#doing the lighting for this one was a journey

[dragon-ascent]

Imagine Chonkli as a Pokemon. Tiny, fluffy, cute--the perfect starter 'mon. However, he gets left behind in the professor's lab because everyone else wanted the cool Fire, Water, and Grass starters.

Nobody wants the Rock type.

Except, apparently, you. Bright-eyed, bushy-tailed, you're starting your journey as a Trainer rather late. Very late, in fact, but that's because you wanted to finish your education and higher studies before embarking on your very own journey.

He's literally the most adorable little creature ever; it's a wonder you've managed to pick him as your companion. And you should see the look on his face when you choose him--all tappy paws and wiggly tail, eager to join you.

This lil guy is way too sweet to belong in a Pokeball for the better part of the day, so you let him stay outside his ball. He's quite the strong 'mon even for a starter, the thump of his tail making for a great attack in battles.

He really, really loves berries, you soon learn. After every victory in a battle, he comes bounding over to you and baps your leg, tongue lolling out for some nice berries as his treat.

It's also really neat that he's so soft and fluffy. Fluffier than even an Altaria, if you do say so yourself. It's a shame his species is so rare, but you're glad you can cuddle this little fella all night and listen to his soothing purrs.

Until one day, you're traipsing through the woods, soft little Chonkli in your arms, licking his paws, and you encounter an Ursaluna, towering over you like an angry shadow. Its eyes are glowing a sharp red, and its growls signify the black flag of danger.

You have no choice but to run, so run you do, fleeing in the opposite direction as fast as your legs can carry you. It's not enough, Ursaluna is gaining on you with thunderous footfalls of its own, getting closer and closer...you won't be able to defend yourself from its ravenous teeth and blade-like claws, and your low-level Chonkli certainly is no match for-

Chonkli hops out of your arms, and you scream as he runs towards the bigger creature...and then you watch, agape, at what unfolds.

A brilliant white light engulfs your sweet little Chonkli, expanding and elongating until...there's a long brown Dragon Pokemon coiled up on the forest floor, golden eyes ablaze, the sunlight filtering through the canopy shining down on his shimmering scales. He must be the size of a Rayquaza at least. The Ursaluna pauses in its pursuit, standing frozen.

Chonkli opens his great big maw and unleashes a terrific ball of flaming energy that beams a straight path through the air, blasting away the Ursaluna in a frenzy of light and chaos. Trees collapse; the earth shakes; the threat is gone. All around the Dragon sizzle tendrils of gilt power.

And then the white light envelops the big Dragon once more, and right there on the forest floor, is your fluffy little Chonkli. His tongue bleps out once more, tail wagging like mad. He blinks like nothing's happened.

"What the heck was that?!" you exclaim, utterly flabbergasted, after a long bout of stunned silence. Your legs feel like they're made of jelly, and you might just faint any minute now. "Chonkli, what was that?!"

Chonkli simply flicks his fluffy tail and pads over to you, purring. He just wants some berries right about now.

[brokenspider-lilies]

Mortals behave in such funny ways around Gods. They tend to bend themselves over simply for the slight acknowledgment from the heavenly beings. Mydei never understood the pleasure of watching someone make a fool of themselves for the amusement of the Gods. Even when he became one, his temple did not receive the usual worship. If there was one place in Amphoreus that remained gloomy and devoid of all attention, it was his domain.

Yet, his life of godhood was peaceful. All he had known was wrath, war, and blood. For once, after all he had encountered, Mydei could finally go to sleep without the screams and pleas resonating inside his bones. He had put to rest the fury of his people, and he could now focus on his growth, peace, and eternal solitude.

As walls grew around his heart and temple, so did the rumors.

"Mydei does not care for worshipers. Mydei is too difficult. Mydei required more offerings than any other Gods. Mydei will unleash his wrath upon you."

The whisper of the wind would bring these rumors to his own ears. And oh, how much he rejoyced upon them. No work had to be done when it came to driving worshipers away. The talks around the planet were doing the job quite easily. And thus, the mighty and great Mydei was left with no worshipers.

And how much of a blessing that was. If only it had lasted for more than a hundred years.

Unaware of the changes and turmoils his life had yet to undergo, Mydei sat atop his throne of blood and fear, his sight averted from those around him. Aglaea and Tribbie, the first Gods to welcome him on his new path, had yet to receive a sign from him. All anyone knew was that the great God of Strife was passing his immortal days confined to his throne.

That is why historians suppose Mydei was unaware of the arrival of a follower. Busy with his solitude, he had not contacted you until it was too late. Your garments were already adorning his colors, your prayers had reshapped around his name, and your gospel was spreading to the masses.

You were known for being godless. One of the heretics, they called you. You had grown up with science as your beacon of light, the teachings of your parents being the only things you had ever believed. While your peers believed in the stories and myths of immortal beings, you knew that, past the stars in the sky, there was another world waiting for you.

And then you encountered strife. Not Mydei himself, but its action. You saw blood, bodies, and death piling on top of your own house, your own village, and your entire being. Friends, family, and peers were all lost due to the incompetence of humankind and petty fights. While the rest of the planet lived, your village came to its end. And no one batted an eyelash. Not even the Gods.

In the span of less than a week, you had changed completely. Some chalked it down to the stress and pain you had just gone through. You might have even agreed with them, if only deep down, you did not have a tormenting voice reminding you that Mydei stood where your family had perished.

Now, his colors adorned your body; his temple was your new home. He might not have known it, but you had done the impossible just for him. You had walked for days and nights with no end just to reach his door. Food had been scarce on your journey, but hunger was nothing compared to the yearning you had for him. Once you had stood in his temple, all of your worries had vanished; the pain and aching in your bones were but a mere afterthought.

You had fallen in love. You were not sure if it had happened during your journey or if you were destined from birth to live this emotion. But your place was here. Mydei's temple was now your home.

Yet, you had to wait 30 days before he addressed you. Not even aware of your presence at first, Mydei had thought you would have left by the 10th day. Yet, you kneeled and prayed and slept and worshipped him without requesting anything back. You did not ask for the souls of your beloveds to come back. You did not ask for mercy at his hands. You did not ask for money, gold, fame, or power. The only thing you had hoped for was acknowledgment.

And on the 30th day, you received it. A firm, deep voice made your ears ring. You would have chalked it to your imagination if only the voice had not asked you to leave his temple. Only one man would have such a request.

"Leave at once. There is nothing to gain here."

As harsh as the words were, they did not have the power to push you away. So you stayed. You responded, requesting an audience with Mydei. What guts you had, asking for a meeting with the God of Strife. He would have laughed in your face if he had not taken you seriously.

But he did. The look in your eyes told him that you truly wanted to see him. If only he had been stronger. If only you had not started a fire in his soul. If only he had not yearned for a companion.

Before he knew it, his physical form had materialized before you. Mydei stood before you, his first worshiper, the one he would make a sage of the Temple of Strife.

The first few months with you were now a blur in his memory. From your first encounter to the lengthy talk about your village to the apologies shared between you two, everything was but a coherent string of events in Mydei's mind. He wasn't the type to forget so easily, but the new changes in his life had taken him by surprise.

As his sage, you had many more encounters with him. Daily talks, walks around the domain, nightly rendezvous. These were but the few things you did together. As the only being around you, Mydei had become your confidant, your other half. You found comfort in his presence, even with the knowledge that he had taken your loved ones away.

And Mydei found peace with you. The pending doom in his body had subdued since you had entered his life. You were his anchor, keeping him grounded to reality. He tried to match his breathing to yours; he would listen to your heartbeat, he would do anything to keep one foot in your world, to make himself feel mortal.

"There is nothing good that will come out of this. Gods and mortals cannot co-exist."

Those were the words he would utter at times. And each time, you reminded him that between you two, there was no co-existence. You belonged together. You were meant to be together. The Fates had intertwined your lives together. It was not just mere co-existence; it was a prophecy that must have been written in the stars.

Mydei believed every word of it. As love-struck as he was, he could not possibly see that every time you reassured him, you looked away from him. And you hated the lies you were spewing.

It was only after you had betrayed him that he realized what you two had was not love. It was revenge. He had spent so many years chasing his own anger and retribution that he had missed the signs you left behind your trail.

Of course, you marched down to his temple. Of course, you had spent weeks in filth just to get his attention. Of course, you had pushed your limits to make him lower his guard.

And you attacked when he least expected it. While he sat next to you, dreaming of a world where you two could live forever, he felt the sharp object plunge into his back. And you stood there, your hands wrapped around the knife, as you saw the blood pooling under him, you dreamt of a life in your village. A life he robbed you of.

You had known his weak spot. He told you himself where it was. And you used it against him. You had one chance, and you had to make it count. You had to kill a God. And you did.

Historians always remember this story as a revenge plot, a scheme you had concocted to get back at a God for taking everything away from you.

But they never asked themselves, why did you have a funeral for your God? Why did you stay in his temple, maintaining it? Why did you still pray to him and write your gospels in books for future generations? Why did you lay in your own tomb, right next to him? Why did you die with a smile on your face, knowing you will see him?

[acexsmhking]

𝐆𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐠𝐥𝐞

(𝗻.) 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝘂𝗿𝗴𝗲 𝘁𝗼 𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗰𝗵 𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗾𝘂𝗲𝗲𝘇𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗺𝗲𝘁𝗵𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝘂𝗻𝗯𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝘂𝘁𝗲

╰┈➤ Poly!TicciJack x GN!Reader

Summary: yeah we’ve all been waiting for this for a hot minute. Reader with Poly!TicciJack? This is gonna be a long one

Warning(s): 18+ content, sexual content, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of manipulation, descriptions of reader being overwhelmed, dubious content, descriptions of cannibalism, descriptions of murder,

!!SFW!!

Oh boy.

Oh boy oh boy oh boy

Yeah not a single one of ya know how you got in this predicament, not even the boys

And my oh my what a journey this has become. You were perfectly content with your normal life, you had just been getting to know this new cute guy who you couldn’t stop gushing to your friend about

Tall, foggy eyes, piercings he was literally a good girls bad boy dream

You both were cuddled on the couch, watching a movie when he’d gotten up to grab some more treats when suddenly there’s crashing, banging and… growling??

You run in to see your hopeful boyfriend pinned to the ground with this… thing opening a far too wide mouth to chomp on his head

Both halting to a stop once they spot you, the creature tilting it’s large head, pointed ears pinning against it’s head as it trilled at you. Walking over cautiously on all four, nudging its head against your abdomen

You were frozen to say the least. This was single handed the most horrifying experience in your life

Toby cursed, sitting up having to halt in a crouching position when Jack snarled at him. He sighed, leaning on his haunches

“This is.. Jack.”

That marked the day when things drastically changed for you, these two.. men fighting over you constantly

There would be times Jack would just, run off with you. As carefully as he could of course, but it was still scary. Toby of course tried finding you as soon as possible, often times you being covered in a light layer of dirt

The game of tug and war continues for MONTHS before you finally put your foot down… more like having a full mental breakdown that scares them both shitless

Jack couldn’t communicate or understand you and Toby just freezes under emotional pressure.. they did their best!

First time in months they both worked together to soothe you for the up coming week, you were just exhausted

And so utterly overwhelmed

Jack didn’t leave your side, staying neatly balled by your side of your bed while Toby would bring you things (and food for Jack) to cheer you up

finally recovering.. you all sat down to talk

Well more like you and Toby talked while he translated Jack

It also means Toby had to.. fib about his actual hobbies in life. Instead lying he was a hunter of sorts.. yeah a hunter

Explaining Jack was..harder

You had a lot of questions.. you still do really

They both seem to be unsolvable mysteries

But.. they’re both so.. cute

Toby while having his faults was a really good boyfriend, and despite his and Jack’s tension always made sure to bring you both things after coming home

Jack was… intimidating and it took a while to teach him boundaries.. that he still ignores at times but he’s so sweet and adorable!! Especially when you rub the bridge of his nose and he makes cute little purring sounds <3

The whole relationship gradually ‘smoothed’ itself out as time went on under your supervision. There were still times Jack would run off with you for a while but he became more and more reasonable

They both grew more tolerable of sleeping with you together as well, of course a much much bigger bed was needed

Which Toby put together

However… they had there moments. Like when you walked in to the both of them fighting over food like damn rabid raccoons

You lectured them for a good 30 mins since now the kitchen floor was absolutely covered in blood and gore

Not to mention that while Jack could understand you better.. that seemed to make his ways of manipulating you and certain things all the more effective

And his… misdoings seemed to only at times encourage some of Toby’s as well

However if you can forgive (you don’t really have a choice) these misdemeanors then everything goes surprisingly well, they’re both very intent on spoiling you

Seriously, expect to literally get hand fed by them

They don’t mess around

Again Toby and Jack both are for lifers so… breaking up literally is not in anyone’s vocabulary

Don’t think you can just leave either

They will not let you.

Plus, why would you want to when you have two very devoted, strong, tall men treating you like royalty 🙂‍↕️

Because of this care however, they slowly start ‘pushing’ you into the role of a stay-at-home wife/husband…

This could either do wonders on your mental health or dog shit

But they don’t mean to! (They do). They just want you safe and protected at home where they know where you are, they don’t have to go running around a whole city/town just to find you

You wouldn’t want all those people hurt would you?

Now Toby bullshit excuse of being a hunter obviously falls through on you because… look at him.. PLUS HE’S BRINGING FOOD HOME FOR JACK so of course you put two and two together

But you don’t really care, you just let bygones be bygones

Until… you actually see a corpse Toby dragged home.. a few of them

You don’t really wanna talk about it and Toby now does a much better job of hiding them from you, that was just an off day for him since he was tired

Jack gave him a stern ‘talking’ to

Now again, Jack needs stimulation, the house/cabin is nice and all… but he needs some dirt

Which means you and Toby now taking your demonic boyfriend out for walkies and staying in one of his many many dens… Jack’s a bit grumpy to let Toby in but i digress

While they do much better, they still fight over you.. Toby might want head stratches but Jack is hogging all of them, or Jack wants kisses but Toby is hogging them

Sorta stuff like that

Tim and Brian are very important people in Toby’s life, so you still do meet them just…

Without Jack..

You have to into Kate’s territory which kinda forces Jack to just.. stay put since he’s horrified of her

Okay sure not the nicest to use someone’s trauma against them

And there you get to talk and hangout, these trips can be a bit tiring so they don’t happen as often as Toby would like but oh well

!!NSFW!!

Okay you horny fucks here we are…

Let’s do the math, Toby is big, Jack is huge.. idk how tf you think this is working out for you

They both get so competitive over it, like i mean really competitive

Expect to be completely fucked out of your mind, overstimulated, and maybe hallucinations

I mean like you will be going at it for hours until you finally manage to convince them to stop… which isn’t easy

They just love you so much, they want to always be in you

Jack definitely influences Toby into breeding

Now if you’re M! of any sort or TransF! Toby is gonna have to explain how they literally cannot which Jack really doesn’t understand as he believes if he wants to get you pregnant… he should just be allowed too

Tf is anatomy

So expect Jack to still be very determined to knock you up

Fertility issues or you straight removed something? Yeah again same thing, wtf dude!

Seriously you should’ve seen into the future and known he was gonna be your mate!! How insensitive of you

**eye roll**

He really is a big baby about it

Doesn’t stop him.. in the slightest

The drooling and biting is like ramped up to a solid 200%

You are not leaving that bed without being cover in slobber, bit of blood, marks, and cum (theirs and yours) all over you

Jack definitely encourages the more dominant side of Toby.. so don’t expect to be topping either of them

Seriously.. you’ll be laughed at

You have a few toys which are… needed for Jack’s size and he actually likes them a bit

More so the vibs than dildos but he likes being able to really up close watch you take something

Be ready to just be laying on the couch with one of them or both and they’re lazily fingering you

Hey!! You gotta be prepped at all times! I’m not kidding when i say Jack is huge…

You can say goodbye to privacy, they’re going to take you whenever, however, wherever

When i tell you that you are bed bound after theyre done with you

I MEAN IT

Do not expect to leave that bed for at least a day

The degrading praise is actually insane, like insane

This is definitely the main activity where Jack’s worse encourages Toby’s, LMAO

Besides the sex being actually nearly back breaking, the aftercare is heavenly, they worship you

Well they do that anyways but

They’re so gentle with you after sex, Toby will go draw you a shower, both of them holding you up as they carefully clean your body

Toby as carefully as possible cleaning the bite marks on your body, apologizing every time you whimper from the pain before softly kissing them

Kisses make everything better <3

Then Jack will gently put you to bed, curling around you as Toby feeds you water, glued to you free side

Jack’s chuffing, trying to lure you deeper to sleep quickly (as if he needs to with how dizzy you are) and licking at your hair, both of them practically cocooning you

They make it up to you in the morning with a very, very tasty breakfast and Toby massaging your swore hips and legs. Both sharing praises for you.. more like Toby praising you and Jack nodding along

What more could you want?

: ̗̀➛ YEPPIE POLY!TICCIJACK, i was looking forward to this so much i love these two goofy idiots so much <3 sorry this came out later in the afternoon than i expected, i took a nap after i stayed up til like 3am watching marbles hornets LMFAO, love you all so much remember to stay safe!! — Ace

[thesensteawitch]

What's Waiting For You At The Next Stop?🕯️☀️

Pick A Pile Reading

(Left to Right- Pile 1, Pile 2, Pile 3)

Hey, lovely souls!

This is a collective tarot reading so take what resonates and leave what doesn't.♾️🌻

~•~

If you wish to book a personal tarot reading with me then checkout the links below:

Book Your Reading • Price List

Pile 1

Cookies🍪—At the next stop, freedom awaits you. But freedom of what? From the thoughts that kept you blocked from living a financially/materially abundant life. You may have felt restricted to explore the world and enjoy the pleasures that come with it. You have spent a lot of time in solitude and have gained wisdom. Until now you've been on a journey within. Now it's time to explore what's outside of you, the natural world that's a manifestation of God's imagination. You've learned to trust your inner knowing rather than relying on outside noise. Now, you're ready to experience life because you've been made responsible by the divine. You've read about great places in books and have seen beautiful images of places that exist somewhere in this world. Some of you may even be interested in going for a spiritual retreat, and this will bring you closer to the richness of life. At the next stop, your communication will play an important role as you'll be forming new connections. It's been pretty long since you've connected with strangers or made some new friends. The divine is saying, “It's time to introduce you to a world prepared by me at a frequency that matches with your life's purpose.” Signs: Black Cat, Seeing a Lot of Different Birds, and Purple Grapes. 334🕯️

Pile 2

Socks🧦—At the next stop a familiar face awaits. The face that you've been trying to forget and erase from your mind. The past is knocking at your door, and someone wants to communicate with you. This can be a person or your own shadow that you've been trying to heal. It's going to be a moment of choice for you. Will you choose your dignity or your overwhelming emotions? The next stop is going to feel tempting. It's going to trick you by wearing the mask of something/someone sent from the divine. This energy has challenged you mentally, emotionally, and physically. Now that you look better or seem better, this energy wants to take away what you've built. This stop is a test for you. Divine wants to see if you've learned your lesson or not. Are you ready for the true and genuine gift that awaits you after this tricky stop? This next stop isn't the one you must fall for. Wait for the next. It's your winter season going on. Spring has yet to arrive in your personal cycle of life. Wait, be patient. 444 can be significant for you. You may be seeing this number a lot. Delayed doesn't mean denied. You're very close to enjoying the fruits of your patience. Choose your dignity. Choose patience. Signs: White Dog, Hearts & Smoke. 3333💛

Pile 3

Fairy Lights✨—The next stop is coming with a key! Bike keys can be significant for some of you. Unlock your throat chakra and speak. You've been quiet for some time now. What are you holding onto? A dream? You have been losing balance, so you thought to shut the doors that were in front of you and choose nothing. You waited for fate to choose for you, but fate is saying, “You must choose!” It's the same stop coming again that you've been avoiding. You kept waiting for something else to come, but your train seems to be stuck in a loop, and the same stop kept appearing, which you have been avoiding. This time a change is coming with this next stop of yours. A key will be given to you, but you must unlock it yourself and use the wisdom/knowledge that you've gained while waiting to release the confusion and trust yourself. It's time to choose with your heart, but first you must cry out to release. Empty yourself. All the weight that you've been carrying needs to be released. As soon as you do this, one of your wishes will come true. Avoiding isn't the solution; facing is. You are not expecting too much, but you aren't accepting all that you desire. Trying to be someone you're not is what's bringing so much confusion. Signs: Orange fishes, bonfire, lock & key. 747🤍

[interact-if]

Our fifth edition of the Black History Month Author Spotlight series, features Mila (@milaswriting)!

(Mila’s game Golden is one of the games I fell in love with when I first got into Interactive Fiction, and it feels like such a dream to be able to interview her now! It’s so interesting to interview someone who’s been in the IF community for a while now, and see how stories—and their authors—change and evolve as time goes by too.)

Author: Mila

Hello! I’m Mila, a twenty-three year old woman from the UK. Something readers may not know (or probably do considering how much I complain about university), I crave academic validation. I got 90% on an essay I did this year and I was so proud of myself that I’m considering doing a PhD. We’ll see if Dr Mila ever becomes a thing, haha.

Games: Golden (Fantasy, romance, mystery, supernatural)

Short blurb: You work for The Everbrook. A multi-agency organisation in the city of Lehsa that bridges the gap between the human and supernatural world. You’ve been working there for three years now, and you’re suddenly forced to work with a group of allies to solve mysteries that have landed right in the palm of your hand.

Quote from the interview

I wish I could say I’ve had amazing encounters with vampires, magical beings and werewolves to inspire Golden—but that isn’t exactly the case. I’ll let you know if that ever happens though! I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm, more so as a young adult than when I was much younger, but usually the portrayal of poc characters in media wasn’t always shown in a positive light. Or poc characters, when it came to romance, weren’t given the lead roles where a swoon-worthy romance story was played out. To, sort of right those wrongs, and have other black readers like myself, be able to see themselves in the characters of stories—I created a diverse cast of ROs.

Read on for the full interview!

Can you tell me a bit about what you’re working on right now and your journey into interactive fiction? What inspired the game/story you’re currently writing?

I’m currently working on a fantasy supernatural interactive fiction, Golden. Officially, Golden is five years old now. I released it in December 2020 and was regularly writing and working on it for a couple of years. And then I noticed that as I grew from an eighteen/nineteen year old teenager, the ideas I had for my story were different, thus I wanted to make a few changes. A few changes turned into a lot of changes. And now I’m in the process of a whole rewrite, alongside moving to Twine. 

Covid was in 2020, and that’s ultimately the year I got into reading interactive fiction too. I first read fanfics of an interactive fiction game, then read the original story itself, and got really into the process of the reader being able to make meaningful choices that impact their reading experience. That was a supernatural story too, and that’s how I ended up creating my own. 

When it comes to the changes I’ve made to Golden, the inspiration came from a lot of things. One being my love for mystery, crime and psychology—I wanted that incorporated into the story I’m writing. I love the element of lore and world building, so that’s how I knew the fantasy/supernatural element would be in there. Additionally, my love for found family and complex characters also inspired me to write this story, but to also make the changes I have. Lastly, I’m a hopeless romantic at heart, I adore the stuff! So reading and writing good romance is everything to me. 

How has your identity, heritage/background, upbringing, or personal experiences influenced your storytelling or writing process? OR How does your work feature aspects of your identity / experience?

I wish I could say I’ve had amazing encounters with vampires, magical beings and werewolves to inspire Golden—but that isn’t exactly the case. I’ll let you know if that ever happens though! I’ve always been a bit of a bookworm, more so as a young adult than when I was much younger, but usually the portrayal of poc characters in media wasn’t always shown in a positive light. Or poc characters, when it came to romance, weren’t given the lead roles where a swoon-worthy romance story was played out. To, sort of right those wrongs, and have other black readers like myself, be able to see themselves in the characters of stories—I created a diverse cast of ROs.

B Holden was the first one I created. I already knew they were going to be a werewolf, and I wanted them as a character to be the complete opposite of how a werewolf is usually described and portrayed. Aggressive, animalistic, dangerous—yet, I’d like to think that B is, and comes off as, someone who is the sunshine that lights up a room, someone who’d make you feel good on a bad day, a kind of person you’ll always want around. From my own personal experiences, I’m a nursing student and I’ll be graduating this year and going into a working environment. I think the changes to Golden emulate that, instead of being a student, the MC is navigating the supernatural world themselves and they’re very immersed into it.

What does your writing process look like? Any rituals or habits? Any tips, tricks, philosophies or approaches that have worked very well for you?

Oh! So, the background is that I love The Naturals series and The Inheritance Games by Jennifer Lynn Barnes, and I got to meet her at a book event in my hometown. And during her talk, she said that she writes with a ‘Writer’s Hit List’. On that list, the writer jots down all of their favourite things that they love about characters, or elements they want their story to have. It’s a bit like a word dump, for example, ‘loves characters that enjoys baked goods’ or ‘loves when character speaks multiple languages’. 

Then you end up with a super long list of traits you’d like to give your characters or factors you want your world to have. And you can get your inspiration from literally anything, so that’s something fun to have. You can add to it when you’re not thinking about writing, and then when you have writer’s block, or just want some inspiration, you can open your notes app and see what you wrote down.

Currently, whilst juggling uni and personal life, on my days off/working from home, when I get a burst of inspiration I usually open up my laptop and write in my bedroom or the living room. And whilst writing, I put on ROs’ playlists that I’ve made on Spotify. My new RO, Ireland Monroe, their playlist has been extremely helpful in motivating me to write.

What’re you excited to tackle/implement/work on next? Or anything you’re looking forward to in the year ahead?

I’m excited about getting this rewrite out! I’ve felt really guilty about keeping readers waiting so long for content from me, or just disappointed in myself that I haven’t been able to produce content as quickly as other authors. I know it’s a terrible thing to compare yourself to others, but sometimes it’s one of those things you can’t help. We’re into February now and I genuinely think that I’m getting better at telling myself to just work as best as I possibly can. 

But, yeah, I’m excited for people to read and see how Golden’s developed with me as an individual. It’s interesting considering the story has grown up with me, and it’s sort of taken its own shape and whispered to me, “I know you want to change me, don’t be afraid to do so”, and now my nerves about that are near enough gone. 

I just want it to be a good writing year overall! So, I’ve got my fingers and toes crossed that the story ideas that play in my head everyday are able to be transferred to screen so others can enjoy them.

If you were to say one thing to your readers, other authors, and/or the interactive fiction community: what would it be? OR If you could change one thing about the interactive fiction community, what would it be?

My advice to readers would be that as writers, we definitely write our stories as an escape and whilst it’s important to write for ourselves, we write with the hopes that you enjoy it too. If there’s a particular scene or character or story that you love, definitely tell that author. It’ll make their day, their week, even. It’s such a wonderful feeling to hear from you guys. And also, just continue to consume the content that’s put out. And just a personal thank you to the readers I have for being patient with me. 

For authors, I’d say to have fun writing. If, in your gut, there are changes you’d love to make to your story, then do so. Remember that, no matter what, there’s always going to be at least one person that loves what you write. Always. So, if it’s motivation you want to continue putting words onto paper (or a screen), then that’s it. I also think it’s fun adding a little bit of yourself into your story.

Any books, music, movies etc. you’re obsessed with at the moment, or which changed your life (or perspectives on something)?

I read The Naturals by Jennifer Lynn Barnes and it’s absolutely changed my brain chemistry for the better. I highly recommend it to anyone who likes mystery with a romantic side plot. I love YA murder mystery books, so A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder series, books by Karen McManus. I also love Taylor Jenkins Reid. And, as its black history month, Faridah Àbíké-Íyímídé is my favourite black author and she writes queer mystery/thriller books. My favourite of hers is Where Sleeping Girls. 

Music: I adore Billie Eilish (Hit Me Hard and Soft should’ve won a Grammy, I will die on this hill!) Noah Kahan and Sam Barber are artists I’ve really been loving at the moment. Gigi Perez as well, Sailor Song and Fable are songs I can never skip. 

This-or-that segment: (red = Mila's pick)

Coffee or tea?

Early mornings or late nights?

City or countryside?

Angsty or Cozy romances? (Or enemies-to-lovers or best-friends-to-lovers?)  

Steady progress or frenzied binge-writing followed by periods of calm?

Summer or Winter?

First drafts or editing?

Introvert or extrovert? (Gosh, I’m SUCH an introvert)

Plotter or pantser?

Characters or plot first?

Write your own “either-or” pairing: vampires or werewolves? (don’t tell B or K I even asked… I can’t pick between my faves, so I’ll let you guys choose :D)

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 148 (Keeping a Promise to Ben and His Dog)

cw: death

The sun had barely risen when Heather and Conrad took Ash and Gord to Deadgrass Isle. Ben Gordon's old lighthouse towered over the isle from the point, and they found him waiting by the anchor statue in front of the museum.

His dog, Captain Whitaker, had joined them in his translucent form - the better for him to enjoy an ambrosia treat, they understood.

The morning had finally come for the old lighthouse keeper to hand his beloved pup to these Gordons before his final journey.

Both dogs smelled the treats in Heather's jacket pocket, but she sated Gord with a Buttercup before letting him run off to chase a flock of birds. She could see Ben, finally, just like Conrad and her son, and the old man's smiling explanation was simple. "You're a Gordon now."

Conrad looked between the dogs and his family - both living and dead. "Are you ready for this, Ben?"

The old man nodded. "I've been ready a long time. So's the Captain."

"You're not afraid of what happens when you cross over?"

Ash's innocent question made the ghostly lighthouse keeper smile. "I've seen enough in my time that nothing would shock me. I'm ready."

"I'm sorry it took us so long to come back here." Conrad glanced apologetically at the ground.

"Do you mean for you and your family to pick up the Captain, or the long overdue return of the Gordons to Brindleton Bay?"

The Gordon men shared a wistful smile. "If fate decided to bring me back to Brindleton Bay in the form of my gorgeous wife, then fate is too good to me."

"Fate didn't make you a good enough man to deserve everything you have. That came from somewhere else."

Conrad nodded in agreement. "My parents."

Ben laughed. "Good genes."

Captain Whitaker barked, accepting the friendliest introduction as Heather reached for the ambrosia treats. Though she'd made more than a few, she'd never actually used one, and hoped more than anything she'd gotten the complicated formula just right.

The ghostly Chesapeake Bay retriever gobbled the ambrosia, and almost immediately began to glow within a prism of light. Ash watched in awe as the dog floated above the dirt, spinning rapidly before landing on four legs. "Wow! He's really coming alive again!" Ash cried with excitement.

The Captain didn't look much different now than Ash remembered him from the snowy day he first met Ben and his dog on Deadgrass Isle, and the reanimated pup barked joyfully in his new form.

"I haven't seen him this excited in over a century."

Captain Whitaker's new humans bent down to give him pets, welcoming him into the family with Buttercups and friendly hugs. Gord had returned from chasing birds covered in mud, but he excitedly greeted his new four-legged friend, too.

The excitement of the moment almost masked the weight of everything they'd come to do, but Captain Whitaker couldn't forget about Ben. They'd been companions for over a century and a half, but Ben was ready to move on, and the Captain knew it.

The retriever marched away from Heather, Ash, and Conrad, finding his longtime best friend glancing wistfully toward his old lighthouse on the hill. Blinking back a tear from his eye, Ben bent down to scratch behind the Captain's ears for old time's sake.

"Nobody could've had a better friend than you. Be good for the Gordons, and young Ash. And that sweet little girl I know you can't wait to meet." Captain Whitaker barked - high pitched and happy, but long and mournful at the same time. "I'll see you some day, old boy."

Ben stood, his form already shifting as he slowly left this simlandian plane. Though he made himself visible to others in a form they recognized most readily, his body now glowed with the same translucence as most ghosts.

"What happens now?" Ash wondered. "Does Grim come?"

Conrad shrugged. "I don't think so, buddy. But I think Ben knows what to do."

With one final wave, Ben floated to the small custom stone grave Heather and Conrad had commissioned for him. He laughed warmly at the inscription.

Ben Gordon (1835-1901) Your watch is finally over. We've got the Captain from here.

"Did you have to tell everyone how old I was?"

Conrad raised his hands apologetically. "The local historian insisted on it before we placed it on the isle. I know Gordons don't crave the spotlight, but he said you're an important part of town history and should be remembered properly now that the Brindletons aren't here to erase our name."

Ben blushed. "Tell him thanks, if you think of it."

With one final glance to his surroundings, he tipped his cap and somersaulted into the air. In a puff of white smoke, he disappeared into the gravestone, and Ash looked on in awe.

"So that's it? He's really gone? We really helped him?"

Captain Whitaker barked in the affirmative, bringing the awestruck Gordons back to earth. Ash raced off to school, leaving Heather, Conrad, and the dogs for a moment of contemplation.

Lighting candles to honour Ben's spirit, they vowed to uphold the promise on his epitaph.

But more than adopting a new dog, they'd accepted an unspoken promise to keep safe the town Ben had guarded from his lighthouse for so long. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: This was such a headache, I'm still so annoyed that EA made Captain Whitaker a living dog in the middle of me playing through the adoption arc. I thought I had the solution when I downloaded a ghost version of Captain Whitaker from the Gallery, but when I put the ghost in game he was alive again! Why?!

I had to steal a random NPC ghost dog they'd met once, change him to a Chesapeake Bay retriever in CAS and add the telltale bandana. So that's the dog Heather is actually reanimating, before I switched him out for the real Captain Whitaker who Conrad befriended with Gord back in the winter.

Also, because Heather is pregnant the house already has eight sims. So I technically cheated adding Captain Whitaker to the family because even though I have 10 set for my max house size, when I have eight sims I can't adopt or ask to move in as normal. But this was a bonus gen goal which I can cheat if I want, and I wanted to - especially after all the trouble I went through to play out the arc!

[oatmealwrites]

A Night To...Forget? Ch.6

Aizawa x Eidetic memory! Law student! F Reader

Part 5 | Part 7 -> coming soon!

[a night to forget masterlist here]

Synopsis: You take up Shōta’s offer on crashing at his place as you wait for either Kiego or maintenance to be available in the morning to let you back into your apartment. Though the extremely clean state of Shōta’s flat is enough to make you raise an eyebrow. Ok, maybe he didn't plan on having you locked out, but it certainly seems he was well prepared just in case any company happened to come over. ;)

Tags: reader is a little tipsy but not too bad, insecure shota, jealous shota, french kissing, hickies, students being a cockblock, use of quirks, oral (m & f receiving), fingering, slight cum eating, titty sucking, protected! sex, p in v, multiple rounds, missionary, doggy, mating press, shower sex, cockdrunk, pussy drunk, horny & kinky ass shota, fluff ending, still a situationship, kayama being sneaky hehe, 18+, MDNI

word count: 11.7k [im so sorry] also not entirely proofread so im sorry if the grammar/spelling is off a bit

a/n at the end: enjoy~

~~~~~~~

“You can stay with me tonight, if you want.” 

You look up from your phone the moment the words leave his lips and raise your eyebrows in shock. Shōta’s face flushes slightly and he searches your face for a few moments before sitting back in the driver’s seat and running an embarrassed hand along the back of his neck.

“N-Not like that– I didn’t take you out to dinner just to…” His voice drops a bit and he coughs slightly before speaking again with more confidence. “I don’t want you to think I’m simply offering because I want to have sex with you, y/n. I want to make sure you're safe, and not sitting on the floor of your apartment lobby all night.”

Blinking a few times, the phone screen goes dim from your lack of interaction and you gently gulp the surprise that lingers in your throat. It did sound better than waiting for Keigo or maintenance to let you inside… Though this was probably Keigo’s stupid plan all along. 

Maybe it’s the alcohol or simply just the amazing date this man has already taken you on, but you tilt your head and smile gently. “I understand… if it’s ok with you, then yes. Yes, I’d like to stay over.”

Shōta’s expression softens and he bites the inside of his cheek to avoid the cheeky smirk that wants to splay across his lips; it’s also to reign himself in when his cock twitches slightly in his trousers. He grips the steering wheel and takes a  deep breath, “Alright… then let’s head back to my place.”

The car slowly leaves the parking lot and drifts back to a main road with light evening traffic making the journey just a little longer. Within your spot at the passenger seat, the atmosphere of the car is a bit heavier than before as the radio idly plays in the background. Shōta keeps his eyes painfully respectful at the road ahead, not bothering to tear his gaze away; a complete 180 from the way he drove you to the restaurant with his focus barely on driving the vehicle. 

Sure, it’s a big step– you two haven’t even completed one date yet and now you’re spending the night at his apartment. You reign yourself in slightly and watch the whir of streetlights that pass by outside the window, it’s not like you two were inherently going to be doing anything explicitl anyways. The whole point of staying over was a pity invitation to make up for your lack of house keys and idiotic best friend who ensured you would be locked out. 

Rationally speaking, you should be feeling awkward. A work colleague who you’ve kissed a few times and took you to dinner is now letting you crash on his couch– it’s the perfect situation for you to never show your face around him again from the mortification. But you’re not. Maybe it’s the alcohol, months of not getting any action, or just the dashing man driving you, but you’re relaxing into this situation a lot easier than you expect. 

“Shōta.” You call out, positioning yourself to face him.

He blinks and deftly turns the car down another road. “Hm?”

“Why are you so nervous?”

Shōta pauses and holds the air in his lungs an extra moment before finally turning his attention to you. He glances down at you beside him before peeling his eyes away as soon as his gaze had reached the section of your dress neckline that was dipped just a bit too low. 

“I’m not… I just don’t want you to get the wrong idea about me.”

You hum and tap a nail against the car console and shrug before smiling and leaning over to his side a bit more. “I’m not. In all honesty, I've had a really great evening so far; you’ve been a total gentleman.”

A buzz rushes through your skin and you can feel the heat of your cheeks flushing from the heightened blood alcohol content coursing through your veins. The man at the wheel looks back down at you before scrunching his brows with a conflict expression and looking back at the wheel.

When he doesn’t respond, you lift yourself upright and place a hand on his bicep. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Shōta sighs slightly and gently begins breaking for the line of cars stopped ahead. “I shouldn’t have let you drink so much…especially in this situation.”

You blink and take your hand from his arm. Had you not already said you were ‘ok’ with his invitation? Shōta continues to be at war with himself inside his mind, as if he was doomed regardless of what he did. There was no way he would just leave you without keys at your apartment, but you were also drunk, and taking you to his place seemed as if he was trying to take advantage of the situation. 

“You’re over thinking.”

Shōta pauses but keeps his head forward, his eyes not leaving the red glow of the taillights from the car stopped ahead. “What do you–”

“–I would’ve just had you taken me home if I didn’t trust you. Give yourself more credit, please.”

“But you can’t properly assess this situation given your state… and I hmpfh—”

You tug his chin to face you and connect your lips to his; it’s not messy and hot like the ones you’ve shared in these seats, instead it’s slow and gentle. Despite his recent shave, a few stray stubbles of hair tickle the flesh of skin on your cheek and you pull back with as much delicacy as you had initiated it with.

Shōta’s face remains hovering by your own as soft exhales leave his lips as dark eyes trace every detail of your expression. He’s silent when he removes his hands from the wheel and snakes one to cup your cheek and the other to rest at the space where your ribs meet your waist; immediately he leans to meet your lips again. 

The moment is dissolved of awkward tension as he pecks your lips over and over again as if he were scared that too much pressure would break you like porcelain. You bring a hand to rest flat against his chest above his heart and meet every rhythmic wave of his lips, eager to taste the lingering bitterness of wine on his mouth. 

After a few more gentle pecks he peels back to scan your eyes again, his own pupils blown wide, before leaning down to kiss you with more force and longing. Shōta’s hands remain in their position, but his tongue runs a testing swipe across your lips before slithering into your mouth and groaning from the mixture of wine, breath mints, and honey lip gloss that he tastes. 

God, it’s so hot. You grip the fabric of his jacket and button up with fervor and arch slightly as arousal tingles down your spine and pools in your core. The panties under your dress have been soaked ever since you first stepped in the car hours ago, and now they’re fully saturated and leave a slick between the plush cushion of your thighs. 

This kiss, his tongue suffocating you of all air while you rock and sway for more, more, more is one you’ve had before– but this setting changes the intensity. Shōta’s hand slips down to the inward curve of your waist before dropping down even further to play with the bottom hemline of your dress. 

It would be so easy to lift it up even 2 more inches and get full access to the flimsy fabric of panties covering your dripping cunt. And with a gentle graze, he pinches the fabric of the hem between his thumb and index finger before a ‘BEEEEEEP’ rings out from behind you both.

Peeling backwards, Shōta peers into the rearview mirror momentarily before realizing the traffic has begun to move ahead of him. With a sheepish cough, he moves his foot from the brake to accelerator and continues the drive while you pant slightly and scowl at the cockblock car behind you through the back window. 

Shōta laughs slightly and nudges you to spin back around and face forward again; you hesitantly move back into your original position and note the lighter atmosphere of the car. Admiring the man for a few extra moments, you reach over to grab one hand from the wheel and intertwine it with your own, taking note of every callous, bump, and freckle that adorns the skin. As well as the extremely large size of it. 

Shōta doesn’t say anything, but watches you play with his fingers and knuckles through the corner of his eye with an amused smile. The crease of his life line is long, his ring finger is slightly bent– maybe from previously breaking it, and his middle finger is the longest. Dirty thoughts come and go as you examine it for a few more moments before setting it on your upper thigh and placing your own hand over it to ensure he won’t move it away. 

He doesn’t. The soft and plush flesh of your thigh is pinched a few times as he runs his fingertips over the skin to accommodate himself with the sensation; he toys with your hemline and thigh in the same playful and gentle manner you had just done to his hand. 

“Mmm, do you have a TV? We can start that reality show I was talking about at dinner.” You suggest while tapping on his knuckles and becoming quickly addicted to the sensation of his skin against yours. 

Shōta chuckles and turns down another road; the city lights slowly thinning out as you get closer to his apartment. “Oh, yea? You want to watch it that bad?”

You suck in your bottom lip and flush a bit before turning your attention back to the hand on your thigh. The length from the base of the palm to the tip of the middle finger can nearly envelop the entire top of your leg from the sheer size; it leaves you wondering how it would feel inside you– how something else might feel. 

Nipples hard through your dress, your cunt gushes again in a desperate desire that leaves you wondering if you’ve ever been more horny in your life. You need this man. You need this man badly.

“Yea… I think it would be cute to start a show together. Besides, I’m locked out till morning anyways.” You tilt your head back up and blink a few times, putting to use any of the flirting skills you’ve managed to acquire in your life. 

“Starting a series together sounds like quite a commitment. You sure that’s something you want?” He hums before turning back to the road.

Ah, right. That was the other goal you have for the evening– to get some sort of definition of what this currently was. The alcohol makes you complacent for anything if it means you would get him in bed, though your heart tugs that while for tonight, sex would be satisfactory, there’s more than his warmth in the sheets that you want. 

“It is.” You confess, the underlying implication that this wasn’t an evening you only wanted to concur once.

Shōta peers down at you and hums with a smile. “Me too.” His hand closes to squeeze the flesh of your thigh under his fingertips and you have to use every ounce of resolve to avoid tugging the man into the backseat and crashing the car.

The ride continues with light banter and flirty remarks, his hand never leaving your leg, before you roll through parking security and drift into a parking spot marked for staff. Ah, right, his place. Aka, the student dorms filled with rowdy high schoolers; somehow in the heat of his invitation and your acceptance that little fact had slipped your minds. 

The familiar tower of the dorm glows a bit down the walking path from the parking lot to the dormitories and stepping out of the car, you shiver slightly. Shōta shuts his own car door and uses the headlights as enough illumination to walk around the hood and shimmy off his blazer and swing it around your shoulders. 

Cologne fills your sense of smell and you tuck into the jacket a bit more from the intimacy of the act; everything he does seemingly makes you fall harder for him… in addition to raising your desire to him as soon as possible. Tugging the bagginess of the large fabric around your frame and offering a ‘thank you’, Shōta clenches his jaw and promptly spin around; a brief glimpse of the erection in his slacks now within view. 

The dark interior of the car shielded you from seeing much, but with the LED headlights of the vehicle shining on him before the timer flicks them off, you can see this man is just as pent up as you. Cock hard in his slacks, chest puffing with increased heart rate, and flush to his face not from alcohol, Shōta is faring just as poorly as you are given the tension. 

Taking a few steps forward, you sling your arm around the bend of his elbow and lean into his torso as you walk the stone path the dormitory ahead. Shōta knows this is probably the least romantic place to bring someone back to of all time. It’s filled with over energetic teenagers who scream and run wild and also his workplace by technicality. 

Shōta’s dreamed about this moment more times than he can count, but he’s never solidified the plan if he actually got to spend an evening with you. In the back of his mind, he always figured he would take you home, you would offer him a ‘coffee’, and then he’d take you as many times as you’d let him. Maybe the couch, then living room floor, eventually the bedroom, and maybe the shower? Running on little sleep has left him with a stamina only useful on the bathfield and the bedroom. 

“This is a nice walk.” You interject, looking at the surrounding greenery that bordered the simple pathway.

“Oh, yea… it’s not bad.”

You chuckle at his sheepish behavior and lean your head against his shoulder and sigh in contentment; Keigo is going to freak out when he hears about this– after you kill him for locking yout first.

You pause slightly, and look up at Shōta who holds your gaze with a comfortable smile on his lips, looking absolutely beautiful. You’ve always known that, but the way the moon lights up his raven black hair with a silver glow leaves you breathless as he raises an eyebrow and leans down to peck the top of your forehead.

Tugging his bicep to your chest, you lean further into him and smile, “You know.. You really are–”

“–Two more laps, Midoriya!”

Immediately you both pause and Shōta’s expression drops to one of deadly frustration. Releasing your grasp on the man’s arm, you peer around the open courtyard and spot a familiar head of green hair panting heavily while turning the corner to the same energetic young man with glasses you saw last time. 

You drop your hold on Shōta’s arm as he furrows his brows in annoyance and pivots to examine the small group of 5 students that stand outside. “Tch, I told Yamada the curfew was 10pm, so what are these idiots doing?”

Pivoting slightly to peer beside him, you watch the young man with glasses give Midoriya a hard slap on the back for completing some sort of training regime; Todoroki stands beside two girls, one with short brown hair and another with long black. 

“Seems like they’re eager to be heroes.”

Shōta scoffs. “More like eager to be in trouble.”

Teacher-mode switches on as the man steps away from you and begins to walk over to the group before faltering to an awkward stop. Right, he had you with him… late at night… and you’re both heading to his apartment. 

Dragging a hand down his face and tugging his under eyelids down from the force, Shōta exhales with frustration before turning to you. “Um, I can go deal with them but…” He works the words out in his mind, trying to find the best way to word his request. “Can you wait a few minutes and then go through the…back entrance? I can meet you at the stairwell.”

“Like some sort of sneaky fling?”

Shōta sputters and raises his hands but you laugh and nudge his shoulder. “I’m kidding. I’ll give you 5 and meet you at the stairs.”

He sighs in relief and returns your nudge, half-grateful for you not being mad at him for hiding you from a group of nosey teenagers, and half-exhausted from the emotional duress he was already under.  

“Thanks,” he leans down to peck your lips and gently give your shoulders a squeeze before turning to speed walk towards his students.

Pivoting to stand beside a tree and obstruct their view if the students happened to look over, you watch the way Shōta yells over at them from across the courtyard. Giggles escape your lips as you watch the way they scurry together in apology and frantically explain themselves; you can’t hear the conversation, but you can just barely make out their sheepish facial expressions. 

After a few moments, the group lines up and walks around the building towards the front door with Shōta in the rear as he continues talking about some sort of disciplinary warning for breaking curfew. Pausing an extra moment, you push off the tree and tip toe towards the back door as quietly and quickly as you possibly can with a bottle of wine in your system and heeled boots on your feet. 

It feels like how you imagine field work for heroes must be, and for a brief moment you regret taking up a career in an office building rather than patrolling the streets with your best friend. Padding across the lawn and making your way to the concrete back porch steps, you scurry up the final stairs and gently push on the unlocked door. 

Poking your head through a crack, you survey what looks like a laundry room to your left and communal showers to the right. There’s a hum of a washing machine in use and a gentle patter of a shower head, but there’s not a soul insight; you slip through the door the rest of the way and scurry down the hallway towards the first stairwell door you see. 

By the time you gently click the door shut, a pair of steps coming down the stairs towards you, leaves you rushing to find something to hide behind; crouching behind a large rolling laundry bin is your only option. 

Knees aching from the cold hard flooring, you cover your mouth to avoid the labored breathing before the cart is slowly wheeled to the side.

“You know, most people would’ve just left the stairwell rather than hide in plain sight.”

You raise to your feet as Shōta extends a hand and pulls you up, a coy smirk on his lips as you shove his shoulder back; he doesn’t move from his position next to you. 

“You could’ve announced that it was you coming down.” you mumble while ascending the stairwell with him at your side.

“Mmm, but if it wasn’t you hiding behind the laundry bin, it would’ve been strange.”

You grumble to yourself in defeat and continue walking up each flight with a slight burn in your thighs from the workout and an ache in your feet from the lack of proper footwear. Reaching the 4th floor, Shōta pivots to kneel slightly in front of you, “Get on. It’s obvious you’re struggling.”

Sputtering slightly with a bruised ego, you cross your arms and push past him to continue up another ungodly amount of stairs before an arm pulls your knees out from underneath. 

“Woa– hey!”

Strong forearms are cradled underneath your ribs and knees as Shōta ascends the next set of steps with you tucked in his arms. A grin on his lip as you nudge him with fake annoyance and wrap an arm around his neck to better steady yourself. 

“Mmm, my hero! Saving me from this villainous set of stairs, how can I ever repay the favor?” You joke with sarcasm as he tosses your body up slightly in his arms to reposition the angle at which you lean against him.

“Just doing my job. No need to thank me.” He responds with equal sarcasm as he quickly moves up another floor as if the weight in his arms wasn’t there. 

You throw your head back and tug his jacket on your shoulders a bit tighter before leaning down to his neck and planting a small kiss to his jaw line. Shōta shivers at the sensation and exhales through his nose before peering down at you with an eyebrow raised. “You always give heroes a kiss like that?”

“No~, just the ones I’m especially grateful for.”

Shōta chuckles and doesn’t release his grasp on you when he finally reaches the correct floor; he pivots to open the door with the hand tucked under your knees and kicks it open wider so you both can slip out and into the hallway. Long strides to his apartment door, Shōta gently places you on your feet before feeling up and down his pockets with a frantic expression.

Gasping slightly, “Wait, don’t tell me you forget–”

“–my keys?” he finishes the question before tugging out a keyring from his back pocket with a smug expression. “Nah, I wouldn’t forget that.”

Sputtering slightly and furrowing your brows, you follow him inside and wait for the door to click shut before pushing him with annoyance. “Geez, you’re such an ass.”

Shōta smiles coyly at you and removes his shoes before offering you a balanced arm of support while you kick off your heeled boots. When you’re back steady on your aching feet, he steps ahead towards his kitchen while you take in the layout of his apartment. 

“I’ll grab you some water.”

You hum and watch him click on a tall standing floor lamp in the living room before heading for the faucet. Immediately to the right of the front door is a small sofa with a coffee table and TV to make up the living room; on the left was a coat closet and small table for keys and miscellaneous items. The hallway continued straight into an open kitchen with a wooden table in the center and a set of glass patio doors to a small balcony. 

Padding further into the apartment, the hallway splits to another walkway on the left with two short steps up into another hallway; this one leading towards a bedroom and ensuite bathroom. The whole scene is small, neat, and comfortable and the air smells like a mix of fresh laundry and musky cologne. 

Pivoting back towards the sofa, you shimmy off his jacket and place it gently on the back of the cushion before admiring the nice warm glow of the floor lamp. The whole place is clean…too clean.

Every throw pillow is placed in a perfect position, every shoe by the door [except your boots] are neatly organized, and even the paper towel roll has been recently replaced. Humming to yourself and dragging a hand across the underside of the TV, you raise an eyebrow at the lack of dusting residing on your finger tips. 

“Here’s some water, it’s best to drink if you want to avoid a headache tomorrow.” Shōta offers a glass while returning from the kitchen and ushering you to sit on the sofa. 

Taking the spot beside you, he relaxes back into the cushions and rubs the back of his neck, “And sorry about my students, they can be a handful most of the time.”

The water is refreshing against your throat, and you take a moment to finish nearly half the glass before placing it on the coffee table. “Don’t worry about it. I’m just thankful you’re letting me stay here.”

“Of course.” Shōta replies, as if it was the easiest decision of his life and as if he wasn’t having an internal crisis about it in the car earlier.

Now that you’re both in his apartment, there’s another wave of awkward tension between you both as neither one makes a move to discuss what exactly was the plan next. Do you say goodnight and just lay on the couch? Or will he offer you the bed? Would he offer you a set of pajamas, or just leave you in your dress?

Sucking the flesh of your check between your molars, you reach forward to his TV remote and turn to him. “Well, would you want to actually start that show?” 

Shōta swallows and blinks a few times before nodding. “Sure, I’d be happy to see what seems to be so interesting about this ‘real housewives’ you’ve talked so much about.”

Chuckling slightly, you lean back into the cushions to pull up a streaming service and load the first episode of the most recent season; Shōta watches with a suspicious expression as the opening credits begin to roll. 

“Ah, I might have a few spare blankets– let me get them.” He rises to his feet and shuffles to his bedroom leaving you alone in the living room.

‘Might’

The word leaves a weird feeling in your mouth that isn’t just the overpriced red wine still on your tongue. Looking around the apartment you’re met with the same strange feeling as the word; something is off, but you can’t seem to place exactly what. 

Peering over the back of the couch and confirming he’s still preoccupied with ‘searching’ for a blanket, you stand up and pad into the kitchen and look around the counter top. Coffee beans are normal, a fresh paper towel roll is convenient, but a bottle of wine on the very end catches your attention– especially the two wine glasses placed beside it.

Taking the bottle in your hands, you spin the label around and blink a few times to clearly read the description in the dim lighting; you don’t even notice the set of returning footsteps as Shōta approaches from his bedroom.

“I was able to find one– are you looking for something?”

You pause slightly, but keep your back to him as you run a thumb across the label, “You bought wine?”

Shōta tosses the blanket over the back of the couch and looks at the women on the TV arguing and shrugs slightly, “Yea…? I got some last time I went to the store…”

“No, but you bought this wine.” You lift the bottle over your shoulder before bringing it back in front of you. “It’s the same kind, the same exact brand, and the one I ordered the first time I met you… the first time I met all of the UA staff.”

Shōta’s silent behind you for a moment as the argument of two women on the screen are the only thing filling the air as you idly recall the moments of this bottle.

“What–” he begins.

“–It was for dinner!” you repeat, seeing the memory clear as day in your mind. “You sat on my left at the table…. It was 7pm, on a Thursday, at the French restaurant across town…but I didn’t want a whole bottle and offered to split it with yo– ah!”

A cold shiver runs down your spine as the memory is torn from your mind and you’re left idly blinking and grasping at the rest of it. Placing the bottle on the counter, you furrow your brows and try your hardest to remember the rest of that evening before you spin around with an awkward tingle in your nerves; a pair of glowing red irises pulls your attention to the man.

“I can’t– Shōta!” You gasp while trudging towards him. “Turn my quirk back on, now.”

He avoids your attempts at pawing his eyes to cover his vision and tugs your hands together within one of his own. “No…” he grumbles.

Ah, so this is what was off. 

Memory or not, you look up at him with a cheeky grin, ignoring the reality show playing idly in the background. “Shōta…” you begin, “Did you plan on having me come back home with you?”

He pauses slightly and the pressure holding your hands together lessens by a fraction before his eyes flicker back to their usual dark color and awkwardly stare at a corner of the room. “No…”

“Really?” You tilt your head closer to him and survey the room, the tipsiness of your state creating a wave of confidence despite the submissive position you're physically in given the mass of a man in front of you. “Then you always keep your living room this clean?”

Shōta shrugs and peels his eyes back to you, unwilling to be called on his bluff. “I’m a clean man.”

“Right, and you always ensure to dust and stock up on essentials?” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I sneeze when debris builds up.”

Pushing even more, you tilt your head to his. “Ok, and you always buy the wine I drink, with two glasses out? Tell me, are you sure you didn’t plan to have me over, or is there a form of company besides me that you bring back here?”

Ah, you got him. You haven’t even seen the rest of the apartment and you caught on already. 

Shōta’s jaw tightens, but the pressure on your wrists is released as he brings his hands to his sides; dark eyes glance between your own. “Just you.” He quickly breathes out. “It’s always been just you.”

The admission makes your coy act falter, and the way he concedes that you are the only person he would plan this for makes your heart beat even faster. Shōta stands hovering over you, and for the first time since you’ve stepped inside, you’re reminded just how much bigger he is than you. 

Yes, you can act coy and tease that maybe he had cleaned his apartment in hopes of getting lucky, but now that you’ve played your hand, you realize you’re out of moves. Shōta breathes unsteadily a few times and doesn’t release his stare, “I mean what I said earlier— I didn’t plan to get you drinking and take you back here…”

He takes a few more deep breaths before stepping back and coming fully clean, “I just… you know– wanted to be prepared just in case something did happen. Not that I was expecting it.”

Maybe it’s a moment of clarity from your previously tipsy haze, but the implication of everything is crashing down on you, hard and fast. Here Shōta was, admitting to cleaning his apartment, buying wine, and most likely preparing himself for if you were to come back to his place. The meaning of ‘come back to his place’ doesn’t rely on the factor that you would forget your keys, it would be under the pretense that you were coming back to his apartment for more. 

A tingle rushes down your spine and you find yourself turning your attention to the TV screen in an awkward attempt to fully acknowledge what was going on. An awkward cough escaping your lips, you pivot to move back towards the sofa and pat the spot next to you as casually as you can. “Right, well… that’s uh fine.”

Shōta doesn’t move for a moment, unsure exactly how to take your usage of the word ‘fine’ before slowly moving to sit beside you and pretending  to care about what was happening on the screen. He sits stiffly against the cushions and opens his mouth a few times before pivoting to face you. “I just… didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

You turn your head to peer at him. “I get it…”

He raises his hands to attempt at wording it out. “Ok… that’s good. It’s not in my plans to have sex with you.”

“What…” you sit upright and a blush rushes across your face as Shōta peels back in frustration at himself.

“Not like that! I mean I would love to have sex with you–”

“Huh?”

“I just–” he runs a hand on his face and takes a moment to calculate if jumping off the balcony would be a fall high enough to end his misery. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re only here because you’re locked out, and my students are downstairs, and–”

“–Shōta.”

You take his hand from his face and chuckle at the embarrassed twinge of pink on his cheeks despite the stubborn expression on his face. Yes, you might’ve played your cards a bit earlier at calling out his preparation, but there’s one more thing– a phrase by Keigo of all people comes to mind.

‘He’s still a guy.’

Yes, because at the end of the day Shōta is just a man– not just a hero and school teacher– and you are the woman he’s been dreaming about sitting dolled up all pretty on his couch. 

The man in front of you sighs and turns his attention to the TV screen with a hardened look on his face. “I’ve fucked this whole thing up, haven’t I?”

You tug his hand to rest your thigh once again and tilt his chin to face you. “You know… you never asked what I wanted.”

Shōta swallows and relaxes into your touch, sliding back into the cushions and looking down at you with interest. Running a hand along his knuckles, you look up and continue. “You’ve gone this whole evening at war with yourself worried that you were forcing something onto me, without ever asking what I even wanted in the first place. You keep backpedaling and worrying that you’ve coerced me here against my will, despite the fact that I gratefully accepted your invitation for helping me out.”

Shōta runs a tongue along his lips and hangs onto every word you say. He was a gentleman all dinner, asking you questions and learning more about your interests, but as soon as his own insecurities bubble up, he can’t seem to find the rationality to simply ask you openly what you wanted. 

Eyes never leaving your own, Shōta tilts his towering frame down slightly. “Ok. So what do you want?”

A smile on your lips, you drag your gaze over the frame of the large man beside you– his physical statue engulfing you despite the fact he was wrapped snugly against your pretty little finger. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Your gaze dips down to linger on his lips before he races forward to meet your mouth with his own; a force of desperation you’ve never felt from him. Your hands reach to tangle in his hair and gently tug out the half bun while one of his hands holds your face to angle your lips against his while the other is squeezing the flesh of your thigh. 

There’s no timid gentle pecks between each kiss, instead Shōta forces his tongue into your mouth to run his taste buds along your own to drink in the flavor of your mouth over and over again. It’s messy beyond belief as saliva drips from the corners of your mouth and his teeth clink against yours once or twice from the sheer force of the rocks of his head. 

Biting his bottom lip and tugging slightly on it, Shōta shakily exhales through his nose before tugging his lip from the pinch of your teeth and running his mouth along the side of your neck. The sensation of his nose tickling the flesh under your ear as he sucks and bites on the pulse point of your throat mirrors the same feelings as when he would do this in his car.

But you’re not in his car anymore, you’re in his apartment. 

Sighing at the gentle nibble of his teeth along your neck before his lips find another spot to suck and mark, you tug on his hair playfully. “Hmmm, isn’t this where you stop? Just like in your car…”

Shōta doesn’t fall for a shallow tease and instead removes the hand that was cradling your jaw to entangle in your hair and tug it roughly to angle your head back; the increased exposure of flesh leaves him rushing forward to mark a new, untainted area.

The sting of your hair follicles while his tongue runs across a new hickey before his lips suction onto another spot leaves your cunt once again gushing and clenching pathetically around nothing. Slick accumulating between your thighs has your hips twitching in a plea for the hand on your thigh to do something.

“S-Stop moving..” he pushes pressure on your leg and leans down more over you to continue sucking the other side of your neck. “Couldn’t….” he pops his lips from your throat and moves to another spot. “Couldn't do this in my car…”

You wither in his grasp from the sensation and groan at the arousal building inside you for uptenth time this evening, “huh…nghh ‘this’”?

His lips trail down to your collarbone and Shōta’s kisses get softer until his mouth is hovering right about the low neckline of your dress; a flimsy piece of fabric between his face and your breasts. Peeling back slightly, he leans into your neck and inhales the scent of your perfume deeply before running a few apologetic kisses along the fresh bruises now painting your neck. 

“Tell me to stop, please…” a few more chaste kisses litter under your ear where your flesh and hairline meet. “Please, you have to tell me no…”

Running a hand to now tug on his scalp, Shōta doesn’t move from his position nuzzled into your neck despite the force tugging his follicles; he’d sooner go bald than move away from you. Sighing airly, you release your pull and instead place your hand flat on his chest, tracing the top button of his shirt. 

“And if I say, I don’t want you to stop? Then what…?”

Shōta sucks in a hollow breath of air and groans slightly while continuing to lick and suck the section of skin exposed to him, not bothering to answer while he attempts to reign himself in.

Unclasping the first button, you run a cold hand along the small sliver of exposed flesh and sigh when the heat of his skin warms your fingers. The atmosphere is too much, and it feels as if you’re melting from the way his lips continue their ministrations under your ear. 

Biting your tongue, you angle your vision as best you can, Shōta’s mess of hair blocks a majority of your view, until you see the tent throbbing in his slacks. A mind clouded by desire, you arch your back and push your tits forward into his chest while rolling your hips forward; his hand on your thigh prevents you from getting any closer.

“You said you wanted me to tell you to stop...” You mumble with a slight chuckle at the trembling hand that’s keeping you still. Pulling your hand from his small patch of exposed chest, you trace down the seam line of his shirt before quickling reaching forward to palm his erection.

“F-fuck!” He hisses from his spot at your neck before sitting back and moving to hold both of your hands back.

Heavy pants leave his lips as dilated eyes watch you with a predator’s stare, once again reminding you just how much larger this pro-hero man was. “You don’t know what you’re doing… you’ve been drinking and–”

“–I want you. How many times do I need to tell you to stop assuming things on my behalf?”

Shōta swallows and shuts his eyes in an attempt to listen to the variety of voices swirling in his head. Yes, you were telling him right here and now that you were attracted to him, but the nagging and self-deprecating voice within him kept pestering on. He was a high school teacher for fuck’s sake, he couldn’t give you an exciting life outside of monitoring a class of rowdy teenagers and drowing in tedious paperwork. He wasn’t highly ranked, highly regarded, fuck he wasn’t even good at communicating… so it was only a matter of time before you got bored and realized he isn’t what you wanted.

A part of him was ok with that though; so desperate for your approval that he would gladly take a position of ‘quick fuck’ or ‘rebound’ if it ment you would grant him even a fraction of your time. 

“Stop doing that.” You tug his chin to face yours. “You keep going somewhere…”

Shōta exhales and blinks at the way your hand had somehow come free from his grasp before stiffly tilting his head down; his cock throbbing painfully in his slacks. He could still stop this, tell you that when you were fully sober you would regret it, and he could live with blue balls and embarrassment.

“I’m just… thinking.”

You frown before cracking a half smile. “Okayyy, well stop that.”

“Huh–?” He blinks as you back up slightly and position yourself on the edge of the sofa.

Spinning to face him fully, you place a hand on his knee and rub it a few times before dragging your fingers to tap against his belt buckle. “Stop thinking.”

Shōta watches as you tug the leather fabric up and through the buckle before slowly sliding out from around his waist loops. “Wait.” He places a hand on yours, and you immediately stop.

“Shōta– listen. I want you, ok?” You look between his eyes and lean in. “Now, what do you want?”

The man breathes deeply a few times and drags his gazes across your lips, down the dozens of bruises on your neck, shamelessly across the upper flesh of your tits, and down to the plush round curve of your hips before returning to your face. “You. Fuck, I need you.”

The moment you’ve been aching for leaves a steady heartbeat pounding in your chest and pussy as his hands slowly remove from their position keeping you at bay. Leaning up slightly, you plant a lingering kiss against his lips before sliding to the floor and nudging his knees apart to kneel between them. 

Shōta watches with lidded eyes as you pop the button of his slacks and slowly tug the zipper down; he plants his feet firmly on the floor and flexes his thighs to raise his hips up, allowing you to shimmy the waistband down just below the swell of his ass. 

The sight is mouth watering, and you can feel your cunt pulsing in desire to have the cock in front of you inside already. But you take your time, awing at the way it’s pushing so desperately at the fly of the boxer briefs that the swollen tip is poking through. 

Gray fabric is darkened in a lewd patch of pre-cum as his cock twitches as you trace the outline of it through the material. Dark pupils never leave your figure as they scan the way your fingertips trace the length of his shaft, up and down, until you pry the fabric of the fly open just a bit more to let a portion of his length slip out. 

Shōta sucks in a breath at the change in temperature and wishes he could sear this vision into his memory like you. Looking back up at the man and ignoring the slight burn in your knees, you lower your mouth down to lick a small strip over the slit of the swollen cockhead; a hum escapes your lips as salty pre-cum lingers on your tongue. 

It’s an absolute vision, having him huff above you, completely at your use and disposal for whatever you wanted to do. Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, Shōta reaches forward to trace the outline of your jaw before tapping on your lips once and sinking his hands into your hair to tug it away from your face before shimmying his boxer briefs down the rest of the way to fully free his cock.. 

Ever the gentleman indeed. 

You smile and tilt your head to kiss the pulse point on his wrist before ducking your head again to now plant a variety of little pecks along the apex of his thighs, the curve of his heavy balls, and around the base of neatly trimmed shaft. How convenient he just ‘happens’ to shave before this– not like you could judge though, you’ve prepared for this evening more than you have any other date in your life. 

A low grumble emits from his chest as you take too long and Shōta guides your head back to where he needed you the most. Smiling to yourself, you lick along his dripping slit once more before flicking your tongue to rub against his frenulum. 

“Ahh, s-shit…”

Fingers scratching your scalp harder, you take the heavy weight of his cock in your hands and lick the entire shaft to the head a few times to lubricate the flesh before opening your jaw and inching him inside slowly. Instinctively, his hips jerk forward to get even deeper into your mouth.

“Haa, just like that… fuck baby–”

The pet name isn’t lost on you, and you’re sure to asking him about it later; for now you flatten you tongue and ignore the sting in your jaw as you take what you can and use your hand to slowly jerk what won’t fit. Even if Keigo was joking about the ‘measurement’ hand motions, the exaggerated distance wouldn’t be far off from the length bullying it’s way into your mouth.

Heavy with a decent thickness and delicious length, you can feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head. A few more rhythmic pulses and you ‘pop!’ the length from your mouth to give your jaw a break and spit down onto his cockhead and jerk him off with a messy handjob. 

“Oh my– FUCK!  D-Don’t stop.. Ngh please…”

Shōta digs his hands into your scalp before flexing his thighs again and jerking up into your dripping hand; you lick the swollen tip as it bobs up and down before releasing your hand and sliding it back into your awaiting mouth.

Careful to relax your jaw and avoid grazing the flesh with your teeth, you let him guide your head to his own rhythm when the flex of his hips grows erratic and needy. You work your lips with enough suction that you aren’t just trying to milk him dry, you’re trying to suck the soul out of him.

One hand leaves your hair and digs into the cushions beside him before Shōta throws his head back momentarily and pushes your head away from his cock. Your hair falls messily back down as a pout works its way onto your lips and Shōta grimaces as his eyes take in the fucked out expression on your face. 

Pupils blown wide, hair thrown around haphazardly, and swollen puffy lips that were just latched around his length are the only thing he sees before pumping himself a few more times and cuming. Hard. 

A gasp escaping your lip when he groans your name and hot spurts of semen dribble on your cheeks, lips, and along the upper swell of your breast from the low neckline of the dress. Shōta continues stroking himself through his orgasm with his head thrown back against the cushions of the sofa and twitching his hips a few more times as he comes down from his high.

Curious, you swipe a line of cum off your cheek and pop a finger into your mouth to sample his flavor; it’s more watery than creamy, and there’s a slight salt flavor that tingles on your tongue. The viscosity is a bit lower than that of honey, and the ropes of semen that litter your flesh begin to slide with gravity and pool at the bend of your collarbone and down the valley of your tits. 

“Ah, shit… sorry I should’ve… should’ve warned you…” Shōta pants out as he sits up a bit straight and releases the hold on his softer semi. 

You swipe another line from your chin and slip it between your fingers with a shrug while Shōta groans at the sight. Pulling you to your feet, Shōta pushes you to sit against the sofa before he rises to his feet and tucks himself back into his boxer briefs and pads into the kitchen. 

“What are you–”

“–I gotta clean up the mess I made.” He immediately responds, taking a fresh paper towel and dampening it before returning to wipe the rest of his cum from your upper chest. 

Blood now circulating evenly, Shōta cleans you up with a gentle touch before tossing the towel into the trash and returning with a gentle rub on your red and swollen knees. His face is apologetic while you take a few gulps of water from your glass; placing it back on the table, you pull his chin to meet your lips. 

On instinct he groans into your mouth, savoring the way your tongue tastes like a mixture of your breath mints, wine, and his own cum. Your lips chase him as he breaks the kiss to run a few pecks down your neck before spinning on the couch to push you back against the armest with him positioned between your thighs. 

Wary hands knead and squeeze the plush flesh of your thighs as large black eyes peer at your face, watching for any sign of discomfort. “Let me return the favor, yea?”

You blush and nod once before he gently bunches your dress to your waist and runs his thumb over your pelvic bones above the flimsy lace thong bands. A tongue wets his lower lips as he traces the material down to the mound of your cunt and drinks in the way your slick has saturated the gusset of the fabric to the point your inner thighs are glistening in arousal. Of course, nothing is ever easy and the thin material of your tights leaves him pawing at the waistband to tug down.

A few accidental snaps of the elastic against your navel, Shōta cuts his losses and pinches the threads to tear a hole big enough for his satisfaction. He hums a promise to buy you new ones when you squeal at the sound of fabric ripping and turns his attention back to your semi-clothed cunt.

“All this.. f’me?” he wonders out loud, dragging an index finger up and down the wet material along the slit of your pussy.

“Ah, y-yes…all for you…baby”

Shōta scoffs slightly at your tease for his pet name and peels the gusset down and out of the way; he had planned on pocketing, but those damned tights just had to ruin his fantasy– ‘he’ll just get them later’, he thinks to himself. 

Shōta shimmies to sit on the floor and lean against the base of the sofa while positioning your thighs to rest on his shoulders; hot breaths fan your cunt as he inhales the intoxicating scent of your pussy.

“Ah, so you have jokes now?”

A whimper escapes your lips and your hand tangles in his hair, desperate to have him closer to where you need him the most.

Long hair tickles the inner flesh of your thighs and Shōta keeps his lips just above your weeping cunt. “Come on, sly girl. Tell me what you want– you’ve been pestering about it all evening.”

Swallowing your saliva and any ego, you lean your head back against the armrest and wiggle slightly, “Y-You… please need you…Shōta”

Satisfied enough, though he would’ve preferred to hear you beg a bit more, Shōta plants a small kiss to the inner apex of your leg and turns his attention to the pussy he’s been desperately dreaming about. Laying his tongue flat and running a few long stripes over your folds and puckering entrance, he pushes his weight forward, addicted to the taste. 

The sounds are vile and filthy, the sounds of him kissing your cunt in a nasty French style before biting and nipping your outer labia and delving his tongue back into the opening of your core. His nose ruts against your puffy clit and your fingers are scratching at his scalp as the waves of pleasure are mind numbing. 

Pulling his tongue away, Shōta rocks back slightly and pops a long middle finger into his mouth before dragging it up and down your folds before slowly sinking it into your cunt. 

“A-ah! Shit….nngh…”

You twitch at the delicious stretch of his finger as Shōta watches your expression for any sign of pain before slowly rocking his finger in and out to a steady rhythm. Fluttering around his finger, he slips in another and massages the walls of your pussy in search of the rough little patch that makes your hips shake in pleasure. 

“Here? Right here?” he murmurs while scissoring his fingers against the spot over and over again and leaning back down to suck and lick at your clit.

You’re a mess against the sofa, biting your lips but not muffling the pornographic sighs and whimpers that escape your throat as the wet gushy sound of him fingering you fills the air. It’s better than your own hand and any toy you’ve owned, and when Shōta ruts his thick fingers against your g-spot over and over again, you wince your eyes shut and grab onto his hair.

“Ohh, fuck… you’re gonna make me cum… haaa I’m gonna..”

He peels his lips from your clit and keeps his pace on your g-spot even, coaxing you through the rush of pleasure as your muscles clamp onto his fingers as if your cunt could milk it dry. “Thaaaat’s it… come on baby you got it… cum f’me, yea?”

The deep pur of his voice has you cuming on his fingers and your hips rutting against his hand in a desperate attempt for even more; a few tears escape your eyes as the pleasure creates a mind reeling haze to wash over you.

Fucking his fingers into you a few more times to ride out your orgasm, Shōta slowly slips them out as you whimper and pops them into his mouth. He’s never been particularly keen on sweets, but the syrupy candy flavor of your cum is making him quickly addicted to the flavor. 

A light afterglow settles on your skin as sweat drips down your temple from the rush of heat coming from the moment as Shōta sits back up on the sofa and rubs reassuring hands over your pelvic bones.

“You alright?”

Alright, doesn’t even begin to describe the euphoric feeling, but you’re too fucked out to propose a better word. 

“Yea…” you pant before pushing yourself up to rest higher against the armrest. “You’re a little too good at that.”

Shōta chuckles and leans down to capture your lips and feed you the taste of your arousal in a similar manner you had with his own cum a few minutes before. He pecks your lips a few more times before leaning back and tucking a lock of hair away from your face and absorbing the glow on your skin.

“Well it’s just luck then…I don’t exactly get out much” he chuckles, eyes beaming gently as he stares at you with starstruck admiration and cum coating his chin. 

You giggle and sink into yourself before tracing a hand down his chest and palming his renewed erection in his boxer briefs. Shōta’s breath hitches slightly, and the insecure doubts that had clouded his mind prior have since been replaced with a dirty primal desire for more.

“We don’t have t–”

“–bedroom?” you cut him off and trace his bottom lip with your thumb.

Shōta doesn’t need to be told twice for that; he rushes to his feet, ignoring the dull hum of the reality show that still plays in the background and pulling you up and over his shoulder. 

“Woa, hey!” you squeak as he tosses you up once to adjust the distribution of weight and power walks down the hallway to his room. 

The view of his round ass is cut short as he flops your back onto his plush mattress and moves to kick his door shut– as if he had to worry about a roommate. Dark eyes don’t leave your figure as he saunters back to the bed and begins peeling off the buttons of his dress shirt; you watch in a trance before glancing around the tidiness of the bedroom.

“You really prepared, huh?” you jest, smirking at the way the pillows are perfectly arranged, the floor lamp is already on to a warm glow, and you can see a set of extra towels sitting on the counter of the sink of the ensuite bathroom. 

Shōta shuts his eyes and groans slightly before tossing the fabric to the floor and peeling off his slacks the rest of the way and kicking them off his ankles. You sit back on the bed and lift your hips up slightly to slide the waistband of your ripped tights to the floor and peel your soaked thong to join it. 

The man standing saunters a bit closer to the bed and assists in tugging your dress up and over your head, taking a moment to kick your saturated panties under his bed to retrieve later. Nipples pebbling at the cool sensation of being freed, Shōta doesn’t waste a moment to dip his head and latch his lips to the swollen nub.

His force has you laying flat on his mattress as he climbs over you and sucks the perky flesh while his other hand kneads and massages the fat of your other breast. The tongue rubbing against your nipple is hot and wet while sharp teeth occasionally bite; a wet patch from his boxer briefs ruts against your hip as he grinds his clothed erection into you.

Shōta places a few extra hickies around the swell of your tit before moving to suck on the next one, repeating his action of squeezing the flesh of the breast not receiving his mouth. It feels like you’re on fire.

Back arching and pushing your chest closer to his mouth, you whine and tug on his hair, desperate for even more. Ignoring the way you paw at his face, Shōta places a few more pecks on your tit and rocks back to slide off the bed and trace a hand down your thigh; silently, he flashes a gentle smile and moves to open his nightstand drawer.

And of course, there’s a box of condoms conveniently placed right at the front of the wooden drawer. The thought of him potentially doing this with other women makes an uneasy feeling course through your veins, but the sight of him biting the plastic wrap indicating the box had never been opened qualms your insecurity. 

Ripping a perforated foil packet from the line of condoms, Shōta keeps the box readily available on the nightstand and tears open the material. 

It’s happening. Fuck, it’s finally fucking happening.

It’s wrong to feel a little giddy, but the thought of you finally being able to have sex with this man after months of pathetic pining is beyond satisfying. 

As he kicks his boxer briefs to the floor and gives a few pumps to his cock, you lean over and notice a full length dressing mirror facing the bed. The angle gives you a view of his sculpted ass and chiseled back muscles, before the man in question taps your ankle once and climbs up on top of you.

“You sure?” He murmurs, planting delicate kisses to the bruised flesh of your throat.

You wrap your hands around his shoulders and nod. “More than anything.”

It feels like he’s died and went to heaven, but Shōta doesn’t wait any longer; rocking back to sit on his knees for a moment, he tugs a spare pillow under your hips and splays your thighs open. Arousal drips from your cunt along with remnants of your prior orgasm and his saliva and he drags his latex-coated cockhead up and down a few times to coat it thoroughly.

“Alright, just breathe…” he gently pushes in the tip and rocks forward. “Bit of a stretch.”

He isn’t lying. Your hands steady yourself on his rear deltoids as a slight burn pushes through you as he slowly sinks inch after inch into your cunt. Nail digging slightly into his flesh, Shōta slowly pumps in and out to edge his way deeper and deeper inside. 

“F-fuck… haaa relax, please… you're so – ngh tight…”

It takes a few moments before he bottoms out completely and his balls tap against the round swell of your ass; you both stay still for a moment, taking in the moment of being so intimately connected before he slides partially out and rocks back in. 

“Ah– mhpf… feels good.. Shōta” you moan into his ear as 8 delicious inches slip in and out, kissing your cervix with each snap of his hips.

The man in question fares no better above you, with one hand on your hip to guide your cunt back to his cock and the other supporting his weight as he hovers over you in a partial plank. Your pussy is hot, wet, and mind-numbingly tight to the point he’s wondering if it feels this good with a rubber, he can’t even imagine how it would feel to hit it raw. 

Though maybe you’d let him do that later. 

Later? Just the thought of being able to fuck you again and again has him about to prematurely ejaculate.

Shōta groans when you tilt your head to bite into neck and plant a few small hickies to his own skin while his dick stirs up your pussy from the inside out. The bed creaks and the headboard slams into the wall with the same rhythm of the ‘plap! Plap! plap! ‘ of his balls hitting your ass with each stroke. 

At least he didn’t share a wall with a student, because then he’d have to resign and never show his face at work again.

“K-kiss me…” you whimper out, tugging his face to look at you once more, almost sensing he was lost in thought during the moment. 

Shōta uses the short pause of connecting his lips to yours as a cheeky way of slowing down to prevent from cumming, though you have no patience for that. Flexing the muscles of your pussy around his cock, nearly feeling the swollen vein that runs along the bottom of his shaft, his resolve crumbles further. 

He needs to make you cum.

Pulling his lips from yours, he pushes your thighs further apart and stands upright with his knees; the angle now allowing for the base of his cock to smack against your puffy clit with each snap of his hips. Pushing your head back into the pillows, a wave gushes from your pussy as the sensation tightens the coil building in your abdomen.

You look better than all his dreams, and Shōta digs in his mind to think of something, anything to prevent him from spilling into the condom before you cum. Toshinori asked him to review a few files during lunch yesterday. The traffic leaving UA at 6pm today was particularly bad. Yamada wants to know if he wants to see a baseball game this weekend…

Tugging a hand from your hips and guiding his fingers to your clit, Shōta snaps back into the moment to focus on the withering expression on your face as your hips twitch and grind up into him further. Understanding the silent request, he runs a gentle circle over the nub of your clit and groans when your lips fall open to whine in pleasure. 

Tits bouncing with every stroke, your eyes hazy and staring up at him, and the delicious squelch of your pussy with each thrust is too much for the man; with a canine pinching his lip, Shōta leans forward and cums.

“Ah… c-cumming… fuck i’m cumming ngh–” 

His hips keep pounding forward, the tip of his cock that would be freely filling up your cunt with his seed is being saturated by the walls of the rubber condom keeping his semen inside. Right when he’s about to slow down, you grasp forward to scratch on his arm and twitch forward.

“W-wait! Please don’t…. Don’t stop– i’m gonna cum”

And who is he to ever deny you?

Ignoring the twinge of overstimulation, Shōta keeps pounding his now semi back inside over and over again; gyrating his hips slightly to grind against the rough patch of your g-spot with each movement. The sensation is overwhelming, and with a whine, your jaw goes slack and a pleasure begins to wash over you– until it stops. 

Fluttering your eyes open and panting as you come down from your high, you pause and bring a hand up to push sections of your hair away from your face. You just came…right? Removing your palm from your forehead, you prop yourself up on your elbows and watch the way Shōta slowly slides his length out of your cunt with a soft hiss.

Wait… what just happened? Did you cum so hard you blacked out–

Red irises glow above you and a small smirk is plastered on his lips as your eyes open in shock.

“Wait, hold on a minute…Shōta– did you just erase my quirk?”

The red hum of his pupils cools back to their dark color as the man slides off the bed and pads over to the bedroom trash can and tosses the soiled condom into the bin. You sit further upright now and furrow your brows in frustration. It was the best orgasm of your life… or so you thought. 

The memory of him pounding into you and leading you right up to the edge ends with an annoying blur as Shōta saunters back to the bed with a new gush of confidence radiating from him.

“Mmm, what if I did?”

“You–!” sitting upright, you shove his shoulder and sit back down on the comforter which is now soiled in a puddle of cum that’s leaked from your cunt. “Why would you do that?!”

He shrugs slightly in feigned ignorance before moving to tilt his floor mirror slightly and returning to the night stand to pick up another small foil packet. Sitting in silence, you watch the way he takes a few breaths and strokes his semi to eventually build into another full erection. 

Shōta leans forward and connects his lips to yours so sweetly, as if he wasn’t just fucking the shit out you to then erase the memory of the best part. Pecking your jaw once, he crawls behind you and gently pushes your upper back to go down into the mattress and tugs your hips upright into a doggy position; you're directly facing the floor mirror and your own reflection.

With a hiss, he slides on a fresh condom and gently massages the globes of your ass before once again, gathering your slick and cum with his covered cockhead. 

Shōta peels his gaze from the twitch of your awaiting pussy and looks at you through the mirror, “I just want to make you remember it regardless of that quirk....” he pauses and sinks in the tip through the first ring of muscle, “Is it wrong of me to fuck you so well that it makes even my erasure not work? That even without that quirk, it’s seared into your memory?”

***

His proposition of having sex so many times that his erasure doesn’t work on wiping your memory of the sensation is a horny and kinky one you’d never think a reserved man like him would have. You go from doggy, to mating press, and then when his dick is sensitive from cumming so much, he fucks you on his fingers twice more for good measure. The evening ends with an attempt at shower sex that simply results in taking you on the bathroom floor when you complain the tiled walls were too cold to be fucked against. 

Your body is sore beyond imaginable belief, and you can’t recall how many times you’ve cum because somebody can’t seem to let you. Despite the rough and desperate sex, Shōta softens when it’s time to dress you in his spare boxers and t-shirt and climb into bed. It’s a weird form of intimacy that feels more vulnerable than the position you were tangled in just moments ago; in the back of both of your minds, you’re wondering when the best time to have the ‘what now’ conversation really is. Though this late, neither one of you makes a move to address it.

He doesn’t mind when your hair still damp from the shower creates a small stain on his nightshirt; tugging you in closer and inhaling the way your scent and his merge together. It’s an awkward few giggles at first, before you nuzzle into his chest and plant a few soft kisses to his pulsing heartbeat while Shōta tightens around your waist that keeps you close. 

It’s late. The alarm clock on his night stand reads 3:17am when you shut your eyes in his arms; the both of you having work in the morning but neither one of you bothering to mention it. Your breathing steadies out before he ever does, and a few gentle combs to the crown of your head and pecks to your forehead make Shōta wonder if maybe this was a dream. 

The air is silent, and right when he’s about to doze off, a soft ‘ping!’ rings out from the night stand beside him. Normally, he would ignore it and return to his slumber, but the late notification makes him wonder if it’s something more important. 

Begrudgingly moving his hand from your waist, careful to avoid waking you up, he turns around and taps on the screen to see not a text message– but a date reminder. Blinking the drowsiness away, and clicks it open and sighs at the note.

Upcoming event from user KAYAMA: Friday 8am

He can practically hear the woman’s voice through the phone from the memory.

‘If you don’t make a move, I'm giving it to Keigo by Friday morning.’ Too tired to deal with it now, he tosses his phone back on to the nightstand, face up, and turns back over to sleep with you in his arms.

a/n:

it's the moment we've all been waiting for, the chapter where you guys finalllly bang hehe

this chapter, while it was pre-written, took sooo much longer than I thought to finish [almost 12k words of pure sexual tension and smut]

the story continues on a bit more from here, wrapping up the loose ends with more added smut scenes littered here and there [maybe one or two more chapters which is crazy to think its almost over]

im so glad you guys like this series and i hope this filthy vile slutty chapter makes you happy [and horny] <333

likes/reblogs/comments all appreciated :)

and i love reading ur comments, you guys are so fucking funny I LUV U POOKIES -oatmeal

taglist: @idkidk32 @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @aizawasbaeee @smashley351 @beachaddict48 @lynnesm @lashaemorow @kriscr0ss @hotvillianapologist @loverofdeepspace @lainlovelain @shslvampy @siraxealot

[little-fae-hero]

It's dangerous to go alone (Wip)

This is wip fic, mainly about Hyrule and his life before LU cut with Linked universe and a strange familiarity.

Words : 1835

Link had known he had messed up, he should have listened to his mother, the overprotective great fairy, at least then he would know where he was at. He had never been outside of his mothers fountain, never been past the woods that were so rich with fae energy. Now he had woken in this field, likely after being struck in the head by a monster, considering the warm liquid running down his face, with nothing more than a tree branch to defend himself.

Scared and alone, Link heard more monsters approaching and as he scanned his eyes over the environment looking for something to help him, that’s when he saw it, an entrance to a cave. So the young scared boy took a leap of faith and ran inside the cave, figuring anything that could possibly be there was better than these monsters out here.

It was somewhat bright? From what his mother had described of caves is that they were pitch black, nothing to give off any hint of light as you stumbled to stay upright and not fall into a deep pit. Yet this one was lit up with pieces of wood that burned with bright flames on the end, giving warmth through the cave. Link still moved slowly, reaching out his magic trying to see any possible enemy out there, eventually his magic grabbed onto something. A bottle filled with a red liquid, it gave off the same energy as his mom when she healed him from his small cuts and bruises. Link quickly picked up the bottle and began to drink down the liquid inside, the pain on the side of his head slowly faded as the taste of sweet berries filled his mouth. He was too focused on the sweet flavor to even notice that he might not be alone.

“Hey!” An old raspy voice said.

Despite finishing the bottle, Link found himself coughing on the last drops of the red liquid. He turned towards the source of the voice, he was like all the other people that journey to his mother’s fountain begging for wishes, human looking, two legs, two arms. This person was older, a face of wrinkles hidden under a hood, blondish strands of hair tangled with the mostly white mob on his head. Boney hands clung hard to a cane, ruins carved into the old wood, it was the only thing likely keeping the man upright.

Link dropped the bottle and began to step back as he stuttered. “I-I didn’t know, I’m sorry, I should go.”

“Wait, foolish boy. It’s dangerous to go alone, take this!” The man yelled out in a strained voice, panic clear in his tone.

Link stopped and turned to look at the man. The old man had pulled back some of his robe, allowing more of his face to be seen, especially the pleading look in his eyes. His right hand clenched to a cane that was digging into the ground to keep himself up, meanwhile the left hand held a sword, Link could tell it was hard to even hold it as the man’s hand slightly shook as he held out the sword.

Link weighed his options, the man was right, it was too dangerous to go out of the cave without anything to defend himself other than a tree branch. Another thing was the man was old, it looked as if he was barely standing up, it’s not like he could actively go after the boy. So Link, despite the fear in his heart, walked up. He held out his hands and the man gently placed the sword in them.

Link looked at the old man’s blue violet eyes before he looked back at the sword. All the other weapons the monster had always burned Link’s skin as soon as he touched the blades, but this one, it didn’t burn, he could feel a light magic underneath the blade, humming gently. Link looked up at the man who had taken a few steps back, to lean up against a rock, he switched his cane into his left hand before picking it up and swinging up, just like those monsters do with their sword….oh.

Link quickly mimicked the old man’s actions, swinging the sword in two arching slashes. The old man's face lit up with a smile before he spoke again.

“Yes, I’m sure that sword will help you make it out there.” The man said. “Though you should get moving, staying in one place too long often comes with consequences.”

Link nodded in understanding as the old man handed him something, the boy quickly realized it was something to put his sword in like all the other humans that found his mother’s fountain. He quickly attached it to his belt as he turned to leave the cave. He remembers most of the humans that came to the fountain, often saying something about ‘payment’ or ‘paying something back’.

“I’ll pay you back one day, I promise!” Link yelled to the man with a smile.

“Your survival in this world is payment enough.” The man said with a knowing smile.

Link went back towards the entrance of the cave, the sword making him feel a little bit braver, giving him the small amount of courage he needed to take on the world.

–

“Traveler, stay back!” Legend growled out from his spot.

The two had been knocked back into a cave during the latest ambush that had befallen onto the group, this time it had been a mix of monsters and traitors from the captain's hyrule, and there were heavy hitters as well, taking the form of a dark knight who had the strength of a Goron. Hyrule had jumped in front of Legend to protect him, sending both of them flying back into this cave. That's how they currently got there, Hyrule who could not find his sword to save his life and Legend who’s crash had managed to knock down a large rock that was currently crushing and pinning his foot.

“But the monsters!” Hyrule had started to say.

“Have likely drawn the others away from here because of the crash, you will be running out there blind, likely alone, with no weapon!” Legend said.

“But the others need me!” Hyrule said as he turned to run out.

“You idiot! It’s dangerous to go alone!” Legend's voice yelled in frustration. “At least take this!”

At Legend’s words Hyrule froze and quickly turned around. Despite being pinned, Legend had done his best to get up, only really being able to kneel as he held his tempered sword out to Traveler with a shaking hand, likely from the pain. Hyrule had paused at first due to the familiarity but quickly shook it away when he heard more monster screams coming from outside the cave. He rushed over to take the sword from Legend.

“I’ll pay you back, promise.” Hyrule said before he began to rush out.

“Come back alive idiot, that’s payment enough!” Legend yelled behind him.

Hyrule rushed out into the battlefield once again, it was easy to find the rest of the group, he just had to follow the trail of destruction and monster parts. Thankfully the army that had ambushed them numbers had quickly been reduced and with a few swings of the sword and few lightning strikes, that number was quickly brought down to zero. Knowing that they were safe the boys took a moment to catch their breath.

“Hey Traveler, why are you using the Vet’s sword?” Time asked, causing a sudden wave of panic to fill Hyrule.

“Legend, he was trapped under a rock, I need to go back-” Hyrule said, trying to run but nearly faceplanting, only being caught by Time.

“You're running low on magic, you're lucky you're still standing.” Time said. “You can rest, we’ll help Legend.”

“But, I..need…” Hyrule tried to say, he had not realized just how much magic he had used, just how hard it was to keep his eyes open.

“Rest.” Time said once again and Hyrule allowed himself to be pulled into darkness.

When Hyrule finally broke out of the darkness, he was looking up at a night sky filled with shining stars, memories of the battle and his friend coming back to him.

“Legend!” Hyrule said he quickly shot up, tossing off the blanket that had been placed on him.

“I’m safe, Traveler” Legend voice said breaking Hyrule out of panic state.

Hyrule turned to look at his friend, Legend had taken off the top layer out his outfit, resting his back up against a log. His skin looked healthy and there wasn’t any sign of damage until you looked at his leg. His right leg, the one that had been pinned under a rock was wrapped up in bandages. Hyrule’s expression must have shown his worry because Legend quickly spoke up.

“We’re headed to a doctor, if I drink a red potion now and my bones aren’t aligned, we’ll just have to rebreak it.” Legend explained, Hyrule still frowning obviously not liking the answer. 

“You should have seen it, Hyrule, this mad man was using a magical stick to push the boulder off of him.” Twilight said, barely moving to avoid a hit from the cane.

“It’s called the cane of Byrna, you dick, not some magical stick.” Legend said as he swung the ruined carved cane at Twilight yet again. 

The others let out a laugh as Twilight got up and moved away from Legend, who was not happy that his target had moved. He tried to stand up using the cane as support, but he was quickly pulled back to the ground by Time who just glared at the hero. Legend stopped trying to get up but quickly pouted, earning a laugh from the group. 

Wild took a break from laughing to turn his attention back to the soup pot that was currently cooking their dinner. Hyrule slowly got up and walked over to sit next to Legend, the hero was happier having someone that didn’t laugh at him.

“Can I see that?” Hyrule asked.

Legend nodded and handed the cane over to Hyrule. Hyrule began to study the cane, he was sure he had seen it before, these ruins felt so familiar, almost humming with comfortable magic as he ran his fingers over the carvings. He just could quite place where he had seen it before. 

Hyrule’s thoughts were pulled away when Wild announced that dinner was ready, pulling out bowls and filling them before giving them to his brothers. Hyrule placed the cane down before taking the bowl and began drinking it, not even waiting for a spoon. 

The food and warmth of the campfire quickly took the tension away, the group soon began to laugh and tell stories. Hyrule joined in with the laughter, he didn’t bother to bring up what was gnawing at his brain. It was so long ago; he was probably just misremembering what happened.

----

Ya'll see where I'm going with this :)

[whoopsyeahokay]

Alphabet Soup

summary: prompt fill. the journey of a clandestine love affair at several stages because Wally Clark craves what he can't have and refuses to keep his hands to himself. and you live for it.

pairing: grey!Wally Clark x fem!reader

warnings: smut. AU - modern setting. romanticized toxic behavior. cheating (not on you). possessive behavior. egregious use of the word 'baby'.

bon reading, frens

___________________________🧿

Alphabet Soup - W

W is for wishes come true. Wally's wishes more than yours, but you've been a willing participant in his waggish descent into the madness you work up in him, so he considers it win-win.

You've made a monster out of him, sweetly agreeing with every whim and want that worms its way into his brain. Fuck, sweet girl, you have to say no—need to say it—otherwise Wally's going to Energizer Bunny and keep going and going and going until he wears you down and out and into an early grave. Or jail. Whichever.

It starts small. Tame. Introducing new positions and toys and microdoses of that shit that makes Wally's skin light up like fireworks at every touch. Then it gets riskier. Sex in the park behind the statue of town founder Alexander Meheive; fucking your mouth while he whips down the highway with a deathwish; bending you over the teacher's desk in an empty classroom, door unlocked, during the five-minute interval between classes.

And then it escalates into: Baby, I wanna make you squirm when I can't touch you. A test-drive panty vibe when Wally takes you to a Dollar Theater movie in Mossborough which turns into dinner out, surrounded by innocent patrons at Daisy's because he wants to see how far you'll let him go. Wally's eyes fixed on your flushed face as you try not to make a sound, eyes glassy and lips bitten, coming just before dessert. Jesus Christ, you'll let him do anything, won't you?

Wally looms over you at Claire's birthday, one arm braced over your head, body hiding you from the club at his back, his hand under your skirt and fingers in your cunt, massaging your sweet spot until his shirt cuff is come-damp and ruined. Next, there's the Victoria's Secret changing room at the fancy mall because, fuuuck, you can't just waltz out in that sheer, lace-satin teddy and expect Wally to be normal about it.

The elevator at that high-rise hotel in Milwaukee after dark, P3 to PH, handprints on the mirror as you and he moan to the rhythm of the muzak. Supper after the Athletics Department benefit, everyone talking at the table, family-style service, your hand kneading Wally's hard-on while you use the Ben Wa balls Wally teased into your pussy five minutes after you and Janet arrived.

Janet's attention is on your dad, the principal, completely unaware of how fucking close Wally is to coming in his slacks because her step-sister knows how to worship Wally's cock better than a high-end whore. His eyes are heavy, unfocused, but he laughs where he has to, answers whatever Coach asks, does his bit like the winner he is before discretely slipping into the cafeteria kitchen to wait for you.

As soon as you're within reach, he has you on your knees, cock down your throat, needy whines and wanton whimpers wheedled out of him by your hotwetperfect mouth. That's it, just like that, suck my cock, baby, oh my God. He comes with a guttural groan, vision whiting out, praise tumbling from his lips—such a good girl, so fucking good for me.

Wally doesn't give himself a chance to recover, though. Pulls you up by the hair and lifts you onto one of the stainless steel countertops, tongue-fucks your clit and plays with those Venus balls until you're a trembling mess under his hands. Taking pity on you, he allows you to remove them before you and he sneak back to the table, separately. He smiles innocently at Janet, nods to your dad like Wally didn't just have his little girl panting and moaning for him a minute ago.

He wades through the rest of the evening with half a brain, Janet forcing him to mingle with the right people, all while his mind whirs and unlocks a thousand new whims that Wally can't wait to wear you out with.

This weekend is going to be fun...

🧿___________________________

MASTERLIST

also available on AO3!

A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z

[shini--chan]

Yandere Paul Atreides - Hourglass

Word count: ~ 2,5K Summary: It is your own fault for taking a liking to Paul, but you never love him. Perhaps you are doing it because you love his mother as if she were your own sister, and this is why you are helping him reach clarity when it comes to his dreams. Pity that the whole thing just backfires on you when Paul realises that you’re saving him and his House through your actions. Trigger warnings: politics, manipulation, stalking, yandere behaviour Autor Note: Here is the Yandere Paul Atreides story I promised long ago. This can be seen as an isekai, doesn't have to be. I might turn it into a oneshot series.

If anybody asked you what your favourite place in the universe is, your answer would be Caladan. It was home after all. That was why you had come to detest Arrakis just as much as the honourable Duke Leto. Of course, it was more than apparent that the Duke couldn’t openly display his distaste; it would be a blow to morale. That being said, you had known the family for years, and the Atreides’ displayed it though longing for Caladan, for day long rains and fish and the lush continents.

The only seas here were those of sand and those were even more treacherous than the Caladanian oceans had been. Sandworms were also far more dangerous than any kraken or other creature of the deep, and spice more valuable. Your problem was that the greatest discomfort, danger even, didn't stem from the local fauna, the environment, or even the political machinations running their course in the background of everyday life.

The matter at head that was making your heart race and cursing you with sleepless nights, was a person and his name was Paul Atreides.

Which was why you were particularly wary about running around in the open. You had just finished attending to Lady Jessica, or to put it in better words, finished trying to convince her to allow you to end your tutorship to her son. Unsuccessfully, mind you. Your lady saw the close bond between you and Paul and cherished it. Besides, you were far too useful to let go, or to allow you to distance yourself in any way.

Turning your head left and right, you huffed and then scurry along the shadow in the corridor. Nothing stopped you and you felt yourself breath a bit easier. For such a pale young man, he was very apt at concealing himself. Something he now used to avoid your scornful gaze and pleas for him to stop following you everywhere. Not that any words of yours stopped him.

A few stray pebbles bounced as you hurried along and there was the quiet swish of your robes as the light cloth flared out. Other than that, there wasn't much sound from you. Servants were supposed to be seen at most, and not heard. The soles of your shoes cushioned your every step, ensuring that your steps themselves were silent. Thankfully, there wasn't anybody else around, so you didn't have to bother too much with decorum.

The rest of the staff was either tucked away in the cooler parts of the castle or station elsewhere in the unbearable heat. Of course, you would prefer the former yourself, yet you weren't master of your own fate here. There were rules of conduct between a noble and their subjects that both had to adhere to. Therein lay one of your problems.

Paul always liked to be too close for comfort. It was a habit of House Atreides to foster close connections with their servants and subjects. While it was all good and well that they saw their lessers as human, unlike so many of the other houses in the Known Universe, the Atreides heir was crossing lines. He was being invasive.

Before turning around a corner, you slowed to a halt and peaked around it. A valet disappeared around another corner just as you did so and you continued your harried journey to the landing bay. Since your position of strategy teacher was unofficial and unlisted as opposed to your job as handmaiden, you were going to play the official part more than usual. It was reasonable, seeing that the household was still only just settling in their new home. There was still a lot of work to be done - rooms had to be furnished, the warehouse stocked, the trunks unpacked…

Doing so would give you a chance and a reason to minimise contact with Paul until you had another chance to persuade his mother to put you out of harm's way. You didn't graduate as an intelligence officer and land yourself with dignified employment in House Atreides only to be pursued by a boy that had only just become an adult. You just had to make sure that he didn’t catch wind of your intentions to distance yourself from him. If you didn’t, he would probably find a way to be even more on your case than he already was, if that was even humanly possible.

The lift that led to the landing bay just a few metres away when a hand shot forth to grab you. Hyperreactive reflexes allowed you to duck before any conscious plan could even register. You turned on your heels as you automatically fell into a low fighting stance. In order to put enough force behind your punch, you put your whole torso in the movement. You were rewarded with a clean sucker punch and the grunt that your would-be assailant let out.

However, unlike the usual person, he didn't allow himself to be stunned. Even as he choked on his next breaths, he delivered a swift kick to your sternum with a steel toed boot. So in turn, you were winded as well. While it didn’t knock you heels over kettle, it did make you stumble back a few steps. Eyes stayed on your opponent, and when he stepped out of the shadows of the servant nooks, you got a good look at your attacker.

Paul had the linen attire that he usually wore these days - heat isolating and flowing to allow swift movement. Yet there still was embroidery that marked him as noble and a pride to his countenance that couldn’t be framed as youthful arrogance. What’s more, he didn’t leave you any time to recover and body slammed you into the opposite wall. The both of you stayed quiet for a few minutes. You shot Paul a glare. If he thought that you were that close, then two could play a game.

Once it was clear that this interaction wouldn't be interrupted, he hissed at you: “Where have you been? I’ve been searching for you everywhere!”

You adjusted your position as much as his grip on your waist would allow you, just a bit so that you were a smidgen more comfortable. Then you huffed at him. “I was attending to Lady Jessica, as I was expected to.”

Of course, that wasn’t completely true. As soon as the chance had presented itself, you had slipped from Paul’s watchful eye. Naturally, he thought that you were completely insolent to slip from his side without his approval.

“We’ve discussed this time and time again. Since the Harkonons are this close…”, he snapped at you, and released you to hold up his dominant hand in front of your face. His thumb and middle finger were nearly touching. “... to enacting their plan to overthrow House Atreides. You know this, and yet you go galavanting around as if this is a mountain meadow back in Caladan. If I didn’t know better, I would say you have been the spy all along. Did you really forget about the hunter-seeker that went for the kill just a few days ago.”

“Your dreams have become more vivid?”, you inquired instead of coming up with any further excuse. That would be just as futile as whispering in the wind.

Paul sagged a fraction. It wasn’t enough for a stranger to notice, yet you had known Paul for too long for it to escape you. It was a damn shame that the haggard look that anxiety granted him, suited him.

“Yes”, he affirmed softly. Then he straightened up again. A look to the right, a look to the left, and then he seized your wrist and dragged you to the servant's nook from where he had ambushed you earlier. Since there was a small bench hewn in the wall, you took the chance to sit down - your chest still ached from where Paul had kicked you and breathing could be easier. Unluckily, it meant that you were knee-to-knee, side-to-side with Paul.

“The dreams have been becoming so vivid and clear that they have been bleeding into my waking hours. Mother hasn’t been of much help, and just sees it as confirmation that I’m the Kwsatitz Haderach.”

Without invitation or prompting, he lay his head on your shoulder. While you flinched for a second, you made no move to push him away. That could be interpreted as an insult and was volatile enough already.

“Sometimes I praise you and curse you in the same breath. All that you said was true, and all my dreams are clearer now because of that. Yet they are now sometimes so clear that I mistake them for the occuring present. Every thread of a possible future is ladened with death and destruction, and there are only a handful of narrow paths that don't lead to a future where we all die. How can I be still and passive when I know of such things?”

You gave him an awkward pat on the back. It was your fault that he was like this, and you were torn between regret and resignation and a third emotion that you couldn't name. When Paul had told you of his dreams, you had explained to him that dreams were messages from the deep. The human subconscious had a fuller grasp on reality than the consciousness and therefore the warnings brought forth in the forms of dreams shouldn't simply be ignored.

He had taken your advice to heart, and had opened himself to the wisdom that oversimplified conscious thought couldn't comprehend due to its magnitude and complexity. Then, a few days prior he had stormed into your room without fanfare, awaking you with his loudness, and had gone on a disjointed rant about the Harkonons and how they couldn't be trusted to be moral or honourable or stick to legality and that everyone was in danger.

It had taken him long enough to calm down, especially since the spice in the air had only fueled his continuing premonitions. Eventually, when he had been coherent enough again, he had echoed a lesson you had taught him long ago. That humans rarely operated on cold logic and that even the highest emperor was a creature guided by passion and fear. Logic was used to justify emotions, and therefore politics could never be clean.

So much destruction lay ahead, because one man feared losing even just a smidgen of his jealously guarded power.

It had surprised you to learn that he had listened may back then, though that had been quickly replaced by the desperation that infused everyone of his following action. It reminded you that no matter how well-educated and well-read he was, he still was a sheltered youth at the end of the day. All dreams paled in comparison to lived reality - this was a quiet crisis that never had a place in the adventures he had daydreamed about.

The ducal heir wound an arm around your waist and buried his face in your neck. Paul relaxed just as you tensed.

“Panicking would be counterproductive now. It is in panic that people make the most severe mistakes”, you cautioned him. He hummed in agreement and pulled you closer to him as if to comfort. You let him because what choice did you have. Despite all the sweet words, there was a wide gap in power between the two of you. 

“Stay by my side all the time, then I’ll have a clear and calm mind.”

Your movements were wooden when you lay an arm over the back of his shoulders. As fond as you were of him, you never had loved him so his insistence on closeness was uncomfortable. When should you have drawn a line in the sand? When he was in awe of your knowledge and experience? Or when he used the just small age gap between the two of you to establish a friendship? It wasn’t regarded as an anomaly at the time, since he was close with his other mentors. 

“You know that wouldn’t work very well. People that don’t already know that I’m training in intelligence will become suspicious. And it is not like Duke Leto and Lady Jessica would let me stick to your side the whole time”, you countered. 

He already insisted that the two of you share the same bed and it was a boon when he allowed you to shower alone. It made you think that it wasn’t all about safety, as he claimed when you became stern. For one, he seemed to enjoy the close proximity with you too much. 

Paul separated himself for you and then grabbed you by the hand. Soft lips pressed lightly against the insides of your wrist, directly over the veins and arteries. You took deep breaths to prevent yourself from ripping your arm out of his grasp. 

“Both of those arguments are invalid, so that is besides the point. Your appearance doesn’t hint at your true skills and lets people underestimate you. They’ll find ways to justify the changes in both our behaviour, without them coming close to the truth. Humans hate being wrong, so they won’t alter their assessment of the situation to match the truth”, he chided you. 

“If that is the case, then it was counterproductive of you to ambush me. Somebody could have seen us. Keep in mind that I’m talking about unfriendly eyes.”

The free hand reached up and with featherlight fingertips he traced your hairline. 

“Yes, I know. It was just a reminder to keep your guard up. And to not get ahead of yourself - I did overpower you, didn’t I?”

“My Lord is the exception rather than the rule. Your father didn’t neglect your education, and did ensure that you only got the best teachers.”

“That is true, otherwise he wouldn’t have given me you”, he countered. 

You sighed softly and dared to give him a direct glance. The young man was more relaxed now and calmer. The calm before the storm, mayhaps? He laid down your hand in his lap and those softened eyes hardened and his next words had a cold quality to them. 

“The Harkonnens won’t show any mercy or let you live under any circumstances. Even if you would succeed in convincing my mother and my father to let you go, then you wouldn’t get far. You wouldn’t get aboard a spaceship, because you can’t afford a price. The Spacing Guild doesn’t just let anybody join their crews on short notice, so you would be dead before they would even hire you. Going alone into the desert is a death sentence and you would have no guarantee that the Fremen would draw you in the fold, aside from draining you for your water. 

“It is completely unlike you to not maintain a level head in a stressful situation. That is only more reason for you to kindly cease your attempts of running away and heed my guidance.”

The wad of saliva went down with difficulty. Were you so obvious to him, or was it prescience speaking? Was the rumour mill to blame? Either way he was right - you were stuck in the same boat as him and the Harkonons would either kill you or enslave you or both. Trying to remove yourself from the situation would mean making yourself more vulnerable and would invite predators in for the chase. Your fate lay in his hands and by the looks of it, he intended to keep it forever and chain you to his side. 

What should you do? 

[etherealmaidenprincess]

I think I need to start a series of these random one-shot ideas.

Because I got another for Sonamy/Sonadamy.

Basically Amy(I think based off what she does in the IDW comics but I've only seen, maybe, panels off), working on finding new missions, pushing herself too hard, ends up cursed.

This curse is mainly, she gets near Sonic, she'll harm/k-o him. Via vision in a dream. It terrifies her so much she leaves with barely a note to everyone. Feeling physical pain of being away, part if it is the curse the other, mainly, is because she has to stay away from everyone to protect them. Fearing this curse could effect more than just Sonic if he falls.

Hiding in an empty factory/storage facility far away from home. Or is it? It's actually a place not too far but it's like the whole "hidden in plain sight" and in a deep part of the woods.

Obviously everyone, especially a blue hedgehog and an edgelord is extremely worried/on the search for their strong friend. Even more so because her Hammer is left behind. Which she hardly goes anywhere without.

*Insert journey here*

Sonic and Shadow eventually find her. Sonic, in cryptic nap dream visions, finds the truth. Calling out to her saying he's not afraid, they'll get through this and she's safe. Hearing her scream "stop!" in a way that is full of terror amd anguish. Her meek voice saying "don't step over the(curved) line". Gurl calculated exactly(ish) how close she could get to him without harming. She trapped herself in this gigantic circle prior as a safety measure.

This curse, connects to her emotions and she has build a transparent shield around her. Stepping out from behind a box into the light. Clothes torn, eyes tired and red from crying, lip red and arms shaking. Evident that she struggled to keep control of this.

Falling to the ground on her knees, refusing to let down the shield and for Shadow to not use Chaos Control. They do their best to keep her calm and talking. Tails comes in with an idea that if she's in a more comatose state, or deep sleep, that they can figure out a way to break this curse.

Amy slowly nods as Tails preps the serum and syringe. Sonic, noticing and knowing she is terrified, uses his speed to open up a nearby window, allowing the sunrise to peak through. Amy smiles as Shadow takes the syringe and Chaos Controls to her.

Gently holding her arm and keeping her calm. Being created to help cure Maria, picked up quite a few things when it came to medical knowledge. Saying things, in his more 'gentler' side, that they promise to find a way soon. Having her keep eyes on the sunrise as he injects the serum and watches her slowly fall into a deep sleep.

Shields go down and Sonic instantly is at her side. Saying, and rather firmly, he'll take her back to the base's medical wing. Tails advices to be careful. Meanwhile he whispers the same promise as before. Adding a personal time limit to ensure it will happen.

"We'll break this curse Ames, I promise. You're safe now."

[imnoonejustapiramide]

Chapter four

Upon a Chance | A Sensei wolf (Cobra Kai) x OC (older, European exchange student from Miyagi-Do that has a past she's trying to run from)

Previous chapter

Entering a nearby local pub, they, with surprise, were met with quite an inviting atmosphere, where it wasn't crowded for one, the lights casted a low glow and slow music played in the background.

They ambled over towards the darkly polished wooden bar counter. Lena then turned an amused brow at the towering man beside her when the barman came over.

"Well Wolf, what will it be," She murmered at him, which he in answer shook his head at in quiet amusement, all the while he let out a low grumble, which made her quirk her lips, and her eyes spark with interest at the atttactive sound.

Which wasn't the only attractive thing about the man, but Lena shook her head at the thought then.

He turned his head to the awaiting barman and in fluent Catalan ordered a scotch, which the barman simply nodded to, before he turned to her.

"The same as him," She simply says, which made the man beside her look upon her in interest now as well,

"And you speak Catalan as well, aren't you full of surprises." he murmered in appreciation, which she shook her head at with a grin.

"Likewise, although, I'm a bit rusty in it." She tells him, all the while she turns her attention to the barman, who is serving their drinks in front of them.

Taking a hold of their glasses, they then clink them against each other in a toast.

"So, what brings you to Barcelona?" Wolf then asks after taking a sip of his glass, while he watches her do the same.

Lena raises her eyes towards him then,

"Just visiting, you?" she tells him, which he quirks his lips at- at the guardedness of her answer, at the challenge of it all, of letting her open up to him, that is.

"The same." He then answers with a teasing edge, before he continues.

"Where did you learn to fight like that?" He then asks her, changing the subject to an easier one, but also because he was truly curious.

For she was good, great even.

"From my mother, who learned it from her brothers and so on- it is expected to know how to defend oneself in our family. And you?" She then lets out, before she awaits his answer in interest.

"Self-taught you can say, before I came under the tutelage of a sensei who fine-tuned my skills. " He opened, before he then continued to explain his journey to her, without truly letting out things that are better left unsaid, for he didn't want her to fly away just yet, not when he finds himself already enamoured with her.

The conversation then flowed naturally, and endlessly from there, with laughter mixed within and their voices dropping lower the longer they spoke, and leaned towards each other.

Their gazes held heat within them when one looked upon the other, unnoticed by by no one, but themselves. All the while everything around them blurred in the background.

Lena then felt a buzz go off in her pocket, which broke the spell between them.

Glancing at her phone, she then sighed, especially when she looked at the time. For it was really late.

Looking up at Wolf, who without even knowing the answer- seemed to understand.

"You're leaving," He then remarked, his tone neutral, while he locked his eyes on hers.

Wanting it not to end, even though he wouldn't openly say it.

"I do, I'm sorry." She told him, without anything more to it, for she did only promise him a drink, and while she liked - this, she wasn't the type to go 'home' with strangers.

Even when she felt an undeniable spark between them, and it didn't help that the man was rather handsome.

Pulling the barman over for the check she then quickly tapped her card on the reader without giving Wolf the chance to intervene, the soft answering beep signified her victory, which she then smugly grinned at.

"I'm a woman of my word, I did say that the drink was on me, " She simply explained to her companion, which he only huffs at.

"Yes, but you didn't have to," He remarked, amused but also exasperated.

She then stood up, but quirked her brow in surprise when she watched him do the same.

"You don't have to," She tells him, which he shakes his head at with a scoff, before he gazes intently at her.

"I want to." He simply says, before he moves his hand towards the door,

"Shall we?"

Lena only nodded, before they both walked towards the door, with Wolf gentlemanly holding the door once more open for her, which she thanks him for.

She then stretches her limbs outside in the crisp night air, with the distant hum of the city being the only sound around.

"I had a surprisingly good time," She then admits, her voice now more quiet, which he smiles at with a nod.

"So did I," He replied, his voice low, while his gaze was heavy with unspoken words.

"I'm going to go now-" She then announces before she slowly turns to go, but he then quickly, yet softly holds onto her hand, which took her by surprise.

His hold on her was firm, she looks to their joined hands then, before she slowly lifted her gaze to his burning one.

"Will I see you again?" He then asks her in a whisper, with an unguarded emotion, for he didn't want this to end.

Not yet at least.

Lena then studies him for a moment before a soft smile then forms on her lips.

"If fate allows it," She tells him with mischief, which he parts his lips at, before it stretches into a smile of his own. A quiet challenge simmered in the depths of his gaze, before they darkened and smoldered.

And hers softened in response then, and despite not wanting to do anything with the man, as she had wanted at first- she couldn't help but be drawn in by him.

The tension was palable then, and then he kissed her.

It was quick, searing and yet- surprisingly soft, and it lasted an eternity to them, when it in fact had been only for a moment. Warmth spread through their chests, making their hearts beat as one, and by the time their lips parted, with their breaths mingled, and lingering, for both were reluctant for it to end.

But she had to end it, for nothing good could come from this- and neither did she deserve to have anything good, for that sort of happiness wasn't meant for the likes of her.

And with a lingering gaze, she then stepped away, and finally walked away.

And Feng only watched as she dissapeared into the night, like a dream he had just woken up from, but the tingling feeling from his lips, and his racing pulse was proof enough that it hadn't been one.

My poor girl 🥲

And boy, I didn't know that I was going to do this so soon- but they KISSED OMG

Were you as surprised as I was?! If so, let me know! And what did you think of it, and the story overall? Pls tell me, don't be a silent reader, it doesn't matter if its short or small, I'd love to know what you think and it also gives me a boost to continue writing ya know )) <3

[f1daydreamer]

Title: "Racing Hearts"

Genre: Romance, Drama, Sports

Setting: Formula 1 paddock, various Grand Prix locations, London

Plot:

Emilia "Emmy" Russo, a 19-year-old rising motorsport journalist, is known for her sharp wit, insightful interviews, and an uncanny ability to get even the most reserved drivers to open up. Coming from an Italian-British racing family, Emmy grew up around motorsport but refused to be just "someone’s daughter." She built her career from the ground up, earning a spot as a reporter for a major motorsport outlet.

Enter Ollie Bearman, the 19-year-old Ferrari junior driver making waves in Formula 2 and getting unexpected F1 call-ups. He’s focused, determined, and not one to entertain distractions. Yet, when Emmy starts covering his races, their witty banter and undeniable chemistry spark something neither of them expected.

Their relationship begins as friendly interviews—light teasing, challenging questions, and late-night chats in the paddock. But as Ollie’s career accelerates, so does the pressure, and rumors of their growing closeness spread like wildfire. With Emmy's reputation at stake as a journalist and Ollie under Ferrari’s watchful eye, they must navigate the fine line between professionalism and love.

Their love story unfolds in the high-pressure world of Formula 1, filled with moments like:

Fiery press conferences where Emmy grills Ollie, only for him to throw sarcastic comments back.

Secret late-night conversations in the paddock, hidden away from cameras.

Grand Prix weekends full of tension, where their feelings grow stronger but so do the obstacles.

A scandalous tabloid leak that forces them to face their feelings in front of the entire world.

A dramatic championship finale, where everything—love, career, and future—is on the line.

The story will be dialogue-heavy, filled with tension, banter, stolen moments, and emotional depth.

___________________________________________

🔜 Stay Tuned!

This is just the beginning of "Racing Hearts", and I can’t wait to share Emmy and Ollie’s journey with you all! Expect drama, tension, and plenty of sparks in the high-stakes world of F1.

Let me know what you think so far—drop your predictions, or just a 🏎️ if you're excited! Your support means the world, and I can’t wait to hear your thoughts as the story unfolds. 💫✨

[briskchips]

You think SMC is ever gonna get a redemption ? I am saying this because the game seem to heavily hint at that. Unlike mystic flour and burning spice (the previous beast we got) SMC is the only beast so far to actively seek companionship with his counterpart rather than to destroy him.

This is purely speculation but based on the info we currently have, the beasts don’t really seem to….LIKE each other very much. Sure they work together and are on the same side BUT it’s only because they have the same goal. It’s out of OBLIGATION rather than genuine SOLIDARITY. SMC calls them “friends” but the same cannot be said for the others (that we have so far). If SMC truly see the beasts as his friends then WHY does he feel so lonely ? Shouldn’t he feel overjoyed that he has companions at his side ? UNLESS he is lying to himself. He is trying to convince himself that they care about him because they are the ONLY ones he has left.

but there come PV, the first person to ever want to be friend with SMC out of GENUINE KINDNESS instead of OBLIGATION. Once he realize this fact, I think SMC might go on a journey of self reflection and perhaps even betray the other beasts and dark enchantress.

sorry about this rambling, these cookies have consumed my every thought 😭

YES do not apologize for rambling I love to read it

I sure hope they're going for a SMC redemption!

SMC repeatedly insisted that he and PV were the only ones who understood each other all throughout beast yeast 8, and while I do think that could still be SMC lying to gain PV's favour (we really have to take every word outta his mouth with a grain of salt), the way he fell SO easily for PV's lie really shows that he craves some kind of equal. The master of deceit would always know better than to accept anyone's words at face value, but he IMMEDIATELY joined up with PV and allowed him control of the realm just at the offer of partnership. If he was aware of any risk, he didn't care in that moment. I mean think about the wording! PV offers both himself and the soul jam at the same time, but the thing SMC chooses to focus in on is PV!

It might've been about the soul jam initially, and I'm sure he still cares about it a lot, but the possibility of having an actual, genuine friend has to have surpassed it by now. That cookie is LONELY and its so obvious, but I think he's gonna get in his own way. He seems way too stubborn to EVER accept PV's proposal unless he's desperate. Not to mention how betrayed he feels now.

I also don't think that PV would be willing to let SMC go just yet. He felt that same connection too, and after struggling with his own relationship with truth all his life, I can't imagine he'd just give up on the only person who's truly understood him. And with his awakened form now being the light of compassion, I think he'd have a bit of a saviour mentality toward SMC. He experienced the same breakdown SMC did, and he made it out to other side. Of COURSE he wants him to experience the same! If anyone can guide him toward a better life, PV wants it to be him (though I'm sure he doubts his own abilities in that).

I think I could see it beginning as a unition against a common enemy. Same as you said; the beasts don't seem to like each other very much (I know it isn't technically canon but the new SMC tier list video actually alludes to their relationship a little bit), but are willing to work together to further their own goals. Once the main heroes learn that DE always intended to steal the beasts' power for herself, and they somehow find a way to communicate that to SMC (god knows where the trio of deceit have wandered off to) I think SMC could be convinced into joining them. But I'm sure he's gonna insist that he be in charge, and I cannot wait to see everybody's heads clash

[itsmarkjudgelove]

I walk through darkness with a weight that does not crush but sculpts me. Pain, like a chisel, breaks away what is needless – illusion, weakness, the false self. The silent scream of the soul echoes through the void, not to terrify but to teach. This is not possession; it is awakening – transformation through the fire of one’s thoughts. Every wound becomes a rune, etching the story of a journey through the night of the mind. Demons do not frighten; they teach that strength is born not in light, but in shadow. Here, on the threshold between despair and freedom, I become what I always was. Immortal, not through flesh, but through consciousness untamed.

[losers-clvb]

woman of letters pt. 10 // dean winchester

pairing: dean winchester x man of letters!female!reader

summary: sam and dean discover the bunker of the men of letters. expecting it to be empty, they get quite the shock when they meet you.

content: swearing, angst

word count: 3.4k

note: read on wattpad here. read on ao3 here. if you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know!

taglist: @bettystonewell @kaz-2y5-spn @never-here1992 @thestoriesfold @mostlymarvelgirl @dyhsversion @deans-baby-momma @bitchykittenconnoisseur @ladykitana90

masterlist series masterlist previous part

----

“She’s under the impression you’re in Minnesota.” Castiel grumbled out. There he was again, in another diner, sitting in front of Dean. Dean nodded at the information, happy that he wouldn’t be found. He was a little suspicious though. All the times Castiel had come to warn him, you had his correct location. This time, he was in Louisiana and you thought he was across the country.

“You’re sure?” Dean asked, picking up a piece of bacon. Castiel nodded. That was what you had said. Minnesota. He could only assume that was where you were headed now. Dean accepted this. If it was what you had said, it must be true.

“How is she?” Dean asked his usual question. You were on his mind always. When he was able to sleep, he dreamt of you. You laughing, you kissing him, you with a little boy that had his eyes and your chin. Thoughts of you plagued him. Everywhere he looked, you were there. There in the wind, there in the books in the bookstores, there in the snarky banter he overheard from couples. All he wanted to do was see you again, smell you, feel your warmth.

But he always stopped himself. He couldn’t be that selfish. He had to keep you safe and the best way to do that was to stay far away.

“Angry, mostly. She and Sam are always fighting. Over you, over the situation.” Castiel answered. Dean sighed. He figured as much. You wouldn’t let him go, and he didn’t know why. Maybe the demon had been right when it had said you loved him, but he didn’t think so. He wasn’t someone that people could easily love. He was stubborn and sarcastic and didn’t know how to voice his emotions. These things he knew, but he couldn’t change them, not easily anyway.

“She’ll get over it.” Dean amended, taking a bite out of his bacon. You would have to. There was no other way.

“I’m not so sure.” Castiel mumbled before the flap of wings announced his departure. Dean was left alone, with no one to joke with, no one to hurt. Just what he wanted, but he didn’t realize the loneliness would carve so deep.

----

The next day arrived in a hazy morning light. You and Sam had been driving through the night, switching off halfway through the journey. You drove in silence as Sam dozed off in the passenger seat. No music played, you barely even breathed. If Dean wasn’t in this town when you got there, you would bring Heaven and Hell down to find him. You were angry before, but now you were utterly pissed.

Dean dared to leave you. He dared to stay hidden for all this time. He dared to have some angel play as your babysitter.

He didn’t get to do this to you. He didn’t get to run away and hide like a child. You were certain you would never give him the chance to hurt you like this again.

Your grip tightened on the steering wheel as you blinked to stay awake. While Sam had opted to take a nap in his off time, you didn’t have the same thought. You had stayed awake, had been awake for around seventeen hours now. You were exhausted, but you couldn’t sleep, at least, not yet.

You turned down a road, past the motel where traffic cameras had caught Dean at. The Impala wasn’t there, so you assumed that meant he wasn’t either. You brushed that off. It was morning, he was probably awake by now. You pushed the gas pedal down, speeding up while driving around town.

Finally, you spotted a sign advertising a diner. Perfect. Dean Winchester loved diners, and you knew he would be hungry. He was always hungry. The thought sent a pang through your heart. You didn’t want to remember things like that. You didn’t want to know how his breath sounded while he slept. You didn’t want to know his favorite food or the way he looked when he was confused. You didn’t want to know because it meant that you cared. And if you cared it meant that Dean could still hurt you.

The diner wasn’t anything special. You had seen a million of them by that point, every town had one. The siding was slightly dirty, the paint chipping away on the wooden bench that sat just outside the door. No, it wasn’t special in itself, but the black Impala parked outside made it look like nothing you had ever seen before.

You pulled into the parking lot, opting for a spot just off to the side. You didn’t need Dean to spot you and make a run for it. You turned the car off before nudging Sam softly on the shoulder. He awoke slowly, blinking away his sleep.

“Is he here?” Sam asked, voice gravelly. He glanced around, searching his surroundings for any clue as to where he was. He was hoping, praying even, that Dean was here. He missed his brother.

“Yes.” You spoke, breathing out the word. You were preparing yourself for when you would go in, for when you would see Dean. Sam watched you, running a hand through his hair to make himself look presentable.

“I can go in and get him.” Sam offered. You turned your head to look at him, eyes full of appreciation. You nodded quickly, looking back to the side of the building you were staring at. Sam nodded back, unbuckling his seatbelt and climbing out of the car.

You watched Sam walk across the cement, hands in the pockets of his jacket. He disappeared inside the diner and you could hear the muffled tingle of the bell announcing his arrival. You chewed on the inside of your cheek, thinking over what was going to happen.

You stay here, Dean maybe listens to Sam and follows the two of you back to the bunker. Or, you stay here, Dean doesn’t listen to Sam and sneaks away again, leaving you to look for him again. Or, the option you ended up choosing, you go in to control the situation.

While you were weighing your options, Sam was sliding into the booth seat opposite of Dean. The older Winchester had an almost empty plate in front of him, the syrup coating the plate telling Sam that his brother had pancakes. Dean looked up in alarm, wondering who would have dared to bother him. His face fell when he saw Sam. No. Why was he here? How was he here?

“Sammy, how-?” Dean started, but the way Sam’s eyes drifted to look over his shoulder caught his attention. He turned around, craning his neck to see you. You. His girl. It made his heart drop to his stomach. You were standing by the door, hands in the pockets of your jacket in order to keep yourself from reaching for him. Your face was stony, not quite enraged but also not completely happy to see him.

What he didn’t see was the relief you felt. You had finally found him.

“It’s over, man.” Sam said, breaking Dean’s attention from you. He turned back to Sam and it was like he was seeing him for the first time that day. Sam looked exhausted. He had bags under his eyes, just like you did. His skin was paler than it had been the last time he saw him. “It’s time to come home.”

The way you two looked broke Dean’s heart. He had known that you and Sam wouldn’t have been happy with his leaving, but he didn’t think it would affect you this much. He let out a breath of defeat, nodding. He knew it was over. He would have to come back home, or else you would never stop looking for him. He would have to find a different way to keep you safe.

 ----

You hadn’t spoken to him yet. It had been thirteen hours of driving and thirteen hours of silence. You had insisted, while very obviously ignoring Dean, on riding along with him. It wasn’t because you wanted to be near him. No. It was because you were worried Dean would take the drive as an opportunity to run again. So, here he was, driving back to the bunker while you stared out the window.

Dean mumbled your name, just loud enough for you to hear. You flinched at the sound but didn’t look to him. He would have thought you were sleeping if he couldn’t have seen your eyes in the reflection of the window.

“I’m sorry.” Dean spoke. You didn’t move. He sighed in frustration. You had devoted all your time, your entire attention, to finding him. Now that you had him, you wouldn’t even look at him? Really?

“Just look at me.” Dean’s voice was a little louder this time. You didn’t move. You didn’t even seem to be hearing him. Dean rolled his eyes, watching the road.

“You can’t just ignore me.” Dean tried again. You didn’t move. This was ridiculous. He expected you to be angry, but he assumed that would have meant yelling and hitting, not whatever this was.

“So what, you’re talking to me now?” Dean seethed out. You scoffed now, crossing your arms together.

Dean gritted his teeth together and yanked the steering wheel to the side, pulling the car off the road aggressively. Finally, you moved. You made a noise of surprise and grabbed at anything to keep your body from slamming into the dash. Dean shoved the shifter into park and turned to you, face hard. You looked back at him like he was insane. Who the hell does something like that?

“What the fuck is wrong with you!” You shouted at him, balling your hands into fists. Dean scoffed. Really, that was all it took?

“Only because you’re acting like a madman!”

“You wouldn’t talk to me!” Dean braced himself, one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the seat next to him. You watched him, sure your face was flushed with anger. You didn’t know if you wanted to kiss him or kill him, but you figured either option wouldn’t be very wise.

“You left me! You! I woke up and you…” you breathed in to steady yourself, “you were gone. I didn’t know where you went, why you went!” You were heaving out the words now. Dean didn’t want this. He just wanted you to be safe, but you wouldn’t see that. You couldn’t see it.

“I left to protect you! Do you know how many freakin’ monsters follow me everywhere I go? I’m public enemy number one in the monster world, and if they can’t get me, they go for you!” Dean shouted back. You were seeing red. How had he turned this into your fault?

“Protect me? That’s what you called that little stunt? I was unconscious after a demon attack, but yeah, that makes sense! Just admit that you made a mistake!” You were pushing back, breathing heavily.

“It wasn’t a mistake if it kept you safe! Do you think I wanted to leave you? Huh?” Dean questioned, raising his eyebrows to further make his point. You glared at him.

“You could have kept me safe yourself!” You yelled, gesturing with your hands. Dean nodded sarcastically.

“Yeah, well, remember what you said: everyone around me dies.” Dean grumbled. It was a weak argument and you both knew it.

“It was a fucking demon, Dean! I didn’t say it!” You argued back, jabbing your fingers into your chest to gesture to yourself.

“Your mouth said it!” Dean yelled. It was true. Whenever he looked back on the whole interaction with the demon, he couldn’t get it out of his head. The demon had known exactly what to say to hurt him and make it stick.

“My mouth also said that I loved you, but you seem to forget that part!” You shouted at him, throwing your hands up. Dean remembered this, remembered thinking it couldn’t be true.

“Do you love me?” Dean blurted out. His question didn’t soften his voice, it was born out of pure exasperation. There wasn’t any way you could love him.

“Yes, Dean, I do love you! I really do!” The confession tumbled out before you could stop it. Unlike the movies, it didn’t stop your argument. It only seemed to egg it on.

“That’s what I thought.” You said. Your voice was calm, like the waves of anger you had felt settled down into a small lake of something else. You turned away from Dean, looking back at the window. You wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping he couldn’t see the light trickle of tears rolling down your cheeks.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dean shouted. His hands were shaking. He couldn’t handle this feeling. Why did it hurt so bad to learn that you loved him?

“Would it have stopped you from leaving?” You asked, tone frustrated. That seemed to shut him up. He didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because the truth was, no, it wouldn’t have stopped him. It would have only made him run that much more. Dean swallowed down all of that, tears stinging at the back of his eyes.

Dean did see them. Of course he saw them. It was just another thing to make him hate himself. He stopped himself from reaching out to comfort you, fingertips buzzing with the need, by shifting the car into drive. Back on the road, he tried to ignore the miniscule sobs that escaped from you, muffled by the collar of your jacket.

You tried not to cry, you really did. You had done a great job of it so far, never letting a tear fall while searching for Dean. But you had him back now. Here he was, sitting next to you, and he had just told you your love wasn’t enough to make him stay. You had figured that much, but hearing him say it out loud seemed to make something break inside you. You weren’t enough for him.

----

The moment Dean pulled into the garage of the bunker, you pushed out of the car. You beelined it straight for your room, slamming the door behind you. Dean was getting some sick sense of deja vu to the first time he had kissed you. The way you ran from him then was almost identical to how you ran then. Both times it was his fault.

You could hear Dean’s boots against the stone floor as he walked past your room to his own. You wished you could stop yourself from crying, but once the first tears came, the rest followed. You weren’t completely falling apart, not yet, but it was still something you weren’t used to. When your parents had died, you hadn’t really known what was happening, and once you did, you only felt peace with the situation. When your grandfather died, you understood the finality of it and accepted it. But this, this you didn’t want to accept. You didn’t want to accept that you -- your love -- hadn’t been enough.

You let your pillows take the brunt of the tears, using them to muffle your cries. You ignored it when someone knocked on your door. They walked away after a second knock, so you could only assume it was Sam. Dean would have invited himself in.

That reminded you. Dean had never said he loved you back. Which meant he didn’t love you back. You felt like your whole body was getting ripped in two. Was this heartbreak? The unrequited love that all those characters had felt? No wonder depression was a common side effect from breakups. This was horrible. The worst thing you had ever felt, worse than a demon invading your body.

You tried to sleep, you really did, but every time you heard the smallest of noises outside of your room, you w0uld peek your head out to make sure Dean wasn’t leaving again. By the fifth noise, you had began to pace in front of his room, contemplating if you should check on him. Was he there, or had he silently slid past your room?

You decided to risk it. Even if he hadn’t left, he should be sleeping by now. You stealthily twisted the doorknob, opening the door just enough to see Dean’s face staring back at you through the crack. You gasped and yanked the door shut. He didn’t confront you about it, but now you were left in the hallway alone.

You did notice the way your anxiety lessened when you had seen him there. You just needed to see him, make sure he wasn’t gone. When you opened the door again, it was against your own will. Something else was controlling your movements entirely.

There he was again, staring at you. His eyes were soft. If you hadn’t known any better you would have thought he was crying too. That couldn’t be right, though, because what did he have to cry about?

This time instead of closing the door, you were stuck to your spot. It was a strange picture, you and Dean staring each other down, you in the hall, him in his bed. You didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to take your eyes off of him.

Fortunately for you, Dean didn’t want that either. He wanted you right where he could see you, right where he could touch you. You loved him. That was all that mattered. Though he supposed you were probably loving him a little less right now. Nevermind that, he offered you a half-hearted smile and cleared his throat.

You decided, yes, you could go in. You just wouldn’t go into his bed. It wasn’t fair to either of you since -- as far as you knew -- he didn’t love you back. You settled into the chair that was stationed at his desk, back straight as you faced him. You were leaned up against the wall. Dean frowned.

“You gonna stand there all night or are you gonna come in?” He asked, trying his best not to sound angry. You blinked at him, still unmoving. Could you really go in?

“Are you gonna sleep there?” Dean asked, knowing there was no way it was comfortable. You nodded.

“Just come over here.” Dean sighed out, patting a hand on the spot next to him. You couldn’t lie, it was enticing. The soft blankets, the plush of the mattress, the heat from Dean, but you couldn’t. It would only make things more complicated.

“I’m fine.” You mumbled and Dean knew it would be the end of that. You kept your eyes on him for as long as you could, but eventually your eyelids grew far too heavy. You hadn’t slept longer than a few hours in months. The relief of having Dean back outweighed the pain of everything he had said.

Dean hadn’t been sleeping. He had tried, but the thought of you sat up in that old wooden chair made him hurt. He hated himself for leaving. Nothing good had come from it. He didn’t regret the reasons for why he had left, but it had only pushed you away from him. The soft snores coming from you alerted him to the fact that you were sleeping. Good. Now it didn’t matter how stubborn you were going to be.

Dean pulled himself out of bed and shuffled over to you. He paused when you stirred, but continued on after you had stayed asleep. He crouched down to pick you up in his arms, mind flashing to when he had carried you to the infirmary after your attack. He shook the image off and focused instead on the way you relaxed in his arms.

Dean placed you on his bed and tucked you into the blankets before sliding in beside you. He stopped himself from cuddling into you. He knew he had a lot of work to do before he could do something like that again, knew he had to learn to forget the demon’s words in your voice.

Instead he fell asleep on his side, watching the way you curled into yourself, the way your nose twitched while you slept. He was going to get you back, on way or the other. You were his girl, afterall.