#On another note this has kind of an interesting inspiration(at least to me)

[5-turtleducks-in-a-trenchcoat]

I was thinking about episode 174 again. I'm absolutely fine in case you can’t tell.

[r--kt]

Do you like Kakashi's dogs? Let's talk about why there are eight of them.

another example of naruto's ✨cultural code✨

contents | the eight dog warriors chronicles · legacy · eight confucian virtues. also look at the cuties love them sm

Naruto Vol. 10 CH 90

[ one dog is wonderful, I'm saying as the owner of a sweet little york terrier. two dogs are good, they won't be bored together. three dogs? yeah, cool! how are you going to walk them though? four? yes... look, maybe we have to draw the line h- wha- EIGHT? Excuse Me!? ]

surely, it's worth starting with the fact that eight is a lucky number in Japanese culture — everybody watched Hachi. of course, this is not the only cultural detail where the eight is mentioned. I want to pay special attention to a thing that I didn't know about until I googled it, and this is clearly what Kishimoto was doing homage to with Kakashi's eight ninken.

The Eight Dog Warriors Chronicles

Better known as Nansō Satomi Hakkenden. and it's not just some kind of book, it's a novel, consisting of 106 booklets written by Kyokutei Bakin in XIX century. Hakkenden is considered the largest novel in the history of Japanese Literature. this is one of the main representatives of the gesaku genre, which includes works of a frivolous, joking, silly nature. further I will emphasize a few more times how damn popular this work is and how often it is reflected in culture.

here are some illustrations for these books

now let's talk about the plot. It's weird, but it's weird at samurai-dogs-story level so stay here.

In brief, the story tells about the commander Satomi Yoshizane, whose native lands were attacked by the army of a man, whose forces surpassed those of Satomi, and the samurai in despair swore to a dog named Yatsufusa that the dog would get his beloved daughter Fuse as a wife if he chewed that man's throat. surprisingly, the dog not only understood the owner, but also fulfilled his wish! after that the commander refused to keep the promise. however, Fuse, true to her word of honor, went with Yatsufusa to the mountains and became his wife. upon learning that his daughter was pregnant, Satomi, in a rage, sent a samurai to kill Yatsufusa and bring Fuse home. she stood up for the dog anyways and died with him. at that moment, eight pearls with hieroglyphs that denoted the foundations of Confucian virtue burst out of her womb. (...cheers for mythology, I guess)

Soon, eight dog warriors who were Fuse's spiritual children were born in different parts of Awa province. after going through hardships, they got together and became vassals of the Satomi clan, then won the battle, and soon reached peace.

some more illustrations made by Utagawa Kuniyoshi. from left to right: Inukawa Sōsuke (the dog warrior), Inumura Daikaku (the dog warrior), Princess Fuse (their mother).

the novel mainly tells about each individual warrior dog and his shenanigans in a funny adventurous way. huge fame has led to excerpts from Hakkenden being staged at the Kabuki Theater and mentioned in the anime and manga, such as Inuyasha, Dragon Ball, as it turned out, Naruto and so on. there's also a lot of films and video games.

The eight virtues

these are loyalty, filial piety, benevolence, love, honesty, justice, harmony, and peace.

they relate more to Chinese culture, but basically Hakkenden was inspired by it too. since I did not read the whole novel, I would still like to mention at least the values on which it is based, and which were embedded in the symbolism of this story. It's quite interesting to apply this to Kakashi's dogs. gives them more weight and depth.

It is also interesting to note that the reason why Fuse gave birth to dogs was also that her father was cursed earlier in the story in a way that his descendants would become depraved like dogs. in Japanese culture, dogs embody the duality of character: the same mentioned filth and depravity, and devotion and bravery. so as samurai. but this is a different conversation, more related to Kakashi and his dog poetry.

Did you get here? Here's an additional discovery for you✨

Pakkun's name (パックン) is derived from the Japanese onomatopoeia “pakupaku” (パクパク) which reflects the sound of munching.

Kakashi, that's very sweet of you.

thank you for reading this to the end ♡

[dazzlerwriting]

cowboy take me away

j.seresin x reader

pictures not mine, credits to pinterest

1k words

summary: sort of inspired by “Cowboy Take Me Away” by The Chicks. (great song you should check it out!) what was supposed to be a celebratory night, turns into reader sitting alone at a bar in texas. that is until a blonde aviator, visiting home, notices her.

Warnings: fluff! reader has not great friends. talks about an ex boyfriend. Alcohol consumption. Jake Seresin being a charming man? She/her pronouns are used and reader is said to be shorter than jake! no use of y/n!

authors note: first fic!! lmk what you think!

Sitting alone in a bar in the middle of Austin, Texas was not how you thought your Saturday was going to go. You had recently graduated from University of Texas in Austin so you thought you would be out with your boyfriend and friends, celebrating the fact that you were finally going to go to the University of California San Diego to get your masters in Educational Studies. But you just broke up with your boyfriend due to his extreme lack of interest in your relationship. He literally shrugged when you told him it was over. On top of that your friends seemingly forgot that you had plans, go figure.

So now you were sitting in some bar, under the soft disco lighting, with cowboy hats everywhere, fiddling with the straw in your drink, wondering how it could all go sour so fast.

“Is this seat taken?” a strong voice with a southern drawl asked. You whipped your head so fast you thought you could see the looney tunes birds flying, but no, what you saw was a man with sandy blonde hair and eyes that could rival the trees in the Ozarks. “Oh! Um N-no. No, it’s not.” He took his seat with a devilish smirk and waved down the bartender to order another drink for himself. While doing so you missed the part where he ordered you another drink. You were too busy roaming your eyes from the black Stetson that sat on top of his head, to the shirt that said “US Navy” & “H_ngm_n” on the pocket, and finally to the steel-toed cowboy boots that sat on his feet.

You heard a cough, and that’s when you realized he had been talking to you and was a bit closer now. Get it together he just asked a simple question and you just got out of a relationship, you scolded yourself. “Sorry, sorry what did you say?”

The smirk on his face just grows a bit bigger while replying, “I was just asking why a pretty girl like you looks so defeated in the most lively bar in all of Austin?”

Great. He’s charming and astute apparently. Now you can either lie to this very handsome man, or you can become the stereotypical person who dumps everything at the bar. Saved by the bell, or bartender in this case, because he delivers the drinks to you both, making the smirk on this man’s face slide to a polite smile, and also giving you a sense of reprieve at this moment.

“I’m Jake by the way, sorry if the question was too intense for an introduction. Can’t help but be curious.” You give him your name and the smirk is back way too quickly. “Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he replied, his smirk turning to a kind smile. “Does that work on all of the girls?” you snap back quickly. He looks a bit taken aback by the question, but that doesn’t deter him one bit, “Wouldn’t know, did it work on you?”

Sighing you finally turn to face him fully, taking in his form once again. After the day you’ve had, you decide you’ll entertain him for a bit, “Ya know what cowboy, it might’ve but don’t let that get to your head. We don’t need that cowboy hat to fall off.” Jake takes you in for a minute and gives you a smile that might be the sweetest thing you’ve seen in a bit. “So you gonna tell me why you’re lookin’ all sad in the middle of this bar?” he asks you once again, and you finally decide you need to at least tell someone or you might cry. So with your head down and while fidgeting with your hands, you tell him, “I just got accepted into the master’s program I applied for and to celebrate I was gonna meet my boyfriend and friends here. As you can see neither are here. I broke up with him and my friends all forgot or something, who knows.” You finally take a breath and look back up to see him looking at you with the slightest hint of concern.

He shakes his head and laughs gently. “Well, I guess congratulations are in order for the graduate, and for getting rid of the boyfriend who didn’t appreciate the beauty in his life.” With a soft smile, he tips his beer towards you and you do the same.

He abruptly stands up and holds out his hand, a silent question for a dance. You take it with a quizzical look on your face, and he drags you to the middle of the dance floor; now that you’re there, you look around and see that this place has cleared out a bit since you first got here. He looks down at you with a bit of adoration and says “A congratulatory dance is a necessity.”

He grabs your hips, while you wrap your arms around his neck, and it’s at this moment you realize that you would much rather be here, wrapped in this stranger’s arms, dancing to “Cowboy Take Me Away” than in the silence that your ex would’ve given. Looking at Jake with a smirk on your face, “The song is real fitting if you ask me, cowboy.” Your fingers are playing with the soft hair at the bottom of his head, and for a second it’s like a cat reacting to someone scratching their head. You’d be shocked if he didn’t start purring.

“Is it? I hadn’t noticed,” he replies with a soft chuckle. Looking into each other’s eyes, you stand on your toes, and you both lean in… but of course, nothing would go as planned. His cowboy hat hits you right in the forehead.

You pull back from each other and both break out into a fit of giggles. Jake looks at you with a soft smile, tips his cowboy hat back, and leans in again. This time your lips meet in a delicate kiss, his lips are soft and you can smell a hint of cologne on him. Warmth fills your cheeks, the kiss lasting only a matter of seconds, but it's just enough time for everything around you to disappear. When the kiss is over, your foreheads meet and you both continue swaying under the reflected disco lighting. Maybe tonight is way better than you originally planned.

[moonsaver]

Warning: yan!jiaoqiu x reader, hints/implications of cannibalism and drugs.

Note: its 1.3k words, which is surprising considering i dont usually write that much. Anyways i tried to incorporate a different kind of horror feeling into this work. Hope you guys like it.

-

Jiaoqiu lives up to his name. Medicinal chef, although one part is hidden, and he willfully lives up to the other half. But both seem to work in cognition when he meets you.

There you are – where he always hopes you'll be. A small twitch of his ear, the flurry of his tail. His eyes creak open ever so slightly to behold your silhouette in the golden frame of his irises. 

There you are – where you always will be, he hopes. Or rather, he wills.

Jiaoqiu has taken a rather different approach when it comes to medicines, and food.

The chilli sizzles in the oil, loud and crackling in short bursts through the growing warm air surrounding his workspace, his tender hands working swiftly through the assortment of spices. But really, he wouldn't need much, especially considering the chillis he's going to be using. Although, he changes his mind, going back over to dutifully sprinkle in a few spices anyway. At least, he does this for you.

Quiet, ever so silent. Curt responses. Flitting eyes. You're a curious little thing. Well, it doesn't matter how brooding or moody you may be. To him, you're interesting. To any sly fox, interesting means plaything. He's learned how to really risk the delicate balance of spice and flavour. And he's also sure how to deal with bitterness.

Strangely enough - you seem to like it. The bitterness slowly but surely pierces through the food, seeping into your mouth like poison. He's sure to take inspiration, but for now, he watches with a closed eye smile. A smile you're always too familiar with, ever since he's started making things special for you.

His chin placed delicately on the palm of his hand, elbow slightly straining the smooth wood underneath, as his hand gently fans away the ghat of the chili, still wafting in the air, making a few people cough in the distance. “Do you like it?” He asks, often. “I've added just what you might like”, “you'll keep coming back”, and, “my, aren't I seeing you too often?”

...

You don't know what's gotten into you. Dazed, but also hypervigilant at the same time. You think you're losing your mind – the reality you were so grounded in, losing your footing, the dissonance of your mind pushing you far into the cacophony of distressed thoughts, until his calm voice snaps you of it.

“Hm? Perhaps my new recipe will help soothe you. If the feeling persists.. meet me after hours.”

You take another bite, another walk back home, and another episode of hyperventilation. You breathe in, eyes flitting to the mirror you can't seem to reach – or rather you can't seem to keep yourself standing despite your fearful heart lurching in your chest.

And as per Jiaoqiu's predictions, you do meet him after hours. But you can't tell with the blend of reality and your hallucinations. You're not sure if it's the moon, but you're sure Jiaoqiu stares down at you, silver and gold melding into your delicate vision.

—--

Jiaoqiu has many characters of a cat than he does of a fox

Or rather, you say that because you probably haven't interacted with a fox before.

All the times you were sick and bedridden, Jiaoqiu made it almost his personal mission to look after you. He wouldn't be around for too long, thankfully. Long hours at work or the other. But he comes back and makes the best soup you could ever have, especially with your illness.

But you find the meat makes your body slightly reactive, at least when you're sick. Jiaoqiu brushes it off and insists you eat regardless.

His cheek rubs against your shoulder when you wake up, telling you how dearly he missed you. You yawn, eyes still closed and heavy from sleep while you wake up, but you can notice the slight grazing of his pointed teeth on your skin. 

You watch as he dutifully grinds up herbs and other malleable herbs into the mortar. He grew them himself, he tells you. It's simply better to alter and enhance them when you can get your hands on them, he tells you.

That's a beautiful flower, you tell him. His dutiful hands temporarily withhold in the air above the mortar, the soft stem bent and almost breaking in his fingers. He chuckles softly. You've been tasting it for a while in your food now, he informs you. You hum as he grinds it into the powdery mixture. Was that the source of bitterness?

-

Jiaoqiu has a taste for many peculiar things. But he also has a taste for humans. Or, more or less, just you.

Ever since you've become a regular, Jiaoqiu has been eager to offer you a sneak peek into the kitchen. He sits you down for the milder part of the cooking process, chatting away with you as he waits for one or the other thing to marinate, rise, or separate. His hand not so subtly itching to yours over the countertop, forcing your hand to slip into his glove. When you whine or complain about the constriction of the material, Jiaoqiu only responds with a quiet smile, his ears twitching the slightest bit. 

Sometimes, he lets you look around the kitchen, with sanitary limitations, of course. You eye the meat that looks a bit too red, or the one with a few too many strings in it to be written off as normal. You gaze at the blood seeping into the water. Myoglobin, he tells you. But you think your eyes are keener than that.

He feeds you well, isn't hesitant to add in a few extra medicinal herbs to your food, serves you the special tea he prepares only for momentous occasions.

And the best meat he finds.

Its a beautiful red, in his opinion. You stare as the knife cuts through the meat, the strings loosening and tearing. The blood– myoglobin, he corrects you, taints his hands, ungloved. Its far easier to determine the cleanliness without gloves. They tend to give you a false sense of it. He tells you.

You watch, the smell of the raw meat making you scrunch your nose the slightest bit. He chuckles fondly when he sees that on your face.

He finds you to be one of the people he's met, that he's taken a liking to. As for the one that he considers distasteful.. well, he's sure he can find some use of them. Especially if you dislike them, too.

-

You're sure something is wrong.

The soups make you dizzy, your body bursts into hives, your heart rate goes up. Something in it is causing you severe distress, but you can't understand what exactly it might be. You've staved away from his shop for a while. 

Until one day – Jiaoqiu senses your hesitation. His smile is no longer on his face, despite his closed eyes. He quietly allows you to inspect the kitchen after hours, his back turned to you, grinding, crushing, snapping the herbs into the mortar. You especially eye the red meat he stores away, and this time he doesn't tell you off. He continues to grind the herbs, shuffling through a few cabinets for them, before continuing. You've insisted on calling it blood and not myoglobin. Because you can taste it in your food.

He tells you, you're hallucinating. It's a side effect of your sickness he's had to help ward off lately. But you're sure he's wrong. He hums, and continues quietly. The darkness of the kitchen only illuminated by scarce yellow lighting, and the sterile, white glow of the fridge as you continue staring at it. Your eyes wander at the various meats before–

You spot something behind it.

His meats are sourced from various animals, with smaller organs, incomparable to the size of humans.

Was this animal mutated? Or simply particularly large?

You gently kneel down, hearing Jiaoqiu snapping the stem of a flower and continue grinding the herbs, your eyes settled fiercely onto the incomprehensible.. thing.

Your shaking hand reaches out, the coldness of the fridge making you shiver, although it's not exactly the cold, is it?

Your fingers touch the strange surface of the unidentifiable meat. Pericardium. Your fingers reach further and gently grasp it. It's about the size of your fist.

You breathe out, your heart thudding in the quiet of your mind as you stare at the one in your hands.

…

Has it always been this quiet?

You look back and are met with Jiaoqiu's golden eyes.

His default smile returns to his face, but this time, his golden eyes are staring directly at you.

You should have stayed out of his kitchen. Who knows what he'd been feeding you?

-

[thedivineden]

needing more izuku stuff !!!!

would love any kind of perv izuku🙏‼️

also love the writing style!

I LOVE IZUKU AND IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT ABOUT HOW GROSS AND PRECISE HE’D BE IF HE WAS A PERVERT ESPECIALLY TO THE NEW MOM NEXT DOOR !!! I GOT SLIGHT CARRIED AWAY BUT I HOPE YOU LIKE IT, THANK YOU FOR THIS INSPIRATION AND BEING MY FIRST REQUEST! HOPEFULLY OTHERS WILL COME FORWARD WITH ANOTHER REQUEST! ૮꒰ྀི◜༝◝ ꒱ྀིა

Mentions of: stalking, surveillance, dubcon/noncon, single mom, self-gratification, drugging, manipulation, insecurity, paranoia, intruder staging/descriptive imagery.

♤ Pervert Izuku is perfect by design; very sweet, humble but it’s not overbearing, helpful, handy, and most importantly, good with kids.

 ♤ You quickly became his target, and the day you moved in, Izuku insisted on helping you carry everything in. Naturally, as many mothers, you were apprehensive to accept the newly acquainted young man inside your home and denied his assistance. Izuku quickly responded by mentioning his own single mother, how he only wants to make her proud, and how she would hit him across the head if he didn't help you.

 ♤ Izuku is a wonderful liar; he did not lie about his single mother, nevertheless he has already made her proud in many ways. Izuku utilized the excuse of "helping you move in" to remember and photograph your house layout, taking special note of where your bedroom would be and the most convenient entry points to reach you in the smallest and quickest span of time.

 ♤ Naturally, you offered him money in exchange for his services, but Izuku politely rejected and instead requested that you prepare him a dinner. He could tell you were stressed; he notices the absence of a band on your finger and the bags under your eyes. You would be his easiest target, and invading your life would be his number one priority: 

 You prepare a three-course dinner for him and yourself granting his request. When he is done hauling everything in, he comes to the dining room and much to your surprise, attempts to assist you in setting the table. You lead him immediately to the table he put together for you and tell him to wait, which is when the true game begins. 

 Izuku did exactly as you said, making sure to move his seat closer to yours and graciously thanking you for your hospitality and the meal you made for him. He could see the glint in your eyes and the darkness surrounds you temporarily lifting. “It’s the least I can do after you helped me move everything in.  It’s been really hard so I really appreciate it.” 

 The entire meal is spent in conversation between you two as you tell him about your life, including learning that your high school love cheated on you for years, which finally led to a divorce and your move into his neighborhood. When the moment is right, Izuku puts his hand on yours, and you give him a beautiful grin in return, but you move your hand away.

 Izuku's tactics are like that of a predator expertly pursuing his prey; he is aware of your vulnerability and can practically hear you berating yourself for falling for the first man who shows you kindness and telling yourself that you should be concentrating on your children and your collapsing life.

 Over the course of the dinner, you two exchange stories and laughs. Izuku apologizes for the affair and divorce, saying your former spouse is a moron who would never screw a woman like you. He noticed the glimmer in your eye growing, but he wasn't prepared for you to hurry him out the door with leftovers and a heartfelt thank you. It left the young man both perplexed and interested. Making you his and his alone was the only thing on his mind.

 Over the next year, Izuku slowly becomes a household name, a part-time nanny, and a full-time pervert. It was all apart of his five step plan:

1. Slow and steady wins the race. Your love languages consist of acts of service and words of affirmations. Make a point to always bring flowers, to help out whenever he had the chance, and passionately express how great of a mother and person you are.

2. Whenever he had a chance to be in your house he’d place or fix any cameras and mechanism he had. 

3. After a year, if you voice the three phrases: “I don’t know what I do without you”, “"I value you and our relationship so much", “"I'm so thankful for you" that’s when he’ll begin to prepare the trap and catch his prey.

  The first line was spoken during a storm that left you without electricity, but fortunately Izuku had a generator. You had a lovely day with your baby at his house. You three cooked dinner, baked s'mores, and ended with watching finding Nemo with your head on his shoulder you whispered, "I don't know what I'd do without you.”

  The second line describes an evening you spent returning home from work. You asked him if he wanted dinner after you returned home, clearly agitated, and thanked him for watching your daughter. Izuku moved quickly toward you, stroking your arms and inquiring as to how you were doing. When you told him about your day, you began to break down. You explained how your manager and clients yelled at you, and your supervisor had gone over the articles you had sent in and given you a 24-hour window to create another one. Izuku gave you reassurance right away and even offered to assist with brainstorming and drafting another piece.

 The third line came the same night, in the midst of Izuku consoling you, you took it as an opportunity to lean in and kiss him. You were stuttering, hastily apologizing and ushering him out the door. You expressed his importance in your life as a friend and would never want to make him uncomfortable. You shut the door before allowing him to say a word. Izuku went home and didn’t come see you until 3 days later. This is when the nexts steps continue:

4. Izuku will allow the connection to become awkward, flirty, and stressful. He will sexually frustrate you and infiltrate your home. The eventual effect of this phase will be sexual frustration, confusion, and exhaustion. Izuku's purpose is to make you hungry for him and afraid in your home so you invite him over more often.

 Izuku took his time in this phase, offering to watch your toddler while you worked. When you arrived home, dinner would be ready, and after you finished eating, Izuku would draw a bath with a glass of wine waiting for you and before the evening concluded you would always receive a massage from the talented man. Izuku's hands would droop and became eager with each massage. Your robe would drop lower, revealing more of your body, and he noticed it. This action indicated to him that you were mentally ready for him to take you somewhere. 

 When he came up to you in the kitchen, his footsteps were typically silent, but you could always feel his presence behind you. Izuku would be positioned behind you, gazing over your shoulder and begging you to feed him. You'd then turn around with a spoon, realizing how close he is and how he has you encircled and blocked on each side by his hands on the counter. The look in his eyes indicates hunger, but you both know it is not for whatever is in the pot.

 Izuku persisted in his antics, being a charming, flirty, and ideal man! Then at night he’d break into your house in one of three ways: through your bedroom window, your toddlers bedroom window, or directly through the front door. Why? The most horrifying ways for someone to enter your house are through the front door without leaving any trace behind, through the window in your own bedroom, or through the window in your child's bedroom.

 In an effort to instill fear in you, Izuku would, for the following thirty days, take objects you knew you had put away or steal a sock or piece of your underwear, forcing you to search for the missing items every wash day. He even went so far as to break in while you were at work and replace your usual nightly prescription with sleeping pills so he could record himself enjoying your nude body in front of him. He would cover your lips with a damp paper towel and brush his angry head over it so as not to shock you or cause any physical reactions.

   Whenever he leave his through your windows he he leaves a flower at the base, and set off a trigger mechanism rendering noises that sound like a break-in once he’s at home to wake you to his gift. As a result of all he did, you were always left crying and at his door in the middle of the night with your sleepy toddler on your hip, pleading with him to let you and her stay.

 Throughout these nights you two would either stay up talking about what happened or you’d end up in his arms sleep. His plan has one more final phase before he can officially steal your heart, mind, body, and soul:

 

5. Izuku needed to create a situation where he’s saving you or you and your child.

 Over the course of the following two weeks, Izuku took steps to ensure that you would be left helpless and vulnerable. A staging firm from another country was called upon to break into the house, give you and your child enough time to hide, give Izuku enough time to enter, and have extra staff on standby as police officers. The break-in happened a week later, and although you were already having trouble sleeping due to your ongoing anxiety and terror, it's real now, and you're terrified.

 You jump out of bed, make your way to your daughter’s room, and you both hide in a small nook in the back of your daughter’s closet. Your heart is pumping in your ears and the fear on your daughter’s face is heartbreaking and nauseating. You silently prayed with your eyes closed, you could hear the people rummaging through the house, and talking just loud enough for anyone in the house to hear. Then, a knock invokes silence through the house, you thought the intruders speaking was bad, this is ten times worse. Then the doorbell rings out breaking the silence and then your name could be heard. 

 The tension in your chest is temporarily lifted when you hear Izuku's voice at your door asking for you. Perhaps you two will be fine, but the sound of quiet shuffling can be heard once the key lock turns. You longed to leave the closet and warn him about what awaits him, but your child's safety comes first, and you know he would agree. When the front door opens, you hear scuffling and curses flying; you protect your daughter's ears when you hear: "Get him to the floor, fuck him up, kill him." You couldn't control your breathing, and it felt like all the blood rushed to your ears.

 The next thing you hear is what you believe to be a gunshot, and your body stiffens until you hear Izuku shouting to you and sirens outside. You clutch your babygirl tightly in your arms and rush out to him, yelling his name. Coming around the corner, you collide with him and collapse into his arms. You glance up at him and see the injuries he inflicted on the attackers, which makes you cry even harder. He assures you that everything is fine and expresses care for you and your daughter's well-being.

 After the "police" arrive, Izuku is by your side as you describe what you heard, did, and what has been going on for the past few weeks, but this is not new information. Izuku particularly called this firm since they are recognized for providing discretion for a lump sum of money and the ability to construct any fictitious scenario by any means necessary for as long as the client pays. He doesn't mind the glances he gets from various "officers"; he knows what they're thinking; he's sick, and he knows it.

Izuku insist that you and your daughter stay at his house until everything was handled and the investigation was completed. The officials authorized you and him to get essentials for you and your daughter. Everything is numbing; you feel powerless, useless, and incapable of leading a regular life. Then comes the breakdown: you're in the toilet of the shared room with your sleeping daughter, and the last thing you expect is a knock and Izuku entering with you.

 You try to wipe your tears away quickly, but he sits down on the floor with you and draws you close. When he starts caressing your back, you clutch to him and cry even harder; you two have been stuck like that for two hours, your eyes are tired and red, but when you look up at him, all he can think about is wanting to see the same expression in the bedroom. The feel of his hard-on should have been a red flag for you; you shouldn't have leaned in, but you did, and this is what he's been looking for.

 Izuku takes full advantage of this time, savoring the first kiss between you two; he's slow at first, which is great. He grips your waist and pulls you onto his lap, careful not to break the kiss, biting your lip to secure your closeness, which is rewarded with a tiny groan from you. He moves quickly with you in his arms, being sure not to wake your sleeping daughter, and brings you upstairs to his bedroom.

 Izuku is weary of being hungry for you, of using his hand while looking at pictures of you from the cameras in your bathroom and shower; now is the time for the real thing, and he will not disappoint. He tosses you on the bed, closes and locks the door, and then leaves you in his bathroom. You were perplexed, but the heartbeat underneath stopped all warning sirens in your thoughts. Izuku emerges from the restroom with a crimson fluffy garment and begs you to put it on for him. You'd never had a man beg you to do anything, but when it came to him, he gave the word a special meaning. How could you say no?

 The smile he gives you ignites your body, and you swiftly remove your clothes and attempt to dress in the bathroom. He's quick to stop you, noticing the perplexity on your face as he timidly asks you to undress for him. You were completely flustered; it had been a long time since you had done anything intimate, and you had never stripped for anyone before. Izuku's face is crimson, which calms you down; knowing that you and him are possibly going through something together and sharing the same emotions inspires you to remove your shirt, followed by your pajama bottoms. His gaze is fixed on your body as you tease him by pulling down your bra and underpants.

 He enjoys seeing you like this; he wants to see more, touch you, and that is exactly what he does. Izuku holds you close and kisses your stomach and thighs, getting particularly close to your pussy. He brings you to the bed and softly glides his hands under both of your thighs to the back of your knees to raise your legs up. Your eyes are fixed on the ceiling, and your mind is reeling from the excitement and adrenaline of the night's events.

 He asks if you are okay, and you only hum in return, he gets in your face and asks the same thing again. You reassure him, and he asks that you keep your eyes on him. "Say it, say you'll keep your eyes on me."He swears he sees a sparkle in your large eyes, and you respond, "I will keep my eyes on you."

Then he's in between your legs like a thirsty puppy; he begins with a soft kiss, testing your waters to see what makes you squirm, moan, and quiver, and once he does, you're putty in his mouth. Izuku takes his time with you, yet he leaves no aspect of you unnoticed or ignored. His tongue seems to write incantations on your clit and slit, causing you to buck and tangle your fingers in his hair. Izuku enjoys this moment, sighs into your cunt, and continues to lick and torment your clit. He looks up at you and falls in love. Your hair is sticking to you now, pleasure is written all over your face, and he understands what you want.

He lets you to rest your legs on his shoulders, relieving the pressure, and puts a finger into your dripping hole. Your moans are beautiful, and the way you speak his name makes Izuku happy right now, but he can't leave unless you're foolish on his cock. He takes a long lick before raising his head and saying, "How does it feel, pretty?" You've always loved his pet names, which he'd occasionally say to you, but this is overwhelming. Your response is breathy and hardly coherent: "I'm- It- it feels good, please don't stop." He can feel you tighten around his fingers, which are stroking your ravenous hole, laughs, and continues to devour you.

Izuku's speed increased the knot in your gut, and you felt heated and overstimulated.His tongue and fingers are a gift from heaven. He took his time to discover your sweet spot and what feels most comfortable for you, and once he does, you're a mess. Izuku suddenly stops in front of you and plants kisses on your lips, neck, and breast. Your eyes were no longer on him; instead, they were tightly closed as you braced yourself for the surge of pleasure that was about to hit. At this moment, your body is overheating and your cunt is aching and asking to be penetrated. "Izuku~ why did you stop?"

"How much is it really yours?" His head raises, revealing tears that look ready to burst. "Use your words, sweetheart; don't cry." You lustfully and clearly tell him how much you want to be fucked until you're sore. "Anything you wish pretty," he says, laughing at your audacity. Izuku takes off his clothes fast, and he quickly gets to work on you, nuzzling your clit with his fingers and your nipples with his lips and tongue. All he wants to hear is that you plead and beg for him to fuck you, to make you his, to put another baby in you.

Izuku exclaims, "I want you to have my babies," while spreading your legs apart and nudging your clit with his irate head. "I want to make you my wife," he said, and proceeded to insert his sensitive cock into you. Izuku groans at the feeling and tells you how wonderful it is, saying, "You're so fucking warm and tight. You handle it so nicely and are so lovely and gorgeous.” His strokes got quicker and deeper with each compliment, and your cunt got tighter and your head lighter. Your groans are hypnotizing him as you encircle him with your arms and legs, pushing him to remain close. Your nails are also digging into his back. You whisper to him in a gentle way how much you've wanted him since you moved here and how you stroked yourself to the thought of him.

Izuku goes into overdrive when you tell him something he already knew, pounding your cunt repeatedly and making a valiant effort to control himself. He couldn't deny that he is just as overstimulated as you are. Ever since you moved in, Izuku has taken delight in the surveillance cameras he installed in your home, even today. As you match his beat, you draw him out of his thoughts and convert him into mush. Izuku starts to cry as he gets into you. Even when he moans in your ear after cumming in you, you simply turn him over, re-insert his dick, and ride him.

Just in case this is the last night, you want to make the most of it. Izuku's voice is cracking and his face is a beet red. He bucks into you, eager to get to his next release, saying, "I- I didn't know you-ahh~." You keep up with him and pound into him. Izuku will never be able to let anybody else have you since you were such a vision of beauty, and the way your tits bounced in his face showed how much you seized control.

"Zuku~ please, cum in me," you say, Izuku doesn’t stop even though he can feel your legs trembling. He abuses your spot forcing  you to put your hands on his chest to make yourself arch more. Your eyes are now behind your head and your loud, broken moans are coming from every hit to your sweet spot. You eventually release on his cock, which propels you forward in his arms while you cry with sheer pleasure.

You are sound asleep and Izuku kisses your head and covers you with the blanket, making sure to be quiet as he exits the room. Izuku enters his workspace, signs in to his monitor, and activates his room's camera. He collects the footage from this night, takes out the sections that don't feature you and him, stores it on a flash drive, and conceals it in his attic for later. He finally got what he wanted and like he said before, he doesn’t plan on letting you go.

[fr3aklike-me]

night in with a stranger ☾⋆｡ ๋࣭ ⭑˚

contains: vampire lesbian sex (straight ppl NO this is not for you), narrator is referred to as having a "cock," reader is referred to as having a "pussy," "cunt," "clit" and "breasts," reader is called "silly girl," cunnilingus, corruption kink (+ inexperience kink?? i guess), d/s dynamics, v slowburn, implied blood-sucking desires + tendencies (so ofc warning for blood mention)

note: this story is inspired by this ask and this ask, so thank you so much to the anons who sent this!! this story is very overdue, but yes, i've finally finished hehe. also, yes, this is meant to be a vampire scenario, but the vampire tendencies in question are very vaguely alluded to (one, because i was unsure how to go about a vampire!narrator as i've never written one before, and two, i thought it might be interesting to make a part 2 where those tendencies are more explicitly revealed to the reader and incorporated into the characters' sex lives)

On a cold, fall night, you find yourself lost. You didn’t mean for it to happen – you were retrieving a hot drink from the market during such a bitter evening, eager to return home and curl into the softest cushions while drinking it. Somehow, however, on the way back home, you got lost in the forest and when you emerged from the thick, looming trees, you were met not with your village, but wide, rolling hills of green, blanketing the ground for miles.

Needless to say, you are now panicking, head swivelling in all directions, desperately trying to grip onto any sense of hope that with the sky dark, the leaves of the tree a shadowed emerald, the hoots of owls cooing from the depth of the trees, you could find your way home. You fumble with the flimsy cloak you’re wearing, goosebumps skimming along the surface of your skin, a stark reminder of the fact that you will need shelter soon. 

You realize that walking through the forest is most likely not a good decision, for who knew what creatures lurked beyond the towering trees, so you make your way along the hills, hoping to complete some estimate of the same distance you made to arrive at this point, so perhaps you can find the entrance of the forest you entered through after visiting the market. A weak plan, but you have no idea what else to do.

After an hour, you find not a glimmer of hope to be found amongst the trees. Surprisingly, instead, you spot an orange flicker on a raised hill beyond the expanse of greenery you’ve been trudging upon. The single beam of light vaguely shows the outline of a dark manor, and despite your nerves, you force your way there. Hopefully, the owner is someone who is kind enough to afford you a warm meal and bed for the night.

At least, this is the story you tell me when we’re seated across from one another in my manor, warm candlelight casting a golden glow to your features as you explain your situation and plead for a spare room. It is endearing, to see you practically begging. Your hands wrap around the cup of tea I brought to you, your cloak still wrapped tightly around you. With the fire running, I can already see the beads of sweat rolling down your forehead.

You are the image of loveliness. So shy, so sweet, so embarrassed to be asking for a favour. 

“Of course you can have a room,” I say with a smile, and you beam in response, gratefully setting the cup down and clasping your hands together. 

“Thank you so much.”

I wave a hand with a smile, eyes flickering over your pretty eyes, and your lips, shiny from when your tongue has darted out to lick them. Nerves, I suppose – you are in a stranger’s home, after all. “Why were you all by yourself on such a dark evening?”

You explain your small journey to the market, bashfully eyeing the ground. “It’s embarrassing, having gotten lost so easily.”

“In your defense, it is very difficult to navigate when the sun sets as early as it does now.”

Your lips curl up. “Have you ever gotten lost in these parts?”

I shrug, spreading my arms along the arms of my chair, crossing one leg over the other. “No. But, I have lived in this home for many years. It is only natural that I would know these parts well.”

“How long have you resided here?”

I pause, tilting my head at you. “Perhaps ten years. Though, in the last two or three years, I’ve come to accept that I will spend many decades here, most likely.”

You took a small sip of your tea, eyes watching me through your lashes. Such endearing eyes they are, so attentive in their watching of me. “Do you live here alone?”

I nod. “Yes, I acquired the property from a relative who left it to me in their will.”

“You alone, in this large home, with nothing but hills upon hills for miles…” you drifted off, eyes scanning the ceiling above us and the detailed artwork that coats it. “It sounds rather lonely.”

I smirk at your kind sympathy, and lift my leg off from the other, spreading them out and bracing my elbows on them, leaning forward. “You’re very kind, miss, but I quite like my arrangement.”

I can hear the gulping noise from your throat when you swallow. Once again, your lips part to swipe your pretty, pink tongue along them, getting them slick and wet with spit. You release a heavy, trembling breath at my sudden proximity and close gaze. “Um, why is that?”

“It affords me the privacy I need to… entertain any guests,” I say lowly, nearly chuckling when your eyes widen, blinking fast at my insinuation. You press your lips together, moving them slowly, and I can sense the hesitation you feel, eyes flickering between myself and your lap.

And yes, your lap. From here, I can see your legs moving closer together, squeezing, thighs probably pressed against what lies between them. Your pretty fingers fist into the fabric of your clothes, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you raise your eyes to meet mine. “What room would you propose I take?”

I cock my head to the door behind you, leaning back into my seat. So, it seems that you perhaps are interested, but do not desire to go further. I would not push it. “The South Quarters will be the warmest.”

“What quarters are your room in?” you ask quietly, eyes narrowed on your hands.

“North,” I mutter, taking a sip of my tea, raising an eyebrow from the question.

You hook your bottom lip in your teeth again. I can feel myself throb at the action, your lips so pretty and practically aching to be sucked on until they’re swollen. I can just picture biting into your plush bottom lip, toying with it lightly, sinking into them a bit deeper, sucking and running my tongue along to soothe it. Would you make any noises? Would you gasp, moan? Whimper softly? Or squeak in surprise?

My internal questions cease when you finally speak. “May I take a room in the North quarters?”

I can practically smell the arousal from you, dripping from your pussy and pooling where your underclothes are. It makes me mull on what kind of thoughts must be running through your mind, and how long they’ve been occupying you if you’re this wet already. It’s a heady, strong scent that all of a sudden kills the ability to focus on anything other than how much you deserve to be taken care of. My nostrils flare at the scent, and all of a sudden, I can just picture being nose deep in your cunt, breathing you in, letting your scent get sucked in, burying my tongue in you and watching you fight the urge to look down at me. 

Your legs are still locked together, knees rubbing, and once again, you wet those pretty lips, maintaining eye contact with me as you do. It’s difficult to determine whether the action is unintentional, or if you’re truly becoming aware of the way my fingers dig into the arms of the chair, or the way I spread my legs just a little bit further, desperate to have you sit on my lap.

Before any of that can happen, however, I steadily say, keeping my tone levelled and kind, “There is no need to owe me anything for letting you stay the night. You can truly have whichever room you desire, and we can retire separately.”

A tiny whimper is your response, the noise coming from somewhere deep and tight in your throat, the noise gentle and soft enough that you probably believe that the cough you give afterwards is enough to hide it. Unfortunately for you, though, you are completely unaware of how clear the noise was to my ears. How I cannot even dream of letting such a lovely noise escape me. So delicate, so unintentional, so shy, yet so telling of everything you want tonight. After your adorable little coughing fit comes to an end, you quietly say, eyes focused on the ruffled collar of my shirt. “I know. I did not ask for a room in the North quarters due to a sense of obligation or owing you.”

You lower your gaze bashfully, and it makes me wonder what it would feel like to directly meet it amongst all kinds of angles. When you’re on your knees for me, those pink, pretty lips wrapped around my fingers, or a part even lower. When my face is tucked in between your thighs, and you’re staring down at me. When my forehead is pressed against yours, eyes frozen on yours as I inch in–

I clear my throat, rising to my feet and sauntering to where you sit. Your eyes flicker over me, and I can hear how your heart begins to pump faster. Once I’m just a pace in front of you, looking down at your nervous, timid expression, I quietly ask, “Then, why are you asking for one?”

Your mouth twists and curls, nervousness clearly holding you back from answering. My fingers twitch, pausing momentarily, before I place a gentle palm on your cheek. You lean into it naturally, as though your bodily instincts possessed no other possible reaction, and I stroke my thumb against the texture of your skin, back and forth, lulling you into comfort. “Tell me.”

You clear your throat, and I can feel your skin heat beneath my fingers. “I want to know… how you entertain your guests.”

I suck in a deep breath, pleasure surging through me at your answer. My eyes wander to your lips, which part with a quiet wet noise, eager to take in whatever I have to offer. Just the mere motion is enough to send my cock stirring. I stroke my thumb across the corner of your mouth, nearly shuddering at the smooth softness of your lips, the tip getting coated in the inner wetness of your mouth, which widens further. I dip my thumb in deeper, going slow and holding back on my eagerness. When the rough pad meets your tongue, I swallow hard, nearly groaning when your mouth puckers and tightens over my finger, beginning to gently suck, eyes fluttering shut. When I push more, a high whine comes from you, your hand moving to gently grip my wrist as I continue to fuck into your mouth. 

Maybe without even realizing, you start to move your hips forward and back, humping the cushion you sit upon, trying to get any friction possible on your pussy. The sight does nothing to quell my arousal, which is becoming hard to ignore the more you make those depraved, desperate noises.

I slip my thumb from your mouth, and you barely get to cry out in protest before my mouth is on yours, fingers gripping your cheeks and coaxing you to open up. You do with a loud, muffled moan, which morphs into a surprised gasp when my tongue slips in. Your clear inexperience leaves you clumsily reacting to the contact, your own tongue moving and twitching in abrupt directions. I slow down the pace of the kiss, getting to my knees in front of you and curling my hand against the fluttering hairs of your neck, my tongue slowly massaging yours. Within a few moments, I can hear your heartbeat steadying, and you begin to grow confident with the motions of the kiss, your own movements becoming bolder as you prod your tongue further against mine, curling and licking. My other arm curves around your waist, pushing you closer to me. Your legs spread to let me rest in the gap between them, and I grip your dress tightly when I feel the mounds of your breasts against me. 

I part from you, my lips diving to your neck, latching onto your pulse point and sucking hard. Your hands fly to my back, nails digging in harder as I skim my teeth along the sensitive patch of skin. I can begin to feel it, an entirely different, but oh-so familiar urge warming within me, making a home the longer I inhale the scent of the sweat lining on your neck and dripping between your breasts. The urge to take something from you and corrupt you in a way that’s completely different from sinking my cock into you. The urge to bite, and suck, and claim you. It was usually a desire I kept at bay, taking precautionary measures with in order to avoid any sort of hasty decisions during such encounters. But, with you, and your sweet scent and bashful eyes, the urge to taste what ran through your veins was raging within me. 

I move from your neck, hoping to distract myself. I brush my fingers against the knot of your cloak, and with a small nod from you, untie it. It pools against the chair, and my eyes immediately fall to your heaving chest, just the faintest bit of cleavage exposed from your modest dress. I duck down, your hands going to my hair and tightly pulling when I run my tongue along the exposed valley, goosebumps erupting on your chest. 

I feel another tug, and suddenly, my head is being yanked back. I watch in confusion as you let go after such a harsh pull, for your face is hot with desire, eyes wide, lips wet and tongue nearly hanging out. You shift your gaze down, avoiding me as your arms work back, beginning to undo your dress. I lick my lips in anticipation, trying not to lunge and do it myself. 

You peel off the fabric, letting the top part of it crumple and hug your hips, exposing your entire torso to me in the golden light of the fire. I’m nearly speechless at the sight of your breasts, the only thing certain in my mind being that I rightfully do belong on my knees at this moment. 

You’re tugging on your bottom lip again, arms awkwardly pressing against your sides, which only pushes your breasts together even more. Your eyes wander slowly to my face, looking at me through your lashes with both lust and curiosity. “Do you like… them?”

I cannot help but chuckle at the question. “Is it even necessary to ask me that? All I can think of right now is everything I want to do to you.”

Your legs suddenly tighten together again. “I have only done this sort of thing once or twice. I’m afraid I’m not very experienced.”

I stand to my feet and extend my hand to you. “Don’t fret. We’ll have you well-practiced in no time.”

You shakily take it, and let me lead you to the North wing.

Immediately, once we are in my bed chambers, I lay you on the thick, patterned blankets, your hair resting upon the hills of pillows. Your chest rises and falls heavily, and my eyes greedily drink up the sight of your breasts. I ignore my near-to-feral needs and loosen my collar for comfort’s sake as you eagerly watch. This time, when you rub your legs together, a wet squelch can be heard and your face scrunches up in embarrassment when I raise an eyebrow. 

I step forward, hooking my fingers around the fabric bunched at your hips. With a meek nod from you, I pull it down, tugging down on your undergarments as I make my way to your feet. 

Finally, you’re clad in nothing but desire, wetness already apparent on the curls surrounding your pussy. Your thighs are aching for my fingers to bruise them, your hips begging for me to squeeze them, and your entire body ready to be worshipped. And still, such a silly girl you are, whimpering under the heat of my stare.

With a smirk, I’m crawling over your body, lowering myself for one long, wet kiss, your lips chasing mine as I back away. In the cold chill of my room, even with the fire, your body is more sensitive than before, nipples hard and perked up. I ghost the tips of my fingers around them, eyeing your every twitch and squeeze. Your body fidgets and thrusts against the air under mine, clearly aching for something more than the brief, whispering touches I’m giving to your breasts. 

I stick my tongue out and flick it against one. Your moan is high and keening.

“Beg me for more,” I murmur, going back to circling with my fingers.

You choke out a cry before folding your lips together. “Please…”

“Please what?”

“I–I can’t,” you moan. “It’s too embarrassing, too shameful.”

I flatten my tongue, dragging it long and hard against the hard bud, sending you trembling beneath me. “If your body craves it this bad, it can’t be too shameful, hm? Why hold back now when you’re so close to getting what you want?”

Your fingers squeeze around the sheets, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. “I… Please, I want your mouth on my breasts. I want you to touch me… roughly. Without hesitation.”

I laugh softly, squeezing your breasts with my hands as I finally close my mouth around one, licking abrasively against your tight nipple. Your body arches into my mouth, wails falling from your lips as I flick the tip of my tongue against the sensitive little nub before closing my lips around it and sucking hard. Your hips meet my clothed thigh and you begin to thrust half-mindedly, clearly trying to find some touch for your poor, neglected clit. I press my leg further into you, giving into your needs and letting you use my body to get off. I switch to your other breast, gliding my teeth against your nipples, then licking around the bump of it to soothe the sting, the sensation of it only sending more wetness coating my slacks. Feeling it hit my skin sends a burst of lust through me, and I start pressing hot, needy kisses down your stomach. You whine at the loss of my thigh, but I hush you quietly. “I’ll be taking care of you soon enough, my love.”

Your hips buck up at the promise, encouraging me to move faster until my face is finally in front of your sopping, swollen cunt. I glance at your face, my mouth twitching at the sight of you focused on the ceiling, clearly too embarrassed to watch my ministrations. But, it’s okay. I know you’ll eventually look.

I slide my arms under your thighs, pressing a kiss to one. “Please, will you open up for me?”

With a small noise, you nod, spreading your legs further until your pussy is on full display. I curse under my breath at the sight of it. I knew you’d be wet, but God, not like this. Your inner thighs are smeared with your juices, and your folds practically sheen with them. I touch two fingers to your lips, a soft gasp above me from the contact. And when I spread them, I’m licking my lips at the sight of your clit, which is jutting from under the hood, begging and desperate to be toyed with. 

I press my face into the wetness, inhaling a deep breath of your scent. A shaky cry erupts from you, and I move my nose in deeper, rubbing it against that spot right below your clit, sucking in that smell as much as I can. The urge, the one I was trying to escape from, was back, but it couldn’t matter less to me. I needed to ravage you.

I stick my tongue out, and while still deep in your cunt, I begin roughly licking you all over, sliding my tongue against your folds without relent before I reach to your clit and begin lapping at it like a person starved. I lick and lick without cease, diving into your hole and beginning to fuck you with my tongue. Your thighs shake against my head, moans and cries tumbling from those fuckable lips of yours. One hand grips the sheets, while the other curls into my hair and keeps me in place as I bob my head against your pussy, pushing my tongue in and out as fast as I can, as fast as my cock would drill into you. Your legs close against my ears, breathily saying, “Please, please, more, I just…”

I stop momentarily, feeling the cool air hit the wetness coating my chin and cheeks. “You just what?”

“I just need to come,” you sob, hips beginning to bounce on the bed from the lack of touch. “Please, please, I just, ah, God…”

Your pleas drift into the air as I get my mouth back on you, softly kissing across your entire pussy, taking my time to savour it before giving you what you need. My lips soak in your wetness, sticky and tangy, as they flatten against every inch of your folds, impatiently seizing the taste of everything you had to offer. I sigh into your cunt, praising whatever ounce of fate led you to my doorstep tonight. I finally press a tender kiss to your bulging clit, my lips perfectly hugging the round shape of it. You shudder above me, back arching and giving me the perfect view of your breasts. 

I tighten the grip of my lips on your clit and start sucking, slowly, with all the intention of exploration. I squeeze my arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to my face, as in and out, my lips grip then let go of your sweet clit. Your hand brushes my hair from my face, and I find you looking down upon me, your eyes watering and mouth forming the prettiest O, as you pant and brokenly gasp whenever I suck harder. It makes me only intensify what I’m doing, my lips beginning to tug your clit into my mouth at longer and harder intervals, putting enough pressure on that sweet spot until you’re shifting under me. And when you do, I stick my tongue out and start stroking it flatly up and down the stiff shape of it, which sends you eagerly pushing your cunt in my face.

I can feel it, hear it. Your breaths begin to come out faster and sharper, the wetness of your hole begins to leak against my tongue more, and your body heats up under my palms. I focus on what brings out the loudest noises in you, closing my eyes in concentration as I continue to apply short, stinging sucks to your clit. When I linger on one, my lips latched onto it for two moments longer, my tongue poking out to flick at it, your thighs clench and flex under my hands, your entire body shaking in one heavy wave as you release a string of cries. I moan at the sight of you, twisting and sensitive under my touch, the sensation sending your feet pressing against my back.

I continue to softly play with your clit, humming against it as your breath evens out. When you tap my head, I release with a soft pop, watching you the entire way through. 

You whimper, biting your lip.

“What is it?” I ask, wiping the back of my hand against my dripping chin.

“You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat.”

I laugh. “You have no idea.”

[puraiuddo]

༺JazzProwl Fic Recs༻

— brought to you by puraiuddo -

This is by all means not a complete list of banger JP fics! It's my personal favorites—those fics that lodged themselves in my brain for one reason or another and never left.

Hopefully this list satisfies at least some of the sudden influx of interest for JP fics (and given how well rec'ing a fic turned out last time...) But, nah for real, not to make rec'ing fics fake deep or anything, but I think the fandom would be a better place if people were more unapologetically enthusiastic about fics and less afraid to interact with authors. So if you use this list to find some fics you have to promise to leave some unhinged comments! ٩("•̀ᴗ•́")و ̑̑

But before I start, I want to acknowledge the prevalence of potentially stereotypical depictions of Jazz in regards to his speech (❞), criminal/violent/sexual characterization (▾), or backstory/origins (⟲) in the JP/TF fandom. I've attempted to flag fics with the corresponding symbols above, because I'd like to recognize those problems while still rec'ing for a variety of other fantastic qualities. That said, I'm not infallible so please use your own discretion.

I've also tagged fics with "hiatus" if it's been a while between updates, but the author hasn't made a comment—these fics are especially important to interact with, b/c you never know if the author stopped posting b/c they weren't getting any reviews!

Now, without further adieu...

༺♡❦♡❦♡❦♡ -ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ- ♡❦♡❦♡❦♡༻

༺JazzProwl-centric༻

Mistakes on Mistakes Until— by jabberish

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 280,212 - Alt-War AU』

Ricochet's got a bad case of conscience and he's pretty sure it's about to get him killed. (aka I think I've read every defection/ex-Con au and now I'm forced to make my own. Jazz-centric.)

* (づ ��� _ ᴗ)づ♡ The crème de la crème of JP fics. I really can't properly articulate the sheer amount of love and respect I have for MOMU other than that if you haven't read it, your life is worse for it. Go read it. Then read it again. Now. (I've read it 4 times. No, I'm not joking) I love all the fics on this list dearly, but MOMU holds a very special place in my heart. Flawless characterization, flawless dynamics, flawless plot, one-of-a-kind writing style... it's got it all. Of note: I've not flagged it despite its premise, because it will expertly subvert your expectations and you need to read it to understand. Bonus: it's got a lot of well-deserved fanart!

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Untitled Series by Need2Scream

『(2/?) - ffn - Words: 158,064 - War AU - hiatus』

Where the Lonely Ones Roam - 116,327

"Say you have a little faith in me. Just close your eyes and let me lead. Follow me home. Need to have a little trust in me. Just close your eyes and let me lead. Follow me home. To where the lonely ones roam." Eventual Prowl/Jazz

Spark - 41,737 - hiatus

"Chase you deep into the unknown. In my dark, in my dark, you're the Spark."/ "Roam with me, come down to where all of the others fell. Get lost, in the dark to find yourself. Just remember what I said, 'cause it isn't over yet."/SEQUEL to Where the Lonely Ones Roam

*It's not clear by the summary, but the series is essentially about Jazz and Prowl's developing relationship as they overcome war-related trauma, intermingled with a spectacular amount of original lore. See the author's ffn bio for a rundown. The originality and attention to detail in the world building in this AU is awe-inspiring. There are 2 fics in the JP series, but the author has a bunch of other Gen fics set in the same AU and another on ao3. Bonus: some of the Gen fics are Jazz & Prowl-centric and can be read as romantic!

༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻༺♡༻

Crime in Crystals Series by Aard_Rinn

『(7/?) - ao3 - Words: 258,030 - Crime/Hitman AU - hiatus - ▾ ⟲』

The Hitman - 6,942 - pt 1

Prowl is the last clean cop in Praxus, the final flickering light in the darkness. There are plenty of people who would like to see him snuffed.

2. The Clarification, 3. The Kill, 4. The Capture, 5. The Prime, 6. The Talk, 7. The Chase 8. TBD

*The main plot is broken into 7 separate fics, but it's all one continuous story. Read the whole thing! It's on my all time favorites. It's thrilling, tremendously action packed, and the character dynamics are some of my favorites. It's also hysterical and wholesome and I've reread it a stupid amount of times. Bonus: it's got fanart + there are 5 extra fics, including a Jazz-centric prequel, in the same AU.

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War Eternal Series by Hearts of Eternity

『(3/4) - ffn - 2m? idk it's insane - Bayverse War AU - discontinued - ▾ ❞ ⟲』

Where You and I Collide - 362,090 - prequel

Separately, Jazz and Prowl are like forces of nature- they are uncompromising and uncontrollable. But what becomes of their natures when these two unstoppable forces collide? Will one break the other, or will they both be stronger for it?

As We Come Together - 485,586 - pt 2 - Gen

While the surviving Autobots begin to flock to Earth in response to Optimus' call, trying to find a new home on the strange organic planet called Earth, some unfortunate bots are beginning to realize the price of war may have been too high. Sequel to Time

May We Never Let Go - 408,409 - pt 3 - Gen - d/c

Hell literally lies in wait above Earth as the Cybertronians and Earthlings coexist uneasily, rattled by every attack the Fallen and his master launch on them. With new evil rising, the powers that be on Earth and beyond are gearing up for war.

1. As We Come Together, prequel 2: Surface of the Sun

*Long, convoluted explanation coming up given that this series is obviously a whole different beast compared to likely any other fanfic series you or I have ever encountered in our lives... b/c the author is just superhuman or smth idk...

The series is officially listed as 4 parts (WYaIC, WTWHL, AWCT, MWNLG). Where You and I Collide is the JP-centric prequel to the other 3 Gen fics (that have substantial background JP). WTWHL is technically part 1 of the series, but it's sorta more character-focused ficlets than a continuous story... which is why I didn't specifically list it as a rec even if that makes things more confusing... (ᵕ¬ᴗ¬) Also the author didn't list Surface of the Sun as part of the series, but it's a direct prequel (like WYaIC) starring the Lambo twins and it's... oh it's so good... absolutely shatters my heart that it's been d/c'd.

I've not listed an exact world count, b/c if you want to read every bit of the AU with all its prequels and offshoots (which I would highly recommend and have done)... I'm not gonna do the math for you, sorry. The main 4-part story is ~1.7m+ which I realize is frankly insane and extraordinarily intimidating, but it is so sooo sooooo worth it. The author has created their own fully fleshed out TF world with its own lore and characters and the time and effort they've put into is mind-boggling .

Anywho, despite ultimately being d/c'd, the series is still tremendously readable and nothing about JP is left feeling unbearably unfinished. I also happened to track down the lovely author and beg for a summary of the ending, b/c I'm a bit of a freak and they very kindly provided it so if not knowing how a fic ends bothers you/prevents you from reading, you have the option of getting closure even if you can't have it written out.

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Fathomless by Sroloc_Elbisivni

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 19,949 - Fantasy AU - complete』

Jazz is drowning on dry land on the other side of the world. Once upon a time, before Jazz was born, the Rust Sea covered a swathe of Cybertron bigger than the territory of any city-state except Iacon. The sea had been more powerful than any engine besides the one at the heart of the planet itself, big enough to swallow a metrotitan in its depths, the birthplace of storms. Thing is, none of that was Jazz. He doesn’t remember those days, before he was himself, except in his dreams. And his dreams are terrifying.

*This fic makes me feel some type of way... it gives me shivers. It's so eerie and the premise is so unique. It's also beautifully bittersweet, which is a hard concept to pull off.

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The Judge by SilenceoftheLlamas

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 107,653 - Alt-War AU』

Prowl’s got a secret, and he’d rather be dead in the ground before he let anyone find out about it. Jazz’s got one too, but he’s not as good at hiding it. Prowl is a secret superhero, Jazz is a secret fanboy who doesn’t know that he works with the guy. By night Prowl is the virtuous hero The Judge, but by day he’s just an unassuming tactical officer.

*Jazz and Prowl are sorta painfully adorable in this fic and the JP is so sweet it makes my teeth hurt. Plus it's got a really fun premise with lots of shenanigans.

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Black on White on Black Series by pipermca

『(3/?) - ao3 - Words: 86,248 - fix-it, War AU - complete』

Anamnesis - 31,097 - pt 1

When Jazz and his team are lost on a mission, Prowl has to carry on alone. But a discovery a thousand vorn later could turn his life upside down again.

2. The Ghost of the Howling Plains, 3. Pulling Strings

*Super interesting sorta-kinda-fix-it fic and/or explanation for the events and characterizations in IDW. There are 3 stories in the main JP plot line. Bonus: there's 2 "Extras" fics for cut scenes from the main fics.

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Crystal Ghosts Series by Rizobact

『(2/2) - ao3 - Words: 85,688 - Fantasy AU - complete - ⟲』

Enduring as Crystal - 40,517 - pt 1

There were a lot of reasons Prowl visited the library. He never knew the most important one was waiting for him in the garden behind it.

Eternal as Love - 45,171 - pt 2

Prowl promised he would help Jazz, the ghost of the crystal chapel in the garden behind Praxus' central library. He just couldn't anticipate what shape that help would wind up taking.

*Another super unique premise! I love a good historical mystery and the imagery is specularly evocative! And I'm a sucker for the trope... which I can't reveal, because of spoilers.

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Untitled Series by Vaeru

『(2/2) - ffn - Words: 10,766 - War AU - complete - ❞』

Descant - 7,925 - pt 2

G1/Jux compliant. Requiem sequel. Prowl doubted that his desired image of Respected Superior Officer came across very well with a half-scrapped mech clinging to his hand, but he loomed as best as he was able and glared.

*Requiem is Jazz-centric and I'd say more of a prequel to Descant than Descant is a sequel to Requiem... if that makes any sense. Regardless of how you view it or what order you read it, it's fucking brutal. (-‿-“) Bonus: author also wrote another really great fic called Transformers: Juxtaposition which is Lambo twin-centric and OC-centric, but perhaps one of the only OC fics that I've ever enjoyed.

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Domino Milkshake by SilenceoftheLlamas

『oneshot - (1/?) - ao3 - Words: 24,886 - War AU - complete - ❞』

Jazz drunkenly pretends that he's dating Prowl. Only he isn't, and the mech is right behind him.

*It's a fake dating AU... what more can I say? I love the the begrudging developing romance and the meddling friends. Bonus: it's got fanart!

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Hunter's Spark by WandersUnderStarlight

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 43,645 - Alt-War AU - ❞』

Jazz disobeys orders to abandon the ruins of Praxus and runs into one of the Senate's dirty secrets.

*This author also has a few more JP fics that I enjoy like An Offer He Can't Refuse and Long Patrol. I gotta offer aisclaimer though: the fics are... fairly cliche and a bit OOC. Hunter's Spark is much more tame than the other two, though. They're all sorta a guilty pleasure of mine, because it's fun to enjoy Prowl being a bit of a BAMF and Jazz being a bit of a damsel on occasion even if objectively I understand why it's not everyone's cup of tea. ("￣▽￣";)ゞ But the author definitely deserves credit for creative and entertaining premises and a really nice writing style!

༺☆★☆★☆★-ˋˏ ♫ ♡ 𓆩𓆪 ˎˊ-★☆ ★☆★☆༻

༺General༻

Little Brother by Meiza

『oneshot - ffn - Words: 64,542 - War AU - discontinued』

Prowl is infamous for being a logical, nigh emotionaless thinker who's better at battle calculations than interpersonal relationships. How he was roped into taking care of the last survivor of Praxus is anyone's guess.

*Prowl & Bluestreak centric, but Jazz has a solid amount of screentime. The subplot is pre-relationship, co-parenting JazzProwl and it's cute as hell. It's not 'officially' discontinued, but it hasn't been updated since 2010... so... At least it doesn't end in a cliffhanger. (╥﹏╥|||)

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Things We Don't Tell Humans by SineadRivka

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 363,057 - Bayverse War AU - complete』

This was a first for us Autobots; never before have we come in contact with a species like these humans, so eerily similar to our own race and twice as tenacious as Sparklings. The question was, how far can we trust the humans with our culture? Some things have translated between cultures without much effort. Other subjects, however…

*Please note the tags! Also... I'll be honest that I mostly skip to the JP parts and main plot points in this fic as it's about a very ensemble cast and I'm not interested in TF humans ... so I can't entirely vouch for the integrity of the whole thing. (￢ω￢;)

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Echoes of Messatine by MlleMusketeer

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 303,863 - Alt-War AU - complete - ▾ 』

Cybertron hurtles toward war, and only a handful of mecha see it. Not Megatron, whose inflammatory writings gain him agonizing attention from those on high. Not Ratchet, the Iacon Medical Center’s most prized practitioner, whose Dead-End clinic remains the worst-guarded secret on Cybertron. Not Overlord, whose iron hold over Cybertron’s underworld is beginning to falter. Not Orion Pax, whose concern over the sudden silence of one of his favorite writers drives him to take up his hero’s pen. Not Terminus, who only wants to survive. But Trepan and Senator Shockwave both know well what’s coming. One aims to use a defiant miner’s fall to crush the aspirations of the masses. The other wants to use that miner’s triumph to ignite them. Neither much cares about Megatron himself, or his ultimate survival. Therein lies their fatal error.

*Not clear from the summary, but the premise is essentially "what if Megatron got the matrix instead of OP" and how their pre-war lives would have to pan out for them to ultimately switch roles. Just a really fascinating, supremely well-done "what-if" fic, but also probably the weirdest one to put on this particular list, b/c JP turns into megatron/JP at the very, very end... but... I just kinda ignore that development since it happens in like almost literally in the last chapter and you can def read it as friendship up until that point... (¬⤙¬ ᵕ)

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༺Mature༻

*listen... don't @ me. They're definitely saucy, but they're not explicit. Yada, yada... hey minors, don't read these! ...But we all know you will so just don't talk to me or anyone else about it, cool? Cool. (☞ ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)☞

Intermission by crabapplered

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 5,049 - War AU - complete - ▾』

As the war stretched on for interminable vorn, Prowl found himself faced time and again with the mounting stress of his position. Many of those times he was forced to face alone, the gear grinding stress sending him to Ratchet for system overhauls and forced defrags. But every so often he'd be fortunate enough to have Jazz on hand, and when he did, well, it didn't take much. Pressing Jazz up against the wall, cramming him into corners, pinning him facedown over Prowl's desk. It didn't matter as long he could keep Jazz still.

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Audition by crabapplered

『oneshot - ao3 - Words: 12,783 - War AU - complete - ▾』

If one were to be delicate, one would say that Jazz and Prowl are incompatible. The blunt truth? 'You just lie there with this blank expression on your face,' he'd been told by his last partner. Signal had stayed longer then most, willing to try since Prowl was so obviously doing his best, interfacing to please his partner and give him what Prowl himself disliked. In the end, though, it hadn't worked. 'You don't like me touching you, you don't like the mess, you don't even like the overload, and half the time I swear you're running economic simulations in your CPU you look that bored. I don't want that. I don't want you miserable, and I don't want me miserable, either.' So why can't Prowl stop wishing?

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That's all, folks.

ദ്ദി(｡•̀ω-)✧ ~Happy reading!

and for the shit tumblr search/tag system, i offer: #jazzprowl #jazzprowl recs #jazz x prowl #jazzprowl fic recs #jazzprowl fanfic recs #tansformers fic recs #tf jazzprowl #tf fic recs

[aynavaano]

Beautifully blind

Tech x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

Wordcount: 4.6k

Summary:

Ever since you joined the Bad Batch you had your eyes on Tech, he is everything you could possibly want, soft, intelligent, caring but also strong and protective. You’ve been flirting with him for a while without any response and gave up thinking he is just not interested in you. But one day when you are left alone working on one of his modifications on the Marauder together it turns out the whole time you were speaking a language he didn’t understand.

Notes:

I really really miss Tech in S3 so I wanted to write some sweet soft smut with him. This work is inspired by “The beginners guid to Osculation” but I took things a bit further…

It’ a first time sex fic Tech x F!reader. Reader is experienced and in love with him. There is fingering, oral (f and m recieving) and unprotected sex but also a lot of fluff. It’s my first time writing Tech and a hope he is not too OOC.

You and Tech are standing in the Cockpit of the Marauder, fiddling with some cables, hanging from a wall panel, together just as Crosshair, Wrecker, and Hunter prepare for another supply run. It's been a few rotations since your arrival here, the Marauder carefully concealed in a secluded forestry patch a few klicks away from the next settlement. During this time, you've managed some much needed repairs and some of Techs planned modifications, as well as restocking on supplies. While the last supply run was a joint effort, today you and Tech decided to remain on the ship finishing his latest project and preparing for your departure, as there's little left to gather from the nearby town. Just when they're about to leave you overhear Crosshair boast to his brothers about his plans to fuck the girl from the market again, telling them they don’t need to wait for him on the way back because he’s planning to take his sweet time with her, a smug grin adorning his face, as always and a toothpick dangling in the corner of his mouth. As they make their way out Wrecker pats Crosshairs shoulder jolting him a step forward and they all burst into laughter, leaving you and Tech alone in the cockpit.

You caught a fleeting glimpse of disappointment, perhaps even a hint of sadness, in Tech's eyes at Crosshairs words and try not to think about it too much, but you can’t ignore it, you care too much about him. After silently working alongside him for a while, handing him tools and lending a hand you approach him cautiously. "Tech," you start, "I couldn't help but notice your reaction to Crosshair talking about the girl from the market. Were you... also into her?"

"What brought you to that conclusion?" he asks hesitantly, tilting his head towards you, his voice tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

"I saw your face when Crosshair mentioned her, you seemed disappointed or even sad," you say, breaking the uncomfortable silence that hung between you for a moment. He doesn't respond immediately, the weight of your observation sinking in.

To ease the tension, you quickly add, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have asked. It's none of my business," before turning back to continue working on the panel. After a moment, Tech sighs and let’s his arms sink down, his gaze fixed on a distant point as he gathers his thoughts.

"It's not about that particular girl," he begins, his voice tinged with vulnerability, "but rather that I have never experienced the kind of intimacy Crosshair was referring to." He pauses, struggling to articulate his feelings. "It's always my brothers that succeed in getting a woman because it is extremely difficult for me to understand the subtle signs and the body language of someone I am attracted to, even if I've did a lot of research about the topic. I have accepted it but sometimes, when they brag about their experiences it’s difficult for me"

His confession catches you off guard, and you look at him with wide eyes, trying to comprehend his revelation. "Are you saying you've never been with someone... in that way?" you ask, your voice filled with disbelief.

Tech nods solemnly. "Correct, that's exactly what I said," he confirms. The realization hits you like a blaster shot to your guts – the handsome, beautiful man before you, that you’ve been admiring for such a long time, has seemingly never had the chance to experience any kind of sexual activities, and has accepted it as his fate.

"You're telling me you're a virgin?" you blurt out, startled by the revelation.

"I don't particularly like that word, but yes, that is the proper term that would apply to me," Tech responds, his expression vulnerable yet resolute. "However, to be precise, there was one incident where my brothers tried to pair me off with a woman, but I stopped it immediately, it felt extremely uncomfortable." He pauses, reflecting on his research. "For some people, it seems to be pleasant to have casual sexual encounters, while others prefer to have an emotional connection to their sexual partner. I think the latter applies to me, it needs to be with someone I know, someone I feel safe with, and am more than just attracted to in a physical way." He admit, his vulnerability shining through as he reveals, "Someone like you," the last bit of his sentence, slipping from his lips before his mind can stop him.

You almost choke on your breath, caught off guard by Tech's unexpected confession, but a giggle escapes your lips nonetheless. However, the lighthearted moment is quickly replaced by a look of embarrassment on his face. He tries to compose himself, his words stumbling out as he apologizes, "I'm… sorry,… I shouldn't have said that. Please don't ridicule me for it. I may process moments and thoughts differently, but it does not mean that I feel any less than you." He hesitates before continuing, "You don't have to say anything. I know I would never have a chance with you,"

"Oh Tech," you respond softly, reaching out to gently touch his arm. "I've not been laughing at you. I just couldn't grasp what you were saying, and how beautifully blind we both seem to be. I've been into you since forever, literally since I became part of the crew, and I've been trying to flirt with you for months, but I thought you were just not interested in me, so I gave up and let you be, because I didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable."

Tech's eyes widen in surprise at your confession. "I... I thought you were... maybe interested in Wrecker because you recently spent so much time together," he admits, his voice tinged with uncertainty.

"Oh, but that's just because Hunter wanted me to learn more about explosives, that's why, you know how bad I am with handling that kind of stuff," you explain, hoping to clear up any misunderstandings.

"Undoubtedly I see why Hunter ordered that, you almost killed us all on Onderon with that thermal detonator. I’m relieved to know you’re taking care of it” he says, adjusting his goggles to have a better look at you. You giggle gazing up at him, almost loosing yourself in his beautiful brown eyes.

“The thought never crossed my mind that someone like you would be attracted to me like that," Tech confesses, his tone tinged with self-doubt. "While I exceed my brothers in many aspects, this is a particular field where I never stood a chance against them. I see the signs, but I cannot interpret them. I observed that you've come closer to me, you are touching my arm and that your face has slightly reddened, indicating an accelerated heartbeat, but I don't know how to proceed with that information."

"Tech... stop talking," you hesitantly interject, inching a little closer to him and seeking his gaze. "Do you want to kiss me?"

Your heart races as you feel the tension building between you, his eyes locking onto yours, a sense of understanding flickering over his features.

"Yes, I would very much like that," he responds earnestly, his voice filled with anticipation. "I am positive that you already know that I am recording everything, but I want your consent if I keep recording. Will you let me?" he adds slightly nervous.

You nod in agreement, giving him the permission he seeks.

"Do you want me to kiss you, or do you want to begin?" you inquire, seeking his preference.

He pauses for a moment before expressing his desire for you to initiate the kiss and guide him.

With a soft smile, glancing up at him seeking his gaze you lean in and wrap your arms around his neck. Gently, you pull his head slightly down towards you, tilting yours upwards, eyes shut, closing the gap between your lips. It's a soft kiss, yet filled with a hunger, hoping to leave him wanting more. His lips are incredibly soft and your body starts to tingle a bit by the realization that you are really kissing Tech, it’s not another one of your daydreams, he is right here in your arms.

He doesn’t respond to the kiss, but he allows you to kiss him for a little bit longer and when you part, you notice his dilated pupils and feel the rapid beat of his heart against his chest. ”How did that feel?” you whisper, as your eyes meet, arms still wrapped around him.

"I very much enjoy how my body reacts to you, unfamiliar but very pleasant," he admits, his voice tinged with awe and slightly out of breath.

"Do you want more?" you offer selfishly, glancing up at him with a smile. He nods eagerly in response.

Encouraged, you kiss him again, now with a bit more passion. And this time he instantly responds, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, his lips eagerly moving against yours. You brush your tongue against his lower lip and he opens up letting you in. You can barely control yourself anymore and when your tongues meet you feel the heat rising in your body, pooling between your legs. “Tech..” you moan softly, not parting the kiss.

Suddenly, he picks you up maneuvering you to the other side of the cockpit and onto the control panel of the Marauder. You instinctively wrap your legs around him, feeling the subtle pressure of his growing arousal against you. The intensity of the moment causes him to break the kiss, gasping for air as he tries to compose himself.

You gently cup his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips, and ask, “Do you want to try more than just kissing?” His eyes flicker with uncertainty, and you try to voice it more clearly, “Do you want to have sex with me Tech?”

His response is eager, almost breathless, as he nods and replies, “Yes, I want.”

With a sense of anticipation coursing through you, you don’t wait any longer an swiftly discard your shirt, revealing the contours of your body to him. His gaze lingers, wide-eyed, on your bare chest, and you feel a rush of excitement at his reaction. “Touch me,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, inviting him to explore you further.

He hesitates, his hand trembling slightly as he reaches out, his fingers tracing the curve of your cheek before trailing down to your chest. As his fingers gently slide over your nipple, a soft gasp escapes your lips, eliciting a smile from him. “I very much like that sound,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a hint of wonder.

With a tentative question in his eyes, he asks, “Can I kiss you there?” You nod in response, a mixture of anticipation and desire coursing through you. Slowly, he leans in, his lips brushing against your skin as he trails soft kisses down your neck, lingering at the curve of your breast. Each touch sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but let out a few more soft moans, encouraging him to continue. He slowly gets more courageous exploring you and begins to suck one of you hardened nipples into his mouth eliciting even more gasps and moans from you. It feels like he is enjoying to test what kind of sounds he can get out of you.

Trying not to break from his touch you wiggle yourself out of your pants, leaving you clad only in your little satin panties, grateful that you put one of the nicer ones on this morning. His eyes widen with a mixture of excitement and nervousness as he takes in the sight of you before him, his gaze roaming over your exposed skin, drinking in every curve and contour.

“Explore my body, Tech,” you urge him, your voice filled with longing. His fingers trace over your skin, trailing along the inside of your thighs, hesitating slightly as they brush over the soaked fabric of your panties, already dampened by your arousal. "I studied some publications about female arousal," he begins, his voice laced with curiosity, "telling from the level of wetness I assume you enjoy this a lot. Is it because you haven’t been with someone in a while? I understood that once you tried and enjoyed sexual activities, it can become something of a need?"

A soft chuckle escapes your lips at his earnestness, and you reply, "It’s not because I need it, Tech. It’s because I want it, because I want you. Your touch and your kisses caused that."

"Interesting," he remarks, his tone thoughtful as if he's processing the information. At your instruction, he carefully removes your panties, his excitement undeniable as he takes in the sight of you naked body before him. His gaze roams over you, exploring every inch of your nakedness, before he drops to his knees to get a better view.

"Touch me," you encourage him, leaning over the control panel, pressing a button to seal the entrance to the cockpit, just in case the others come back earlier than expected. With eager anticipation, he trails his fingers over your slick folds, the slightest touch sending shivers of pleasure through you. He slides one finger between your outer lips, gently parting them, his movements cautious yet purposeful, and he asks, "Is that ok?"

"You don’t have to ask for my consent anymore, Tech," you reassure him, your desire evident in your voice. "I want this. I want you."

With that assurance, he very carefully begins to slide a finger into you, and you moan softly at the sensation, encouraging him to continue. Another finger follows suit, and he begins to move hesitantly, exploring the depths of your warm core. It feels incredible, his touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you entirely.

So many months you had spent fantasizing about something like this, but after he didn’t react to your flirting attempts you gave up and now you are here, completely naked, spread all over the control panel, with Tech between your legs and his fingers pushing into you.

He curls his fingers up, finding that sweet, soft spot that sends waves of extra strong pleasure coursing through your body and you can't help but cry out his name. His touch is intoxicating, each movement bringing you closer to the edge of an orgasm.

Feeling yourself on the brink, you gasp, "Tech, I won’t last long if you keep doing that." He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do, but you encourage him to continue. "No, it’s good. I just… you will make me cum very quickly if you keep doing that," you assure him, your voice filled with desire.

Surprised but delighted by your response, Tech eagerly returns to his attention to your core. "Oh, I would love to give you an orgasm if you let me," he admits, his enthusiasm undeniable. You nod “Please” and with your consent, he thrust back into you, his fingers moving with purpose and determination.

Leaning in closer, he focuses his attention on your clit, his tongue adding a new dimension to the pleasure. It's a revelation, the intensity building with each thrust of his fingers, you cant believe he’s never done that before, but then again he is the man that knows everything.

You feel your body tensing up already and it takes only a few more flicks of his tongue against your clit before you cum. Stars shatter before your eyes and it feels incredibly good to ride out your orgasm on his fingers, your body trembling with the force of your release. You moan his name, lost in the pleasure pulsing through you, your head thrown back, eyes rolling in bliss.

Looking up at you in awe, Tech savors the sight before him. He's completely captivated by the way your body responds to his touch, determined not to miss a single moment of it.

After you slowly descend from the heights of your orgasm, he carefully slides his finger out of you and rises to his feet, standing before you. You lean up and press your lips to his. "Do you want me to explore your body?" you inquire, and he eagerly nods in response. You gracefully slip from the control panels, your eyes locked on him as he swiftly sheds his armor with practiced hands. When he's down to the bottom of his blacks, you gently guide him backward into the pilot's seat, a silent invitation for him to surrender to your touch.

You approach him with a mix of excitement and tenderness, fully aware that this is his first experience and taking care not to overwhelm him. You position yourself between his legs, one hand trailing over his chest and you leave a few heated kisses on his neck before you kneel down, your eyes lock with his, offering reassurance. "Relax, Tech. Let me take care of you," you say softly.

With a slow and deliberate hand, you begin to undo his pants, revealing his evident arousal. Your gaze flickers to his cock, noting its impressive length and girth, feeling a surge of desire as you prepare to pleasure him. Slowly taking him into your mouth, you start with gentle movements, savoring the taste of him as you explore each inch of his beautiful thick cock.

Tech's breath catches in his throat as you work him, his fingers tightening on the armrests. "Do you like how it feels?" you murmur, your voice a soft hum against his sensitive skin. He manages to nod, his expression a mix of pleasure and wonder as you continue.

Adjusting your pace, you find a rhythm that suits him, teasing and tantalizing as you build his arousal. With each movement, you feel him growing harder beneath your touch, his hips shifting instinctively to meet your mouth. "I…I’m close," he gasps, his voice strained with desire.

Despite the temptation to push him over the edge just now and see his beautiful brown eyes flutter, you hold back, knowing that you want to give him more. With a loving smile, you ease off, allowing him a moment to catch his breath. "Not yet," you whisper, your voice laced with anticipation. “I would like to ride you, do you want that?”

Tech's eyes widen with surprise and need as he understands what you want to do. With a hungry look in his eyes, he nods eagerly.

You rise from your knees, moving with purpose as you straddle his lap, positioning yourself above him. With a delicate touch, you guide his throbbing cock to the entrance of your slick, wet core, feeling the anticipation building between you. The pressure of his length against you already sends shivers down your spine, aching with desire for more. "Are you ready?" you whisper, your breath hot against his ear as you pepper his neck with soft kisses. Unable to speak, Tech nods eagerly, his eyes filled with longing as he awaits your next move.

As you lower yourself onto him, a wave of pleasure washes over you, his thick cock stretching you in all the right ways. You moan with satisfaction, relishing in the sensation of being filled by him. Tech's heartbeat quickens beneath you, his shallow breaths echoing the intensity of the moment. "Breathe, Tech," you murmur, planting tender kisses along his jawline, allowing him a moment to adjust to the feeling of being inside you.

With a slow, deliberate pace, you begin to move, rising and falling on his length, each stroke sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. Tech's composed facade begins to crack, his control slipping away as he succumbs to the ecstasy of your union. You enjoy to see him slowly coming undone in front of you. Tech, who is always in control, always composed is coming undone. And you love that you can do that to him.

As you increase your rhythm, Tech's hands find hold on your waist, his touch grounding you as you ride him. You brace yourself against his shoulders, granting him a beautiful view of your bouncing breasts right before his face, fueling his desire even further. You feel him tensing up, his cock pressing even harder against your walls with every move. “It’s okay Tech” you reassure him, “cum inside me”urging him to let go and release within you.

You lean down to leave a few kisses and gentle bites along his neck, increasing your pace further and it doesn’t take long until he succumbs to the overwhelming pleasure, his cock pulsating within you as he spills his warm cum deep inside your core. The sensation of him filling you up is so overwhelmingly good it triggers another orgasm, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body. You cry out his name as you clench around him, the intensity of your orgasm echoing his own. He looks at you in awe by the sensation of your pussy tightening around his cock. Collapsing onto his chest, you both bask in the aftermath, your bodies entwined and slick with sweat, lost in the euphoria of your connection.

Tech catches his breath first, his chest rising and falling as he composes himself. "I would enjoy doing that again sometime," he admits, his voice filled with a hint of longing but also uncertainty.

You smile warmly, reassurance in your eyes as you reply, "Whenever you want, Tech. I'm yours." Leaning in, you press your lips against his, a soft and tender kiss filled with promise. “I love you,” you whisper, your words carrying the weight of your affection.

As his softened cock slowly begins to slip out of you, you feel his warm cum dripping from your core onto the seat beneath you. "I should clean that up before we make a mess here," you remark, a playful glint in your eyes as you glance down at the evidence of your shared passion.

Tech nods in agreement, his gaze lingering on you as he gestures towards the fresher. "Go on. I'll take care of the cockpit," he offers, his tone gentle yet determined, showing his willingness to share the responsibilities.

Before you can leave, he pulls you close, his lips capturing yours in a deep and passionate kiss. "Thank you," he murmurs against your lips, his gratitude evident in his touch as he expresses his appreciation for your connection.

"For what?" you wonder, eager to understand the depth of his emotions.

"For communicating with me in a way that I understand," he explains, his words resonating with sincerity as he acknowledges the significance of your connection and the efforts you've made to bridge any gaps in understanding.

With a smile and a soft kiss, you accept his gesture, making your way to the fresher, mindful not to leave a trail of cum behind as you prepare to clean up. As you go, you're filled with a sense of contentment, knowing that despite any challenges, you and Tech have found a way to connect deeply, both physically and emotionally.

When you tap out of the fresher, all cleaned up, clothes back on, you are relieved to see that the others seemingly still haven’t returned, giving you and Tech a little more time together. Glancing over at the cockpit, you notice it looks nice and clean, as if nothing had happened. Satisfied, you step outside the Marauder and find Tech sitting in the low grass, his datapad in hand and connected to his ears. He smiles at you, and you can't help but return the smile as you approach him.

"What are you doing?" you inquire, curiosity lacing your tone.

"I'm listening to the sounds you made," he responds, a happy glance in his eyes. Your cheeks flush at his words, and he chuckles softly. "I enjoy this very much, it's already my favorite recording."

He pulls you in for a kiss, and you melt into his embrace, feeling a sense of warmth and affection wash over you. You make yourself comfortable in the grass next to him and he hands you a cup of fresh caff, asking if you feel good.

"Haven’t felt so good in a while…and thank you for cleaning up the cockpit," you express your gratitude, but a hint of worry creeps into your voice. "But I guess that Hunter will smell it anyway. He can smell a Bantha ten klicks against the wind."

Tech laughs, reassuring you. "That is precisely right, but don't worry. I spilled some caff to cover up the scent for now. However, we will need to tell them eventually that we…we…”

“…had sex in Hunters ship and will continue to do so?” you offer to finish the sentence with a wide grin on your face.

“That we are engaging in a romantic relationship. And that is MY ship" he corrects you. “But I fear their response to this news will not be that elated at first.”

You furrow your brows in concern, prompting him to explain further. "Why do you think your brothers won't be happy for you, Tech?"

He adjusts his goggles, his expression thoughtful. "Because shortly after you became part of our crew, they made a bet on who would get… who would succeed in having sex with you first. And the bet was not on me. And not on a relationship either, rather on a more... casual encounter."

"Who was it?" you ask, curious to know the outcome.

Tech sighs, his gaze dropping momentarily. "On Crosshair. It was on Crosshair. I bet on him too. Statistically, he has the highest success rate, so it was a safe bet... I thought."

You chuckle softly, realizing the implications, of course it was Crosshair. "Well, that will dent his ego a bit, but he'll survive it," you laugh, needless to say Crosshair is a handsome man with an aura that is best described as intense but he’s just not your type, you prefer soft and nerdy but lethal, and sometimes a bit unhinged, just like the beautiful man sitting beside you.

Feeling a sense of content wash over you, you happily lean into Tech, resting your head on his chest as you revel in the comfort and security of his embrace.

Shouldn't we finish the modification we abandoned?" you inquire, gazing up at the sky.

"I would much rather enjoy the time with you out here," Tech responds, his voice filled with warmth. "It is not often that we are on a planet where the atmosphere is breathable, meteorological conditions are predominantly pleasant, and there is no extremely hostile wildlife that we have to pay attention to. Besides, with your help, I can quickly finish the modification later. We will need to learn to enjoy the moments we get together without my brothers, as they will be scarce."

You gaze up at him in awe, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over you as you cuddle closer to him. "Well,if we have time, then tell me everything you know about those little fuzzy creatures up there jumping around in the trees," you say, pointing towards the playful fury animals in the distance.

He smiles down at you, his eyes reflecting fondness. "Gladly," he responds, before leaning in to give you the softest, most loving kiss.

As he begins to speak, his voice takes on the tone of a database, filled with information about the local wildlife. You've always loved animals and listening to Tech talking for hours about the local wildlife and its possible dangers or benefits during missions has fascinated you each time. But now, wrapped in his arms, experiencing this as private lecture and stealing a few kisses in between is the best feeling in the galaxy

[lanadelnegan]

Tattoo

Pre-apocalypse!Negan x Reader (Negan is y/n's art teacher & also owns a tattoo shop).

Warnings: THIS IS THE FILTHIEST THING I'VE WRITTEN SO FAR and it's just going to get filthier from here on. smut, forbidden love, age-gap (reader is 18, negan is 38), angst, oral (female receiving), lots of sexual tension, slow burnnnn.(there's an actual plot this time), vaginal sex, public sex, breeding, slight daddy kink

Summary: After graduating and leaving behind the man she fell for but couldn't have, y/n decides to get a tattoo that reminds her of him. And he gives it to her.

A/n: ugh, this had me in my feels. A "hard to get" teacher Negan. basically you're negan's former student and he gives you a tattoo and things.. well - just read it.

"Well damn. I don't mean to be sentimental, but I have seriously enjoyed teaching you little shits. I hope you can take what you've learned and apply it to something. Be creative. Oh, and.. don't think about hitting me up on Instagram after this because I don't do social media. That shit is toxic. Remember that, kids."

The bell cuts Negan off before he can finish his inspirational speech. He's always had such a way with words.. should have been an English teacher instead.

Most of the students rush out like the room is on fire, with the exception of a few annoying girls that think he'll jump their bones now that school is out.

"So, Mr. Smith, since you don't have social media, can I get your number at least?" I cringe as she twirls her hair around her finger and her friends giggle obnoxiously behind her.

"Girls. Behave for once. A tip for college? Don't flirt with your professors." He warns while motioning them out the door.

I suddenly realize that my ass has been glued to my seat this entire time and I'm the only one still here. I quickly get up and throw my backpack over one shoulder. He stares at me from the doorway but I just look down as I walk towards him.

"Bye Mr. Smith."

"Nice try. Sit down." He shuts his door and walks back into the room pointing towards my chair for me to sit.

"Mr. Smith, y/n?" He mocks. "Seriously?"

I never call him that. He's always been Negan to me.

I've known him for 4 years now. He's the only art teacher at Alexandria High, and even though I have no interest in art, I've taken his class every year because I do have an interest.. in him.

What he doesn't know is that I've been making mental notes everyday for the past four years about all his interests, personal life, hobbies, you name it.

He loves the color red - because it's the only color expo marker he writes in.

His favorite lunch is two cigarettes and coke zero. I hate that he smokes.

He stopped coaching baseball last year because he said he didn't have time anymore. But I think it's actually because he's never cared for it to begin with.

He had a wife, but she passed away. Some kind of cancer. She's still his computer wallpaper, which tells me he still hasn't moved on even though it was six years ago. My heart hurts for him.

He wasn't lying - he doesn't have social media....I would have found it.

He sits at another student's desk right next to mine with his body facing me.

"You gonna tell me why the hell you look like your best fucking friend just died?"

I stare at the floor next to his shoes and try to think about anything other than fact that I'm never going to see him again.

"Look at me."

I slowly lift my eyes to his and can't stop the tear that escapes the second I see his face.

"Ah, shit." His expression turns serious when he notices my tears. "Look, kid. I -"

"Stop calling me kid." I snap.

He chuckles. "Hate to break it to ya y/n, but you are very much a kid in my eyes, which is why this thing -" he motions his hand towards me. "this.. crush you have on me - has to end today."

My eyes widen as I stare at him speechless. He seriously did not just assume I have a crush on him.

"Did you jus - You seriously think just because a few stupid girls want to get in your pants, it means everyone does?" I scoff. "Unbelievable. You're my teacher. I don't have a crush on you."

He laughs as if we both know I'm lying - which I am.

"Alright, I'm sorry I called you a kid. Now, you wanna tell me what's wrong?"

"It's just I - I'm gonna miss you." I instantly regret saying it.

He nods and looks at the floor, letting out a frustrated sigh.

"I'm sorry. I - I'm just gonna go." I get up to leave, leaving my heart with him. My stomach twists in a knot when I realize he isn't getting up to stop me.

Why would he?

Once I'm in the hall, I turn to take one last look at him. He's bent over with his hands through his hair as if his best friend just died.

Negan's POV: That fucking girl. In my twelve years of teaching, I've never cared about a student like I do her. I care about all of my students, but goddamn it, she's had me wrapped around her finger for longer than I'm comfortable to admit - And I never will. She fucking sucks at hiding her feelings. I knew from the first day she walked into my class that she wanted to jump on my dick. Hell, every girl does. But other girls bat their fake eyelashes at me and tell me how they feel. Y/n.. she's.. obsessed with me. She thinks I didn't notice her doodling my name in her notebook with little hearts. Or that I don't hear her whispering to her friends about the dreams she has about me. Or how she stares at me during lectures like she's on a different planet. And if that's not enough, the girl hates art. Yet she's chosen it as her elective every single year. She has straight A's in every class, but doesn't even try in mine. And yet.. my dumb ass still passed her with an A. Maybe because I'm obsessed with her too.

Back to Y/n's POV:

I cried on the way home that day.

While everyone else celebrated school ending with a party, I stayed in my room and cried while looking at his photo in the yearbook.

While everyone walked across the stage at graduation, my diploma came in the mail and I stayed home holding Negan's lucky baseball bat that he gave me last year.

My last day of junior year, I stayed after school to help Negan clean out his classroom so he could move into a bigger art room. That was the year he quit coaching. I replay the memory in my head more often than I should..

"Why do you have this bat just sitting in the corner?" "It brings me good luck. I hit a home run every game my senior year with that bat." "Your senior year? This bat is that old?!" "Watch it, kid." He rolls his eyes and throws some folders in a bin. "Hmm." I study the bat. "I could use some luck." "Keep it." I look at him confused. "But... it's your-" "I want you to have it." He cuts me off. "Are - Are you sure?" He sighs frustrated. "Do you not want it?" "Well, I mean, I do but -" "Then stop being stubborn and take it."

Ever since that day, his bat has been leaned up against the wall by my bed as a constant reminder of the man I want but can never have.

After a few weeks of feeling sorry for myself, my best friend tried convincing me to do something for myself since my birthday was coming up.

"Y/n, you should.. get your nails done, go buy some new clothes, do.. something. But you need to get out of that room. It's... depressing."

"I think I want a tattoo."

"Oh, okay, yeah. That's a good idea. What are you wanting to get?" She asks from the other end of the phone.

"I dunno." My eyes drift towards the bat. "Something meaningful."

The next day...

Lucille's

The tattoo shop sign reads. I swing the door open, excited for the first time in a month. The sound of tattoo guns and rock music fills the lobby.

"Hey, welcome to Lucille's. Do you have an idea of what you'd like or do you want to see some of our work?" The woman on the other side of the counter pulls out a binder.

"Oh, no, I think I know what I want already." I smile and pull up the picture on my phone before showing her.

"Okay, we can do that. Shouldn't take too long either. An hour tops. I can actually take you now in room 3." The so-called "rooms" aren't actually rooms, but rather closed off sections with tall walls on each side. From where I'm standing, I can't see the people in the tattoo chair, but I can see the top of the tattoo artists' heads if I stand on my tippy-toes.

She leads me to room 3 and I sit in the chair while she gets out the instruments.

"This your first tattoo?"

"Yeah, kinda nervous."

She smiles. "I'd tell you not to worry, but, sorry babe. It's gonna hurt."

I appreciate her honesty and just smile back at her.

"So, where do we want it?" she holds the printed off picture off of the tattoo I want.

I lean back in the chair, putting my legs up, so I'm laying down. I lift my shirt up right above my belly button and slightly pull my shorts down, revealing my pubic bone. "Right here." I point to the left side of where my panty line would be but lower.

After I confirm the placement, she presses the needle to my skin and I bite my bottom lip at the sudden pain that radiates throughout my hip.

"Breathe, babe. You got this."

After a couple seconds, she turns in her chair to load more ink into the gun.

"Y/n?" I hear from the entrance behind me.

I know that voice without turning to look. My eyes widen and the girl tattooing me looks at him.

"Hey boss, you two know each other?" She looks between the two of us.

I look back at him and see him nod at her. "I'll finish her up, Ruby. Thanks." He takes the tattoo gun from her and sits in her chair when she gets up to leave. The scent of leather and cigarettes fills the small room and I realize how much I missed it.

He pauses when he looks down at my skin and I can't tell if he's staring because of my tattoo of choice or because I'm almost completely exposed. If I didn't just shave, half of my pubic hair would be on display to him.

The way he's looking at my skin wakes the butterflies in my stomach and I have to mentally tell myself not to clench my legs together. He looks up at me through heavy eyelids and for the first time in four years, I'm unable to read him. I can't tell if he's disappointed, mad... or turned on...?

He looks back at the tattoo and shakes his head, sighing.

Okay, it's definitely a look of disappointment.

"You realize I have to finish this now that she's already started it, right?" He studies the lines already permanently marked in my skin. The faint purple lines of where the sticker was placed give away the complete outline of what the tattoo will be. "There's still time to change it though."

"What? What do you mean.. change it? I want this one."

"No." Is all he says and my eyes widen in shock at him.

"You can't tell me what to do Negan. I'm an adult, and I'm getting it."

"Why?" He snaps, frustration dripping from his tone.

He looks into my eyes for the first time since he's been in the room and the butterflies in my stomach have now gone wild.

"Because I... I want a piece of you with me always."

He closes his eyes and drops his head. My eyes start to water but I hold them back the best I can.

"Y/n." He shakes his head but to my surprise, he hesitantly places his left hand on my thigh, his fingers dangerously close to the spot I've imagined him touching a million times. The feel of his rough fingers on my bare skin ignites a flame in me I didn't know existed and all I do is stare at his hand.

"Relax." He rolls his eyes and starts the gun. He leans down closer and begins tattooing me.

I have to bite back the moan threatening to escape my lips. With Ruby.. it hurt. But with Negan, it.. almost feels good.

He glances up at me as if he can hear my thoughts and then goes back to gliding a straight line of ink across my skin.

The next few moments are spent in silence, with nothing but the sounds of the tattoo gun and music playing in the distance.

"Fuck, y/n. I'm gonna need these off so I can get to you better." He gestures at my shorts.

My eyes widen but I nod and slide them off, barely breathing now that I'm laying in front of Negan in just my underwear. The way his jaw ticks when he sees that I'm wearing red lace panties doesn't go unnoticed. His favorite color.

He places his hand back on my leg, this time with his fingers completely against my inner thigh. I slightly part my legs without thinking and he pauses to glance at me before continuing with the tattoo.

If he moved his finger half an inch upwards, he would be touching me.

"I never knew you worked at a tattoo shop." I break the silence, hoping to get my mind off his hand.

He chuckles. "I own it, darlin'. And there's a lot you don't know about me."

Another long pause happens before he speaks first this time.

"Why did you take art, y/n?"

"Uh.. I dunno, because I liked it."

He huffs out a laugh. "You liked it... or me?"

I shrug. "Both."

His face turns serious again and he stops the tattoo gun. "All done."

He backs away and motions for me to stand up and look in the mirror in the corner. I stand in front of it, but don't even notice my tattoo because my eyes catch Negan in the mirror staring at my ass. These panties don't leave much to the imagination and my cheeks redden at how much I'm exposed to him.

He suddenly looks up and makes eye contact with me in the mirror. His eyes are darker than usual and filled with lust.

"Come here." He demands and I obey, walking towards him.

Once I'm standing in front of him, he lifts his hands to grab my hips. My belly button is eye level to him and I look down, watching him intensely. His thumbs dig into my hips and he looks at the tattoo.

"Do you like it?" I ask him.

He ignores me and it makes my heart break a little more. "Lay back down, y/n." He gets up to pull the curtain over the entrance of the room.

I do as he says and he comes back, placing a clear tape bandage over the fresh tattoo.

He looks as if he's deep in thought before suddenly sliding his hands underneath my thighs and pulling me closer to him. He pushes my leg aside and rests my other foot in his lap until my legs are completely spread apart in front of him.

"You want me to touch you, y/n? Is that what you want?"

"Yes.."

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"Your mouth."

He chuckles darkly and kisses the inside of my thigh before sliding his fingers under my panties and ripping them apart.

He shoves them in the back of his jean pocket and wraps his arms around my thighs, holding my stomach down with his hands and leaning his head down closer.

"Look at this pretty pussy, baby. So wet for me you're glistening."

His eyes look up at me right before he licks me and my head falls back with pleasure.

He stops suddenly. "Eyes on me, darlin'. How many times have you imagined me between your legs? You're going to watch me eat this pussy, y/n."

I nod, looking at him and he continues. The sound of other people talking in the distance makes my senses even more heightened.

He licks me again, pressing his tongue into me harder this time. He moans as he stops at my clit and gently sucks it into his mouth. I moan and watch him as he looks like he's eating the best meal he's ever had.

"You taste even better than I imagined, baby."

"You.. imagined it?"

"Baby. You aren't the only one who daydreams in class." He says before dipping his tongue deep inside me.

He switches back and forth between licking me and sucking me until my moans get louder and faster.

"Negan, I'm gonna.."

"I know baby, give it to me." He rubs me with his tongue faster until I'm coming apart. His hand quickly covers my mouth and I cry out into his hand.

"Fuck, doll." He groans and adjusts himself through his jeans. "This pussy is about to make me cum in my pants like I'm a fucking teenager again."

"Negan.." I say out of breath. "I wanna touch you. Please."

He stands and picks up my shorts, but not before I see the huge bulge in his pants. He helps me put my shorts on and I look at him confused when he doesn't say anything.

"Nega-"

"No, y/n."

My eyes water with tears as I stand to finish pulling my shorts up. "I - I don't understand."

"This can't happen, baby. I shouldn't have touched you."

I nod. "So that's it, Negan? You get what you want and that's it.. you're just.. done with me?"

"Are you fucking serious? You think I got what I wanted? I'm standing here with a hard-on that's gonna give me a giant case of blue balls. Any other man would throw you on this table and take you right here."

"Then why don't you?!"

"Because I fucking.. I care about you. You happy now? I fucking CARE ABOUT YOU, y/n. And I'm not going to break your heart."

I wipe a tear that runs down my cheek. "You already did." I grab my purse and rush out of the room, stopping in front of Ruby on the way out and pulling out some cash.

"I'm sorry hun." She says empathetically as if she heard everything that just happened.

I cry harder and lay the cash down before leaving and walking to my car. Before I can open my car door, Negan is grabbing my arm and turning me around to face him.

"Goddamn it, listen to me!"

I don't fight him, I just stare at him, noting the hurt in his eyes. My heart hurts and I suddenly feel guilty for making him feel any ounce of pain.

"Y/n.. look.."

"No." I cut him off. "Negan, I'm sorry. This is my fault.. I put you in this situation because I was selfish.. and delusional. I'm so sorry. I'll leave, and you won't have to hear from me or see me again."

He scoffs. "You think that's what I want? I guess you don't know me the way I thought you did."

Before I can say anything else, he crashes his lips to mine and kisses me so hard and but so softly at the same time. His fingers slip through my hair and his hand rests on the back of my neck as he deepens our kiss.

"You're gonna be the death of me, kid."

I bite his lip hard when he calls me kid and our kiss goes from passionate to animalistic. He presses himself flat against me with my back against my car and I feel his hard cock straining against his jeans. His lips travel to my neck and he bites me hard, right before kissing and sucking the sensitive spot.

That's definitely going to leave a mark.

"You have no clue what you do to me, baby." He says in between kisses. His voice is raspier and deeper than usual. "Do you have any idea how many times I've left work and had to rub one out at the thought of you? Hell, sometimes even at work."

I look around the parking lot. It's nighttime but we're still clearly visible in the lights.

"Look at me, y/n. Forget where we are and just focus on me baby." His hand slips into my shorts and it takes him no time to find my soaked entrance since my panties are currently in his back pocket.

"Negan.." I breathe.

He smiles against my lips. "Baby.. You sure this is what you want? Because once I've had you, you're mine."

I nod and he puts his mouth next to my ear.

"Take your shorts off. Now." He pulls his hand from my shorts and sucks my juices off his fingers.

"But, Negan, we're-"

"I said, now y/n. You want me so bad, you're gonna get me wherever and however I say. Now, take your fucking shorts off before I rip them too."

I hesitantly slide my shorts off while looking around again. There aren't any other cars in the parking lot other than a couple of his employees. All the customers left. There's a main road up ahead but we're far enough away where they wouldn't see us unless they we're staring really hard.

"Good girl. Now take my cock out, baby."

He leans his hands against my car on either side of me, trapping me in. I waste no time reaching for the button on his jeans and unzipping him before pulling out his hard, huge cock. It's bigger than I imagined.. a lot bigger. I don't know how that thing is going to even fit in me. He's so hard that the veins in his cock look like they are about to erupt and his tip is already dripping with precum.

I can't help but run my thumb over the tip to collect some and bring it to my mouth to taste him. His eyes darken with lust at the sight of me sucking his precum off my finger.

"Taste good, doll?"

I nod and he chuckles. "There's a lot more where that came from."

He grips the back of my thigh with his hand and pulls my right leg around his waist.

The feeling of his dick rubbing against my wet pussy is enough to make my knees weak. Literally. I almost collapse at the sensation of him rubbing the head against my opening, teasing me. He presses his body closer to me in attempt to hold me up.

"Fuck, look at this dripping pussy." He looks down between us, admiring the view of his cock teasing my wet slit. "It's about to be dripping with my cum in a few minutes.. You ready for me, baby?"

"Yes, please. I need you."

He enters me completely in one swift motion, not giving me anytime to adjust. My walls are stretched further than they've ever been and it feels like the tip of him is buried up to my stomach.

He doesn't move for a moment, but instead looks into my eyes with his cock all the way inside of me. "There you go, baby. Finally getting what you wanted after all these years and taking my dick like a champ."

"Negan.." I moan. "Please.. just fuck me."

He pulls out of me almost completely before slowly pushing himself back in, agonizingly slow. Our bodies are flush against each other and he kisses me again.

"Fuck, baby." He growls. "You. Feel. So. Fucking GOOD." He says between thrusts as my mouth falls open.

I wrap my arms around his neck to hold myself up and lean against him with my lips pressed against his neck. I take the opportunity to mark him back, grabbing his skin between my teeth and sucking hard. He moans so loud that I glance around to make sure no one heard him, but we're still alone.

His thrusts get harder and faster and the sounds coming from his sexy mouth are enough alone to make me cum.

"Look at me, y/n. I want to see your face when you cum all over my cock."

His hand that was on the car behind me slides between us, instantly finding my clit. He begins rubbing circles on it with his middle finger while thrusting his hips into me faster.

I look into his eyes while my arms are still wrapped around his shoulders tightly, keeping me in place. My fingers run through his dark hair and my breathing goes erratic as I feel myself come undone around him.

"You want me to fill you up, baby? You want daddy's cum?"

I nod quickly as tears run down my cheeks from the most intense orgasm I've ever had.

"FUCK, baby." He groans and slams his mouth against mine. I kiss him back as he rides out his orgasm.

He pulls out of me slowly and softly kisses my lips one more time. I go to put my shorts on and he stops me.

"Not so fast, doll." He gets down on his knees in front of me, pushing my legs apart in front of him. "Push daddy's cum out baby. Let me see it drip out of you."

I do as he says and the feeling of his warm seed running down my legs is almost enough to send me over the edge again.

"Look. At. THAT." He swipes up some of his cum from my leg onto his finger and stands back up but not before gently kissing my new tattoo.

I think I love this man.

He rubs his finger along my lips until my mouth opens for him. I suck his fingers clean and moan at the taste of him.

"Y/n." He pushes my hair behind my ear and looks at me seriously. "I meant it when I said I care about you."

"You care about all your students."

"Yeah, but I don't go sticking my dick in them." He smirks and takes my hand, leading me back into the shop.

The others must have already left when - when.. oh.. shit.

"Negan, do you think they saw us?!"

"Well darlin', I was fucking your brains out right next to the door, so I think it's probably safe to assume so." He grins and my eyes widen with horror.

"Do you not care?"

"What can they do, doll? Fire me?" He laughs and leads me to the back where his office is.

"What are we doing in here?"

"Getting matching tattoos, of course."

I stare at him, trying to register what he just said. "You're.. going to give yourself a tattoo?"

He chuckles and hands me a tattoo gun before taking off his shirt and sitting on the couch in the corner.

"No, doll, you are."

Part 2 here

[nevernonline]

✧.* something borrowed; jww

synopsis: planning events for your best friends wedding should be fun, until your old feelings for her fiancé resurface.

paring: wonwoo x fem! reader. (bestie jihoon)

genre/s: smut, f2l (kind of?)

warning/s: mentions of cheating, female genitalia, swearing, some mentions of alcohol

word count: 3.2k

note/s: just feeling v inspired by all my fav 90 minute movies lmao. def unedited sorry !! lmao. not much just wonwoo forever!!

Y/N and Annie were always friends, best friends actually. Even when y/n was away at university half way across the country and Annie was at hers they found ways to always meet each other on holidays. 

It was New Years Eve, their senior year of college. Annie was basically begging her friend for a chance to meet a hot guy at her campus to take out for a midnight kiss at a party. 

Y/n hadn’t known many guys she’d consider to be her friend's type, well other than her own crush Wonwoo. 

Wonwoo was in her major, a tall reserved nice guy, who at first glance most girls would just pass off as another business major. But, behind the rims of his various glasses, he was soft and handsome. Y/n always knew her dream was to find a way to get him to ask her out or maybe muster up enough courage to do it on her own. 

“Y/n you must know at least like two hot guys, this is a fancy ass stuffy uni. I saw at least five at the coffee shop this morning.” 

“I mean, if you’re into that. Sure. Maybe you should’ve asked one of them.” 

“What about you? Don’t you want your final college new years experience to be full of fireworks?” 

“Technically it already will be. Fireworks are kind of the thing on new years.” 

“Ha-ha, funny.”��

Taking a spot on the bench outside of your dorm, Annie was scoping the area for two handsome enough men to ask out for the night. 

“Them.” 

“What? Them?” 

A wave came from across the quad as Wonwoo and his friend Woozi approached y/n’s familiar face. 

“You know them? They’re perfect, why are you hiding them on me?” 

“Oh, well they don’t really party. Either of them actually, more like video games and take out types.” 

“Come on, don’t lie to me.” 

“I’m dead serious. I’ve seen them drink probably once?” 

“That’ll change, watch.” 

The boys finally reached their destination, standing in front of you and your friend who was twirling her pink bubble gum around her manicured finger. 

“Hey, y/n” 

“Hi guys, what are you up to-“ 

“Y/n aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” 

“I was getting to that, yes. Annie, this is Wonwoo and Woozi, Wonwoo, Woozi this is Annie.” 

“Wow, your name is Woozi, that’s interesting. What does it mean.?”

She had it all wrong, she assumed Woozi was Wonwoo and vice versa, but seeing the two guys laugh a little at her attempt to flirt was some sort of win for you all on its own. 

“Uh, actually I’m Wonwoo, this is Woozi.” 

“Jihoon actually, Woozi’s a nickname.” 

“Oh so cool, so Wonwoo and Jiwoozi, what are your plans for the night?” 

You noticed Jihoon’s expression changed when he realized Annie was only interested in talking to them because she wanted a chance with his friend.

“Annie, they’re probably busy.” 

“No actually, we got invited to a party at Gillies Bar, Seungkwan must have told you about it?” 

“Yeah, y/n. Come on, let’s go with them.” 

Annie knew you had kept the party a secret from her, she was unsure why since it was a tradition for you.

“We can pick you guys up at y/n’s room around 8? If that’s cool.” 

“That’s amazing, see you later tonight.” 

Annie blew a kiss to the tall male and pulled you along to your dorm.

“Why didn’t you tell me about them?” 

“Like I said they’re normally busy and not into parties.” 

“If you like Wonwoo you can tell me. I won’t go for him.” 

“Oh, no it’s fine. We’re just friends.” 

“Alright, amazing. His friend is handsome too you know, maybe you should go for him. He’s more your style, subtle, you know?” 

“Right.” 

Sitting on the semi lofted bed, covered in your favorite throw blanket you sat and watched Annie try to find the perfect outfit rifling through your mountain of clothes. 

“Oh my god, I love this top. Can I wear it? Or do you want to wear it? I mean red goes way better with my skin tone, but it would look nice on your body.” 

“You’re good, I’m going to just wear whatever.” 

“No way, you have to wear something hot. Empress Jiwoozi or whatever.” 

“Jihoon.” 

“Yes, him. Let me help you.” 

“I don’t need help. I have something in mind.” 

“Aw, my girl is all grown up.” 

Something about that night changed the trajectory or your plan, well the plan you had made up in your head about how your life would turn out. Maybe if you were just honest about your feelings for Wonwoo yourself you’d never be in the position of being the maid of honor in their wedding party. 

You were happy planning their engagement party, but you couldn’t help but feel delusional almost like you were planning your own party for yourself and Wonwoo.

The night was perfect, white lilies, a champagne fountain, everyone dressed in black and white to leave room for the future bride and groom to be dressed to the nines, when it was over you were left alone with the catering team cleaning up. 

That was until Wonwoo came back through the front door of the restaurant. 

“Hey, what are you doing here? I thought you guys went home.” 

“We did, but Annie was freaking out. She told me she left her bag somewhere.” 

“The red Gucci?” 

“Yeah, red something.” 

“It’s here. I found it a while ago, I was going to call and drop it off but her phone was inside.” 

“Oh, you could’ve called me.” 

“I didn’t even think of that, well here you go.” 

“Y/n, want me to help you clean up? It’s late, there's so much to do.” 

“Doesn’t Annie need her purse?” 

“She can wait a few more hours, it’s alright. I’ll message her on Instagram, maybe she has her computer open.” 

“Alright, sure.” 

“Want another drink while we work?” 

“I have an open bottle of beer behind you, catch up.” 

Wonwoo and you spent a little over an hour finishing your cleaning duties and escaping the restaurant with two stolen bottles of champagne wrapped in brown take out bags, and started walking to your apartment just five blocks away. 

“So, you never told me you were such a good party planner.” 

“That’s because you never partied until you met Annie.” 

“I still don’t like it to be honest. She drags me out most of the time. You never seemed like the party type either. Except for that one time you were singing karaoke at that weird frat party when I met you. What was it? Living on a Prayer?” 

“Please don’t bring that up, I’m pretty sure I exclusively remember flashing my underwear to everyone.” 

“You did, I remember it well.” 

“Ew.” 

“No, not like that weirdo. You were just funny that’s all, everyone was so shocked that the perfect student y/n was also a grade a flasher.” 

“It was clearly an accident, hence why I do not wear skirts anymore.” 

“You should. You looked nice.” 

“Okay, what about you? That same night you threw up in the Kim kids room when you were making out with some girl.” 

“That’s not at all what happened.” 

“Oh really?” 

“Yeah, I was actually trying to take a break from the party and some girl followed me into his room and tried to kiss me, but vomit saved the day.” 

Laughing with Wonwoo talking about just five years before you were here today, you stumbled up to your stoop attempting to bid him goodnight. 

“Actually, do you mind if I use the bathroom, please.” 

“No it’s alright, come on.” 

While Wonwoo relieved himself in your bathroom, you quickly changed into your pajamas and slippers, needing relief from your heels and buttoned up pants. Not realizing you left your bra resting on the back of your couch. 

“Thank you. Oh- you’re ready for bed? I should head out.” 

“You left your fly undone.” 

“Shit. Actually, do you mind if I just sleep on your couch? My phone died and I don’t have my wallet to get an Uber?” 

“That’s fine, yeah.” 

“Cool, thank you y/n.” 

“Since you’re staying, do you want some hot chocolate or something? I need to have it before I go to bed, especially after drinking.” 

“Yeah, I would love some.” 

You sauntered into your kitchen, still in view of Wonwoo sitting in his sweater and nice tailored pants on your couch, warming up the two cups of hot milk before dumping the chocolate powder and mini marshmallows on top of the warm liquid. 

“Here you are.” 

“This smells amazing, thank you. I miss having you make hot cocoa for me and woozi when we would all game at night.” 

“How is Jihoon? I haven’t seen him in so long.” 

“He’s good. He was supposed to come tonight, but got stuck at work. He wanted to see you.” 

“Speaking of gaming by the way, we could play if you want?” 

“Are you serious? Annie gets so mad at me when I game at night and don’t come to bed with her.” 

“Well she isn’t here so come on.” 

“You’re going down, y/l/n.” 

“Okay, Jeon.” 

Wonwoo and you played various games over the next course of two hours, celebrating you beating him and when he would beat you, just laughing and enjoying your time together over two cups of cold chocolate. 

“Oh my god, you’ve gotten worse. I’ve never beaten you in Mario kart before.” 

“You cheated.” 

“How the fuck could I cheat? You cheated.” 

“Wait. You have chocolate on your lip. May I?” 

“Yeah, sure. Thank you.” 

Wonwoo’s finger gazed over your top lip, rubbing at the small chocolate stain slightly. Looking into his eyes you missed feeling this close to him and that your friend had gotten what you always wanted, like she always did. 

You inched closer and closer slowly into his touch and his lips before they crashed into him. 

Kissing Wonwoo was a dream you had for years before he had ever gotten with Annie, it made sense. 

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, holy shit. Okay, I’m going to go to bed, sleep well and uh- yeah, night.” 

“Wait, y/n. Stop. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. You’re engaged to my friend, I crossed a huge line.” 

“Can I tell you something bad? Well something I know? Annie has been cheating on me for years, with this guy she works with at her firm. I found his boxers in the laundry and I know they don’t belong to me because I’ve worn the same brand of underwear since high school. I looked on her phone and she has texts and calls from a person whose name is just a heart emoji. I don’t want you to think I’m just using you to get back at her, because if I’m honest I always loved you or liked you or whatever. I’ve wanted a chance to break up with her for a long time, but I keep letting her tell me what to do.” 

“She’s cheating on you?” 

“Yeah, it’s been going on for a long time I think.” 

“What the fuck, but you kissing me now doesn’t make up for that you can’t just get back at her with me and then stay with her.” 

“I don’t want that. I want to be with you. I always wanted to be with you.” 

“I want that too, but you have to break it off with her now. You guys got engaged, you’re going to get married.” 

“I’ll go now. I’m serious. I’ll come back tomorrow to see you, just wait for me?” 

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the last five years?” 

“Okay, just give me time to break it off with her.” 

“Okay.” 

It was safe to say you didn’t get that much sleep that night, but when the sun came back you were startled by a furious knocking on your door. 

Running to open it and hear how it all went down you expected Wonwoo to be on the other side of the door, but it was Annie. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“He broke up with me. Me! He said he found out I was cheating on him and I mean I did, but we’re human and mammals and we all cheat no?” 

“Wait, what happened?” 

“Wonwoo. Broke up. With me. He was supposed to run out and grab my purse from the restaurant and come right home, but he didn’t so I just assumed he was out with Jiwoozi or something drinking. But he never came home, until a few hours ago anyway. He told me he knows about my affair and he’s in love with someone else? Like what the fuck.” 

“Well I mean you can’t blame him, Annie. You did just admit you cheated on him.” 

“You’re not seriously taking his side are you?” 

“I’m just saying you can’t expect him to just not care. You guys are engaged, it's not like you just started dating.” 

“Oh come on. He’s so boring you know that, he’s either working all the time or playing childish games with his friends.” 

“So him not cheating on you or caring that you cheated makes him boring?” 

“Yes, I mean he has no fun. Ever. And when he was breaking up-“ 

Annie paused and looked at the jacket hanging by your door, she knew who it belonged to and her rage set off like a rocket. 

“Is that his coat?” 

“Oh yeah, I found it in the restaurant last night. He must have forgotten it.” 

“No. He was wearing it when he left to go find my bag. He was here.” 

“Well.” 

“Well nothing. You’re taking his side because you’re the bitch he’s in love with right? Aw. Poor little y/n always losing to me and then trying to take my sloppy seconds. That’s so sad.” 

“What the hell is wrong with you? You have literally zero empathy for anybody else if they don’t fucking fall at your feet and feel bad for you.” 

“So he was here?” 

“Yes. He said we just talked about your infidelity and had hot chocolate.” 

“Did you fuck him?” 

“No.”

“Hah. So you’re the bitch he’s in love with. Well you’re perfect for each other. You’re a bunch of clowns. I’m fucking done.” 

“Good. Get the fuck out of my apartment.” 

Annie opened the door prepared to make a run out of your apartment building but when she opened it Wonwoo was standing on the other side of the door, just listening to the intense conversation you were having. 

“Oh, of course you’re here.” 

“I came to tell y/n I broke up with you.” 

“Why? So you can be together finally? Have boring fucking kids and a boring fucking life together?” 

“No, so I can finally be with someone who understands me for who I am and doesn’t take advantage of me.” 

“God that’s rich.” 

“Yeah, I am. Now can you get the fuck out of the way so I can go inside and see my girl.” 

“God. Fuck you both.” 

Wonwoo walked past the girl who broke his heart into the arms of the girl who can piece it back together and slammed the door on his way in.

“Well.” 

“I'm sorry she freaked out on you, y/n.” 

“I’m not. She doesn’t get to speak to people that way especially when she’s a hypocrite.” 

“That’s true. Come here.” 

Wonwoo’s arms wrapped around your frame and pulled you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling you into a long kiss. 

The kiss had deepened into Wonwoo placing you on the edge of your bed and slowly unbuttoning your green pajama top, which revealed your soft skin underneath, he took his hands and placed them behind your head kissing you once again, trailing his lips from yours, to your neck, and down in between your breasts. 

You felt the need for more connection, something further. Maybe it was the adrenaline running through your body from having him this close to you, being this exposed to him for the first time. Maybe it was the fact you just blindsided someone you thought was your friend, but truly was the one holding you back and making you small. Maybe it was a little bit of both. 

You pushed yourself back on your bed towards your pillows and pulled his much larger frame on top of your half naked one, tugging away at the front of his sweatpants, trying to weave your hands around his dick. 

He swiftly pulled off his shirt now chest to chest with your bare skin. Still running your hands through his hair. 

It was quick and magical. Sending shockwaves down to your still clothed bottom region. 

Wonwoo tugged your pajama bottoms down your thighs to your ankles, still leaving the small piece of fabric covering your pussy. 

His fingers rubbed circles around your clothes clit, adding friction to the feeling and making it much harder to keep whatever cool you had left. 

He pulled his own pants off now, rubbing his clothed hard on on your thighs back to that center spot, working his lips around your hard nipples. 

Finally inching your panties down the same way he did your pants before, pressing his pointed finger near the spot for entrance, teasing you further.

You pressed your hips into his hand, forcing his fingers to enter you further and began fucking yourself on his fingers, while he nipped at the skin on your neck. 

Through the top of his boxers the top of his penis was peaking through begging for your fingers to be wrapped around it or even better your pussy. 

His precum was slipping out, making its way onto your mattress, waisting away as you contributed you ride your high against his long fingers. 

Wonwoo removed himself from your neck for a singular moment to pull the long friend from his pants and tease your hole, rubbing the tip of his penis from top to bottom, pretending he couldn’t find the spot to enter in. 

Finally euphora found you, as he slowly entered inside of you, pushing your legs further towards your head getting a good look at the girl he’s loved forever as he thrusted hard into her center. 

His balls were clapping up against the back end of your ass as the high you were riding starting stirring in your stomach, you knew you were reaching the moment of relief as he fucked you harder and faster. 

A sudden burst of cum whipped out of you all over his pelvis, and you watched as he smiled brightly proud of his work. 

He came down on top of you, pressing you legs closer together so he could get a tighter fuck as he rode out his final moments being inside you for the first time. 

Just before he finished he prompted you to sit up and opened your mouth wide with his fingers, lining up his perfectly pink throbbing penis with your mouth, pumping it with his hands until he reached his moment, filling you up and watching the smallest amount dribble down your chin. 

Going in for one final kiss, a long one, he smiled into it. It was less fierce and feral than the ones before and more sweet and loving. 

“I’m glad I finally got what I deserved.” 

“Mmm, me too.” 

[notinmyvocab]

Conference Call

Summary: It's VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area, and Larissa is bored and lonely. A few clicks online and she hires a... friend for a few hours.

Warnings: Smut, smut, smut g!p, dirty talk, mommy kink, teacher/student roleplaying, swearing, unedited

Author's Note: Ummm so this kind of got away from me. Sorry not sorry.

P.S: Caiohme is an Irish name pronounced "Kwee-va"

It was that time of year again: VECNA week: the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area. If it weren’t for the fact that she was out of town at the most boring conference ever, she never would have considered even looking up the company. But the Vermont Educational Conference for the Northeast Area didn’t exactly inspire.

It had been a week, and she was homesick, and lonely, and sad, and perhaps a bit drunker than she’d care to admit.

And this hadn’t been the first time she considered doing something like this. It was just the first time she actually went through with it. And it made her feel sick, if she were being perfectly honest. Technically it was legal, but Larissa couldn’t help but let shame weigh down on her shoulders. Was she really so undesirable that she needed to buy someone else’s company?

That was all it was, she assured herself as she sipped her cocktail of Jim Beam and diet Coke. She was paying someone to come and be her friend for a night because no one at this conference was worth her time. And no one seemed particularly interested in interacting with an Outcast from Nevermore Academy. At least this way, she was guaranteeing conversation; guaranteeing companionship, if for only an evening.

Larissa sat on the edge of the hotel bed, which she had remade, and then remade again so that the corners were tighter and the sheets appeared crisper. Not that it mattered. It was a hotel, not her home. And this person was probably not going to be judging her bed. Still, Larissa had a reputation she liked to uphold, even with strangers.

She was starting to grow anxious as the minutes ticked by. She already put through her credit card information, so surely there would be no issue? Unless it was a scam. Oh dear, had she fallen for a ploy?

There came a sharp knock at her hotel door, the sound so sudden that Larissa nearly jumped out of her skin. Was that…? Larissa took another sip of her cocktail and set aside the glass before standing up and smoothing out the skirt of her dress. Her heart thudded uneasily in her chest. Maybe if she pretended she wasn’t there, then she could forget about the whole thing?

Larissa went over the door and opened it.

Before her stood a young woman with hair that she clearly attempted to straightened, but still tried resisting, certain sections insisting on creating a wave. It was a slightly imperfect detail that actually made Larissa relax. The woman in the doorway wasn’t perfect. She was a dream, but she wasn’t perfect, and that helped put Larissa at ease.

It wasn’t until she met the woman’s eyes that Larissa realized she probably should’ve shifted her appearance; kept this more anonymous. But it was too late now.

“Larissa?”

A fake name also might’ve been a better choice.

“Yes. Um, come in.” Larissa stepped aside and watched the young woman marvel at the hotel room as if she had never seen anything so nice. It had to be part of an act. Someone who did this line of work surely saw a lot of hotel rooms in her lifetime.

“So um, how has your day been?” Larissa asked, immediately cursing herself for sounding like an idiot.

The woman turned and smiled at Larissa, apparently finding her endearing. “Long. VECNA tends to get busy for me.”

“Is that so? Why?”

The woman raised her eyebrows, wondering if Larissa really wanted her to answer that. She gave the nicer. vague answer. “Lot of lonely teachers in an unfamiliar place.”

“And um… what shall I call you?” The website Larissa found didn’t actually give names, just pictures.

“What do you want to call me?” the young woman implored, and it suddenly became clear why the website didn’t have names. She saw Larissa’s uneasiness and gave a warm smile. “I answer to a lot of things. But tonight you can call me Kitty.”

“Kitty…” Larissa said slowly, tasting the name; testing the name. “Is that your real name?”

“Is Larissa yours?” Touche. It was, but Larissa did not do anything to confirm this. Kitty went on, “It’s short for Caiomhe.”

Larissa frowned faintly, not following the explanation. “I don’t quite see how Kitty is short for Caiomhe.”

Kitty grinned, giving a soft, embarrassed laugh. “It’s not. But you can’t go through middle school with the name Caiomhe.”

“Of course. Students can be cruel.” Larissa certainly knew about that. She also didn’t doubt that customers liked such a soft sounding name. “Would you like something to drink?” Words came a little easier to her now; knowing Kitty’s name certainly helped to soothe the nerves.

“No, thank you. I don’t drink on the job.”

Job. Right. Because that was what this was. She needed to remember that.

Kitty sat on the edge of the bed and crossed her legs. She was so simple in her plain black cocktail dress, yet exuded elegance.

“So, what did you want to do tonight?” Kitty asked, her eyes imploring yet mischievous, head tilted to the side.

“Oh, I’m… I’m not really sure,” Larissa replied sheepishly. That was a lie. She knew exactly what she wanted to do, but now, suddenly faced with the question, she couldn’t bring herself to answer. How could she possibly voice to this stranger what she wanted?

Kitty saw the struggle in Larissa’s eyes, and gave a small, sympathetic smile. “Most people just want to talk,” she said.

“Really?”

“I mean sure, I get some people who want to take me out to dinner; pretend I’m their girlfriend. But most just… want someone to listen.” That was what made it legal. If sex happened, then it happened. But as far as the records were concerned, she was paid to hang out.

Kitty narrowed her eyes slightly as she studied Larissa, trying to guess what her mental roadblocks were. The woman just seemed so tense. “What brings you to VECNA?” she asked. Maybe conversation was the key.

“I’m a principal,” Larissa answered. “I run a boarding school… for Outcasts.”

Kitty perked up in recognition. “Nevermore?”

“So you’ve heard of it.”

“I used to be obsessed with it when I was younger,” Kitty confessed. “A boarding school for the strange and unusual; I wanted to go so badly.”

Larissa blushed, pleased and flattered that someone actually said a kind word about her dear academy. She sat on the bed next to Kitty, one hand holding her drink and the other hand resting on the bed.

“Okay, so you’re the headmistress of an elite boarding school…”

“Principal,” Larissa corrected.

“I think, tonight, you should be Headmistress.”

And like magic, Larissa’s shoulders relaxed. She downed the rest of her drink and set the now empty glass aside. She stood up and smoothed out her skirt. “And do you know why you’ve been sent to my office?”

Kitty immediately fell into her role. She sat on her hands, knees together. “Because I got caught touching myself in class.”

“Because you can’t help being a little slut, isn’t that so?” Larissa folded her arms across her chest.

She didn’t think she would slip into the fantasy so easily. She thought she would be trembling with unsteady nerves. Instead, Larissa slipped into the role as if she were slipping on her favorite heels.

Kitty pouted. “I’m sorry Headmistress. I couldn’t help it!”

“You never can. Tell me: did you slip your fingers in and out? Taste yourself when the teacher wasn’t looking?” When Kitty nodded, playing along, Larissa gave a wolfish grin. “And who were you thinking about when you were toying with your sweet little pussy?”

Kitty looked down, as if ashamed though Larissa saw no blush upon her cheeks. In fact, the corners of her mouth were curled upward; she was enjoying the game. Good.

Larissa tucked a finger under Kitty’s chin and forced her to look up. “Be a good girl, and tell me: who’s tongue were you imagining?”

“Yours, Headmistress.”

“Oh? Well, I suppose that puts us in a bit of a conundrum.” Larissa dropped her hand and stepped away from Kitty. She folded her arms across her chest and tilted her head to the side, as if she hadn’t already decided her next move. “See, you ought to be punished. Yet…”

“Yet?”

“I find myself at a crossroads. You should be bent over my desk; you should get a lashing for being so crude. But I think spanking you would just turn you on even more. Is that true?” Larissa leaned down over Kitty, hands planted on either side of the woman. “Maybe you’d like it a little too much.”

Kitty’s perfume was hypnotizing; she smelled like an azalea. Kitty could smell the Jim Beam on Larissa’s breath and she couldn’t help herself; she leaned forward and gently pressed her lips against Larissa’s. It wasn’t like she never kissed clients, but it was the first time she actually enjoyed it.

Larissa broke character, stunned by the small, affectionate gesture. She stared at Kitty, lips parted as if to ask why. Instead, she placed her hand on the back of Kitty’s head and pulled her in for a languid kiss, every movement of her tongue deliberate and precise.

And oh how Kitty relished in the attention. The kissing became hungry as Kitty craved more, needed more. She had never felt so… wanted.

Other clients pretended to want her. She knew the drill and it never bothered her. This was her life, and it paid damn well. But when they kissed her, if they kissed her, she could tell that they were imagining someone else, or just glad to have a warm body. It had never been about her.

This was about her. Larissa was kissing her.

Kitty pulled back from Larissa, and whispered, “Let me take care of you.”

“No,” Larissa said. For a brief moment, Kitty’s brow furrowed and she looked confused and even partially worried. Larissa pressed a kiss against the younger woman’s forehead, soothing her worries. “I’m going to take care of you.”

She put a hand against Kitty’s chest, guiding her to lay down on the bed. She wasted no time in getting on her knees.

Kitty’s heart fluttered, both with anticipation and adoration. She gasped softly when she felt Larissa press a kiss against her bare calf, then her knee, then her inner thigh. God it took so much strength for Larissa to go even this speed.

Larissa tucked her fingers into the waistband of Kitty’s black thong, taking a second to admire them.

“Adore Me,” Kitty said, propping herself up on her forearms.

“Pardon?”

“The panties. I get my lingerie from Adore Me. They have like a monthly subscription where they send you stuff. That’s probably my absolute favorite thing I got from them. Though I gotta say, I like it a lot better in your hands.”

“Is that so? Because I think it looks best on the floor.” Larissa tossed aside the thong and placed her hands on Kitty’s thighs, digging her nails in slightly. “Tell me what you like.”

“I’ll like whatever you do to me.”

That answer apparently wasn’t good enough. Kitty jolted as she felt a sudden, sharp slap against her cunt though she was immediately soothed by long strokes of skilled fingers. “Be a good girl, and tell me what you like.”

“That,” Kitty gasped. “I like… I like it when you call me a good girl.”

“I see. That’s unfortunate because you haven’t been a very good girl, have you? Touching yourself in class isn’t something good girls do.” Larissa slipped back into the roleplay, finding she did quite enjoy it and while she did ask Kitty what she wanted, Larissa was the one paying for the night. Give and take.

“I’m sorry, Headmistress,” Kitty whined. “I couldn’t help myself.”

“Because you’re a little slut.”

“Because I’m your little slut,” Kitty corrected, daring to hold Larissa’s gaze. “I just kept imagining your fingers inside of me, making me so, so wet.”

“Oh darling, you don’t need my help making you wet.” Larissa lowered herself back down between Kitty’s legs. She inhaled deeply, basking in the woman’s arousal. She couldn’t stand it any longer. Larissa dragged her tongue along the woman’s glistening slit, tasting Kitty’s desire.

Kitty gasped at the contact, swallowing her moan. She didn’t want to admit how good Larissa made her feel with only one swipe of her tongue; she wasn’t used to this. Some clients were clumsy. Some were terribly sweet and affection. But Larissa was something else entirely.

Larissa nipped at Kitty’s clit, making the younger woman yelp. “Don’t you dare keep quiet.” She returned to devouring Kitty’s pussy, and Kitty certainly did not hold back. She let herself moan and whine and beg for more.

“Please, god… fuck, it feels so good.” The feeling of Larissa lapping at her clit was divine; Kitty wrapped her legs around Larissa, holding her close, needing more. “F-fingers. Please, fingers.”

At Kitty’s request, Larissa pulled away, chin glistening. “Do you think you deserve my fingers?”

Kitty only managed a whine. God she needed Larissa so badly. Her lack of words earned her another sharp slap on her pussy, and a commanding, “Answer me,” from Larissa. “N-no,” she choked out. “No, I don’t. But I need them. I need you. Please.”

Larissa paused, pursing her lips.

Immediately sensing Larissa’s hesitancy, Kitty sat up. “Is everything okay?”

“Can we… do you mind if we try something?”

Normally she was uneasy when a client said something like that. But Larissa was… different. Even though it sounded corny as fuck, Larissa was special. So Kitty said, “Anything you want. Name it.” For a moment, Kitty worried that she sounded too overeager. That fear was allayed when she saw Larissa relax a little.

“I’m… I’m a shapeshifter. It’s what makes me an Outcast.” That obviously wasn’t what Larissa was worried about. Kitty could see in her blue, blue eyes that there was something more; something deeper. “And… well, I’ve never actually tried it before. But I… I find myself wanting to have you be my first. If you’ll have me.”

Kitty tilted her head to the side, not quite following what Larissa meant. Her first? The woman was clearly no stranger to sex; what was there possibly to take?

Then she added it all up, and when the sum made itself apparent, Kitty inhaled sharply. Not in disgust, or even shock, but in pure desire. She nodded, eyes practically glowing in excitement.

Larissa stepped away from the bed and turned her back to Kitty. She breathed deeply as her fingers fumbled with her dress, feeling Kitty’s eyes on her.

The moments passed agonizingly slow; Kitty had sat up at this point, rubbing her thighs together to feel some sweet friction without pushing herself over the edge. And as much of a cliche as it was, her jaw did indeed drop when Larissa turned around.

Every inch of her was perfect: the swell of her breast, the curve of her waist, the place where her thighs met. And right there among it all…

Larissa stepped closer, her cock hard with desire. Kitty didn’t even hesitate to get off the bed and down onto her knees. She took hold of the throbbing member, her touch curious yet gentle. She lips ghosted along the shaft, and Larissa swallowed a moan, the sensation more intense than she ever imagined.

“Can I?” Kitty whispered against Larissa’s tip, and when she saw Larissa nod, she immediately took the cock into her mouth.

And oh god what a sensation it was. Larissa immediately threaded her fingers through Kitty’s hair, making sure she kept her pace slow and steady. This was completely new to her and it was almost overwhelming. She already wanted to cum, wanted to see thick rivulets of white spill down the side of Kitty’s perfect hot mouth. Just imagining such a sight nearly sent her over the edge, but Larissa held back.

Then Kitty dared to take Larissa’s cock all the way down her throat and made a gagging noise. Was it real or just part of the show? Larissa didn’t care, she loved it all the same.

“Good girl,” she cooed. “Take all of me; choke on Mummy’s cock.”

Larissa’s voice faded as Kitty continued to take all of her, slurping and slobbering. Finally, right when Larissa was certain she would lose control, Kitty pulled away, spit dribbling down her chin. She planted one more kiss against Larissa’s cock before getting up and bending over the bed.

For just a moment, Larissa relished in the sight of this young woman spread and dripping for her.

She slid her cock into Kitty’s wet pussy and both women groaned in pleasure.

“Fuck,” Kitty hissed as Larissa started moving in and out. She reached down between her own legs to rub her clit as Larissa kept thrusting. “Fuck, Mommy, your cock is s-so good.”

Larissa thrust harder, feeling bliss in a way she had never felt before. She could barely hear Kitty’s whines, so consumed with her own pleasure. “That’s it, take Mummy’s cock,” she growled, hand finding Kitty’s hair and pulling.

She wasn’t going to last long like this. The dirty talk thrilled her, and Kitty too.

“Please make me cum, Mommy,” Kitty begged as Larissa’s thrusting picked up speed and she kept furiously rubbing at her clit. Her legs were shaking as an orgasm unexpectedly rocked through her body.

The sight of Kitty’s quivering form and the feeling of her orgasm tearing through her sent Larissa over the edge. She gave one final thrust and held herself inside of Kitty, filling her up.

Both women breathed heavily as they slowly came down from their high. With great reluctance, Larissa pulled out of Kitty and cum dripped out of Kitty’s sopping cunt, trickling down her inner thigh.

Unable to resist, Larissa lowered herself and dragged her tongue along Kitty’s slit, tasting their mingled cum. It was divine.

Neither of them said a word for a few minutes, hearts hammering too loudly to hear one another.

Larissa lay down on the bed, feeling her lower half shift back to her usual form. She watched Kitty slip into the bathroom to clean up. She closed her eyes, her mind completely blank for once. No worries, no cares, just darkness. How wonderful.

The sound of a lock grabbed her attention and she sat up to see Kitty about to slip out the door.

“Wait,” Larissa said without thinking. But then she remembered what this all was: a business transaction. The fantasy melted away.

But to her surprise, Kitty did indeed hesitate at the door. The young woman turned. She’d been booked for the night, and sleeping over wasn’t part of the deal. But maybe… maybe an exception could be made. Just this once.

“Will you stay?” Larissa asked softly.

“If you’ll have me.”

Larissa nodded, and Kitty relocked the door. She shed her dress and slipped into the bed beside Larissa. And as Larissa pressed a kiss to her temple, Kitty wondered if she had allowed herself to cross over into forbidden territory: falling in love with a client.

-----------

@winterfireblond @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scream-queenlover @kaymariesworld @barbarasstar @yourlocaldisneyvillain @finnja555 @milfsloverblog @opheliauniverse @lvinhs @h-doodles @lilfartbox1

[drdemonprince]

all the recent talk about not voting has me a bit worried, for lack of a better word.

on one hand, yes so much yes, stop throwing all your time and energy in the insatiable maw of electoral politics, 5/5, no notes.

but on the other hand, where does that time and energy go then? despite lots of talk about mutual aid it doesn't seem to progress much beyond the abstract (at least in the various leftist groups/communities/etc. in my neck of the woods). it's held up as an ideal and great big important thing, but when there's shit that needs doing, it's *crickets*.

maybe it's because so much mutual aid is care work and thus, and i very much disagree with even though i care not for the label, not real activism i guess? like, a while ago a disabled comrade had ran into housing issues because of their illness, so we rustled up some folks to help clean and unfuck their home. which, yet again, were the same (also disabled) people that always show for those things.

coming of four years and counting of pandemic, that's been a consistent pattern. at a time where mutual aid was so needed, such a vacuum left by a state that didn't and/or wanted to do shit, it still fell on the shoulders of disabled people to do all the actual work while the rest just talked about abstract shit. or, to name another thing, diy hrt initiative where it's just a bunch of poor ass trans people scrounging up money to pay for supplies for trans people who have fuck all access, while the rest debates in the abstract about a more better system or whether it's even something they need to concern themselves about.

and like, yes, not pissing away your energy pleading with assholes who don't give a fuck about you is good, but it should only be the start. it sometimes feels like the big plan is: 1) not vote, 2) ???, 3) glorious anarchism/communism/mutual-aidism. i'm not arguing that they need to have it all worked out, but with so much shit that needs doing in the here and now i get a little worried. because that's going to take real work, not talk, and they're not putting in any of it.

I mean, most people won't do (what gets viewed as) "real activism" either. They don't go to protests, smash windows, call jails to check on the status of incarcerated people, cut supply lines, or anything else. And they don't vote either.

We live in a highly individualistic, atomized society filled with people who have been conditioned into an abiding self-interested apathy, and everyone is overworked and broke as shit and juggling a bunch of disabilities while not having any experience with building genuine community and lacking most of the infrastructural and social tools to do so. The number of people who are avowed leftists is vanishingly small, and among them the people who actually walk the talk or have the education and community ties to even be able to is even smaller. Not disagreeing with your read of the situations you're dealing with here, just putting them within the broader context of many very similar problems that I see touch every single aspect of organizing today. even like the most tepid liberal get out the vote kind of organizing is plagued by this, and of course that is by design.

What gives me hope in the present moment is just how many people are completely fucking done with the prevailing system, and how many are refusing to play along with its rules. A lot of the people who aren't voting are not leftists. At least not yet. Just like many of the people who are quiet quitting and half-assing it at work or just vibing on unemployment for as long as they can are not communists. But they do know that the system is bunk and is failing them, and they are refusing to be compliant within it any longer. I believe that a lot of people's better natures do get inspired during a moment of collapse. I also think there is a profound rot at the heart of settler-colonial states that fills them with people who do not recognize themselves as having any responsibility to others. That's all the more reason for such an empire to fall.

I think you're right to worry for the future, though I don't think the reason to be worried is as simple as people not people caring about disabled folks, or any other group. I always wonder who the mythical abled people are who are abnegating their duty in such an understanding of the world. I sure haven't met any of them. I only meet people who are also disabled and don't realize it.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Dear John | Part 2

Masters of the Air Fanfiction

Series Summary: Major John Egan wasn’t the pen-pal sort but a couple of hours into a dark night full of writing condolence letters he finds himself wondering why he never tried his hand at the nicer forms of correspondence. Who better to reanimate his numb inspiration than the glamorous Miss Lana Tierney? -the army’s girl next door, the pinup so prolific she was practically a wall paper print and Bucky’s long-standing cinematic crush. It’s not like she’ll read it anyways. Right? Right.

Warnings: suggestive language, crass vocabulary, the vintage form of sexting -honestly this is mostly fluffy in reply to his more overt letter

Author’s note: after episode four I’ve got feelings and fics for this universe that are far ahead of these establishing pieces. So I’ve gone ahead and tossed this preliminary one out but I may very well skip around and ahead to October next. At least now y’all know: she wrote him back. Hehe. If it’s of interest, I’ll probably end up writing John’s reaction to receiving this response as well as Gale’s response to realizing his friend actually went and sent that awful thing.

Date: Early August, 1943

Dear John, (I’m sorry Major Egan, I just had to)

Thank you for your kind letter of the 18th. It’s been many years since I received so delightful a correspondence or so candid an expression of admiration. And you should know I keep most of the letters the sweet people of this country send me. They’re stacked in quite an orderly fashion in my various garages, kept for the rainy days to peruse and keep the blues away and also so I might try very hard to reply. I don’t take such affection for granted. It’s humbling really, always has been, to be so loved by folks but it’s another level entirely to be singled out by someone as brave and impressive as yourself.

I found your letter to be heartfelt and wonderfully brave and in an effort to be equally transparent, you should know that when I finished it I clutched it to my breast and whispered half a dozen prayers for you. Or as you might say, I held it to my knockers.

That’s an awful word, you must know that Major.

As is “rack”, for that matter, but I’ve a sneaking suspicion that you would make it sound charming as even your blotted paper was electric. How could you dare to praise my film set flapjacks and mention making babies? I’m fizzing just glancing at it. You really must be quite the fella and I’m terribly sad now that our rendezvous, such as you say it was, got cut short. You must reprimand your friend -Buck, is it?- and tell him he did an bad deed that night. There’s nothing I like better than duets and hamburgers, we might’ve been one of the great loves by now if he hadn’t meddled. But don’t be too hard on him, if he’s the sort to take it well, kiss him for me, after you chide him.

But since we are being honest, I must admit, reading your letter, being privy to your thoughts, seeing myself through your eyes as it were - dear man, I feel rather riled. Quite riled, in fact. Why, I haven’t felt riled in a while, not like this. Not like an ordinary girl with an extraordinary boy. Do you know what I mean?

Maybe you don’t.

I mean regular, old fashioned flustered. That’s what you’ve made me. And thank you for that, John. Can I call you Johnny? I wonder if you’re the nickname sort, or if you’re real stern and serious, a real John-John. Not a Johnny at all. But either way, I think you deserve a treat, for being so nice, Major Egan. For reminding me I can feel my pulse somewhere besides my wrists before a show -and for all you’re doing in the war, besides. There seems to be no safer hands to trust this to, you do seem so very fond of them, I am led to believe you’d be protective of them, too.

Enclosed is something for the personal morale, I hope you’ll think of me nightly with it at hand, in fact, I’m so excited about it I’ve taken this ill advised measure to insure you do. I’d very much like a report, do they live up to your expectations? They’re homegrown, after all, I hadn’t much say in them but now I’ve got them, I don’t see why they shouldn’t do their bit to keep you alive. A small sacrifice.

One of those reasons you mentioned, John, you’ve so many of them, more than you know. A million souls over here rooting you on, insisting you make it out the other side.

I’m forefront among them, I’ll be scanning the crowd when I come to Europe -because I will, at your invitation. Perhaps if you send me a picture of your own mug I won’t be looking a fool asking every man in uniform if I remind them of an acorn. Are you going to tell me what on earth that means? I’ve tried to work it out but I always end up with some mathematical conundrum and I just know in my heart of hearts you wouldn’t let me down like that, would you Major? It’s something awfully salacious, isn’t it? Please let it be!

I’m a vain little thing and I can’t deny the way this poor heart of mine is all pitter pattering at the thought of you being so awful while also so nice. It’s a strange blend, and rather like my coke, I do prefer my men mixed.

Best wishes, may you have cloudless skies and fresh coffee to your heart's content. My sources -and I’ve excellent ones, an upside of working the war bond circuit- tell me you’re airforce. I think that’s remarkable and I hope you give that picture some thought. Mine, and yours.

Your vain little friend,

Julia Jean Turner

P.S.-I’m only ever ‘The Lana Tierney ‘ to strangers, and we aren’t strangers now, are we? not if you’re to take my picture to your bunk. i suspect you may have already taken that liberty. who’s to say I did not take similar liberties upon reading certain stirring passages of your letter? Xx 💋

__insert vintage titty pic__

Whew this week was a doozy wasn’t it? Here’s some fluff for those of y’all who needed it, and I can promise angst soon for those who want to stay in the soul shattering mood. Hope you enjoy. Feedback is a writer’s lifeblood, let me hear your screams.

Drop a comment to let me know if you’d like to be tagged in any of my MOTA fics. Xo

Taglist:

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[earthstellar]

Currently combing through the Transformers Exodus novel, as I often do.

Some notes, by which I mean, this is going to be long:

Using an Abandoned Hydraulic Mining Facility as a Battle Arena: This Sort Of Happened in Real Life -- Know Your Labour History

The building in Kaon that is used by Megatron for gladiatorial battle is an abandoned hydraulics works, and on the page prior to this it refers to extremely deep slag pits, which indicates this hydraulics facility was almost certainly used for mining. The location is given specifically as "to the south of Kaon's centre".

This makes me wonder if the now-abandoned Orgreave Coking Plant may have been some inspiration to someone somewhere in building the backstory; A coking plant uses massive amounts of hydraulic machinery and components, and the location of this specific facility is to the south of the centre of Rotherham.

Plenty of Brits work on Transformers, and I wonder if any English people who may have been on the team for developing the Aligned Continuity bible/character backstories might have thought of Orgreave as some kind of inspiration.

It's worth noting Orgreave Coking Plant was famously the site of a huge labour dispute which turned into a borderline Battle of Harlan situation, called the Battle of Orgreave in 1984.

Which makes it excellent potential inspiration, both visually and in terms of historical significance in union/labour and working class struggle against the oppressive upper class- A significant theme in Transformers.

Nearby, there is also the abandoned Orgreave Colliery, and while all abandoned collieries would fit the mechanical and dark, heavy design of Kaon, Tarn (the location, not the bot) and so on, it's still worth pointing out that Orgreave has plenty of industrial ghosts (abandoned industrial facilities).

That having been said, hydraulic mining works could also refer to actual hydraulic mining methods rather than just any hydraulic machinery present, which would also explain the large pits that Orion Pax sees at the site in Kaon, and would add another level of horror: Using fluids to carry out this type of mining would be a huge hazard to bots. I'd imagine rusting was a common problem, not to mention gradual armour/frame wear, increased fall/slip hazards for most frame types, etc.

CONTENT WARNING: Here's where some medical conjecture begins, you might want to skip this section if you're sensitive to medical discussions! There is no detailed comparison to any particular real world cases in this segment, however there is brief mention of ableism in a fictional context.

This would also account for the description of optics and audials needing more frequent repair even prior to suffering any gladiatorial damage--

--In some frame types, these components/sensory systems may be more exposed to the environmental pollution as mentioned in the text, but also, would be sensitive to abrasive damage from spray back/high pressure soil/stone/crystal like particulate materials present in Cybertron's surface and sub-surface layers acting essentially as sand paper against their bodies as they worked in any such hydraulic mining sites.

This is the type of shit Kaonite workers in these mining facilities were likely exposed to on a regular basis, because they are Cybertronians and could physically tolerate this kind of thing without dying-- At least, not right away.

A combination of repeated extreme wear, chronic overwork, likely poor medical resources, and complicating factors like questionable access to healthy fuels etc. would have inevitably resulted in a generally very unwell population with high workplace casualty rates.

This was the type of life most low class/caste heavy labour designated frame types were assigned to, under the Functionist system.

I've talked about my headcanons re: hearing disabled Megatron before, and it's kind of interesting to see that canonically here, that's very much possible. Audial damage from mining, audial damage from the fighter's ring.

But in general, the Kaonite population is seriously at risk, especially medically. Same deal with other low class/caste designated regions across Cybertron. Much like many Appalachian mining populations, where COPD is as common as flies in summer, the chronically poor health of this population would be staggering in comparison to better-off polities like Iacon.

Rust in their optics, rotting their optical components from within, likely leaving many workers sightless--

--At which point they were probably deemed "useless" under the ableist Functionist system, as they would then likely be unable to work their prior jobs or would only be able to work in limited or different capacities; Any system that determines worth by perceived functionality is inherently ableist, and Primus knows there were almost certainly no disability accommodations provided or available potential repairs/treatments in places like Kaon on Cybertron.

As a result, these newly disabled bots were likely left unemployed and therefore without any income source for Shanix, therefore left to their deaths via fuel deprivation etc.--

--Unless they fell in with mob-controlled sources of materials or aid, as a last resort...

Apparently Megatron Displaced The Local Kaonite Mafia: Pit Bosses Could Be Mob Bosses Too

This is also a real thing, as a lot of productive industrial facilities (not just mining, but textiles etc.) were often tied into in local black market raw material goods and organised crime shit, owing to less than moral site owners and company bosses. (At least in the USA, it may have varied in other countries or from region to region.)

This is because if you have a productive facility, you can make a fuckload of money bypassing any common sense safety rules or proper waste/product handling or disposal protocols etc. and skip the whole regulated market and just go right to making a fuckzillion moneys from whoever will buy this shit illegally.

(This is part of why a lot of Appalachia is polluted to hell and back-- Even at the time, a lot of these industrial works and companies knew perfectly well that dumping coal ash and other horrible shit into every single river and creek available was a bad idea. They did it anyway. Why? It saved money overall and they didn't have to pay for more long distance drivers to reach actual approved waste sites etc.

For those of you who may not be familiar with this USA specific shit, let me introduce you to the concept of a Superfund Site. It's depressing. Most are former industrial illegal waste dumping sites. These places are so fucked up that even the American Government was forced to acknowledge how bad it is. Some of them are straight up literal nuclear waste sites.)

This has been a huge problem in American industrial history, because America can turn out some very, very productive sites using very, very unsafe and cruel means to force workers to work. Paying in scrip etc. were all methods to ensure a workforce could not leave. And so on.

Not to mention the horrendous impact on Native populations, the poor in general, immigrants in general, etc. who were all subject to the worst possible treatment throughout.

And there are many modern examples too-- Not just in the USA, but in many places around the world, such as Peru. Note that capitalism is often the facilitator of mistreatment, pollution, etc. and serves as the motivating factor for much of this fuckery worldwide. This also includes factors like western companies wanting to appear more "green", so they simply go abroad to abuse people in other nations and exploit their labour and raw labour products instead.

Capitalism is the root problem, on Earth and evidently, likely on Cybertron as well.

Can you imagine the amount of Shanix these fucking Kaonite mob bosses were making, possibly from selling raw materials and energon crystals mined in Kaon to other polities with fewer natural resources, arranging illicit under the table deals with large energy distributors etc. in other regions? Depriving Kaon of its own natural goods and stealing the near-entirety of their labour, constantly, endlessly?

(If this all reminds you a bit of Marx's Theory of Alienation, you are correct.)

Much of Kaon is, essentially, a Superfund Site. Dangerous industrial waste, materials, and abandoned facilities, all affecting the population in all sorts of ways into perpetuity even long after one industry dies and another rises-- Or a new industry never comes along, and you end up with even worse off sections of an already brutally deprived area, living in the remnants of an equally hellish past that was just marginally better enough to make some bots yearn for the good old days of having a job to be worked to death at.

If this is relatable or frustrating to you, you are correct. These are all real world problems. It's easy to relate to the plight of the Kaonites-- Megatron, at this time, is still largely a sympathetic figure to many.

Because of course, even from the outside, it is clear that this degree of suffering cannot be sustained. Even Orion Pax recognises this, despite his own total lack of exposure and lack of class awareness at the time in which he initially starts speaking with Megatron.

Anyway. Briefly back to our real world example, because it's important here:

All of this capitalist corruption is another example of systemic level rot; A lot of the time regulators knew that facilities were engaging in illegal dumping and worker rights abuses etc. but couldn't do anything about it due to a lack of federal involvement and lack of means or resources to raise a larger case or investigation on the scale that would be needed.

And of course, some regulators and investigators were paid off. Sigh.

It's genuinely impressive that Megatron was able to run off an industrial crime syndicate, because that shit goes very deep and has lots of tendrils that tie into pretty much everything else going on in a given area, especially in towns or regions where only one or two industries make up the entirety of everything.

It doesn't surprise me at all that Megatron gained such a large following so quickly.

Nobody else in Cybertron was willing or able to acknowledge (let alone try to address) the horrible abuses going on in Kaon.

Endless, brutal labour, often resulting in horrible deaths. No reward for any of their work, with much of their meagre pay going to the mob and likely to companies based in other polities around Cybertron, so none of the materials or money ever stayed local. No care was put into their living conditions or standard of living, with most bots being used up and worn down with nothing to show for it but the industrial hell that consumed their own region.

And by getting the organised crime rings out of the local industries and community, by turning this abandoned facility into a gladiatorial ring, that provided both a more personally rewarding use of their physical skills developed through hard manual labour and gives an opportunity to gain legitimate funds and potentially fame-- Granting a social status previously completely unattainable to Kaonites, while clearly being built up on the legacy of all of their prior labour.

No wonder the appeal to follow Megatron was so strong, even in the early days.

Not even Primus helped these people, none of the Primes helped these people--- But Megatron did.

And that is powerful, to be liberated by one of your own, someone you know truly understands the difficulty and suffering and misery of a cruel, unending grind.

All that most of these bots could ever look forward to previously was dying in a hopefully not-as-painful way.

Now, there is potential for a genuinely tangibly better future, quite possibly for the first time in Kaon's history. Certainly for the first time within living memory.

Megatron turned an immiserated local population with no hope and no prospects beyond being worked to death into up-and-coming athletic stars with a burgeoning sports industry, using their local culture and previously disparaged frame types to prove the inherent wrongness of the class/caste system to a literal mass audience.

Megatron essentially took waste from the Cybertronian equivalent of colliery spoil tips and used it to forcibly create some kind of real hope and better future for every Kaonite, both individually and gradually on a larger regional scale, while living under an oppressive system that was just as likely to kill him in the same way as it had been killing everyone else around him his entire existence.

Megatron turned an industrial hell into a revolutionary city-state.

And he started local, he started with the injustices closest to him, what was visible rot to him in the environment he grew up in. Start small, strategize, your morals are your fuel-- In part because they keep stealing the fuel we mine. Does that seem fair? Does that seem just? What sense does it make, to have a system in which your most important workers are kept deprived and struggling into perpetuity?

He is the perfect Cybertronian revolutionary, he is the figurehead the people of Kaon needed, and his words were heard planet-wide from an arena he facilitated the building of himself, that he reclaimed from decay and loss.

From the bare frame structure of an abandoned mining pit, Megatron spoke words that inspired the downtrodden and lifted up countless impoverished populations through solidarity, the collective power of the working class, the low caste bots, the low class frame types.

The people that were previously discarded, were now using their means and their frames for their own purposes, gradually weakening the grip of the Council, gradually proving to more and more bots that this system is broken and this world can be better and we deserve better, and by any means, we will obtain better. We will make it better, with or without your permission.

No wonder Megatron became so powerful, so quickly.

He appealed perfectly to his people and others in similar living conditions, he articulated perfectly the flaws in oppressive Cybertronian society, he showed that different frame types can and do have multiple uses beyond the classist interpretation of their build schematics--

--All Megatron did, fundamentally, was care.

He cared about what was happening around him, he did not buy into the idea that life has to be miserable and this is the way things are and it can never change or get better, he saw and lived the awful conditions and suffered discrimination and understood that working together for each other would improve things for all.

And he acted on this understanding. There is always someone who is first to act, because there must be.

And Megatron does not act in half-measures.

I like that they mention him getting rid of the crime syndicates, here; It gives you a good idea of his morality pre-war.

It would have been easy to collaborate with these crime syndicates for some time, to secure funds for a new gladiatorial ring.

But instead, he took out the crime syndicates entirely and opted to build his arena inside an abandoned facility.

No capitulation to capital.

No money was exchanged, not a single Shanix, no deals made. No fucking around. This is Kaon, and you are no longer powerful here.

Megatron is increasingly powerful, however, because he embodied to the people the collective power of the people; He reflected themselves and their experiences back at them. But actions like this also played a large part in gaining that trust, in proving his skills and worth as a revolutionary and potential leader. It's not enough to be like everyone else. You have to prove you're not just another asshole looking to exploit everyone for influence or other personal benefit.

If you want a collective movement, it has to be about the collective. And for Megatron, it very much was. And things like this helped him prove that from very early on.

The Council and the mobs effectively have no authority anymore; They are losing control. Megatron, very quickly, becomes the accepted authority. Kaon becomes a freed city-state, it escapes the grasp of Functionism.

Standing up to one crime syndicate may not seem significant in the grander scheme of things, knowing how things occur in the story from this point onward.

But it is hugely significant-- It is a very important thing to highlight.

Because it is "smaller" things like this which are actually massively important and impactful.

And each "smaller" thing built up, and improved things for people to the point where Kaon could function entirely independently with a better off population of previously severely oppressed peoples.

Every "smaller" thing counts. Every "smaller" thing is the entire world to someone, or to a lot of someones.

How many lives were saved and debts erased, when Megatron took out this one crime syndicate?

How immediately did that improve a lot of lives, how quickly did that endear those people to him, to his ideology, to his plans for their collective future? How fast did they start listening, when he started speaking?

This is how revolution happens.

--

Anyway, thank you as always if you read any of this-- I know this got very long and it is nearly 2 AM now where I'm at, so it may have lost a bit of coherency here and there.

tl;dr labour history is important, fuck capitalism (this includes fictional capitalism), and intersectional solidarity is key to collective survival in general but especially among the working class and all groups subject to systemic oppression/discrimination in various forms

[obscured-everything]

​​OBSCURA trailer analysis & theories

The OBSCURA trailer is very pretty (watch it if you haven’t already <3) and is also full of interesting symbolism and snippets of Latin. In this post I’m going to be manually translating and providing notes on the Latin, as well as discussing what the numbers mean and giving my own plot speculations. SPOILERS for OBSCURA’s Chapter 1 with every love interest. 

I’m going to be working with the theory that the numbers correspond to the Major Arcana in a Rider–Waite–Smith tarot deck. I’ll be pulling tarot card information from A.E. Waite’s 1910 book ‘The Pictorial Key to the Tarot’, where he discusses the symbolism of the images in the cards and provides divinatory meanings. 

Shoutout to @/starlitmanta and @/mostlygayrage for posting their own analyses before me! I got inspired by both of them to both write down my thoughts and then actually finish the post after leaving it for months lol. @/mostlygayrage has some interesting stuff on the imagery and also delved into the Latin! Although he took it as one sentence which I won’t be doing – I’m going to take the double forward slashes as an indication of a break. 

Disclaimer that I haven’t formally studied Latin in years so if there are any errors feel free to point it out in the notes! 

Cirrus

18. Presbyter // Ecclesiae lunaris XVII: The Moon. Priest // Lunar churches 

18. Obsequium // ducit ad caelum Obedience // he leads to heaven TL notes N/A Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “The moon is increasing on what is called the side of mercy… the path between the towers is the issue into the unknown. The dog and wolf are the fears of the natural mind in the presence of that place of exit, when there is only reflected light to guide it…the message is: Peace, be still; and it may be that there shall come a calm upon the animal nature...” 

Upright: Hidden enemies, danger, darkness, terror, deception, occult forces, error. Reversed: Instability, inconstancy, silence, lesser degrees of deception and error. Speculation I think we can all agree that Cirrus is not trustworthy, hence danger, deception, occult forces etc. Nevertheless, Vesper (if you’ve got a good ending, at least) puts great degrees of trust in him. ‘A calm upon the animal nature’ calls to mind his odd ability to influence Vesper’s choices and force them into saying ‘yes’, but I also thought it might reference something about Vesper putting aside their instinctive reservations about Cirrus’ suspicious character to follow him into an unknown future. 

Leading to heaven is, to me, a bit double-edged; it could mean death or paradise. Very fitting, I think. 

Keir

20. Keir // Cavillatur fur XX: Judgement. Keir // Mocking thief 

20. Fatum // vestrum vel extraneus [Destiny / (calamitous) death] // yours or a stranger TL notes I’m inclined to believe that Keir’s name being his plain name rather than an epithet is probably just part of his blunt kind of character, and ‘mocking thief’ is probably related to his personality too. Also, there is another piece of Latin on that first screen – ‘cultellus’, which means ‘dagger’ and points downwards towards where his dagger is held. Also, ‘fatum’ is a very interesting word in that it carries an intriguing potential double meaning. Tarot meaning Upright: Change of position, renewal, outcome. Reversed: Weakness, pusillanimity, simplicity; also deliberation, decision, sentence. Speculation Waite’s initial discussion of Judgement is very Biblical which I doubt has much to do with OBSCURA’s use of it. I do think the divinatory meanings are very interesting – I think that at a good/best end of Keir’s route, he’ll be able to come out on top and secure a good and/or stable future for himself and/or Mouse Hole. 

My current theory is that, since we have had mentions of Keir and Oleander in each others’ routes, that they have direct effects on each others’ fates. This fits with ‘yours or a stranger’ of course, but also the double-edged ‘destiny or (calamitous) death’ – I’ll speculate more in Oleander’s route, but I think he and potentially most of Mouse Hole will not fare well if Vesper picks Oleander. 

I’m interested in why his dagger was explicitly pointed out and labelled. I’m kind of shooting in the dark here but I think it’ll be significant in the future – either as a symbol of his history (specifically with Oleander, perhaps?) or as a plot device of some sort. 

Oleander

11. Nerii // Periculosum scurra XI: Justice. Of oleander // Dangerous clown 

11. Patiuntur // sicut habes They are suffering // just like you are TL notes More technically, ‘nerii’ is the genitive of ‘nerium’, which means oleander. This makes sense to me when I think about how he’s had a history of changing names – he’s moreso embodying the qualities of oleander (a pretty but dangerous plant) rather than taking it as a definitive name. 

‘Patiuntur’ is in the plural, and suffering might be a strong word depending on how you look at it – the original word is like enduring through something difficult or unpleasant. Tarot meaning Waite basically says that the card has ‘obvious meanings’ so I don’t think I need to look too closely into it. 

Upright: Equity, rightness, probity, executive; triumph of the deserving side in law. Reversed: Law in all its departments, legal complications, bigotry, bias, excessive severity Speculation The second half of the second piece of Latin, ‘sicut habes’, is in the second-person and I’m assuming that this is meant to address Vesper/MC. Maybe Oleander is also looking for something that he can’t find or afford, although the plural throws me off a bit if that’s the case. Maybe it’s referencing Oleander’s previous Vigils (since Vesper is currently holding that position, ‘just like’ they have) or something…? 

Now, here is my plot theory which may or may not be insane. We know that Oleander has committed murder, and was very blasé about it; presumably he’s done this sort of thing before. We know that in his route, Keir has been alluded to, Griff has shown up and Keir is presumably going to show up at some point. I think that Oleander’s involvement with Keir is going to end very poorly for Keir, even leading to the calamity insinuated in Judgement. Specifically, I think that Oleander and Keir are going to be caught up in a serious crime and Keir is going to take the fall, leading to a permanent end for him (death, probably) and the following collapse of Mouse Hole. Oleander will get off lightly or scot-free (Justice’s ‘triumph of the deserving side in law’, ‘deserving’ as opposed to Keir who is indisputably a criminal and receives ‘excessive severity’). 

This could be from Keir and his group failing the burglary since Vesper isn’t there to cover for the injured lookout, or it could be something else that brings in the dagger which was pointed out in Keir's portion of the trailer. I’m thinking murder, honestly. 

Francesco

10. Franciscum // innocentes nobiles X: Wheel of Fortune. Francisco // innocent nobles 

10. Tempus // decurrit Time // runs out TL notes Grammatically, ‘Franciscum’ is in the accusative (the case used to mark the ‘object’ on which a verb acts). This could be a stylistic thing or it could allude to how he’s being ‘acted upon’ by whatever power/influence his family have. 

‘Decurrit’ is literally ‘runs down’ which fits with the hourglass imagery, but I imagine that the spirit of the phrase is ‘runs out’ especially since his route already alludes to that. Tarot meaning To quote Waite, “the symbolic picture stands for the perpetual motion of a fluidic universe and for the flux of human life … the essential idea of stability amidst movement. Behind the general notion expressed in the symbol there lies the denial of chance and the fatality which is implied therein.” 

Upright: destiny, fortune, elevation, luck, felicity. Reversed: increase, abundance, superfluity. Speculation I think that at some point within Francesco’s route, his family is going to be further involved. I assume that these are the ‘innocent nobles’, which makes me think that whatever state or situation that they find Francesco in won’t be very innocent at all. Alternatively, it could be that his family is more innocent/harmless than they present themselves as – depending on circumstance, this could be a big win for Vesper or a big loss because they don’t have the family backing that they thought they did. 

The Wheel of Fortune carries connotations of luck and change in fortune. I assume that Vesper provides Francesco with some degree of ‘stability amidst movement’ and that any ‘denial of chance’ involves Francesco leaving the marketplace and returning to the very clearly mapped out future that his family has for him, thus leading to a bad end. ——————————

Thanks for reading to the end!

[vidavalor]

Ok but...

Crowley channeling his 1967/inner secret agent for this whole turtleneck look for the scene with Mr. Brown in The Dirty Donkey when tied to Aziraphale losing his damn mind and re-costuming everybody during The Ball is cracking me up.

To unnecessarily jog your memory lol, here's Crowley looking like a whole snack in the pub:

Turtleneck and the vest under the blazer, right? And here's Mr. Brown in the same scene, during which he was refusing to take Aziraphale's every damn hint of disinterest:

Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets is wearing-- *in theory* lol-- the same set of clothes as Crowley, furthering the comparison between them. He's wearing a shirt, a tie, a vest, and a jacket over pants. It's just that he's wearing a far less sexy version of what Crowley has on and the shirt is a different kind. Mr. Brown has on a burnt orange shirt that would look far better with a brown suit than the black he has on and a truly garish tie. (So, we're saying Mr. Brown's look-- and the life it suggests-- would improve if he'd just own his brown-ness instead of trying to wear too much black aka to try to take over Crowley's role in Aziraphale's life.) His blazer is black and brown and doesn't fit him well and doesn't really work with his vest, which is brown. When Crowley snaps Mr. Brown back after The Ball and puts him into line for coffee at Nina's, he is wearing this same outfit, implying that he probably wore this to the Whickber Street meeting. This means that the outfit Mr. Brown has on during The Ball is the one Aziraphale made for him.

Without diving into exactly how horrifying a thing it is that Aziraphale is exerting this much control over the neighbors at The Ball here, we know that the idea is that Aziraphale was changing clothes of people at The Ball to reflect what he thought they should be wearing. Maggie got that beautiful blue silk blouse, reflecting how Aziraphale thought she should vary her record shop wardrobe a bit to catch Nina's eye. Mrs. Sandwich got a whole glow up from her tracksuit into the fabulous madam that she is. Jim... yeah, that's another meta lol. Crowley's only wardrobe change is one that happens prior to The Ball and that he made himself and has been wearing for most of the afternoon already. He is wearing a collarless black dress shirt with a few buttons undone, dressing up a little for his husband's work party thing.

Crowley, as we all know, was exempted from Aziraphale's Jane Austen influence and that's because a) Aziraphale seems to understand the concept of consent when it comes to his partner at least here and doesn't ever try to influence him but also b) Aziraphale thinks Crowley is perfect as he is. Aziraphale's assessment of Crowley's whole situation here is 10/10 no notes hey baby you wanna dance?

So it's then even funnier when Mr. Brown of Brown's World of Carpets gets Queer Angel Eye for the Schulbby Human Guy-d into a late 1960s-inspired outfit with a turtleneck and a fitted blazer that coordinates with his vest and so does what the whole vest-blazer situation is supposed to do for his body and that whole godawful tie is just gone and the burnt orange blended into his jacket. He looks much better-- I won't disagree with Aziraphale here lol-- but he does because Aziraphale just literally dressed him up in a brown & brown plaid version of Crowley's look in the pub scene when Mr. Brown couldn't take the hints Aziraphale was hurling at him that he's not interested and that Crowley is his partner. Mr. Brown is no longer wearing a shred of black-- just different shades of brown lol. The black is the sex that is Crowley while the brown is, well, the Mr. Brown that is of the Brown's World of Carpets.