#don’t interact with me and I won’t interact w you! it’s that easy!

[otter-pup]

can men dni blogs maybe not interact with me. like. y’all are the ones who don’t want me interacting with you why are you here

[nelle-y]

A love story told through voicelines (Alhaitham ver.) I

C/W: alhaitham x gn!reader, not that slow of a burn, characters find the other annoying, reader is a teacher at the akademiya (Vahumana), they have history (iykyk), one nsfw innuendo, not proofread

Note: my humiliating attempt at writing Alhaitham’s smart ahh attitude >A< anw, lmk how you guys want this story to go! (comments and reblogs are encouraged and appreciated)

Part 2

—

(You) About Alhaitham

Scribe Alhaitham? He’s… intelligent. That’s all I have to say.

(Alhaitham) About you

Hm.

(You) About Alhaitham: History I

He and I partnered up in a thesis which, thankfully, got approved by our professors. Working with him was challenging, to be honest. Every idea I had, he’d shut it down with some counter argument—“they’d never approve of that,” or “it has too many defects.” A conversation with him may as well be a debate! Frustrating and infuriating.

(Alhaitham) About you: History I

They are competent, I’ll admit that much. But their ideas? Flawed. Reckless. It’s as if they refuse to consider consequences before leaping into action. Every discussion turned into an exhausting debate—because, naturally, I had to be the one to explain why their half-formed theories wouldn’t hold up to scrutiny.

Really, for someone who specializes in history, you’d think they’d have learned from past mistakes. And yet, they persist.

(You) About Alhaitham: History II

Talking about this in my place of work is not really appropriate. … Fine! Yes, we were in… amorous congress. But it happened a long time ago—when we were still students. Just once. A drunken mistake, that’s all it was!

… Keep this between us, though. I love my job.

(Alhaitham) About you: History II

I’d rather this particular detail remain in the past where it belongs. It was years ago, an irrelevant event. I fail to see why anyone would find it worth discussing now.

Though, knowing them, they’d likely frame it as some dramatic mistake rather than what it was—an ill-advised but ultimately inconsequential decision. Either way, I don’t intend to entertain the conversation.

… You think I should drop by? Hm, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate their current methodology.

(You) About Alhaitham: Work

It’s inevitable that we cross paths—he’s the Akademiya’s Scribe, after all. I can handle brief interactions, but when he lingers, it’s… bothersome. Always with that unreadable expression, listening too intently to everything I say. I know he’s just waiting to poke holes in my arguments. Ugh. Some things never change.

(Alhaitham) About you: Work

They have an irritating tendency to be vague, as if I won’t immediately notice the gaps in their reasoning. Do they think that being imprecise will make me less inclined to argue? If anything, it has the opposite effect.

I don’t intend to debate them at every opportunity, but when they make it so easy, I see no reason to hold back.

(You) About Alhaitham: Annoyance

Do you know how aggravating it is to give a lecture, only to see him sitting there in the back, arms crossed, silently judging every word that comes out of my mouth? He doesn’t even work in my Darshan! What is he doing there?! “It was on my way,” he says. “I had time to spare,” he says. Liar.

Having the Scribe in my classroom is distracting—both for me and my students. I’d appreciate it if he found a different way to pass the time. Preferably far away from my lectures.

(Alhaitham) About you: Observation

I fail to understand how they manage to get results. Their lectures lack structure, their methods are inconsistent, and yet… their students actually retain information. It goes against all logic.

Still, I suppose there’s something to be said about efficacy, no matter how unorthodox. Not that I’ll be admitting that to them. They’re insufferable enough as it is.

(You) About Alhaitham: A Final Thought

I swear, he only comes to my lectures to irritate me. He just sits there, arms crossed, waiting for me to say something he can nitpick. It’s distracting. The other day, I caught myself scanning the room to see if he was there before I even started teaching. Ridiculous.

…No, that doesn’t mean anything! It’s just easier to prepare for battle when you know the enemy is near!

(Alhaitham) About you: A Final Thought

They’ve developed an odd habit of pausing mid-lecture, glancing toward the back of the room—toward me. If I were to be charitable, I’d say they’re checking whether I have any objections.

But that would imply they value my opinion. Which, of course, is absurd.

(Your student) About you and the Scribe

… So, uh. Are those two dating or something?

[ghostarii]

HALLUCINOGEN (LOSING YOUR MIND), KAFKA

ʚɞ blurred lines of reality and illusions, meistered by an illusory manifestation of deep desires and wanton bliss bring about an enlightenment far beyond anything holy.

WARNINGS ݈݇- fem!reader, praise, slapping, nipple play, spit, hair pulling, cunnilingus, overstimulation, implied inexperienced!reader, biblical(?) references but no explicit relation, fingering, corruption kink, kafka teasing, minors & non nb/wlw do not interact.

NOTE ݈݇- soo . . . i won’t get into where i’ve been but just know i’m going through a lot And desperately need a distraction. i’ve turned my brain off n wrote this w my pssy so if it gets crazy blame her! jus in need of som mindless horny fun 😞😞

WORD COUNT ݈݇- 3.3k

COLORFUL STROBES FLICKER WITH reckless abandon, jumping in excited juxtaposition to the smooth, dance beat that plays through the speakers. Lucidity fills the room—you’re hyper-aware yet unconscious: watching everything from an existential position and you're drunk off the omnipotence. It coats your body in this mesmerizing feel beyond comprehension. Something so shimmery and soft that you find comfort in it, yet houndingly aggressive that you're thrashed around in its throes. It only amplifies as time passes and you can't feel any fucking better.

Everything feels intense. On a molecular level, you can feel everything, and it’s a sensation that’s beyond your expectations. It's like…subhuman—or, no, rather, extraterrestrial: akin to otherworldly intensities that cannot be created nor replicated on Earth. You are somewhere else, reaching the heights beyond existence that bathe you in sweaty warmth and glittery kisses.

Not Heaven nor Nirvana, but something nameless. Something seedier and gutsy, gnarled in debauched patterns of unholiness and temptations, wrong in every right way, and bad in every good way. Where or whatever it is is uncharted but it is shared— and you’d stay here with her until it fades into nothingness.

You will stay here with her until it fades into nothingness. She is the nucleus of this illusory ecstasy-scape, and in her hands, you are guided along a path of pure, unadulterated, fantasy.

She is made up of raw vulgarity: it in its purest form as something seduces you into her proximity, begging you to bite the apple and see the light.

Just do it, it’d be so easy.

Don’t you want to taste it? The juice…the sweetness…feel the bite in your jaw?…

Put your mouth to it, let it lead you…

The voice in your head is distant yet wholly present. Almost as though it were whispering in your ear while directing your movements, pushing you deeper into the darkness. Where the light doesn't reach and the ambiguity of the following heightens is where it dwells: perfect, round, and red—shiny and plump and enticing—

Doesn't it look delicious?

It does.

Grab it, then.

It's in your hands now. Caressing it, you admire its magnificence. Soft skin, unplagued by irregularities and blemishes, rosy and inviting.

Bite it.

You lean in.

Head cocked at an opportune angle, lips parted readily, you lean forward…

A bite like a kiss…

A kiss like a bite?

Tender nibbles upon contact quickly morph into sloppy openings. Everything slops and clashes together, fighting aggressively in search of a fix. Fill that hungry, haunting void that grumbles in your stomach, aching terribly for sustenance.

You moan for it— whimpering a pathetic Please against her mouth and resting your forehead against hers. “Gimme…”

She laughs, cupping your pouty face in her palms. “Sweet girl,” she says, pecking your lips. “What do you need from me?”

Everything.

Her kisses feel like pillows all over your face. Gentle presses in a scattered manner, showering you with tender affection that blooms in your chest.

The heft that controlled your body has now morphed into feather-lightness—as though you weigh nothing and are floating across the Heavens. The colorful lights and bass-boosted music have ceased and you now reside in a dark room, illuminated by a single, dim night table lamp and ambient light leaking through crimson curtains. A bed sits beneath you, soft like clouds and cushioning you as you’re laid down on it, limbs stretched beneath her straddling.

She continues to kiss down your body, leaving your face and heading South to your neck, where her mouth latches and suckles on the skin. Your body has an immediate reaction: your eyes are fluttering closed and your hips are gyrating upwards, where your core catches her thigh and the throb that pumps through it harshens. You gasp out, grabbing the back of her head and tangling your fingers through her plum locks, pulling out the ponytail holder and letting limp curls coil down your forearm.

“You taste so good..so sweet,” she mumbles, pulling at the flimsy fabric of your top until the fabric screeches, a tear forming in the center. She continues to pull until the red garment is split in half, discarded to the side, and leaving you in your white bra. It's decorated in lace swirls and vines across the cups, peeking over in a rosette border that teases your assets. Enveloped in intricacies, you’re displayed beneath her as a decadent confection—ready to be devoured into nothingness. “I can’t get enough of you.” She says.

The silver clasp glints in her eye as it sits between your cleavage, asking for a break as your breasts hold it hostage. “May I?”

“Please,” you breathe out. At your heed, she pulls the hook apart with ease, and your boobs jump out of their confines.

She helps you shrug the material off your shoulders, soon tossing it off the side of your cloud-bed and leaving you bare from the waist up. You don't try to cower under attention. Instead, you revel in it, bathing in the rose tint she views you in and presenting yourself.

Humor is found in your actions, and she can't help but crack a smile at you. Her hand drives up from your navel and passes through the valley of your breasts to grapple around your neck. Fingers immediately press on the pressure points in your neck, making your [already] heavy eyes droop harder and your lips purse and part. You're lifted slightly off the bed, inches away from her face as she hovers over you.

“I don't know where to start,” she says, softly. “There’s so many things I want to do to you.”

“Do it all.” You lean up, chasing the distant feel of her lips. She hesitates to indulge you, going back and forth between leaning in and creating distance, leaving her in a silent push and pull where she defiantly fights the magnetism. “I'm all yours—”

“Mm mm.” She hums, shaking her head. She can't do this, she can't do you.

You nod your head, almost eagerly, chasing her lips. “Use me.”

No. She shakes her head no, leaning further back.

“Take me.” You say, following her actions.

No. I can’t.

“Ruin me.”

Her hand weakens around your neck, and you're quick to grab it, returning it to its place around your neck. Your eyes are polished and wide, wordlessly begging her for attention.

Meek squeaks slip out of your mouth as her grip returns, the pressure she applies being much tighter and more restrictive than previously. Still, your lips still find the courage to pull into a small smile, parting and making way for the whisper your voice has turned into. “Kafka,” you moan out, her name heavy on your tongue, “fuck me.”

She sits before you, sweet purplish hair framing around her pale frame, juxtaposing the deep, salacious fuschia that glares at you. An almost taunting glow emits from her as she ponders her next course of action— should she turn her mind off and act aimlessly, or should she retreat with sensibility? She's already come thus far, she’s already molded you in her palm, she's already invented a paradise for you…it is yours to defile as you please.

If you must beg her so wantonly, as though you’ll die without feeling her version of pleasure, she must forfeit the fight and succeed in the throes of ecstasy. She has been tempted.

Your wish is obliged with care. She pins you beneath her, diving back into where she left off with a searing fervor. Her lips leave stains of her red lipstick smeared across your chest, trailing streakily across the surface until she kisses around your right tit.

A line is drawn by her tongue from beneath your underboob area to your areola, pebbling the skin in her wake. Your nipples perk and harden, the left immediately becoming a target of bullying from her pinching fingers. Sharp, black almond nails cover the bud as she tweaks it harshly, immediately subduing your wince by licking over your right nipple.

Her eyes stay on your face as she enacts so, carefully dancing her tongue over and around it until she sucks it into her mouth, mimicking the suction with the pinch of her fingers. You moan out, throwing your head back and greeting the swirling sight of stars and glimmering streaks. They paint upon a blacked-out view, covering the inside of your eyelids with the visual manifestation of how you feel. Elated. Content. Pleasured. Something you've never felt before and it is…wow.

“Kaf…” you meekly whimper, unable to even say the rest of her name. Your hand presses her face closer to your chest, almost aiming to slowly ease your entire body into her mouth. It feels so fucking good— like nothing you've ever felt before and you don't want her to stop.

Your body is warm to the touch and it feels like your veins are pumping pure stardust. Her tongue swirls and loops around your nipple, slopping spit and vocal vibrations all over the sensitive bud, eliciting the sweetest broken moans from you. They're unabashed and full of weight, carrying the load of untouched desire.

How long have you been waiting for this?

Too long.

Was it worth the wait?

So, so worth it.

What do you want next?

“Touch me.” You don't even mean to say it out loud, but it slips out amongst the flurry of gasps you puff. Hips bucking desperately in search of something only to meet a sufficient source once every few thrusts. It’s not enough, you need the tingle between your legs tended to. “G-Goddammit, Kaf, please…”

She needs not another instruction, simply obliging your request with her hand making work of your pants, undoing the pesky clasps. Separating from you, she uses the opportunity to rid of her shirt, sliding her pants down her legs and kicking it all to the floor. Her hands grab at the belt loops, tugging the tight fabric slowly down your legs while maintaining eye contact.

Don’t take your eyes off me.

She doesn't even need to say it. You know it— as though it were an innate action hardwired into your very being.

You watch her intently as your pants are finally pulled off your legs, leaving the limbs angled up on her chest. Discarding your pants to the side, she runs her hands up and down your legs, kissing down the left from your ankle to your shin, to your knee, to your thigh, over to the other leg, and going back up.

“So patient..good girl. Letting me take my time with you…” she says, breathily. Kissing back down your leg, slowly positioning herself eye-level with your cunt. She licks a line from your hamstring to your panty-clad cunt, eyes still never leaving you. She kisses firmly on the wet spot that stretches over the seat of your white panties, leaving the remnants of her lipstick on the fabric in a kiss mark. You’re hot, throbbing, and soaking— primed for her demolition. “Want me here?”

You nod furiously, pushing yourself into her face. “Need you there.” You correct, hooking your fingers under the band of your underwear and awkwardly shimmying the garment off.

“Needy little thing, aren't you?” She muses, tucking her hair behind her ears. You slowly unveil yourself to her, letting the stuffy air draft over your wetness, pushing shivers down your spine. “Just waiting and waiting..oh, ‘m sorry…”

The prettiest pussy she’s ever seen awaits her attention. Eagerly beating at her, your cunt drools and shines, drowning itself in an overwhelming amount of arousal that even beads off the curve of your ass. All of this for her, only for her, because of her…Kafka might just be the luckiest woman in the universe.

She wedges herself tighter between your legs, feeling the heat that burns in you and smelling the sweetness just waiting to be swallowed. Her eyes go back up to you, catching the tears of frustration building, and her smile breaks wider.

“‘M sorry for making you wait so long.”

Spread ‘em.

You spread your legs wider to make space for her head, immediately throwing your head back when her exhale fans over your cunt.

Her tongue darts immediately toward your slobbering hole, licking up the tracks of arousal that spill down the fat of your ass. She slams her dominant hand down on your cheek, giving it a soft rub as she giggles at your wince-whimper combination. Her tongue draws looping circles around your entrance, slipping down and licking up the stray beads. She then drives it back up to your hole, pushing the muscle into your tight entrance with little force. Your eyes shoot open and you're adjusting to the new sensation, watching her intently as she creates a hard pace: in, out, in, out until she flickers the tip of her tongue over your fluttering hole and licks a flat strip halfway up through your folds before repeating.

The taste of you is already intoxicating. Unparalleled to anyone before you— you are pure and dripping raw ecstasy, lighting her body up in the wake of lightning. She can't get enough and moans into your cunt, rolling and spinning her tongue around your walls.

She hooks your right leg over her shoulder, slinking her arm beneath the limb and slithering her fingers to your neglected clit. Just hovering over the bud makes you shiver and buck into her mouth, so she takes the initiative to drive you fucking insane. Kafka must have some sort of magic touch, or she can read you like a first-grade book, because she presses down on the bud, rubbing it in a smooth back and forth. Your mind immediately short circuits and you're back on that illusory plane, feeling everything with such great intensity that you feel your orgasm building already.

Clenching around her tongue and bucking into her mouth lets Kafka know that you're about to cum. She pulls off, building up a ball of spit on her tongue and dropping it off between your folds.

Her ministrations on your clit cease as she uses her two fingers to part your labia, licking boldly between your lips and collecting a heap of sticky slick on her tongue. She hums contently, swallowing down the fluid with dramatized vocalizations and intense eye contact.

“You taste so good, baby.” She moans, sliding her left hand into her panties. She begins touching herself, grinding on her hand while licking the taste of you off her lips. “Want you to cum in my mouth, okay? Make..a big mess for me,”

She moans out so vulgarly, letting her hand on your pussy falter and tickle over your puffy clit.

It's only now that you see Kafka: untamed. This is her in her rawest form— lust-gone and hungry. Wasting no time in leaning forward and attacking your clit, sucking the bud with such eagerness that she hollows her cheeks, squeaking our obnoxious sucking sounds that bounce off the walls. The suction is so harsh that you can't help but screech, grabbing her hair and pulling the handful of locks taut against her skull.

You can tell she likes that. So you do it again, simultaneously humping into her mouth.

Be rough.

She tries to pull back but you keep her there, forcing her nose to sit atop the mound of your pussy and asphyxiating her slowly.

Be mean.

“That's it— l-like that..! F-fuck, Kaf,” you sputter, the new flickering of her tongue over your clit eliciting sharp rods of lightning to pierce all over your body. You have no control over the moans that leave your mouth because your body is so beyond itself—receiving a kind of satisfaction never experienced before and it's reveling in that, boiling itself in pure heat and pushing out creamy bubbles. “Fuck—make me cum.”

She forces her head up against the behest of your hand, gasping in a big heap of air. Her face is flushed and wet, wearing the effect your pussy leaves on her, and yet, it still earns a piercing slap that sends her head in the opposite direction.

Oh, good. That was good.

Before you can stumble out an apology, she sneers at you. “Yeah? Is that how you're feeling?”

You didn't mean to do it—you don't know what came over you— “N-no—”

“Do it again.”

Kafka’s word is absolute and you have no room to disobey. You cock your arm back and swing, slapping her with a lot less force than before.

She grabs your hand and forces it to the back of her head, and you instinctively grab onto the hair. “Remember what you do to me…” she says, sticking her fingers into her mouth and suckling on the digits. Just as she pops them out of her mouth and directs them to your pussy, she looks back up at you. “You’re in control. Make me.”

Famous last fucking words.

The next few actions are melted together in a blur of galaxies and tears, ceasing to have a tangible visual but proceeding to wreck your body into oblivion. Kafka has sucked your clit until it's swollen, pleading to be left alone but consistently the target of merciless abuse. It doesn't help that it acts as though it were a self-destruct button—every ministration rendering your body stiff and turbulent: quivering beneath rigid curlings and tightenings.

You’re coasting through the skies with her head working between your legs, sucking the taste right off your pussy until it cries some more. It is an endless cycle of overwhelming pleasure that only builds upon itself, forming into an unstable, grandeur tower of lusty goodness that threatens to come crashing down.

She licks and sucks fervently, determined to yank your orgasm from your depths and taste the purest essence of you. And you are a victim to it— pulling half of her hair into a makeshift ponytail and fucking yourself on her face, desperately chasing the epicenter of your orgasm to make it let go.

“F-fucking me s-so good, Kaf—!” You squeal, feeling your stomach bubble and tighten. “C-close!!!”

Let go.

It's too much. It's so fucking good—good Lord—

Just cum.

Rightthererightthere– “Hnngggh—just like t-that! Shit!”

She sucks so hungrily on your pussy, eating you like a rabid dog on a fresh piece of meat. Her tongue is doing this you can't even describe and the images you see as a result are skewed.

Pretty visuals of clouds raining intergalactic hearts over a foggy sky and lightning streaks of ecstasy fill your fucked up head, imitating the euphoric feeling imposed on your body. You're so close—your body twitches and your eyes cry, pleasured sobs leaving your mouth as everything good attacks you all at once.

Be a good girl. Cum.

Kafka’s eyes roll into the back of her head as she feels your floodgates break— the orgasmic wave pushing out of your pussy and all over her face. The cry that's ripped from your throat is visceral and guttural, tearing your throat to shreds and rendering you a weeping mess.

If getting eaten felt good, orgasming feels even better. It feels cosmic—irreplaceable and delectable from beginning to end. And Kafka fucks you through it, flicking her tongue through your folds and slurping up your juices with a wide smile.

Give in; let it take you.

Stuck in the heat of euphoria, you only float higher to heights uncharted, soaring freely. Light reaches out to you in fragmented rays, calling to you in the galactic darkness to follow its way.

This is goodness. Everything holy and unholy; everything sacred and desecrated; everything clean and everything dirty; a culmination of unchained, terrific bliss right in your core.

It was always there, you just needed it out of you.

Now that you have it, nothing will be the same. So long as it still exists.

[minniesmutt]

☾ ━━━━━━ 𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐧𝐢𝐚𝐜 𝐨𝐫 𝐯𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞

☾ ━━━ PAIRING: HAN X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: VAMPIRE!HAN, HUMAN!READER, SOMNOPHILIA, CONSENT JEWELRY, IMPLIED FREE USE, UNPROTECTED SEX, NO PREP, SMUT W/ LITTLE PLOT, ☾ ━━━ WC: 1k ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Jisung loved his girlfriend with all his undead heart. He just didn’t like their sleep schedules. His was pretty unavoidable. Yeah, he could walk in the sun, but night was when he was most active. And it’s not like he needed sleep to get his energy back like humans. That’s what blood was for. 

     So while he was up all night doing whatever, his pretty girlfriend was fast asleep. It had started taking a toll on their sex life. He didn’t want to complain much to her. He was centuries old, and he knew humans couldn’t go for hours nor did they often have the drive supernatural beings did. He only said something when she brought it up.

     “Do you know the last time we had sex?” Y/n asked randomly

     “Fifty-four days ago. I don’t know the hour and minutes to but—”

     “Were you counting the days?”

     “Yes…?”

     “And you didn’t bring it up to me at all?”

     “I wanted to after the first week but I didn't want you to think I was that needy.”

     Y/n sighed and walked over to her boyfriend, cupping his cheeks, “Ji, sweetie. I’ve told you my sex drive is high. You can always talk to me if you need me. I didn’t realize how long it had been.”

     “Everytime I want to though your… it’s going to sound dumb.”

     “No it won’t. What is it?” Y/n asked 

     “Everytime i’m in the mood you're always asleep and I don’t want to wake you because I know you need sleep.”

     “Then,” Y/n tried coming up with a solution. She knew it was hard with their occult difference.

     “See. There’s not really —“

     “Just fuck me when im asleep.”

     “Huh?!”

     He couldn’t deny he had thought about it a few times. Just pull back the covers and slip into her. Something about how pretty she looked when she was peacefully sleeping did something to his brain. 

     “Fuck me when—“

     “I heard you the first time, baby. But, are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you like that. Because if I fuck you, I’m going to want to bite you.”

     “You always want to bite me.”

     “I always want to fuck you.”

     “You can fuck me whenever you want.”

     “What if you’re not in the mood?”

     “What if we have a code word or something? Something for me to tell you, ‘I’m not in the mood today’ or ‘I’m in the mood today’? Would that help you?”

     “Yes. A lot,”

     The couple sat on the bed and brainstormed some ideas. Searching the internet a bit for ideas as well. Finally the settled on a piece of his jewelry. A necklace, easy floor him to spot since the camper may not always pay attention when he was focused on something and her neck was something his eyes always focused on. 

     He found an old necklace of his he had completely forgotten about. Nice enough that it could go with anything she wore. Y/n took the necklace from him and pecked his lips. She didn’t put the necklace on yet. She waited till she was getting ready for bed. She finished her skin care and clasped the necklace around her neck, making sure it was visible over her sleep shirt. 

     Jisung had zero clue. Forgetting a little about it and focusing on a track he was working on. He got pulled out when she kissed his cheek, “I’m going to bed,” Y/n told him, smiling a bit 

     “Have a good night,” Jisung said as he turned and pecked her lips. He saw the necklace but didn’t think much, again already having forgotten about the conversation a bit. It wasn’t until a few hours later he suddenly remembered. He froze at his computer, Eyes darting to the clock in the corner. Two twenty-nine in the morning. He didn’t know when she said goodnight to him so he didn’t know if she was asleep or not. His eyes needed a break anyways so he got up and walked down the hall to their bedroom. 

     “Baby,” he called a couple of times, no responses. He walked in, double checked and was wearing the necklace, and checked her  pulse. Both her pulse and her breathing were even and slow. She was asleep. 

     His cock sprung up at the thought of acting on things he’d thought about for so long. He walked over and pulled back the covers. He didn’t catch much of what she was wearing to bed at the time but boy was he happy to find his girlfriend in just one of her large t-shirts and nothing else. Making it easy for him. 

     “Fucking hell baby,” Jisung groaned then turned her onto her back. 

     The vampire put her thighs over his easily. He pulled down his shorts and boxers enough to get his dick out. He could see her folds glistening. He really wondered how long she was waiting in anticipation for him. 

     He pressed his tip into her slowly. Watching her to make sure she didn't wake up. Slowly pushing in further when she didn’t wake. He let himself get used to it. Feeling like he could cum from just the thrill of the action alone. He gave himself a minute then pulled back and thrusted into her. 

     His pace started slow. Careful to not wake her up but his pace picked when he realized she was sound asleep. Grabbing her thighs and pushing them up towards her chest. He pushed deeper into her, cock twitching inside her. 

     He tried keeping his voice down. Trying to swallow his groans as best he could. Gripping her thighs tightly as he frantically thrusted in and out of her. The thrill of what he was doing catching up to him and coming out inside her. Filling up her womb and burying himself into her. Grunting as he rode out his high. 

     Jisung took a moment to regain his clarity and pulled out. Amazed she managed to sleep through it. He grabbed a warm washcloth from their bathroom and cleaned her up. Kissing her neck before sinking his fangs into her. Drinking her neck, hands holding hips. 

     He pulled his fangs out of her neck and laid down beside her. Pulling the blanket over them and holding her close. Whispering an ‘I love you’ into the back of her head

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[gay-dorito-dust]

Heyyy

So I really liked the Damian Wayne x reader platonic friend thingy your wrote. I really feel like there should be more of those.

Anyways, k cam where to respect something similar. Can u maybe write hc on what it'd be like to be friends w him? Like bantering n stuff and maybe u can focus a bit on how Bruce feels abt it? Oh and bonus points if the reader is awkward.

Toodles!

Being friends with Damian isn’t easy in the slightest, mainly because he doesn’t make it easy for anyone to befriend him in the first place. So the fact that you managed to accomplish that was a major achievement already.

However that didn’t mean anything afterwards was made any easier for you just because you managed to make the impossible become possible. No. Why? Damian is one hell of a dry conversationalist if Titus or animals in general weren’t involved.

He’s basically an extroverts worst nightmare given a human form. For no matter how hard you tried to bait him into giving more then a one word answer out of him, it always ends with Damian not taking the bait and allowing a air of awkward silence to befall you both while everyone else was having a better time then you.

You: hey Damian.

Him: hello l/n.

You: how have you been?

Him: in peak condition, why?

You: it’s because I don’t see you that much outside of school, it’s almost as if your allergic to social interaction.

Him: Tt. why should I go out of my way to do such a thing? I have you as an acquaintance don’t I?

You: I mean yeah I guess-

Him: then I have no need to expand my friend group, for they’ll only disappoint me. Now is that all?

You: I mean there’s not much else to talk about at this point.

Him: good.

*cue to the pair of you sitting in utter, awkward silence*

When Damian says one friend is all he needs, he genuinely means it. One is enough for him. He doesn’t need anymore because he knows that he doesn’t have the time for them. Plus he might not say it out loud but he does appreciate your friendship, even if your both awkward individuals within most social situations, but he is happy that someone finally gave him a chance to be a friend.

So even if you were to ever ask why you were friends it’ll probably go something a bit like this;

You: why are you friends with me?

Him: you aren’t an idiot, plus you’re the only one who isn’t insufferable.

You: is that meant to be taken as a compliment or…

Him: take it as you see fit.

You: okay…

Damian as a friend would be protective i’d like to think? I mean you are literally the first friend he’s made so naturally he’s going to feel something when he sees you being friends with anyone else that wasn’t him.

Was it insecurity that you not day might not want to be his friend anymore? Possibly.

Will he ever admit to it though? No. This is Damian we’re talking about, of course he won’t.

Also being friends with Damian would best summed up as being two people who shouldn’t work but ultimately do either way, kind of like an ‘against all their differences they’re the best of friends’ type of duo because nobody and I mean nobody saw a friendship between you two ever happening. Ever.

Not even the great Bruce Wayne.

Speaking about him. If you ever got to visit the Wayne Manor and meet his father aka THE Bruce Wayne. Take it as a sign as you’ve made it as Damian’s best friend.

Would you shit yourself upon meeting quite possibly the most powerful man in Gotham? Yes and your sweating buckets on top of that, all the while Damian would be stood next to you completely unfazed as he introduced you to his father as his best mate.

Damian: father.

Bruce: Damian.

Damian: *points to you* this is my best friend and I expect that they get treated with respect during their visit here.

You: hi- hello it’s an honour to meet you M-Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: tell me how you’ve come to befriend my son?

You: we were in the same art class and I noticed that he had no one to sit next to, and so I offered for him to sit with me, keep in mind I’m not that well liked and practically had a whole table to myself, and I’d like to think our friendship started with that small act of kindness Mr Wayne sir.

Bruce: and had Damian been kind to you?

You: in his own unique way sir but I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Bruce: *smiled* you’re a good kid l/n and you can go ahead and drop the formalities and call me Bruce instead. I shall go and tell Alfred to add another plate at the dinner table tonight.

Bruce, upon hearing that Damian had made a friend, wanted to meet you within immediate effect and see whether or not his son made for a good judge of character and he wasn’t disappointed.

Given the fact that you were awkward aside, you were defiantly what Damian needed for a friend, and Bruce was happy to see his son finally get to be normal for once as he watched from the window as Damian practically dragged you out to the spacious backyard with an excitable Titus on your heels as the Great Dane tried to get up and personal with you.

Alfred: they are certainly a pair, aren’t they master Bruce.

Bruce: an odd pair they may seem but they even out the other perfectly. Besides when was the last time Damian looked genuinely happy?

Alfred; can’t say that I recall sir.

Bruce: neither can I. At first I was sceptical but I’m glad being wrong. I can only hope that a friendship like theirs will stand the test of time because there will be times that will test their limits with one another. But if they’re as good a pair as I think they are then they’ll be perfectly fine.

Alfred: couldn’t have put it better myself sir *smiles alongside Bruce as they watched you and Damian act on your own within the others presence while in comfortable silence as Titus fell asleep at both of your feet.*

Yeah you’ll both be alright. You’ve got each other after all and that’s what matters at the end of the day.

[daisynik7]

“freak-a-leek” by petey pablo for a jean and eren threesome if that’s okay plz

Freek-A-Leak

Pairing: Eren Jaeger x f!reader x Jean Kirstein

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.9k

cw: modern setting au, explicit language, p*rn w/no plot, smut – threesome, PIV sex (missionary), cunnilingus, blowjob, sex toy use, masturbation, cum-eating, dirty talk, sex without a condom, pet names (baby, sweetheart), reader has multiple orgasms, creampies, just some overall smutty silliness

Summary: You’re on a business trip with the two cockiest salesmen in your department: Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein. After a long day of dealing with them clashing over the silliest things, you decide to unwind in your hotel room the best way you know how. 

Author’s Note: This is the last song on the y2k karaoke party playlist! Thank you so much for the request anon! I had fun with this! It’s all horny and just plain silly, so I hope you like it. Thank you so much for reading! MDNI divider by @/cafekitsune. 

It’s almost 10 PM when you finally make it back to your hotel room, completely spent from today’s activities. It’s the first day of the conference here in Marley and being stuck in the middle of Eren Jaeger and Jean Kirstein has proven to be much more exhausting than you anticipated. 

You’re not completely convinced you needed to come on this business trip with them. After all, they’re the top two salesmen in your department, and this conference is solely for selling your product to new customers. Your boss, Hangë, encouraged you, the lead design engineer, to tag along in case they needed any technical support while demonstrating the ODM equipment. You were reluctant at first, but when they emphasized the fact that this trip would be completely paid for, including the lodging and food, how could you refuse? 

Unfortunately for you, because of the two clashing personalities between Jean and Eren, you ended up playing mediator throughout the day rather than engineer. The two bickered as usual, from where to eat, to what side of the table they wanted to stand on. In front of the customers, they were professional and charismatic, no hint of animosity lingering around them. As soon as it was the three of you alone, it was nonstop arguing and snide remarks, with you doing your best to either ignore it or alleviate it until the next fight arose. 

Luckily for you, Hangë set you up with your own room at the hotel while the other two shared the one right beside you. There’s an adjoining door for easy access into each other’s space and Jean begs you to open it when you first check in, not wanting a single moment alone with his temporary roommate. But after today’s festivities, you’re desperate for some private time by yourself.

Jean steps into your room, leaning against the doorframe. “So, should we watch a movie?” he suggests, still in his dress shirt, tie loosened around his collar.

Eren appears behind him, on his tip-toes to get your attention. “Why don’t we play video games instead?”

You yawn, shooing them away. “I’m exhausted, so I’m going to sleep.” 

You try to shut the door on them, but Jean pushes back, persistent. “You’re not seriously going to leave me alone with him, are you?” He points his thumb to the man behind him. 

Eren scoffs. “I don’t want to be alone with you either!”

“Dude, you are breathing down my neck! Give me some space.”

“Then move so I can talk to her!”

“It’s not your turn to talk!”

“Guys!” you yell, losing your patience. “I am tired. Try to get along so we can all get some sleep. Please?”

They grumble to themselves, shoving elbows at each other before they finally leave you alone, closing the door to give you your peace. You don’t bother locking in, certain they won’t be bothering you the rest of the night. 

After a nice, hot shower, you get comfortable in your pajamas, rummaging through one of your pouches until you find what you’re looking for. After a long day with those two goofballs, the best way for you to relieve stress is to have a little playtime. You carry your vibrator with you to bed, one ear bud in, and your favorite naughty audio ready to play on your phone. Only five minutes in, with the fluttering tip pressed to your clit, it doesn’t take long for you to orgasm. Ready for another, you get distracted by the muffled voices of your neighbors, bickering once again. You pop your ear bud out, trying to hear whatever dumb topic they’re arguing about now. The toy is still vibrating in your hands, the tip wet with your arousal. You let your imagination wander, thinking of Jean and Eren just on the other side of the wall. Hot, heated, raring to go. Fantasizing about the nasty, filthy things they could do to you if they knew just how horny you are, pent up with sexual frustration from all the testosterone you were surrounded with today. 

Suddenly, the door swings open and Eren stomps into the room, shouting your name. “Who do you find more annoying, me or him?!” Jean follows right on his tail, trying to grab him by the collar of his undershirt, hissing, “She’s sleeping, you dumbass!” They stop in their tracks, staring wide-eyed at you with your legs spread open on the bed, blanket shrugged off, vibrator buzzing in your hand. Completely exposed.

You quickly pull the covers over you, hiding the toy beneath your pillow, mortified. “What the fuck?!” you yell out to them. 

Both of them gape at you, blushing all the way down to their necks, speechless for the first time all day. Their silence is louder than any squabbling they’ve done today, and you have no idea what to say to make this any less awkward than it already is. 

Before you can think of another response, Eren clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey Jean. Bet I can make her come harder than you can.”

Jean glances at him, hesitant at first, then relaxes into a smirk. “Oh yeah? You’re on.”

Eren steps towards the bed, grinning at you. “What do you say? Will you help us?” 

You stare at them, befuddled and also extremely intrigued by this offer. Deciding quickly, you nod at them, releasing the grip on the blanket. They both smile at you, putting a flutter in your belly. Eren laughs, tugging on the covers slowly. “Come on. You can’t hide from us now.”

Jean joins in, dragging it down your body until you’re on display again, pussy glistening from your first orgasm. They both swear under their breaths, Eren licking his lips while Jean bites his. “Fuck, did you already come?”

“Yeah, I did,” you answer, pussy aching to be touched by either one of them. Both of them.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Eren says, inching towards you. “You’re extra juicy for me, huh?”

“Why do you get to go first?” Jean butts in, scowling. 

Eren positions himself at your arousal, his breath hot on your pussy as he replies, “I don’t want to lick your spit.”

“Well, I don’t want to lick yours either! Let me goes first.”

“Fuck you, I’m already here.”

“Then move!” 

“Guys!” you cry out, bucking your hips, desperate for anything at this point. “Just hurry up and touch me. Please.”

Eren sticks his tongue out. “You heard her,” he muffles, licking circles around your clit. “Let’s make our girl feel good.”

Jean swallows hard, positioning himself beside you, puckering his lips around your nipples and sucking. You moan, arching your back off the bed, running your fingers through his hair. “Feels so good,” you whine, feeding your other breast to him. He latches on immediately, pulling your teat between his lips while Eren laps at your puffy clit. With your free hand, you grab hold of his hair, gripping it to pull him deeper into your cunt. Soon, you’re gushing on his face, rutting your hips against him while he swallows every drop of you. 

“Fuck, you taste good,” Eren says, tongue prodding into your slit. 

“I want a taste too,” Jean mutters, giving your nipple one last hard suck before he releases you with a wet pop. 

“Not yet,” Eren murmurs, kissing the soft plush of your thighs. 

Jean crawls to where he is, shoving him slightly to stick his face into your pussy. “It’s my turn, jackass.” He laps at your clit, determined to be better than his rival. 

Eren laughs, collecting your slick slathered on his chin and lips with his fingers, licking it off. “Be honest, baby. Is he doing better than me?” He strips out of his bottoms, lying beside you, stroking his hard cock. 

You squeeze your thighs around Jean’s head, bucking into his mouth, already close to your third climax. Your eyes go from Eren’s fist jerking himself off to Jean’s face shaking between your legs, eating you out feverishly. He teases a finger inside you and when you flutter around it, he slides in all the way, adding a second.

“No fair,” Eren breathes out, stroking himself faster.

Jean chuckles against your skin, sucking on your clit while he pumps his fingers in and out of you. You turn your head to face Eren, leaning towards him to kiss him sloppily. He cradles your cheek with his free hand, pulling you in deeper, tongue swirling around yours, slurping up your spit. Once again, you’re pushed over the edge, coming on Jean’s face this time, his nose pressed to your sensitive bud as he drinks up all the slick leaking out of you. 

“Fuck me,” you beg, not directing it to anyone in particular.

Eren smiles against your mouth, licking your drool off the corners of your lips. “Go ahead, Jean. You can go first.”

Jean shoves his pants down, releasing his stiff cock, palming it. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says, kneeling next to your head, tracing your lips with the tip of his cock. “We’re having way too much fun right here, aren’t we sweetheart?” You nod in response, moaning around his dick as you sink your mouth on it, swallowing it until it’s to the back of your throat. “Fuck, you take it so good. You wanted to get fucked like this tonight, huh? Wanted to show us what a freak you are.”

Jean slides his cock inside you, stretching you out until he bottoms out. He spreads your legs apart, holding you open so he can pound straight into you. Eren’s focus goes from his own pleasure to his friend thrusting. “Fuck her harder, Jean.”

He obeys, picking up the pace, shoving himself deeper. You choke on your own moans, pulling off Eren to catch your breath. He cradles your face in his hands, massaging your cheeks tenderly. “You’re okay, sweetheart. Take a break. Just enjoy getting fucked by this fat cock.”

“Fuck,” Jean growls, closing his eyes. “I’m so close.”

Eren licks his lips, watching. “Don’t pull out. Fill her up.”

At that, Jean loses it, spurting his hot load inside you, your pussy fluttering around him. He pulls out, switching spots with Eren, snuggling up next to you to kiss you softly. You smile at him, whispering, “Thank you.”

He plants a smooch on your nose. “Thank you, baby.”

“Hey, don’t forget about me,” Eren says, guiding his hard cock inside you. “I’m going to fuck all this cum right back inside this cunt.”

You and Jean both moan, watching him fuck you with a devilish grin on his face. Jean reaches under the pillow, retrieving the toy you used earlier. “Can I use this on you?”

Incoherent and fucked out, you nod, desperate for whatever it is they want to offer to you. He presses the button, making the vibrator buzz in his grip, pressing the fluttering tip to your clit while Eren continues to ravish you. His eyes widen when he sees what Jean’s doing. “Oh shit. She’s squeezing me so fucking tight.” 

You’re in a drunken daze, trembling all over your body from the pleasure, whimpering uncontrollably with Jean toying with your clit as Eren fucks your brains out. When you reach your final climax, Eren comes with you, burying his cum deep inside your womb. You’re stuffed to the brim with both their loads, feeling exhausted and euphoric. 

Eren pulls out, cuddling up to your other side, kissing your forehead. Jean sets the vibrator aside, spooning you from the back. You relax in their arms, actually happy to be stuck in the middle of them for once.

After a moment of comfortable silence, Eren asks jokingly, “So…who won?”

“Obviously me,” Jean grins, kissing your neck.

You laugh, snuggling closer to the both of them. “I think I’m the real winner here.”

[newtkive]

pixels [newt x reader - modern text au]

ch. 1 - the gc birth

in which two online friends navigate a romance through a minecraft groupchat with their stupid friends

or, newt, the quiet, stoic boy, and y/n, the bubbly girl both curse the world for keeping them apart, but at least they can send each other cute emojis and hope the other doesn't notice their blossoming feelings.

warnings: strong language, mutual pining, none really.

➥ m.list

__

notes: hi :p im very new to writing on tumblr (but ive always been a reader) so pls bare w me! and im trying to revert back to being 14 (im 23 lols..) so im revisiting my old favs including the maze runner/thomas (bc i binged the artful dodger and now im obsessed again). there will be non-text chapters in the future as well, when everyone eventually meets. this will be newt focused so enjoy !! also everyone is like a realistic age from 23 to 28

__

THE GLADE

[ 7:45 PM ]

alby added minho, y/n, newt, tommy, and gally

alby: Hello, guys.

minho: wtf is this

newt: uhhhh

tommy: hi :3

y/n: so this is why you asked me for my # in private

gally: i didn’t consent to this when i gave you my number

newt: don’t give strange men your number y/n

tommy: oh that’s y/n?

alby: Wait, Newt you had Y/N’s number already??

newt: yea

tommy: o.O

y/n: i gave it to him like two weeks after we met lmao

tommy: SO HE HAD YOUR NUMBER FOR A YEAR AND I DIDNT????

y/n: well he asked and you guys didn’t :p

newt: lmao

minho: ik he smug as fuck rn

not u asking for a girls number lmao simp

newt: stop

y/n: we all talk in discord anyways so i didn’t really think about it

plus you guys are friends irl so idk

it felt kinda weird to insert myself heh

minho: we’ve known you for a year and a half y/n

we play games all the time

call all the time

we even send packages and shit

you’re very much considered our irl friend

y/n: REALLY?? 🥺🥺

tommy: internet friends are real friends 😍❤️

minho: the heart eyes are crazy

but yes dude

newt: of course you’re our close friend. just cuz we live near each other and you’re a bit far away doesn’t mean we don’t adore you

minho: ADORE IS CRAZY LMFAO

but real ig

y/n: AWWWWW YOU GUYS LOVEEE MEEEEEE

hahahahha

HAHAHHAHJFIEKMGOR

I LVOE YOU GIYYYYSSSS IM PUTTING ALL OUR MINECRAFT BEDS TOGETHER LATER

gally: i do not want my bed to be infested by you guys

minho: gally sleeps in the corner

gally: no i dont i sleep in my mansion

y/n: cherry blossom mansion*

gally: and you sleep in a shed

y/n: cherry blossom shed* its pink and that matters.

tommy: love you y/n 😊🥰

y/n: love you tommy <3333

minho: that’s actually nasty stop now

y/n: u mad ur unloved

i love how the gc name is our minecraft town name :((

newt: aw it is

minho: can we talk about why tf this was made when we have a perfectly good discord

alby: I’m done with Discord.

newt: you got your shit hacked didn’t you mate

minho: mate 💀💀

british people so crazy

alby: Yes maybe..

I don’t want to make another.

y/n: or your old ass doesn’t know how to

minho: LMAO REAL

alby: Gonna ignore that. But I am getting too old for it. I have a new promotion at work so that means I won’t have time to play with you guys as much anymore. So I decided to make this groupchat in hopes to talk to you guys more to make up for it :)

minho: every group always has the old head with the job 💀💀

newt: minho admitting he’s jobless

minho: you work at a library be so fr rn

newt: i have an income. you have a room in your grandmas basement. we are not the same.

gally: LMFAOOOOOOO

minho: stfu :////

y/n: AWWWWWWW ALBYYYYYYY

tommy: YAAAY!!!!

im going to text you guys all day

tell you every meal

every thought

every interaction will be meaningful and glorious

newt: you are 24 years old you don’t have to do all that

minho: no fr im turning off my phone if he starts this shit

why not just do it before in the discord ??

tommy: easy access now and i tried before but stopped since no one really replied..

y/n: i say we all do it :D i will too tommy

newt: ok second thought that’s fine

minho: .

gally: that’s wild.

y/n: YAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!! NEWT YOU GO FIRST

newt: first with what

y/n: say what u ate today

newt: didn’t say i’d do it.

tommy: i ate muffin, monster energy drink, and hamburger :3333

you guys next

minho: that’s all you had bro..

y/n: hot cheetos and french fries and coffee :D

minho: ??????? BRO

how are you guys alive

y/n: it's my day off and no class so i just wanna rot in bed and that means no cooking

newt: please eat and drink water.

like for real and document it

y/n: ok wait

there

tommy: yum!

minho: y/n..

newt: cereal does not count

y/n: I DONT HAVE ENERGY TO MAKE ANYTHING OKAY

im a 23 year old broke college student my fridge is bare

newt: alright what do you want?

y/n: wym?

newt: like if you could pick.

minho: that’s so cruel 😭😭 just making her imagine it

i like it go on.

tommy: i want chick fil a

minho: i knew you hate the gays

tommy: I AM THE GAYS?????

y/n: ugh that does sound good

mmmm chickem sandiwh waffle fry I Want that Os mYch

newt: that’s what you would order?

y/n: mmmcm yeahshhhhh

newt: ok

minho: that’s it?

i thought soemthing would happen

tommy: me too

like a spell! magic 🪄

y/n: sigh

my cereal tastes bad now

newt: well it is cocoa puffs.

minho: L cereal

y/n: DTOP SAYING L ITS SO ANNOYITIGJNGGGGG

minho: she so madddd 😂😂 L

newt: you're annoying minho

minho: youre just saying that bc shes saying that

newt: no ive always said it. and i will continue to. youre fucking annoying

minho: who bought you your coffee yesterday

newt: ???

myself

and i paid for yours too

im the one with an income

minho: .

well i didnt think youd remember that well.

newt: it was literally yesterday.

minho: yeah but ur old

newt: IM THE SAME AGE AS YOU

minho: yeah but im 🤗✨ 26 ✨🤗and youre... 26😬😔

tommy: guys stop fighting

newt: we aren't fighting

maybe this gc was a bad idea

tommy: NO!!!!!!!!!

y/n: NOOOO!

tommy: this is like y/n is here w us irl

y/n: awwwwwwwwwwwwwww

minho: no it's not. we would smell a foul stench if she was

y/n: i ahte you sooo bad.

wait there is a knock at my door im scared

newt: answer it

minho: aren't you supposed to say don't open the door for strangers ????

newt: well usually yes

y/n: no im not expecting company

newt: just do it pls

y/n: ok :D

minho: bruh..

i hope she gets robbed and u feel bad forever newt

newt: why would you want that

minho: bc she owes me money

newt: YOU owe ME money

minho: yes but i have a good reason she just wanted robux

tommy: Y/N DONT DO IT!!! I HAVE SEEN DATELINE

y/n: :o....

tommy: Y/N?????????

OH GOD THEY GOT HER

minho: why would she text a silly face if she got got

tommy: clearly its a surprised face

maybe its not her

its like those cut out magazine letters murderers use

y/n: who got me chick fil a!!!!!!!!!!

minho: me

newt: you literally did not

minho: shut up

y/n: newt it was u i see ur name on the receipt

newt: well

y/n: :(

newt: what why are you sad?

minho: im hungry too

y/n: u spent ur money :(

newt: you're hungry are you not?

minho: she's not but i am

y/n: yeah but..

i feel bad you shouldn't have

newt: just eat it or i'll be mad

minho: i think i want red lobster

newt: it's really no big deal y/n

y/n: thank you newt :(((((

newt: you're welcome

go eat and watch ur show or smth

minho: i owuld love to eat and watch a show rn <33 ohhhh im starving

newt: can you shut up

gally: im muting this gc if this means i have to deal with your guys' shit more than usual now.

minho: thank god

newt: good

tommy: good

y/n: good

the food is good too <3

newt: good.

_

lmk if you want to be tagged!

[olderthannetfic]

Writing about my favorite characters as transgender has opened my eyes to how many people in fandom are able to get away with actual transphobia without other people judging them for it, and after one particularly bad experience I feel like I can't participate in fandom without constantly having to check people's profiles and social media to see whether or not they might secretly hate trans people. The fandom I currently write for is relatively small compared to others, but somehow I still manage to catch a lot of casual transphobia, especially on my higher-kudos'd works. This didn't really bother me at first since most of the comments were misinformed but rather harmless otherwise, with most asking me to write a fic where the MC medically transitions to become their "real gender" as a sequel. Those comments were written politely, but the sentiment that a person's body designates their gender bothered me a lot. I specifically present the trans characters in my fics as pre-op or non-op without dysphoria in order to feel more comfortable about my own body, and I'm really tired of reiterating the reasons why I personally won’t create a fic where the MC undergoes a full medical transition. I would be thrilled if someone else wrote that, but it’s not a concept I have any interest in executing myself.

Usually the casual transmedicalism in my comments is my only real gripe about the attitudes towards transness in my fandom, but recently I joined a major fandom discord server and found out that they had a dedicated thread for bashing my work. (Well, to be more accurate they had a bunch of threads for bashing people's works, but mine had the most messages at the time.) I should have just left at that point, but I was curious to see if there was any valid criticism because honestly I don’t get a lot of constructive feedback on my newer stuff and I wanted to see if there was anywhere I could improve. Unfortunately, it was almost entirely just really hurtful comments, with many people making assumptions about my body and offline identity, calling me a fake trans person and a chaser for the things I've written. They kept going on about how I'm fetishizing transness, how I probably just wanted an excuse to write het smut with an M/M tag on it, how I'm probably not actually a trans man but an obsessed and misguided teenage girl instead. I've been on T for over two years now, but even if I wasn’t, their belief that all bodies like mine are basically "female" was really upsetting. Maybe I just happened to stumble upon a bad crowd, but at that moment I just really felt alone. I never expected to receive that kind of vitriol in such a small fandom - I have maybe like five or so people who follow my work closely, so it's not like I'm hitting super big numbers compared to others. I understand that my work might be dysphoria-inducing for other people, but I include warnings for language at the beginning of all my fics and I'm extremely thorough about tagging all the sex acts that take place. It's easy to filter out my work via additional tags if you don’t want to see it. But no matter how many measures I take to make others feel more comfortable, they still feel like I'm taking up too much space and mucking up the tags with my fanfiction.

Part of me feels like quitting after this experience, but I'm also a spiteful bastard and I think it would haunt me forever if I stopped now lol. I'm curious to know if you or any of your followers has ever dealt with a similar situation (as in, finding out there's a bunch of people who hate your work for shitty reasons), and if you have advice on how to continue interacting with others in fandom without constantly wondering if they hate me behind closed doors. I left the server already but I'm sure there's other things I can do that I'm forgetting. Thanks for reading!!

--

There will always be people who dislike you for silly reasons, and if your fic is popular, there will be a lot of them. The only way to deal with it is to just accept that this is normal and not think about them.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

‘Gun Play’ & ‘Fear Play’ w/ Scarecrow (for Kinktober 2024)

Title: take this gun and cock it

Rating: Mature 

Fandom: Batman Trilogy (Nolanverse) 

Characters: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow); Female Reader Insert

Pairing: Jonathan Crane (Scarecrow)/Female Reader 

Summary: You knew you shouldn’t have put Dr. Crane on your dissertation committee, but he had the most pull in the Neuropharmacology world in and around Gotham. If you wanted to make a name for yourself in this profession, you’d need to get on his good side. After several passive-aggressive meetings with said professor, you decide enough is enough. If research and academia won’t show him, you will. So one afternoon, you walk into his private office intending to once and for all, prove to your Professor that pleasure is just as great, if not superior, of a motivator as fear. [Warning: Reader is high-key insane in this, like, almost as nuts as Crane. But be aware, this is a dark fic with very unequal power dynamics at play.] 

Trigger Warning(s): Gunplay; Drugging; Threats of Violence; Implied Sex; Dubious Consent (due to the whole pointing a gun at him thing); Very Unsafe Firearm Practices (that would probably get this fic sponsored by the NRA); [Lowkey] Dead Dove, Do Not Eat

A/N: Here it is- my first-ever attempt at participating in Kinktober! So please go easy on me. 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

“Knock, knock.” Poking your head into Dr. Professor Crane’s doorway, you flashed your teacher a cunning smile. “Got a sec?” 

Not bothering to look up from his paperwork, Dr. Professor Crane’s answer was detached as per his usual. 

“Office hours are posted on the door. If you must speak with me,” Jonathan sighed, tired of the frequent idiotic interruptions from fatuous students, “Sign up for a time slot. I don’t accept walk-ins.”  

You playfully pouted, your recently glossed lips pursing into the shape of a frown. 

“Surely that doesn’t include me? Especially since… I brought you coffee!” 

Upon hearing your oddly chipper voice, Dr. Crane looked up, a perturbed expression on his face. 

You waited silently as he sized you up, your gleeful exterior not shirking under his ice-blue gaze. 

“Come in,” Crane finally settled on, the fresh coffee too tempting of an opportunity to pass up. 

“One large black coffee, regular, just how you like it.” 

You held out the beverage for him to take, blinking impatiently as he ignored your physical presence and instead went back to reading. With a roll of your eyes, you placed the styrofoam cup at the top of his desk. 

Not wanting to waste any more time, you delved into the matter. 

“So, uh, Dr. Professor Crane,” you started, “I wanted to speak to you about my upcoming thesis defense—” 

“Mhm-hm,” Crane mumbled, already having written off the remainder of this interaction. 

“Well, I was wondering if—” 

“No.” 

“I’m, I’m sorry?” 

“I don’t give extensions. If you wanted to become a Doctor you should have thought of the effort required before applying to this program.” 

You couldn’t help but sputter at the bastard’s words. Did he honestly think you were here to grovel before him? To get on your hands and knees and beg for an extension?! Oh, how rich! 

After all the hoops you’ve jumped through, after all the changes and additional inclusions you made solely for his approval, for his benefit, did he truly think you had any intention of doing one more single thing he asked? 

‘Oh no. Oh no, no, no,’ you thought. ‘I’m not the one that’s going to leave this office begging.’ 

You knew you needed his support for there to be unanimous approval from your dissertation committee concerning your upcoming thesis defense next week. And you knew from all the previous horror stories you’d heard through the Gotham University grapevine that in most cases, Crane was often students’ one stubborn holdout. 

You knew you shouldn’t have picked him to be your dissertation advisor. But dammit, he was the best in the field of Neuropharmacology, so you figured you’d just suck it up and get on his good side. The only problem was, the man didn’t seem to have a good side!

Every semester, every class with him was like pulling teeth: torturously slow and agonizingly painful. You worked your ass off, day and night, working full-time while juggling a full course load only to be demeaned and nitpicked every chance he got. You were consistently the best in your class, and yet not once did Dr. Crane ever offer an encouraging word or a simple ‘great work’. But oh boy, did he have tons to say the second you’d make one teeny-tiny mistake. 

It made your blood boil. 

And the man simply would not shut the hell up about fear!

Fear, fear, fear, fear— it’s all he ever enjoyed lecturing about! It was obsessive! It had to be. 

The way his fascination with fear and adrenaline would pervade their way into other topic discussions, so you wound up responsible for teaching yourself his lesson material nearly half the time. You swore he talked about fear so much, that some of your fellow students ended up having fear-induced psychotic breaks themselves! 

At least, that’s what you used to think. 

After a particularly harsh meeting with Dr. Crane, your adversarial thesis advisor, you ran into a fellow Psychology student as you entered the bathroom. Seeing your tearful expression and feeling concerned for your well-being, they cautioned you against working too closely with Crane any further. Confused, you wiped the tears and snot off your face and asked for them to clarify what they meant. 

Apparently, someone, they weren’t sure who— probably a former flunkee student— started the vicious rumor that Crane was using his students as guinea pigs to conduct unauthorized experiments surrounding fear, and the nervous system’s fear response. 

She said that several students had reported leaving lectures feeling nauseous, and unexpectedly anxious. Of course, it could have just been the grotesque nature of the material or the fact that Dr. Crane was a frightening teacher to perform for, but some of them had sworn they must've been hit with something inside his classroom. 

It all sounded so farfetched, like the B-plot to a bad sci-fi movie. It couldn’t possibly be true. But then, the reality of your past experiences in his lectures came crashing down onto you like a tidal wave. 

You were always so worked up, so angry when you left his lectures. You had just assumed it was because you found the man infuriating but what if… 

‘What if,’ your mind supplied, ‘What if your anger, your elevated heart rate— what if all of it, was your nervous system’s fight or flight response having been activated by some secret drug?’ 

That’s when it all fell into place. It was like your blinders had been ripped off, exposing you, in an instant, to the harsh reality: 

Your Professor, Dr. Jonathan Crane had spent the last few years drugging you, and getting away with it. 

You didn’t know what pissed you off more, the fact that he used you as a lab rat or the fact that this little ongoing experiment of his was most likely the reason behind why he had such dissent for your thesis. 

Your entire argument was that, as far as human motivators go, pleasure and reward had a much stronger influence compared to the fear of pain or punishment. 

But of course! 

It made sense that Dr. Crane took issue with that stance when his entire ideology revolved around how fear, not pleasure, not reward, ruled the mind above all else. 

The cherry on top was that your unknowing participation in his sick game only further proved his point: your anger, triggered by your fear of failure, had driven you to work as hard as you did. No wonder he was so eager to criticize your manuscript! Every single time he watched your nostrils flare and your lips purse, he would know his theory was being proven right. 

Well… not this time. Oh, no. This time, you were going to be the one pulling the strings and he was going to be the little white mouse, wondering which fork in the maze to take. 

Was it risky? Oh, for sure. He could have you kicked out of the program, hell probably even arrested and tried for assault. But you just couldn’t curb your desire to do to him what he spent all those years doing to you. You wanted to watch him squirm, wanted to see his pupils blown, and his irises thin as his trembling figure begged for release from your experimental ministrations. 

Who knows? Maybe all that medication he’d been slipping you had made you mad. 

It was his fault, really. As a psychologist, he should have seen this coming. 

Tut tut. 

Oh, well! There was nothing he could do now. Not at the moment anyway. 

Seated across from where you stood looking over his desk, Dr. Crane may not have known it, but he’d handed you the reins to the experimental controls long ago. From the second he started dosing you, this prognosis was inevitable. 

It was like he always said: “The mind could only take so much.” 

You walked around to the side of his desk, blocking his view of the door and the hall outside. 

‘How cute,’ You thought. How cute how he pretended not to notice the change in your position, nor be intimidated by it. 

“Ahem,” you cleared your throat, demanding his attention. “As I was saying, Professor,” you intentionally skipped his other title, “I need to speak with you a minute.” 

Brows furrowing, Dr. Crane momentarily took off his glasses before rubbing his forehead trying to relieve some of the building tension. Unsuccessful in the attempt, Crane placed his rectangular glasses back on the bridge of his nose and turned his attention back to you. 

The deprecatory nature of his stare combined with his piercing light blue eyes had the opposite effect. If you hadn’t learned the true nature of his psyche, you might have once again been intimidated by them. Rather than unnerve you, they made him appear susceptible. It was too late. You saw him for what he was now: a coward. 

It was… appetizing. 

Behind those frozen irises, behind that steely gaze was a scared little boy, playing dress-up, trying desperately to look stronger and bigger than he was. 

Dr. Jonathan Crane was simply a scared little kid, masked in a psychologist's trench coat. 

And now, you thought it high time to unmask him. 

Ignoring his judgemental gaze, you moved even closer. 

“I’m just trying to understand, Professor.” 

Taking a seat on the corner of his desk, you were very much aware of how your deceptively short pencil skirt pulled taut against your thighs. 

“I think my summation of the available data makes it pretty clear…” 

You shifted all of your weight to one red high-heeled foot. The other you allowed to dangle loosely from where your bent knee met the edge of the professor’s dark oak desk. 

“The brain’s reward center, dopamine— pleasure, is notably a greater motivator than fear.” 

Licking your lips, you couldn't help but watch with wicked delight as the good doctor’s neck tensed, his muscles no doubt straining against the growing, sinful desire to glance downwards at the obvious part between your legs. 

You tilted your dangling heel down, the pointed tip of your shoe grazing ever so slightly, ever so suggestively against your dear mentor’s outer thigh. Gleefully, you wondered if he could pick up the scent of your arousal, the two of you currently less than a foot apart. 

“Wouldn’t you agree?” 

“Ms. (L/N),” Crane started.

“Come now, Doctor. Surely you, of all people, know that throughout human history, both mentally and physiologically speaking, pleasure has been, at the very least, as influential of a motivator as fear?” 

Your dangly earring shook with the slight tilt of your head. 

“People love to chase what feels good, what excites them, what makes them feel alive! Regardless of whether or not that thing isn’t good for them.” 

Your equally distracting red-manicured fingers began to trace gentle circles around your outer ankle bone, the ends of your nails briefly swiping over the black material of his suit pants. 

“Humans’ desire to feel pleasure wins out over their ability to behave rationally.” 

Professor Dr. Crane swallowed tersely before nodding. 

“I would agree with that statement.” 

Jonathan pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose, using the momentum as an inconspicuous opportunity to scooch his chair back, away from your contact. 

“However, I would maintain the argument that fear holds a much more pivotal role in the survival of a species. And is, therefore, much more consequential in its provocations.” 

“Hmm…” You pursed your lips together, obviously only pretending to be deep in thought. 

Across from you, Jonathan’s resentment for your pathetic salacious attempt only grew as he watched your actions morph into something akin to mockery. 

You were his inferior! How dare you question him?!

It was bad enough the university board was breathing down his neck, now he had some pseudo-confident slutty graduate student to contend with as well. 

Oh, you would pay for this. He would make you regret this little attention-whore stunt of yours. Just you wait…

Unfettered by the way Professor Crane’s jaw clenched, you continued your practiced spiel. 

“I can see why you’d champion that. After all, your experiments here are centered around patients' reactions to fearful stimuli.” Unbothered, you checked your manicure before foxily pushing yourself off the desk, your high heels landing with a pointed ‘clack’ sound as they hit the floor. 

“Makes sense why you’d be unable to recognize an opposing, although equally valid theory.” 

“My grading is objective and based entirely on a student’s performance. And for you to imply otherwise—” Professor Crane’s piercing blue eyes stayed confidently fixed on yours.

“But it’s subjective too,” you countered, stepping directly in front of the man. 

“You’re judging my performance on your personal model. A biased model ingrained in you, that your deeply held beliefs reign superior. To you, fear is the end all be all; it’s the cornerstone of human motivation. You can’t accept my performance as worthy or eligible when you're fixated on your own theory. Your superiority complex prevents you from being anything other than subjective as far as my research, my papers— even my very existence in your class is concerned.” 

“It is not a discredit to my insight that you are incapable of seeing the depth of my genius—” Jonathan started to heatedly refute your assessment, but you cut him off. 

Stepping forward, you placed your knee on the edge of his chair, centering it between his own.

“I know about your experiments.” 

You kept your tone low so that only he could hear. 

“I know the board is growing suspicious, thinking of ‘asking’ you to resign.” You said, making air quotes. “I know all about your special ‘cocktail’ the night of the Christmas Eve Party. I know the cops have been sniffing around, and it’s only a matter of time before those inbred idiots start asking that poor girl the right questions.” 

“What do you want?” Jonathan asked, keeping a stiff upper lip. 

Mindful not to alert you to his plan of action, Jonathan remained calm. He could still regain control here. 

The man also known as Scarecrow to his Arkham patients was keenly aware that his briefcase containing his fear gas briefcase and Scarecrow mask was situated just to the left of you, resting inconspicuously on his desk. 

If he could just make a move for it without you becoming wise to his plan. 

‘What are you waiting for?!’ A scratchy, harsh voice inside Jonathon’s mind chided the Doctor for his hesitation. ‘Do it! Show her that fear is our domain, not hers, not hers! It’s time!’

‘It’s always time, isn’t it?’ Jonathan’s much smoother voice commented drearily. ‘Time to run. Time to cower.’ 

Time to just keep his head down and accept the consequences, accept how shameful, how broken he was. 

‘No! No! It’s time to fight back! Time to glower! Time to gloat and rule over those puny imbeciles who’ve done us wrong. We are not afraid! They should be the ones who are afraid! They will be the ones who scream and cry— not us, not us!’ 

He would not release his hold on the situation. He did not scrape by, lie, steal, and torture for his brilliance only to roll over and show his belly to you! The wounded part of him demanded action, demanded sacrifice for these feelings of apprehension you had caused him. 

The psychologist in him, the professional in him was almost impressed, nay, enthralled by your show of dominance. It was both vexing and amusing. It had crept under his skin and sunk its perfectly manicured claws into his chest, reaching in and commanding his heart to beat. 

His heart started to beat faster and his breaths became more and more shallow. 

It was dizzying, intoxicating— arousing even. 

The Scarecrow in him wanted to crush it— to squash you. 

But Jonathon wanted it to keep going— to consume him whole. 

Enjoying his responses so far, you gripped both armrests of his chair, locking him in place. 

“I want to conduct a little experiment of my own.” Your voice was still quiet, still assured. 

“And then you can tell me in real-time which is stronger: pleasure…” 

Releasing one hand from the armrest, you traced a red coffin-nailed finger down Jonathon’s chest, right down the middle of his tie. 

“...Or fear.” 

Feeling cornered by the weight of the unknown, the Scarecrow decided to make his move. 

“If you’re done with this little display here, I have other matters to attend to, much more important than contending with brainless whore students.” He sneered, hoping his icy tone would catch you off guard enough that he could casually push out from under your weight. 

His piercing blue eyes met your determined ones. It seemed you weren’t backing down. 

‘Fine then’, Jonathan thought. ‘If that’s how you wanted to play it’. 

His arm shot out past you, quickly gripping the handle of his briefcase. But before he could tug it open, you decided to play the last card up your sleeve. 

“Not so fast, Doctor,” you reprimanded as if speaking to a child. “It’s not time for that… yet.” 

Frozen, Jonathan’s previously confident eyes shifted into an expression between confusion and fear. Unable to even speak, he couldn't help but look back and forth between where his hand rested on his briefcase handle, and where your hand rested, gripping the barrel of a gun. 

“Pretty, isn’t it?” You asked, turning the gun sideways to show off the pearl handle. “My Father gifted it to me when I moved to Gotham for University. Of course, at the time, I thought it was such a silly gift. Just total overkill. And then, I came here,” you waved it around rather casually as you spoke, “And I met you.” 

You laughed, villainously at the memory, bearing your teeth and smiling wickedly at the dumbfounded teacher in front of you. 

“Can I just say? I had never once thought of putting a bullet through a teacher’s head before I met you. God! You were just so, so, infuriating!” You shook your head in amused disbelief. 

“And so arrogant! I mean the number of times you let out a little too much information, all just to insult a student’s inferior answer or to roast a fellow professor.” Your expression became incredulous. “Do you realize how much you told us, all because you thought we were too stupid to understand?!” 

You rhythmically pressed the gun up into his, teasingly punctuating every other word. 

“I mean, come on! Isn’t that Intro to Villany 101? Don’t spill the beans?” 

“You don’t know anything.” The bolder character inside of Professor Crane had found his voice. “You may think you do, but you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“I know enough,” you countered. 

“Not as far as the cops are concerned. Or the faculty board.” His self-assured tone rivaled yours. “Do you really think I don’t have men on the inside?” 

Having recaptured his certitude, The Scarecrow’s signature condescending expression settled back over his face as he craned his neck forward, bringing his mouth mere inches from your own. 

“The minute you tell anyone what you think you know, your life ends— effective immediately.” 

His bravado caused your large canine-baring grin to shrink into a much smaller, reserved one. If Johnathan’s words had scared you, you had no intention of making a big show of it. 

You leaned in, pushing your face close enough to his that you could feel his heated breath on your lips. 

“Guess it’s a good thing then, I don’t intend on telling anyone about this. And neither do you.” 

“Is that so?” The Scarecrow challenged. 

Without warning, you reached out with your free hand, gripping it securely around his throat, and forcibly tilted his head back. Using your newfound leverage you pushed your knee back against his crotch, smirking as you felt the unmistakable outline of his semi-hard cock through his clothes. 

Satisfied that the ball was back in your court, you menacingly lined up the nozzle of your gun with Dr. Crane’s deliciously exposed Adam’s apple. 

“Let’s find out.” 

♔☍☣ ♔☍☣♔☍☣ ♔☍☣

A/N 2.0: So originally I was gonna expand on the sex scene at the end (because of the whole Kinktober thing, duh!) but I ran out of time. Who knows? Maybe I’ll continue it one day if enough people would enjoy it??? Lmk 

[grmpgm]

I was really hoping someone would ask this!! ^w^ + Who's Lady Killer?

Ninja Brian and Lady Killer don’t necessarily trust each other, but they certainly trust one another more than they trust Danny Sexbang.

Despite their differences, they speak the same language- a linguistic cocktail of violence, emotional unavailability, and Danny Sexbang.

more under the cut!

Lady Killer doesn’t trust Ninja Brian. Granted, she doesn’t trust anyone, but she ESPECIALLY doesn’t trust Ninja Brian. Lady can’t figure out what Danny’s long game is, but she can’t figure out Ninja Brian in the first place.

The most horrifying part for Lady? Ninja Brian is not scared of her. She knows he's dangerous, but if he were going to hurt her, wouldn’t he have done so already? Leaving thumbtacks in his blueberry muffins wasn’t working anyway, so …

He’s more than a bit of a creepy pain in the ass, but he’s reliably unpredictable. And the closest thing to a friend she’s got.

…

In general, Ninja Brian doesn’t particularly care about Danny Sexbang’s revolving door of suitors. They’re off-limits for murder, they’re typically a week long endeavor, and if Ninja Brian’s lucky, they take the brunt of Danny’s feelings (and other such boring, unimportant nonsense.)

Lady Killer is … different, though.

For one, she’s stuck around long enough for Ninja Brian to remember her name. Even more impressively, she’s stuck around long enough for DANNY to remember her name! Like he could keep her name out of his mouth- let alone … other parts of her.

But Lady Killer isn’t so bad. At least, when she’s not trying to convince everyone she is.

She’s easy to rile up, she’s not afraid to tell off Danny when he’s being an idiot (which is most of the time), and her relationship with Danny is endlessly entertaining to Ninja Brian. She’s not bad company herself, either.

That doesn’t mean she doesn’t piss him off, and that he won’t try to piss her off, though. But it’s nice to have someone to complain about Danny to, and it’s even nicer to have someone to complain with.

If they’ve both got to endure Danny Sexbang, they might as well do it together.

…

Lady + NB were tricky to figure out because of how little they interact in canon. And yes, that is what this post was in reference to. LOL. And thank you so much to everyone for your help! :)

^ a little something I noticed- Ninja Brian (unknowingly or intentionally. probably intentionally.) scaring her!! 😭 it’s such a goofy little detail this is SO canon to ns3 to me

But I like the idea of these two being “coworker coded”- like, they’d never interact outside of this incredibly specific scenario, but a weird solidarity is formed from those circumstances.

In general, Ninja Brian is more go-with-the-flow with bullshit (contributing when he sees fit), whereas Lady Killer is aggressively anti-bullshit. So much so that (through a combination of reactivity and poor impulse control) she inevitably makes the bullshit 10x more bullshitful. They’re both somewhat antagonistic, but they don’t progress much beyond bickering or empty threats.

Over time, a begrudging truce turns into mutual respect, turns into an unspoken friendship. Ninja Brian isn’t particularly affectionate, and Lady Killer doesn’t know if she can be- but they don’t need to “prove” that they care for one another. They just do.

[fairy-verse]

I wonder what would happen if Killer decided to introduce Cross to Horror and Dust (⁠´⁠∩⁠｡⁠•⁠ ⁠ᵕ⁠ ⁠•⁠｡⁠∩⁠`⁠)

It is an interesting meeting, especially so since Horror hasn’t interacted with any type of winter fairy in so long, so he’ll feel delighted at Cross’ presence. Dust is suspicious but won’t be as hostile once he learns that Cross wasn’t really aware of Horror’s situation, seeing as his father had kept him somewhat sheltered and busy with teachings and work during his younger years.

K: “Welcome to our clubhouse of misunderstood and partially rejected fairies!”

C: “Partially?”

H: “Clubhouse?”

D: “…”

K: “Partially, because both you and me are not outright shunned by other fairies, partly because we’re good at playing pretend,” Killer winked at Cross.

It was… a strange first meeting, but Horror quickly softened up to Cross and took a great liking to him once he fully sat down to listen to stories about Error’s Mountain Halls. He’d never wish to go back there, but sometimes he feels nostalgic for his old home, and parts of him misses it; occasionally.

Killer spoke like a mountain river during the first warm days of spring, and seemed undeterred by Dust’s staring, yet those same stares did little to settle Cross’ nerves, and the black and white fairy struggled with relaxing whenever the petite fairy looked his way. He was intimidated by Dust the first few times they met, it was hard not to be, but with time Cross would begin to feel a strange sense of fondness for him.

K: “Dust is a cutie, right?”

C: He immediately choked on his water and coughed deeply. “W- what?”

K: Chuckling, he simply cast Cross a wink.

H: “Heh, yeah… Bunny is cute.”

C: … “W- well, I suppose? Summer fairies are usually… pretty.”

D: …

K: “Oh! Hi, Dusty!”

C: !!

There is a lot of teasing in the beginning. Cross is easy to pull along and he’ll always take the bait, but the trio will eventually give him a break and he’ll come to tease and joke together with them, even sometimes making them laugh heartily with a terrible pun. Even Dust will snicker, which Cross will see as a massive win.

C: “So… this isn’t a clubhouse?”

H: “No? It is my and Dust’s home.”

C: “Oh…”

H: … “We can build a clubhouse… if you want?”

C: His cheeks bloomed, and he hid within the fluff of his collar, yet he sheepishly nodded.

H: He grinned and gently pet Cross’ skull.

Cue Horror immediately setting to work on a clubhouse for the four of them within the branches of the tree he calls home. Cross is eager to help, Dust lends support to Horror now and again, and Killer is entirely unhelpful and will often be chased away for either stalling the work of accidentally breaking something. Dust will be set on guard duty to make sure he behaves. Killer doesn’t approve of it, and sulks near the end of the clubhouse’ completion but lightens up once he’s allowed to partake in creating a group nest for them all.

C: “A friendship nest…” muttered Cross to himself as he smiled softly at the sight of the cushions, the moss, the leaves, the silks, and the wool thrown about haphazardly (curtesy of Killer.)

K: “A friendship with benefits nest,” teased Killer, and wiggled his brows at Cross.

D: “Don’t be gross,” said Dust, and laid down upon a rather large cushion, specifically the one handmade by Horror.

H: “Cloudberry cream?” asked Horror as he entered through the doorway of the nest. “It’s fresh,” said he, and grinned.

K: “Gimmie gimme!”

H: “Share.”

K: “Auh…”

[phantomvegetable]

♡ Hello there ♡

Coming in to politely ask if you'd be happy doing a request for Legion (of the Frank variant please). 100% fine with creative liberties, but I'd adore a story following along the lines of the reader being an old flame before he ended up in the fog, and he is delighting in being a general nuisance for old times sakes. Why be nice and romantic when you can be a pain ♡

ALSO! All the best to you, your writing is really cool from what I've read, and I'm hyped you opened up requests ♡♡♡

h-HI *VIBRATING UNCONTROLLABLY* KSKSKSKDJ

YES ABSOLUTELY <33333 i love the dynamic, hehehehehheehhe

THANK YOU SO MUCH btw ;;A;; it makes my day / makes me want to write more when I hear things like this !! I really appreciate it <3

Legion (Frank) x Reader

ghosts of the future notes: soulmate au, legion members are 18+ at time of disappearance and during reader’s interactions w/ them before the fog tw’s: frank is an ass, strong language, canon typical violence & maybe some torture ?

What would it take to find out what happened to Frank Morrison?

That would be your question for the next two years after his disappearance along with his friends (if you could even call them that—they mostly just followed him around like deranged cult members… but, then again, they were your friends, too). The fucker left you with far too many questions, an unforgiving anger, and the tragic mark of a soulmate.

Yes, Frank was your soulmate—it was proven by the unsuspecting fingerprints wrapped around your wrist in an attempt to grab you during one of your more violent moments of roughhousing. It left Frank speechless, for once; meanwhile, you went berserk. Julie was his girlfriend, not you—you were just some bonus lackey with far too much time on your lonely hands and a concerning obsession with crime.

You avoided him and the Legion for days; only coming into contact with Frank when he approached you one night, alone and seemingly troubled.

“We’re finally doing it,” Frank muttered with his hands in his pockets, masked face turned away from you. “Making a name for ourselves. It’s happening tonight.”

“Good for you,” You barked out bitterly, arms crossed as you stood uneasily in your living room. “I won’t bail you out if you guys get caught.”

“Come with us,” Frank offered after a beat of silence, finally facing you with an outstretched hand. Just looking at it made you shudder—made you want to run and hide. He seemed to sense your discomfort and pocketed his hands instead, straightening himself out before you.

“I—“ You shifted, glancing away warily. “I can’t.” Frank seems to pick up on the double meaning, huffing in irritation.

“Look, Toots. Just because we’re marked or whatever doesn’t mean we haf’ta act like strangers or nothin—“

“I don’t care!” You had snapped, baring your teeth like a caged animal. “Maybe it doesn’t mean that much to you, Frank, but it does to me.” He doesn’t respond. You curl in on yourself even tighter and turn your back to him. “So just—just go.”

You didn’t mean for him to take it literally. He left you alone after that, going so far as to vanish seemingly from existence after the uncovering of a janitor’s dead body just a few days later.

But you wouldn’t let him get away that easily.

The stubborn fire that kept you alive this long coaxed into you following Frank’s trail, leading you down the same path that ended up with blood on your hands. The fog came shortly after. And when it did, you were still the one hunting. Hunting answers, hunting a hunch, hunting feelings that wouldn’t go away.

The trials were easy. You simply had to slash, stab, and destroy through them until the fog returned you to the same decrepit building that quickly became home; and, the place that you continued your search.

“Still obsessing over lover boy, hmm?” A sickly sweet voice purrs from behind, stirring you from your pondering. You barely flinch.

“What do you want, Danny?” You sigh, removing your mask to rub at your face in exhaustion.

“What, I can’t visit my favorite psycho?” He chirps playfully, fiddling with the decaying photo of you and the Legion from where he sits in the dark. You swipe it from his grubby little hands with a look that could kill. “Easy, tiger,” The masked murderer lifts his hands in mock defense. “I was just looking.”

“Yeah, well, could you not?” You groan, hunching over various notes splayed out messily on a desk. “I’m trying to concentrate.” You feel his stare on your back, the sensation louder than the silence that follows.

“You know, I could just show you where he and his puppets hang out.” The way you turn around and stare at Danny is almost comedic.

“What?” You seethe out after a moment, bones popping from how tight you ball your hands into fists. “You mean you knew where he was this whole time and said nothing?” Danny shrugs.

“You never asked.”

The urge to strangle someone was never stronger than in that moment, and you told Danny as much. He just smiles coyly from behind the mask.

When you arrive at Mount Ormond, the numbing cold is a welcomed sensation as freezing winds nip at your skin. Anything to distract you from the nerves that ate at your insides like maggots feasting on a corpse.

The instructions Danny gave you were simple enough, and even though the drawing of the cabin where the Legion supposedly camped out in was utter shit, you found yourself on the doorstep of a to-be reunion with your old mates. It felt way too formal to knock; so you fell into the familiar habit of entering unannounced, climbing through a second-story window that was left unlocked after discovering that the front door wouldn’t budge. Typical.

Tiptoeing through an unwelcoming room consisting of one worn-out couch and a busted TV, the telltale mark of a Legion mask—Susie’s, from the looks of it—resting on a torn cushion has your heart lifting as your fingers stretch to brush against it. They really were here. You swallow thickly.

“Susie?” You find yourself calling out, stepping into the empty corridor. You look left, then right. Nothing. You try a room down the hall, finding no sign of life there either. “Joey? It’s me!”

“They’re not here,” A strikingly haunting voice that makes your breath stutter says coolly from behind, causing the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up straight and chills to prickle all along your arms. Turning to face your ghost, your gaze strikes like iron against Frank’s green one hidden from behind a smiling mask that looks like it’s taken a decent beating over the years. His arms are crossed, and he leans nonchalantly against the wall in an unbothered display. But you knew Frank, and he was pissed. And, quite honestly, so were you.

You find your fists tightening as you stand across from him just like that night, becoming more and more angry. Even more annoyingly, Frank senses this and sighs, unwinding his posture to mimic that of someone trying to calm a wild beast. “Toots—“

That did it.

With a snarl, you spring forward; your fist connecting with Frank’s stupid smiling mask and cracking it nearly in half. He grunts out in shock as he tried to dodge your right hook, hands instinctively catching your wrists just like they did that fateful day and pulling you with him as Frank is sent careening to the floor.

And, just like that, the two of you are whisked into a trial.

You’re still on top of Frank when you spawn outside, wrestling him into the snow.

“What is wrong with you?!” Frank hisses, teeth bared visibly from where you broke his mask.

“What’s wrong with me?!” You laugh cruelly, using your hips to pin him down. “What’s wrong with you?! You fucking disappeared, Frank!” He exerts an impressive amount of strength in order to throw off balance, flipping you over.

“And why would that fucking matter to you?” He retorts. “You’re the one who shut us out!”

“Well excuse me for needing a minute!” You bristle, struggling against his hold. “I had just found out that my soulmate is an asshole who also happens to be insane!”

That strikes something in Frank. He growls audibly as he pulls you up, immediately shoving your face into the snow and making a hasty retreat. You gasp as you stagger to your feet, spitting out melted chunks of ice. You whip around to search for your culprit, eyes narrowing at the sight of Frank running towards the town.

“Coward!” You call after him, giving chase.

You pass multiple survivors that are surely watching on in a stupor as you catch up to Frank, tackling him to the ground again. The two of you grapple until he has you pinned again, this time holding a knife to your throat. Your fury flares.

“Enough!” He commands. “If you want to prove something so badly, why don’t you show me what you can do?” Frank emphasizes his point by pulling his knife away and hurling it at the first unlucky bystander that attempts to flee, sending him to his hands and knees. As the man—Dwight, you bothered to remember—cries out in agony, you glare up at Frank’s slowly-forming smirk, knowing he’s caught your interest.

“Fine,” You relent, and Frank releases you. You stomp to where Dwight grovels, brandishing your own weapon and striking him down without a moment’s hesitation. Jutting your chin over your shoulder at Frank—who fails to hide his smugness—you remove the knife embedded in Dwight’s shoulder and toss it at the brute’s feet, pulling your own accoutrement free. Without waiting, you move on to your next victim, leaving Frank behind to watch you ruthlessly chase them down. He grins, joining you in the hunt.

The two of you manage to bring down five of the eight survivors, wreaking havoc to generators along the way. It becomes a sick sort of game between the two of you to see who can kill the most, and just how diabolically you executed the final blow. Unexpectedly, it does a lot to bring your anger to a simmer; your tensed muscles finally relaxing from their coils as you hack, hack, hacked away.

Another survivor falls to the ground beneath you, dead.

“That’s six,” You announce, Frank just a few feet ahead of you. He laughs—a sound that tickles your brain.

“Keeping count, are we?” He teases. There’s a playful lilt to his voice that you haven’t heard in years—a welcomed gesture.

“Someone has to,” You quip back, and Frank laughs again. You smile.

You step over the carcass and vault the window that was so narrowly missed by the unfortunate woman Frank has trapped underfoot, coming to stand by his side as she squirms and fights to no avail.

“You’re sick!” She gasps, moaning in pain as Frank increases pressure, surely breaking a rib or two.

“That’s no way to talk to the lady,” He jeers, eyes flickering at you. You snort.

“Both of you! You t-two are—ack—psychos!”

You half-expect another witty remark from Frank, half-expect him to snuff her out.

What you don’t expect are his next words.

“Then we must be perfect for each other,” He mumbles, making your ears perk. “We’re soulmates, you know?” Your heart backflips.

“Frank,” You begin to warn him, but he continues.

“Fuckin’ soulmates, you hear?” He suddenly grabs your hand and you go rigid, the contact making your stomach turn. The two of you had been wearing gloves for the entirety of the match, so no marks would be visible—but the touch was enough to make your skin tingle underneath the material. The woman’s brows tighten.

“K-Killers can’t have soulmates,” She wheezes. “You don’t have souls.” Frank’s hand tightens around your own.

“Well it’s a good thing you ain’t God, ain’t it?” He utters snidely before driving his heel down as hard as he can, ending her life. Seven. You let go of Frank’s hand and step back, Frank letting you.

“What the hell, Frank?” You whisper in a shaky breath, clouds of white dispelling the sentiment.

“…I’m sorry,” He tells you finally, turning to face you in shame. His eyes speak of the remorse he feels. “I completely disregarded your feelings when we found out we were marked, and I’m sorry.” Your chest swells in a flurry of emotions.

“But… but you disappeared,” You remind him, unconsciously drawing in on yourself. Frank, ever so cautiously, takes a step towards you.

“It wasn’t my fault,” He speaks calmly, eyes boring into your own. “I was taken by the fog, same as any washed up bastard that ends up here.”

“But—but Julie?” Frank sighs.

“Jules and I… it’s complicated,” He grimaces. “She freaked when she found out I was marked and it wasn’t wit’ her. She doesn’t know it’s you.” Your mouth feels dry.

“But…”

“If I didn’t know any better,” Frank’s voice is low and a husk away, and you didn’t realize just how close he’d gotten. “I’d say you’re fighting for reasons to stay angry at me. Why did you come all the way out here?” Is his disarming question—that, paired with the way his hand brushes cheek when he moves a strand of hair behind your ear—that has you sharply inhaling.

“I—“ You stammer, searching his face. “I was so angry at you,” You begin. “I was so shocked to find out I even had a soulmate, and then you treated it like it wasn’t a big deal—“ Your breath shudders. “I was so mad at you, Frank. To top it off, you up and disappear after telling me you were finally ‘making a name for yourself,’ and a dead body is discovered a few days later? What was I supposed to think, Frank?”

“You could have just let me go,” He mutters, hand lingering on your cheek. You drop your head in resignation, sighing.

“I know,” You grumble. Frank lifts your chin up between his forefinger and thumb as he raises his mask at the same time, finally revealing that same scruffy face you’d grown accustomed to. An oddly soft expression graces his scarred features, and you find yourself unable to speak over the lump in your throat.

“Do you still want to accept me as your soulmate, even with all of…this?” Frank gestures to the empty space where the survivor’s body once was, it having been swallowed up by the entity minutes ago. The chuckle that escapes you surprises even yourself.

“Frank,” You snicker. “I literally just killed people with you. That’s how I ended up here,” You tell him, matching his gaze evenly. He continues to search your eyes for a beat before stepping back.

“In that case…” Frank lowers his mask over his face again, retrieving his knife in one hand while holding the other out to you. “Would you care to finish what we started?”

Whatever anger you held towards Frank in that moment was now gone, seemingly melted away by those eight simple words. You accepted his hand with a small smile; one that said, okay, I’ll trust you. He begins to lead the two of you forward but stops, catching you immensely off guard when he whisks you into his arms, slides his mask up, and plants a massive, wet kiss on your cheek, surely leaving a mark that wouldn’t be so easy to hide without a covering. You let out incoherent noises as Frank slips his mask into place, laughing at your disposition while dodging your sloppy fists.

“Frank, you asshole!” Your words lack any actual bite to them, this serving to make Frank cackle even harder as he once again evades you by taking off with you hot on his heels.

[chanstopher]

This whole rollout is a wild thing to experience. I feel like I’m in an echo chamber bc my timeline is saying ‘we’re all boycotting right? Right!’ And then I look at the teasers on Instagram and I see zero dip in engagement (likes/comments/etc)… I personally will not be listening and haven’t even listened to the snippets, but it just feels like so many people don’t care that that stage 4 clinger to every kpop collab he can get his grubby hands on is riding on the backs of SKZ.

i agree w you anon, tumblr has been very good about the criticism and boycotting of skz’s activities but places like twitter are just so competitive and toxic people lose sight of what actually matters so easily. they see one person willing to cross that line and think well i’m not the only one… and do the easy thing and ignore how important not supporting things like collab with zionists so the company sees the dip in interaction and does something about it. they think well im one person it doesn’t matter when that’s exactly why it does. every person who speaks against it and boycotts it adds to the volume of fans saying they don’t want this. won’t look past it for a pop song. at the end of the day some people care and some people just fucking don’t. the idea that it’s too difficult to not listen to a song or watch a video is insane. it’s one fucking song, its not even a skz song. puth got top writing credit, like no matter how much you ignore whatever the hell youre willing to ignore to support skz its one song. it’s not going to prevent them from getting more opportunities it’s not going to bankrupt them. it’s a blip in their extremely successful and hard fought careers. it means nothing. anyone who can’t pull their head out of their ass over a charlie puth song should block me cause i want nothing to do with them.

[agirlwithbigdreamsforher]

FOUND YOU IN A PLACE OF CHAOS: CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Eric (AQPDO) x Mary (OFC)

Summary: Eric met Mary on the ferry that was taking them away from New York. What would the future holds when you are living the end of the world?

Warnings: Any mistakes are my own. Language.

A/N: Words in italics is a dream.

Disclaimer: I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied, used, translated nor reposted anywhere else but here on this blog. Do not steal what you didn’t work for. Minors and ageless blank blogs don’t interact with me or my works. Reblogs and likes are always welcome. Remember reblogs do more than likes. Thank you for reading this work of fiction.

Word count: 1941

GIF'S NOT MINE, YOU CAN FIND THE CREDITS UNDER IT.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Eric opened his eyes when the metal walls of the boat cracked. He looked around and remembered where he was, he took a deep breath and let his head fall against the wall. His sight was stuck at a point on the opposite wall, not really paying attention to his surroundings.

“What are you looking at?” A man who was sitting in the direction he was staring at spoke to him, “HEY!” Eric blinked and now really looked at the man, “What are you looking at?!”

“I…” Eric said a bit confused at the man’s tone.

The man stood and walked towards him, grabbed him by his collar and pushed him against the wall. Eric let go of Frodo and the cat ran away. “Stop Fucking staring at me!”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t…”

“Do you have a problem?” Eric could smell a hint of alcohol in his breath.

“No, please. I don’t want any trouble. I wasn’t staring, I promise.”

“You listen to me, you fucking…”

“Leave him alone!” The man who helped him get on the boat spoke, “Let him go. I won’t ask you twice.”

“Oh really? And what are you going to do about it?”

“Just leave him alone, he wasn’t doing anything. He is in shock, just like most of the people in this fucking ferry. So let him go.”

The man let go of Eric, who tripped and fall in his place, the man walked pass the black man.

“And cut it with the drinking.” He said to the man as he passed by him. “Are you ok?” Eric nodded tearfully. “Here.” He gave Eric his hand and helped him stand, “I’m Henri.”

“I’m Eric.”

“Are you hungry?”

“Yeah.”

“Come with me.”

They walked another level up and headed to a group of people surrounding boxes.

“This is my wife, Zena.” The woman smiled to Eric, “He hasn’t eaten.”

Zena nodded and open one of the boxes. When she turned she handed Eric a plastic bag with piece of bread, an apple and a bottle of water.

“Thank you, ma’am.” He rapidly opened the bag and bit the bread.

“Easy there. You’re gonna chock on yourself.” Henri saw Eric drank from his water, “You’re not from around.”

“No, sir. I’m from England.”

“Well, you are certainly far from home.”

“RUN!” The voice of her mother was filled with fear and just as she stood in the middle of the living room, her mom disappeared in the middle of a cloud of dust making Mary fell in her place.

The screams of hundreds of people on the street filled her ears, the sound of car alarms going off, sirens of ambulances and police cars, everything was loud. 

“Aunt Mary!” The voice of her niece caught her attention.

“NO!” her sister screamed and just as her mother, her sister and niece were dragged out of the hole that was now on the side of the building.

Mary watched in shock and covered her mouth to stop herself from screaming. She moved as fast as she could to get to her room and hid in her closet. She tried to calm her breaths, her family was gone and she had no idea what was going on.

Once the noise died down, she left her hiding spot, walked carefully to the living room and scream.

“Mary, wake up!” Lucy shook her, “Wake up!”

Mary opened her eyes and took a breath that made her lungs hurt.

“Easy, you’re ok. It was a nightmare.” Mary’s breaths were short and panicked. “Look at me, you are safe.” Tears were streaming down of Mary’s eyes.

“I…” She kept breathing, “They’re gone.”

“I know, darling.”

“I was about to be with them.” She cried and Lucy hold her.

“Shhhh.” She swayed her side to side. Lucy’s hand rubbed her back and soon after Mary began to breathe normal and Lucy helped her lay down.

Mary look at the ceiling. “What time is it?” she said above a whisper.

“Eight o’clock. You’d slept for 3 hours.”

Mary tried to sit down and hissed when she felt the sting in her right thigh. Lucy helped sit with her back against the wall of the boat. Mary lifted the blanket and saw the bandage.

“Where’re my pants?”

“We had to cut them.” Lucy lifted the material that was bunched next to them. “I’ll find something for you to wear I promise.”

“How bad is it?”

“It was just a bit deep but long. You’re lucky it didn’t cut in a major vein.”

“But the kid is alive.” She smiled tiredly looking at the black kid sitting among others survivor kids on the opposite side. “I should be dead.”

“Yeah, but you’re not. I was not going to leave you there. Your mom…”

“My mom is gone. All my family is gone and so it’s yours.”

“Your mom was my best friend and you are like a daughter to me, I was not going to leave you to die.”

Mary’s eyes soften and watered. “I’m so scared.”

“I know. I am too.”

Mary sniffed and clean her tears with the back of her hand.

“It’s getting cold.” Lucy said, “I’ll help you put your sweatshirt on.” She took the item and easily put it on Mary.

“Where do you plan to get me some pants?”

“I don’t know, I’ll figure something out. What kind of lady would I be if I let you walk around in your underwear?” She laughed a bit. “Besides you have a hole in your panties.”

“What?” Mary looked down, her black panties were dusty but not ripped. Lucy fulling laughed this time, “I’m glad you are having fun at my expenses.” She smiled lovingly to Lucy. Mary grabbed her tote bag and took out a bag of cookies. She opened it and offered it to Lucy. “Do you know where we going?”

“Some island, you know those things can’t swim, so.”

“When are we getting there?” she bit her vanilla cookie.

“I don’t know. They don’t tell me much. But I hope when the sun rise we will be somewhere safe.”

They kept eating quietly when a soft meow made them turned her heads around.

“Hey!” Mary said with a full smiled on her face. Lucy’s heart fluttered when she saw Mary smiling. “Who are you?” The cat got near and jumped on her lap. “Oh! Hello!” Mary scratched its ears and the cat purred. “Oh you like that, don’t you?” The cat rubbed its face against her chest, “How you get here?”

“That´s the cat from the last man that got here.”

“What?”

“There was a man that swam from a pier to the ferry.”

“You’re kidding.”

“No! We don’t know who help him to make noise to distract the creatures so he could get here. He almost got caught, I saw it. He was really lucky.”

“You actually believe everyone in this boat is lucky when most of us have lost our families and friends.” She said as she hug the cat.

“I like to be optimistic. It was not our time to died, not yet at least. We have the chance to start over.”

“And how are we starting over when is the end of the world?

“How is my favorite survivor?” They were interrupted by Henri. He had found them on their way to the ferry and stayed by their side.

“I don’t have pants on.”

“Lucy told me. We are trying to find something for you. I will be forever in your debt for saving Osahar.” He smiled lovingly to Lucy and then to her, “How you feeling?”

“Sore and tired.”

“Frodo!” Mary turned when she heard an unknown manly voice. The man stopped on his tracks when Lucy, Henri and Mary turned to see him. “Sorry.” Mary locked eyes with him. He had the biggest and softest eyes she had ever seen in a man. “That’s my cat.” He said shyly.

“Oh!” Mary said and lifted the cat, “He just got here.” She smiled as Eric got closer and took the cat in his arms. He recognized her as the girl who was sleeping when Lucy was curing his hand.

Lucy and Henri share a knowing look, and then Henri cleared his throat.

“So, Lucy; Zena was telling me if you’d like to help her with some stuff upstairs.”

“Why? Of course! Do you think you can keep an eye on her?” She said looking at Eric.

“Me?”

“Yes, you…Eric, right?”

“Yes.” He thought for a moment, “I can stay while you come back.”

“Perfect.” Lucy stood up, “We’ll come back later.”

Eric stood in silence while Mary stared at him. When he turned he saw her giving him a tight smile.

“Hi.” Mary said.

“Hi!” Eric’s voice shrieked, he cleared his throat, “Hi.”

“Eric?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Mary.” She extended her hand towards him and waited until he took it. “wanna sit?” She patted the floor next to her.

Eric looked around as if he were waiting for someone to tell him not to sit, but eventually he sat down. Mary reached for her cookies and gave him one.

“So Eric, I’m going to assume you are the last man who got in the ferry.” He nodded, “Lucy told me about you, he said you swam.” Eric nodded again, “You don’t talk much, do you?”

“Sorry, I… my friend helped me get here.”

“And where are they?” Eric remained silent and blink his tears away, “You don’t have to tell me, I understand.”

“Do you?”

“My whole family is dead. I saw when those things took them.”

“So Lucy is not your mom?” His voice was clearer and louder this time.

“No, she was my mom’s best friend. We lived in the same building.” She took a deep breath, “When the noise died down she went there to check if there was any survivors and she found me in the kitchen putting food in my bag.” She lifted her cookie. “I like your accent.”

“Thanks.” He smiled, “I like yours.”

“How about you?” She bit her cookie. “What’s your story?”

“I’m… was a law student.”

“Wow! You must be really smart then. I heard it’s difficult to get in.”

“And expensive.” Eric added, “I was in the subway and some pipes exploded. Next thing I know I was coming out of the water and finding Frodo outside the subway station. He took me to his owner, the woman who distracted the creatures so I could be here.” Just in that moment Frodo jumped from Eric grip to Mary’s lap and purred, “He likes you.” Mary turned to see him and his eyes were shining.

“What part of London are you?”

“Kent. Have you been?”

“No, I was studying to be a nurse. But you know it was in the plans after I finish. Travel the world… Now there is no place in the world where those creature aren’t.”

“Well, let’s hope that wherever we going, it’ll be free of those things.”

Both of them stayed in silence for a moment. It wasn’t awkward, it felt peaceful.

“Eric?” he hummed, “Can I do something?” He nodded.  Mary got closer and he moved backwards a bit. Her hands land on her tie. She gracefully undo his tie and another button of his shirt.

“It was a present from my mom. She gave it to me before I came to the States.”

She smiled, took the tie, folded and put it in her tote back. “It will be safe there.”

By the time Lucy came back she found Mary with her head on Eric’s shoulder, both of them sleeping peacefully.

[classpect-crew]

A Change of Pace

So I want to do something different with this blog. I know I’ve said this before, but I’m autistic. (Surely, nobody could have predicted this. I’ll take a moment for you to find your fainting couch.) That means I’d give my left arm to find a convenient and personally meaningful system through which to understand the world, preferably inspired by a piece of media that is a special interest of mine. For me, Homestuck’s Classpect system and cosmology can be that foundation, but I don’t just want to slap these categories and ideas haphazardly onto the “real world” and try to make it all fit. Nor do I wish to take the easy way out and just adopt or adapt one or more of the belief systems that inspired these systems and their context. (I tried out Gnosticism for a bit, but honestly, dualism doesn’t become me.)

Instead, I discovered a secret third option: experiencing Classpects on their own terms. “Tali, what the fresh hell do you mean by that?” Well, it’s complicated. The simplest way to put it is that I want to interact with the Aspects and what they represent as if they’re a fundamental part of our world, too. I want to use Classes as archetypes that exemplify how we interact with these Aspects. And I want to do all of this while letting the real-world application of these systems develop naturally, through practical experience rather than a monogamous marriage to the literature. I’ve meditated on the connections between Breath and Void while watching switchgrass rattling in the wind, for example. They share the quality of emptiness; they’re the negative space, the air rustling through tree branches or the gap in your memory where something once was, only visible in the absence of what’s around them. This isn’t a conclusion I came to by reading the comic or banging my head against the Aspect Wheel’s geometry. Although one could arrive at the same realization from either source, in this instance I let the Aspects speak for themselves, and then connected the dots.

This might get long, so here’s your courtesy readmore.

As my non-Homestuck friends know all too well (because I absolutely won’t shut up about it) I’ve been working on ways to expand the Classpect system into a practical, real-world framework that can be used and understood by somebody who’s never read Homestuck. In fact—and this is ambitious of me, I know—I take great inspiration from the development of daemonism as a contemporary practice. Daemonism has taken on a life of its own, separate from its origins in Phillip Pullman’s novel series, His Dark Materials. I can imagine the value of a real-world analogue of the Classpect system, which could open up new methods of introspection, development of one’s personal mythology, and perhaps even an analytical framework through which to understand the world itself. For those brave enough to crack open this can of worms, the possibilities truly are endless.

What might we discover by exploring our own stories through this kind of lens? What does it mean to be a Witch, or an Heir, or a Seer? Why are so many of us preoccupied with figuring out what we are, instead of what we want to be? That’s one of the many questions we should ask ourselves as we embark on this journey. Sure, we can pretty easily state what role a Hero of Space plays in the context of SBURB: they’re tasked with breeding the Genesis Frog. In the broader story of Homestuck, Space players ‘set the stage.’ But what about in our world? What does Space mean to you? What Aspects hold sway over you, and how does this shape your worldview? Your actions? Your identity? When I came up with the term Organic Classpect, it was my intention to explore this very concept. This feels like a fairly natural continuation and expansion of that idea.

You can meditate on Life the same way you’d meditate on the classical Greek element of Fire. You can learn to see its influence in your own life (no pun intended) and commune with it, increase or decrease its presence at will. Hell, I once made a sigil using the symbol of Life and charged it before going to run deliveries in hopes of making good tips that day. My first delivery was a grocery order with like, three small bags, and I got tipped $20 cash on top of the $8 I received in the app. If you understand Aspects as a source of power, and Classes as different ways of working with them, there’s so much you can do within this evolving framework.

I’d love to know what y’all think of this, because it’s something I care about very deeply, and I’ve been exploring these ideas for a long time.

[kaerumi]

Hands to yourself blondie.

Day 1

Minors do NOT interact 18+

Warning: Smut, Groping & Rubbing, Reader is the top, Sanji’s flirting, Yandere hints, rough fucking. Sorry not much plot until the end. Fluffy aftercare. Reader is very implied to be reincarnated/from a different world.

Lately Sanji’s been flirting with you, you didn’t exactly known what’s gotten him to do such thing but nothing he did really bothered you.

Even if he rubbed your inner thighs under the table, or groped your chest.

However slowly this started to drive you insane, you knew at this point Sanji liked you or at least sexually. You could tell by the look in his eyes. It’s not one a sane person would have.

If he was gonna keep doing this he need to know there are gonna be consequences since clearly he couldn’t control himself.

So you were gonna teach him since everyone except you and Sanji were gonna be leaving for the night and once they did.

You quickly slammed him to your bed. You had your own bedroom fortunately.

Sanji was surprised by this.

“W-What are you doing Yn?!”

“Teaching you a little lesson in keeping your hands to yourself”

You flipped Sanji onto his chest, quickly ripping his clothes, he had too many extras anyways.

You quickly took off your clothes, the door was already clothes.

“Clearly you wanted this if you kept rubbing and groping”

You slowly started rubbing your cock against Sanji’s ass

“I-I’m sor-“

You entered his ass

“Sorry my damn ass.”

You immediately started thrusting into Sanji.

Sanji immediately starts moaning insanely loud gripping the sheets.

“I-I’m sor- A-AAH~!”

Sanji didn’t mean any of the apologies, he wanted this. No NEEDED this

You kept fucking him roughly in the ass ignoring his pleas to slow down.

It was his fault for teasing by what he did, he did it so obviously too.

You did this for an hour or two

“Fucking flirty ass cook, couldn’t just keep your hand to yourself could you?”

You thrusted harder-

“Just had to grope my chest and rub my damn thighs!”

You went faster as Sanji went insane with pleasure.

When you finally released inside Sanji’s ass Sanji was shaking from all the pleasure

“Won’t tease now will you?”

“N-Nuh uh! Won’ do it a-again I swear!”

“What I thought. If you wanted me to fuck you that badly you could’ve just asked.”

“N-Not e-easy when you’re s-surrounded by the crew.”

“Suppose you have a point.”

You started cleaning up the mess and wrapped Sanji in a towel.

You took the sheet off and put it to clean with some bleach.

Sanji was shaking insanely and you went in the bath with him to clean him up and he just relaxed

“Didn’t think you’d do after care.”

“Just because my fighting style makes people beg they die doesn’t mean I don’t do after care. I’m insane not an asshole.”

Sanji wasn’t shaking anymore and dozed off.

You sighed.

“This crew and world is gonna drive me insane.”

You picked up Sanji and dried him off put him in sleeping clothes and put him in your bed to sleep having putted new blankets and sheets before Sanji went in to take a bath.

You walked out with pajamas on looking at the night sky

“It’ll be fine. Perfectly fine.”

You headed back to your room and slipped into your bed and went to sleep