like changing it back to one of my old names from my old blogs!

How long have you been on Tumblr?

Poe I've had this blog since 2021, but... I've been on here for a while, I looked it up and it since 2013! I was so smoll when I started here, I was a little shocked when I found out haha. My previous names were @ambrosiay @lagraziasims @lagraziana maybe someone knows me when I went by those blogs haha! The reason I changed blogs was mostly due to me being sad a lot of the blogs I followed were inactive (because I was gone for a year for example), so started fresh and new felt like the right thing to do! No worries, I am not gonna change anymore :P.

Do you have a queue tag?

No, I do queue my posts, but no tag for it ;).

Why did you start your blog in the first place?

I don't remember so well - cuz wel 2013 haha - I believe it was because I used to post ingame pictures on the sims 3 website and then somebody on there said something about a simblr and tada I found my place!

Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

Because Ruby is my currrent obsession ♥

Why did you choose your header?

"

What's your post with the most notes?

I really didn't know so I used an online counter >.<! It was a post I made about looking for story telling simblrs, and ofcourse people love to find new stories and share their own!

How many mutuals do you have?

I am ... I am really not sure, so I counted them 63! :)

How many followers do you have?

268! Thank you for being interested in my stories and gameplay guys! ♥

Have you ever made a shitpost?

Oh Yes, when I see something I posted a long time ago, I am like fhghjjgfgh did I really think it was good? But well, on the positive side I like to keep those shit posts, because they remind me I grew a lot! Also nostalgic !!

How often do you use tumblr every day?

A lot haha, I have it on my phone. I use it more than my instagram or any other social media, because they just don't interest me as much :P.

Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? Who won?

You won't believe this, but no. When I was younger I ignored hate anons, because I thought why would I take the time to answer some petty ask when I could interact about nicer and more important things ;). TBH I don't know if it's because I notice different things now I am older, but I do like that people stand behind certain opinions or facts as of late. It is really interesting to read and I feel like I learn more, you know? I am not gonna interfere with it myself though, I am not certain I would be able to fully explain things in English. Sometimes I just need my passionate and harsh dutch words and phrase haha!

How do you feel about 'you need to reblog this' posts?

I see it more as a nudge than as a real obligations. It's still your own blog and I think people should post what they feel like. But I do confess I always read them, because most of the time those are very interesting real cultural, political etc. topics.

Do you like tag games?

Yes I do!

Do you like ask memes?

Haha, yes. As I said in other posts I like to talk. I have no filter in the amount I comment to people. I hope you are all okay with that, because that's not gonna change anytime soon! ;)

Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I need a picture of a meme I saw rolling on my dash as of late...

Do you have a crush on a mutual?

No! I need to actually get to know someone before I can crush on someone! But I do sometimes crush on some of their sims for example @buglaur Theo , @gothoffspring Jet & @simgerale Sheridan 🥺🥺

I tag @simgerale , @buglaur, @alicesimblr & @gerbitfizz ! No worries of you don't want to or have already done it !

[kaylaxwrites]

Into You

Pairing: Jessica Jones x Reader Words: 2.5k Summary: After the police practically dismiss your concerns of stalker, you turn to Alias Investigations for help. Request:  Jessica Jones x f reader where reader hires her as a pi (for whatever reason) and the case takes awhile so reader develops feelings but doesn't want to act on them because it's in appropriate since Jessica is working for her. Then as soon as the case is over Jessica pulls out two glasses and some whisky and is like "I'm a pi obviously I noticed you're into me now let's drink together and see where this goes cuz I like you too" (anon) A/N: Sorry this took so long! It might not follow the request exactly (I forgot to make the case like take a while) but I hope you like it! 

Warnings: reader has a stalker, gets cornered by stalker and is also punched

Tears stung your eyes as you stepped out of the police station. You were convinced, you knew, you had a stalker. Someone had been following you for several weeks now, left crude “love letters” taped to your apartment door, and generally left you with an unsafe and uncomfortable feeling. You went to the police today for help—any help—and left feeling crushed and defeated. The officers inside didn’t take you seriously, brushed you off, dismissed your concerns and you were angry.

Afraid.

You started walking down the street back towards your apartment, brushing away stray tears. Being in the open—even in front of a police station—made you feel uneasy. You didn’t know what to do next and you were about to spiral into a panic attack. One step at a time, you tried to tell yourself, taking deep breaths as you walked. You would go home, and figure out what to do there. Right now you just needed to get home and calm down.

You looked to the sky as a means to keep your tears at bay when a sign in a fifth-floor window caught your eye and slowed you to a halt.

Alias Investigations.

A private investigator? Could they help you with your problem? Maybe they could help you get the evidence you needed for the police to take you seriously. Did you have the money for it, though? Fuck it, you thought. It would be cheaper than moving across town and changing your name. With a steading breath, you opened the door to the building and made your way inside.

You soon arrived at the fifth floor and anxiety knotted your stomach. This building looked sketchy—the suspiciously blood-like stains in the elevator was more than enough to give you that uneasy feeling—but you were already here. So might as well. Right?

You knocked hesitantly on the door, surprised when you heard what sounded like muttered curses from the other side. Did you come at a bad time? You almost left but then the door creaked open and you were met with the annoyed face of a pale, black-haired woman.

“Can I help you?” she asked curtly, opening the door only enough to show her shoulders and face, trying to appear as unwelcoming as possible.

“Uh…” The woman and her weird greeting left you somewhat speechless so you weakly pointed at the window where Alias Investigations was printed in bold letters. “Alias Investigations?” you said as if she wouldn’t know the name of her own business. You could kick yourself for your awkward stuttering.

“Shit. Hold on.” She closed the door in your face and you took a step back, startled. Through the opaque glass on the door, you could see the silhouette of the private eye quickly picking up the main room of her apartment, throwing trash and other stray items out of sight. You stopped yourself from smiling when the door was thrown back open and she welcomed you inside.

You sat tentatively in one of the chairs across from her desk as she sat heavily in the opposite seat, folding her arms on the top of her desk. She gestured for you to start talking and you did. “I think I have a stalker,” you started. But then you shook your head, restarting. “I know I have a stalker. I don’t know who he is, but I’ve caught glimpses of him a couple of times and he keeps leaving me these…letters on my door about once a week.” You dug into your bag and pulled out several of the letters you tried to bring as evidence, laying them on the table.

Jessica, you realized from her name tag on the desk, picked them up and scanned through them. “Have you been to the police?” she asked.

“I went there this morning. They practically dismissed me outright. I was walking home when I saw your sign.” You nodded towards the window behind her that advertised to the street.

She shuffled through the letters some more. “And do all of these…?”

Talk graphically about what your stalker would do once you were “together”?

“Yeah. The officer…” You cleared your throat, feeling tears stinging your eyes once again. “The officer said that I-I had probably led some guy on and that’s why he was leaving me love letters. He hasn’t threatened to kill me, so they aren’t—they aren’t going to help me.” Your voice was strained by the end of your sentence and you knew Jessica picked up on it.

“And you don’t know who it is?”

You shook your head. “Like I said, I’ve caught glimpses of him, but…”

“What does he look like?”

“Tall. Six foot, maybe? White. Not skinny, but not like super muscular either. He always has a hood or sunglasses on, so I’ve never really gotten a good look at his face. He hasn’t talked to me in person, either. Just leaves the letters.”

Jessica thought for a moment, looking over the letters once more. “I’ll help you,” she said eventually.

You nearly shot out of your seat. “Really? Oh my god, thank you. I don’t know what else I’d do.” You reached into your bag for your wallet. “How much will I owe you? I only have two hundred to give now, but I can find more to pay you later.”

“I’ll take a hundred for now. I’ll figure out the rest later.”

You pulled five twenties out of your wallet, half of your paycheck you cashed out earlier that day. You also gave her your phone number, address, and your schedule for the week. Jessica said she’d be in touch with you and you soon left afterwards, feeling lighter than you had in weeks now that the weight was beginning to lift off your shoulders.

You didn’t hear much from Jessica the next few days. She said she was going to watch you in your daily routine for a little while to see who she could find that was suspicious or she saw a lot in your vicinity. You never once saw her watching you, so you had to take her for her word—that either meant she was really good or you just gave a hundred bucks to someone who was going to ghost you. Thankfully, by the end of the week, you didn’t have to worry about being ghosted by a P.I.

Jessica found your stalker.

James Williams, she said his name was, but it didn’t ring a bell. You didn’t know him and you weren’t sure how he knew you. “You could’ve helped him at work or smiled at him on the street,” Jessica assured you. “These assholes will take any random act of kindness as a love declaration.”

“You could say that again,” you muttered. But you thanked her for her help and ended the phone call, agreeing to meet in about two hours after you got home from work. You pulled yourself from your hiding spot in the stock room of your workplace and finished up your shift.

By the end of the hour, you were starting your walk to Jessica’s office. You were less than two blocks down the road when an arm wrapped around your shoulders and backed you against the wall of an alleyway. Your head smarted against the brick and you blinked rapidly as you took in the face in front of yours.

You didn’t recognize it, but it must be…

James.

“What—what do you want?” you stuttered, your brain suddenly short-circuiting.

“You called…you called a P.I.?” he asked. He almost sounded…heartbroken. “I—I had a plan. I had a plan for us and you ruined it!”

“I don’t want to be a part of your plan. I don’t even know you!”

“I had everything figured out. We were gonna—”

“Get off of me, fucking creep!”

You instantly regretted your words as a look of anger flashed through his eyes. Maybe calling the psychopath a creep wasn’t the best way to go. Before you could brace yourself, he swung his fist and you were met with a flash of pain in your nose, a trail of blood following not long after. The force of the blow had you spiraling towards the ground and your felt your ankle twist as you fought to remain upright. Gravity won in the end and your palms scraped across concrete as you fell. Before your thoughts could even register, James’ hands were at your shoulders, lifting you upright, and pressing you against brick once more.

“Do not…call me that,” he said between heavy breaths. You flinched when he reached a hand up to cup the side of your face, brushing away blood with his thumb. Your mind flashed through every self-defense post on social media, but you couldn’t think clearly to remember specific moves. You were halfway to hyperventilating when James was suddenly yanked aside and thrown down the alleyway.

“You okay?” a voice asked. You looked to your left. Jessica.

“I’ll be fine,” you managed.

Blood was pouring from your nose still and you tried to stem the flow with the sleeve of your shirt. Movement down the alley caught your eye and you glanced over. James was staggering to his feet and started towards you. Jessica huffed and rolled her eyes, meeting the man halfway. In the blink of an eye, she lifted him and threw him into a nearby dumpster, latching the lid closed so he couldn’t escape.

“That’ll hold him until the police get here,” she said, brushing her hands off.

“Police?” you asked.

“Yeah, that little stunt will get him time for assault. And you won’t have to worry about him anymore.” She took a few steps towards you. “Let me see,” she said, gesturing towards your face. As the bleeding was now mostly stopped, you lifted your head so she could see the damage. “It’s not broken,” she said after a moment, “but you’re gonna have one hell of a shiner in the morning.”

Great, you thought. But if it was the price to pay for getting rid of your stalker…

At that moment, a police cruiser pulled into the mouth of the alley.

You don’t remember much of the statement you gave to the police. The throbbing in your skull pretty much override it all. But thankfully, before long, the officers were taking James away in handcuffs and you were allowed to leave, the card of one of the officers pressed against your hand. Jessica stayed by your side through it all and you were thankful for her presence.

When you were allowed to leave and the officers had left, you tried to stand on your sprained ankle, but could barely make it a single step. The walk back to Jessica’s office was going to be one hell of a trip. Jessica took one pitying look at your pained step and bent as if she was going to pick you up. You quickly shuffled out of her reach. “What are you doing?” you asked.

“You can’t walk,” she answered simply.

“So what? You’re just going to try and carry me? Halfway across Hell’s Kitchen?”

“You got a better plan?”

You looked down at yourself. Your shirt was splattered with blood from your nose. Couldn’t exactly take an Uber looking like you did. “I guess not,” you sighed in defeat.

“So?”

“But you can’t carry me!” Jessica was tiny and you… “I’m too…”

“Heavy?” You gasped as your eyes widened in shock. Jessica was blunt, sure, but… “Shit, not like that. I didn’t—” She sighed. “Just… Look.” She knelt down in between two parked cars, placing a hand under each of the bumpers. With barely a grunt, she stood, lifting the ends of the cars on either side of her until the wheels were nearly waist high.

“Holy shit,” you breathed.

“Yeah.” She dropped the cars and they bounced to the ground. You were surprised the alarms didn’t go off or the wheels didn’t bust. “So are we good here?” You stuttered to find words. You wanted to just let her pick you up—she did just lift two cars, after all—but you were still worried. “So can we go or what?”

“I-I guess.” You moved awkwardly as Jessica lifted you into her arms. Your ankle throbbed as your weight was lifted off of it. You tried to situate yourself comfortably as Jessica carried you, but you didn’t know what to do with your arms. You settled on one across the back of her shoulders and the other curled into your chest, trying to minimize the points of contact with Jessica’s body.

But then you realized just how close Jessica’s face was to yours.

You took in her profile, watching how her hair bounced as she walked, how her pale skin practically changed colors under different streetlights. You realized then just how beautiful she was and maybe you were starting to have a thing for her. Great.

You blushed and turned away as her eyes turned to you. She huffed out a chuckle before returning her attention to the sidewalk.

Eventually, Jessica set you down on the couch in the living room of her office. She stepped over to the bookshelf in the corner of the room, a bookshelf that held more liquor than books, and poured two large drinks. She crossed back to you, offering you one of the glasses. You took it gratefully as Jessica fell on the couch next to you. You sipped your drink slowly, carefully—but by the time you were only a quarter done with yours, Jessica had already refilled her own, having brought the half-full bottle across the room with her.

The two of you sat there quietly, drinking, unwinding, for several minutes until you felt the need to break the silence. “Jessica, I—,” you began, but she cut in, finishing your sentence for you.

“You’re into me.”

Your face flushed and you turned your gaze quickly to the dark amber liquid in your glass. You weren’t even really sure what it was—whiskey? Bourbon? Was there a difference?—but you were tempted to reach over and chug the whole bottle if this was the conversation Jessica wanted to have. “I-I was just going to say thank you,” you stammered, “for everything.”

“You sure that’s all you wanted to say?” She turned her whole body to face you, tucking one of her legs underneath her. You refused to meet her gaze. “I’m a PI. A good one. And you’re an open book. You didn’t think I noticed?”

Your face burned hotter than ever and you wished the couch would swallow you whole—were you really that obvious about your feelings? Jessica reached behind her for the liquor bottle and refilled her drink once more as well as topped yours off. You took several burning gulps to try and distract yourself from the situation. You would give anything to be anywhere but here. You were into Jessica, but she wasn’t into you—the following conversation would be the most embarrassing of your life.

“I’m—I’m sorry. I should go.” You stood to try to gather your coat and your bag, wanting nothing more than to leave.

Jessica’s iron grip on your arm stopped you dead in your tracks. “For what it’s worth,” she said, almost scoffing, as if what she was about to say wasn’t worth anything at all, “I’m into you, too.”

divider by writeyourmindaway

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

A NEW EXPERIENCE

Prompt: You and Roman have been together for 7 years now,and on the night of your 5th year wedding anniversary,you have a new way to demonstrate your love for him

Word count: Uh girl,grab a snack ‘cuz this one is long!

Pairing: Roman Reigns x Reader

Warnings: +18 smut,cursing,slight self-degradation,fluff(at the end),a lot of intimacy and Tantric Massage(yes,you’ve heard it right 😉)

A little disclaimer,before we continue: Tantra is a middle eastern (more precisely Indian) philosophy and spiritual path,the tantric massage itself is a wonderful experience that DOES NOT involves any sort of sexual interaction such as penetration or masturbation!Yes it does involve yoni/lingam massage(vagina/penis massage) but the whole goal of it it’s not orgasm/ejaculation.It can happen of course,’cuz we’re humans but if it can it has to be delayed/controlled since that’s not a goal to be reached,it’s a full body experience and a deeper self connection and healing journey.So if someday you reach out a PROFESSIONAL for this especific massage,keep all this things in mind,please.The only reason I’ve included sex on this it’s because the characters in this story are married and got carried away(also because,it’s Roman I mean,who wouldn’t?). Also they don’t live the Tantra as a philosophy or spiritual path at all! It’s just a new way of working they intimacy together as a couple.It is NOT my intention to degrade ANY form of philosophy/spiritual path from anyone’s beliefs,this is for entertainment purposes only,and also a new way for me to write about new/different themes(or personal study topics of mine) for my stories. I have a deep love for middle eastern cultures and an even deeper love for studying different types of philosophy/spiritual paths.

Tag: My soul sister @ziasaph

Notes: Y’all know the drill loves,sorry for misspellings,english isn’t my first language (bla bla bla),check out my other stories if you’d like to(it would make your girl here very happy 😊) and if you’re comfortable with it,please let me know what you think? Some feedback is always welcomed and appreciated ❤️You can check out my other stories typing ‘masochist writes’ on the search bar on my page and my newest story as a fixed post.

Okay,now let’s get to the fun part,shall we? Hope you’ll enjoy 😉

Today’s my 5th year wedding anniversary with my lovely husband,Roman.We’ve been together for 7 years now.The first time I met him,I gotta say, I hated him! There was something about him that screamed trouble.He was too good to be true,I mean,he was incredibly handsome,polite,thoughtful,kind,loving,funny,intelligent,respectful(a true gentleman really),the best kiss I’ve ever had and don’t even get me started on this man’s bedroom skills...No man ever fucked me like that,no man ever cared much more about my pleasure than with he’s own,no man could make me feel like a goddess the way he could..you see what I mean?He couldn’t be an honest good man right?!And I knew better!Oh I really did..I’ve always had a “rotten finger” when it came to my men choices.If you putted me in a room with two guys,a truly good man and a shitty asshole,I would’ve had 100% chose the latter.Maybe for the “fun” of it or even just to prove my Freudian fate,who knows?

But when I decided to finally give in to the Samoan’s charm and accepted to finally officially date him,I discovered why he smelled like trouble,because as soon as I found out I was in love with him I knew I had lost my whole heart to that man!And if you came from a emocional troubled background,like I did,you know that that’s the worst case scenario one could ever have.But funny enough,despite my deepest fears,he changed my whole world,he dragged me out of the shit pit I’ve always lived in and pushed me into the light beside him,making me forget everything bad that ever happened to me,transforming my reality into the fairytale I could never had imagined.If you told me,7 years ago,that right now I would be here telling you this same story,I would have have bitterly laughed at your face and asked you to give me a hit of whatever it is that you had.

But here I am,finishing to set up one of our guests room for the surprise I had in mind for my husband.I’m sure that this will never repay him for the way he always made me feel,but at least I hope he can have a bit of a glimpse of how much I truly love and care for him.

I was lighting up the last pair of candles when I heard the front door open,his deep sigh and the loud thump of his bags dropping on the living room floor.

“Y/N,baby girl? You home?” That voice alone could bring the biggest,truthful smile upon my lips.I put the lighter on my jacket’s pocket,carefully closing the guest room door and I ran downstairs to meet my redemption in form of a man.

“Roman!” I squealed while I preceded to jump on his arms and wrap my legs around his waist,kissing him like I would never see him again.

“Wow!” He chuckled “I see someone missed me those 3 weeks,huh?!” Still laughing,he wrapped his big arms around my waist and retributed my kiss vigorously.

“Of course I missed you baby!You’re my Samoan Prince Charming,how could I not miss that?!”I laughed.

“Prince Charming,huh?!”He chuckled “You wait ‘til you see what I wanna do to you...I’m pretty sure you’re gonna change your mind from prince charming to tramp real quick!”He smirks and I can already feel my panties getting damp with excitement.

“Oh really,big guy?! Well I’m sorry,but I’m about to piss in your yard and ruin your dreams!’Cuz I already have a surprise for you,and that took a lot of prep time too,so as much as I would love to see what you have in mind that will have to wait,at least ‘til later.”

“Piss in my yard?!Oh baby girl,always so delicate with your words!”He laughed

“What? I’m expressive,you know that!Also if anyone here is the well mannered,polite and posh one that’s you,I’m just you know,rough street trash”.I bitterly said

“Hey!Don’t say that,please.You know that I don’t like when you degradate yourself like that.You’re not trash,you’re my everything!And let’s be honest here baby, I love your rough side..”He squeezed my ass,to prove his point.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna get all worked up,and you’re going to ruin my surprise...” I whispered

“Ok,ok.I stopped!”He chuckled,then gave me a light peck on the lips before lowering me down to the ground.”So what do you have planned?”

“You know it’s called surprise for a reason right?!”I said.

“Oh c’mon Y/N! Not even a little preview baby?” He gave me those beautiful puppy eyes,and the bastard knew that I would give in.

“Argh,you’re the worst!”I faked an annoyed face,but he knew I was pretending so he just smiled and I couldn’t help but smile back.”Ok the only,ONLY thing I will tell you is that it involves a large amount of intimacy..I’ve never done that to anyone before..and it’s an incredible experience.That’s all I’m saying!”I proudly huffed.He stared at my face for an eternity before he slowly smirked at me saying “You do realize that you said you were going to tell me just ONE thing about it,but you ended up telling me THREE instead,right?!” He started laughing when I poked his broad chest saying “Shut up! You know,you’re lucky I love you,because otherwise I would just kick your ass right now.”I tried to hold back my laugh,but that soon was forgotten when he kissed my lips so slowly and sweet and said “I don’t have a doubt you could kiss my ass at anytime baby.” He lazily smiled at me,before his expression turned more serious. “I love you Y/N so fucking much!” He caresses my face before continuing “I’m so happy I could take a few days off to be with you,to celebrate the 7 years we’ve been together..and the many more years yet to come” He pecked my lips lightly “I could never have asked for a better woman,wife,best friend,lover,supporter..my own personal safe harbor.” He shyly smiled at me and pressed our foreheads together,and I couldn’t help the tears escaping through my eyes.

“Oh baby girl, I didn’t meant to make you cry!” He said

“Those are happy tears I promise!” I sighed “Besides,I feel bad that I can’t say such beautiful things to you,I’m sorry baby,that you got the product made with a broken mold” I sadly sighed.

“Hey,I already told you to stop saying those bad things about yourself! Also you don’t have to apologize,I know everything you went through and it’s normal for someone in your position to be a little careful when showing your fellings,and trust me babe, I don’t need your words to know that you love me,your actions already do the job!” The smile he gave me was so sincere that reached his eyes.And I really hope that my actions tonight will prove his statement to be right.

“So,when do you plan on giving me my surprise?” He asked with a sparkle in his eyes.And I couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Well the first thing I need to know is if you’re already fed?”

“Yep! I stopped by a cafe on my way home and ate something light,like you asked me to”. He responded

“Good!Now I’m gonna need you to take a shower so you can wash away the tiredness of your flight,towel yourself dry,but don’t put any clothes on I’m gonna need you naked for this.” He maliciously smirked at me.

“You need me naked,huh?” He licked his lips “Ok,sounds like a great surprise so far..”

“Yes it is! And if I were you, I would hurry up..”

With that he ran off to the bathroom like a little boy,and a few seconds later I could hear the water running.

As soon as I finished stripping the last piece of clothing off my body,I heard the bathroom door open and Roman call for me.

“I’m in the guest room.The one near the stairs.” A few seconds later, I see him entering the room.

“Wow,this looks beautiful!” Since we never used that room as a guest room,it didn’t had a bed(which helped a lot) I just cleaned the hardwood floor,placed a big extra thick(about 40mm) yoga exercise mat in the center of the room,a lot of candles(some were sandalwood scented,but not many,so it doesn’t get too nauseating.Just enough to give that relaxing feeling),some rose petals around the floor, a few cozy cushions around the yoga mat and a little low table with one massage candle and a large thermical water bottle(to keep the water cold and fresh).It wasn’t much but it did look cozy and spa like.

“Did you like it?”

“If I like it?Baby girl it’s perfect!”Then he looked at my naked body and added “Perfect indeed” as he slowly lowered down to catch my lips in the most romantic kiss. When I broke the kiss(‘cuz if it was for him,we would stay there for hours) I begin to explain to him what my surprise was.

“I was thinking what I could give you for our 5th year anniversary that wasn’t bought from a store,but had more of a deep sentimental value” He slowly nodded

“I was talking to Sarah and she told me that Lisa,her new girlfriend is a Tantric massage therapist and had given her a tantric massage one day,she said it was the best experience she’s ever had.So I got curious and decided to make an appointment with her and babe” I sighed “I’ve never had in my life,such an amazing experience! The feeling is...I can’t describe,you have to feel it to understand it. My point is,Lisa told me that tantric massage can be used by couples as a form of bonding,like a deeper connection. It can be used to strengthen they’re intimacy.” When I saw the confused look on his face I said

“What I’m trying to say is that I love you so much” He smiles “I love you too baby girl” I smiled back,continuing my explanation “And I know that you’re the best man I could’ve ever had asked for myself!Even too good for me,but my point is that,it makes me upset that I don’t tell you as often as I would like to how much you mean to me,so I asked Lisa for some advice on how to perform a tantric massage on you and thought that,maybe it would be a nice way to show you how I truly feel,through this” I pointed out to the set up in front of us,smiling shyly.

“I-I..baby girl, I don’t even know what to say...This is all so beautiful, I mean, you didn’t need to make all this to show me that you care or love me babe,I know that regardless” he touched my face softly and quickly added “But that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about your surprise..In fact I’m quite excited to see what this is all about” He has a evil sparkle on his eyes and we both couldn’t help but laugh.

“Ok big dog,I gonna need you to lay down on your stomach for me,okay?”

He smiled and did as I asked.

I kneeled down on one of the cushions beside the yoga mat and said

“Alright baby,now,I need you to close your eyes,relax and just focus on my touch upon your skin ok?” When he nodded I grabbed the massage candle and started by dripping some of the wax into his ankles and calves,lightly spreading the melted wax up,until it reaches his back thighs.

I remembered that Lisa told me that this should not be a relaxing massage,in the sense of quizzing in the muscles to bring relief,but it was more focused on the touch it self,so I had to keep a very lightweight touch and make sure that only my finger tips(and occasionally my finger nails if I wanted to) touched his skin lightly.

When I reached his back thighs I notice Roman shifting his weight ever so slightly.

*Oh thank God,I’m doing this right!* I thought to myself relieved.

I dripped more wax,now,onto his perfect round ass and lower back.As I begin working out the wax and spreading it I heard a deep,low,almost inaudible,growl leave his lips and I couldn’t help but smile to myself.I let my finger nails just lightly roam his ass,lower back and side hips.I was so lost in the action that I was caught by surprise when a loud moan left Roman’s lips.

“Y/N..”

I grabbed the candle again and repeated the same process but now on his middle and upper back,shoulders,in the back of his arms and forearms,the palm of his hands,his fingers,neck and ears.

When I reached his head,I lightly dive my finger tips through his hair so I could reach his scalp and begin lightly massaging it,as if I was washing his hair,when I very lightly scratched his scalp I heard a very familiar sound

“Mmmmm fuck,oh shit...Mmmmm”

*Hold on..did he just? Oh I know THAT sound,I think he came!* I thought to myself

I lightly tapped his shoulder twice(a sign for him to turn onto his back) and when he did I could see that I was right,as there were evidences of his cum not only on his stomach but also on the yoga mat,and his deliciously thick erection resting on his belly.

I placed a cushion under his hips and one under the back of his head before I repeated the same previous actions.Starting from the soles of his feet,working my way up his shin,knees,thighs,lower abdomen,hips,abdomen,ribs,chest,nipples,side of the neck,face,front shoulders,biceps,forearm and the front of his hands.

Once I got up and placed myself on the mat,between his legs, I looked at him and I could swear that in 7 years,I’ve never seen that man with such a wild,primal,raw,luscious look on his face.

“Ro?”

“Hm?” I’ve never heard his voice so rough before

“We’re going to the last step now,ok?”

“Mhmm” was all he answered with his gaze glued to my face

I dripped some wax onto my hands and rub them together to spread it.

I took his length into my left hand,lightly squeezed the base of his cock and started to pull my hand up towards the head until my hand slides off,just so I could grabbed it with my right hand and repeat the same steps.

“Oh my fucking God” He rolled his eyes to the back of his head “ Sweet fucking Christ,Oohhh fuuuck” He moaned with a raspy voice.

I took the opportunity to massage the head of his cock in a orange juicer motion.

“Argh” He deeply growled,snapped his eyes open and look at me with a deadly look on his face “Fuck me Y/N! I need you to fuck me right now! Come here and ride me nice and hard baby”

“But Roman,I’m not done ye-“

“I don’t give a fuck!” He gritted “I need you,and I need you right now! Just come here,and put my cock inside that sweet tight pussy baby” He smirked in an almost demonic way and I immediately straddle his hips.

Once I lined his cock to my entrance he quickly thrusted inside of me,making me gasp.

While he gave sometime to adjust he said

“Oh it feels good to be home!” He chuckled

“Baby girl, I don’t know what you did or how,but we’re definitely gonna be doing this more often!” He smiled deviously before he holded my hips in place so he could fuck me like a maniac.

“Oh Ro,fuck”

I’ve never felt him so thick,so deep and so hard inside of me.He was fucking me at a pace so brutal that it was almost deliciously painful.

He grabbed my wrists from his chest and rapidly tugged me down so our chests were glued to each other’s,he took the opportunity to ferociously kiss my lips while he preceded to fuck me brutally.

“Ro,baby,I’m gonna-“

I couldn’t even finish my sentence,because my orgasm hit me so hard that I couldn’t even breathe properly.

“Oh fuck me baby! So fucking tight...so warm...” He gritted “So insanely wet”

With that I could feel his cock throbbing and the hot spurts of his cum inside of me.

When he released his last spurt,we look at each other’s eyes and shared the most passionate loving kiss.When we broke the kiss I said

“I love you Ro,so much”

“With your heart,body and soul?” He lightly smiled,remembering his own words said to me on our wedding vows.

I smiled back before answering without a doubt

“With all of my heart,my whole body and my only soul”

And it was in that moment that I knew I couldn’t have picked a better surprise for the owner and of my heart,body and soul.