#everyone has nasty thoughts though. some more than others. but what matters is what you *do*. not what you think.

[orcelito]

Don't know whether it's a product of my upbringing or just part of who I am, but I really do tend to shrug off things that seem to send others into massive guilt spirals. Like, what's the point? Either you meant to do it or you didn't. If you meant to do it but regret it now, make what amends you can & resolve to do better, then move on. If you didn't mean to, be honest about it, apologize if need be, & try to do better. Then move on.

Beating yourself up truly serves no purpose. What are we, catholic? If there is a god, I truly don't think they'd care, anyways

[stitched-mouth-vs-the-world]

Edge You To Death

Pairing: Undertaker x AFAB! Reader or Undertaker x Fem! Reader.

Summary: Undertaker loves ruining your orgasms.

Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Casual sex, Undertaker and Reader have a weird ‘situationship’, Age gap relationship, Mention of pedophila (not in reference to Undertaker! UT is not a pedo!), Reader is unaware Undertaker is a reaper or of what he does for Ciel, Reader has MY personal thoughts on pedophila (I don’t think they are controversial but just in case you don’t wanna here it skip the introduction), Oral sex (fem receiving), Edging, Daddy kink.

Writing Time: 1 hour.

Word Count: 1,317.

Format: Kinktober Fic, Day 20.

A/N:

I kinda forgot wtf I was doing here.

Most of my Kinktober works were written well in advance, but this wasn’t one of them. I wrote this 2 days before it was due. My requests are pilling up but I should start prioritising these now. I doubt I’ve gotten that Matthew Patel request done yet, I planned to do that when I got the requester’s first message about it, sent the same day I got the request, but not anymore. Sounds a lot like a request got ages ago on my previous account but deleted when I started feeling harassed by the requester. This is more for the Matthew Patel requester than anyone else but yeah… don’t harass people about requests especially if it hasn’t been that long since you sent it. Everyone, harass me over a request and I’ll just delete it. You can send one reminder after a week and that’s it. Anymore and I delete. I usually have requests done in a week or two and those kinds of messages just destroy my motivation.

Anyway! Please enjoy this Undertaker smut.

Here are my other Kinktober 2023 works.

—-///—-

You had been feeling dam good since you started sleeping with the Undertaker.

You had new relationship jitters, even if it wasn’t really a relationship. He was what you had fantasied about for years. An older gentleman who was kind and treated you like a Queen, but also open about wanting to ravishing you. With his age also came along a lot of life and sexual experience, a lot more than you had. He never mocked you for knowing less than him, he was just happy you wanted to know and happily taught you a lot.

Whilst age gap relationships have always been common and considered normal prior to the Victorian era, it was slowly becoming distasteful. Something many were unhappy with but also many other who were happy. Undertaker, years ago, would have been in favour this but with you now… he was in the middle and uncomfortable with it. Surely you and his relationship was ok because you was definitely an adult.

You were pretty set in stone on the matter. To you, age gap relationships were bad, unless it was you. You were a young woman who would never say no to an older man, even when you was a girl. You knew your exes were absolutely pedos, but you didn’t care as long as it was just you they were after. And no you didn’t consider yourself a victim.

You didn’t think of Undertaker in the same way though. You was an adult when you met him therefore wasn’t bad for perusing you. Well, you perused him but it didn’t matter.

Right know you was doing some dusting in the front of Undertaker’s shop, he was in the back. The first thing you took notice of when you first met your lover… was how nasty his shop is. It’s always covered in dirt and stinked of death. Obviously it would smell of death, it’s a funeral home, but the dirt was unnecessary and you was surprised that Undertaker had tried to do something about the smell. You figured he’s probably gotten used to it now and gone nose blind.

Once you had cleaned to a satisfying amount, you heard the bell go. You looked up and saw the familiar Earl Phantomhive and his butler. The young boy always looked so dam miserable, it depressed you. You didn’t like interacting with either of them and they never seemed to want your help, so you called your bedmate.

Undertaker came into the room, happy to deal with the Phantomhive and his butler. You was aware the two engaged in a different kind of business than coffins or funeral services, but it was none of your business what their business was. So you wasn’t going to ask…

Instead you headed out of the room and upstairs to bed, it was late and you knew Undertaker would join you after he was done with his ‘business’.

—-///—-

“Sort out the Earl?” You asked.

“Yes, Dear.” Undertaker smiled as he climbed into his bed, next you.

You sat up immediately and glared at him, “How many times have I told you Undie?! No sleeping in your day clothes!”

He laughed as you pushed him out of his own bed. Yeah, Undertaker had a bad habit of sleeping in his day clothes. He didn’t own PJs until you came into his life, nearly a year ago now.

“Ok! Ok!” Undertaker walked over to his drawers to fish out his sleepwear.

Once he did, he placed them on the end of the bed and looked down at you. You gave him a small smile, suddenly remembering this was his home and his bed and who are you say anything about how he sleeps? After all, you’re not even dating.

Undertaker grinned widely at you and slowly started removing his cloak. Ah, he was trying to indicate something.

He slowly stripped completely in front of you before getting back on the bed and crawling onto you. You kissed his lip gently and took hold of his arms, but Undertaker shook your hold off his arms and grabbed your face to pull you even closer to him, deeping your kiss. He quickly slipped his tongue into your mouth, desperate for a makeout session.

You moaned in between the kisses, you were started to feel a growing sensation in between your legs. If not dealt with quickly, it would become uncomfortable. Luckily for you, Undertaker could sense your arousal and was more than willing to help.

He let go of your lips and before you could even whine or complain, he was pulling the duvet and sleep shorts down and licking your lower regions. You made your hands comfortable, pulling on the pillow under your head and proped up your legs and planted your feet into the bed.

Undertaker ate you out like a mad mad. Sucking, licking, spitting and groaning like crazy. Your pussy and it’s sweet smell made him act unusual, way less calm and in control than usual. This was something you was proud of. You had the power (or pussy) to make Undertaker lose all composure.

You started to feel less prideful about your achievement as you started to feel yourself losing to Undertaker’s tongue. Your whimpered had become cries and moans, you begged him for release but you should of known better. It would be a long while before you got that.

Undertaker grinned evily against your cunt then looked up you, just go get a glimpse of your flustered expression. Having wait himself for release was a sacrifice he was willing to make if he got to see you cry and beg him for climax. He absolutely got a weird power trip from it.

“Oh please… oh please Daddy, I need to cum now!”

“Nu uh uh! You don’t get to cum until I say so, Dearie!”

You were still staring up at the ceiling and unable to look down, but you didn’t need to look down to know Undertaker was wearing his usual evil wicked grin. He always had that look when he was planning to edge you to death.

[doumadono]

ANNOUNCEMENT

This is a turning point for me. I've been silent for too long, but I can't stay quiet anymore.

I'm going through writer's burnout, and it has hit me hard. I've been writing on Tumblr and Ao3 for nearly eight years now (with about 1.5 years on my private blog, doumadono). Over that time, I've written more than 400 stories across various fandoms, created the Sinful Sunday event and a series that many people like, helped many with numerous emergency requests — so many that one masterlist wasn't enough to cover them all.

But all of this has brought me to a place where writing no longer feels like a joy, but rather a duty. In my effort to make everyone happy, I lost myself and took on too much, accepting even the most twisted and difficult requests. It made me anxious and unwell whenever I thought about writing. This is why I haven't been posting much these past few weeks. I missed the breaking point and let myself reach a place where I was seriously considering quitting writing altogether and closing both my Tumblr and Ao3 accounts.

There's something else I need to address. I feel completely detached from Jujutsu Kaisen and Demon Slayer. I no longer feel comfortable writing for those fandoms. From now on, I'll be focusing mostly on My Hero Academia. Even though the manga recently ended, both the manga and the anime hold a special place in my heart. I’ve fallen in love with the story and its amazing characters. This is what feels right to me at this moment. That doesn't mean I'll never write for Demon Slayer or other fandoms again, but not now, not at this time. Maybe in the future — who knows?

Some of you might know that I've been dealing with a flood of hateful anonymous messages. Even though I’ve grown stronger and no longer consider them relevant, it still hurts to read such nasty words. This is another factor why I need to take a break.

So, what's going to change?

Sinful Sunday will no longer cover requests, and the event won't be as regular as it used to be. From now on, I'll post some sinful pieces specifically written for this event whenever I feel it's right. I'll write only for the characters I feel attached too.

Emergency requests will be limited to two slots and will no longer have a 48-hour window to be fulfilled. Once both slots are taken, emergency requests will be closed until I manage to clear the current asks in my inbox.

As of today, my ask box has been completely cleared. I won't be replying to any past asks, regardless of their origin or topic.

Commissions will remain open, as nearly all the requests have been fulfilled.

Regarding the following projects:

The Kvitravn series will be completed this year, but I can't provide a specific date just yet as I'm still working hard to bring everything together.

There's also a new series on the horizon featuring Dabi in the lead role, with a psychiatrist!Reader as the other main character.

As for Kinktober, I made a hard decision it will not be held as an event on my blog this year at all.

As of now, I want to focus on my own little My Hero Academia based AU that I created with my best friend @crystalwolfblog , and this is something that brings me a lot of comfort nowadays, and it's what I want to focus on. I’ll likely create another blog to post everything related to this AU, to keep things organized (the blog will be linked to my pinned post). This little AU was and is my safe haven for the past year and half, and since it contains all of my favourite characters, I want to focus on it fully.

The time for purification has come. I need to rediscover my purpose and find joy in writing again. To those who understand and have stuck with me since the ThePaperPanda days — you’re amazing and adorable, and I can never express how much I appreciate you, guys 💞

I want to share one last thought. This isn’t a statement, but rather a plea to readers: please respect writers, no matter the content they choose to explore. Writing is not as easy as it may seem; it requires a significant amount of time and effort, often taking up our personal time to craft a story. Don't send anon hate. Spread love instead! The least you can do to show your appreciation is to leave a comment, even if it’s just a word or two. For you, it’s a small gesture that takes less than a minute, but for the writer on the other side, it may be a much-needed sign that their work is meaningful. So if you enjoy an author’s work, don’t hesitate to leave a comment. It truly makes us writers feel like we’re on cloud nine.

Love you all, Marcianna

[hellsslibrary]

✧･ﾟ:* NSFW Alphabet with Deuce Spade *:･ﾟ✧

DNI : minors.

#a.n. : ahem, I wanted to warn you that there will be something unreal in all these headcanons, just because this is the world of fairy tales, lol (I can give anyone an 8 foot cock and what will you do to me, like nothing).

!!Warnings : sub!bottom!Deuce, praise kink, kink for size difference, oral sex, soft sex, sub/dom dynamic, scar reference, romance, male reader.

Ace <————«« Deuce »»————> Cater

Heartslabyul. Deuce Spade.

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex?)

He is the most tired boy in the world after sex. He lies all sweaty, fucked and tired, looking at you with his red eyes from tears. So this time, you have to take care of him forever. Finally praise him, tell him that he is a good boy, give him water, wash him and so on. He will appreciate it anyway.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

He definitely likes yours hands (especially in the biceps area), and more if you have muscles there. It just turns him on that someone so strong (or just a little bit) is fucking him like this right now.

His favorite body part in itself is probably his mouth. What? He can suck you, kiss you, moan for you. Anything.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

He finishes a little. Although his sperm looks quite thick. It is probably darker than normal semen, but nothing more unusual is imperceptible.

As for you, he doesn't care where you end up. Though he definitely prefers it to be his mouth or hole. Just because it looks and feels hot, literally and figuratively.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He always dreamed of a partner who is somehow right. Like imagine that he is dating someone correct, diligent and polite. Everyone adore him because he is so kind and caring. But he would like to see this man change beyond recognition behind closed doors, fucking him like his personal whore. (Although in a gentle way, he is still a softie. It simply implies that the reader is a pervert.)

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they're doing?)

He... Just the embodiment of innocence. He still thought that storks bring babies, they appear in cabbages, Santa brings them and all that ... So he has no experience in this matter at all.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He loves the missionary position! It's definitely too easy, but he loves to see your face. Though he prefers that you don't see his own face, so he covers it up anyway.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

He is absolutely serious! He won't be joking, because for him this is the moment when both of you can be vulnerable, naked and enjoy only each other. While he doesn't mind a little humor from you if you're up for it, he'll definitely blush at it.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Mmm, he definitely shaves/cuts them. I guess he has them prickly enough that it gets nasty and he decides to get rid of them there. They do not match the color of his drapes, they are definitely lighter, much lighter.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

He is a very romantic boy! True, he is not a fan of these clichéd aspects, like roses, candles and any other nonsense that you can imagine. But he will still try to do something less clichéd before your sex time to make you feel loved. Well, during sex, he is also quite romantic. Although it's just kisses, hugs, some kind of compliments or words of approval, and all that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

He... He hardly does that. I think a cold shower will help him, because his erection goes quite easily and quickly. But he may rarely do this, for example, when you have not had sex for a long time and it is not expected in the near future. Well, or if you want to see how he does it.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He definitely has a kink for the size difference. Even if you are the same height or shorter than him, it is very easy to call. How? Just the mere thought of his partner (no matter what height/size) hovering over him like that turns him on. He also probably has a kink to the whole dom/sub dynamics. Just because he wants to be a good boy for you. And of course a kink for praise, I think it goes without explanation.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

He's embarrassed enough to do it somewhere other than outside your rooms. And he just finds it too intimate for prying eyes and ears. So bed, sofa, table top, shower and so on.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Quite easily excitable, but this excitation also easily disappears. One careless spot on one of his private parts like chest, butt or groin, some too well-thought-out praise from you no matter what, and he feels like butterflies start fluttering in his stomach.

N = NO (Something they wouldn't do, turn offs)

He is definitely against something too rough and something that brings too much pain. He is a gentle boy, although he doesn't mind if you want to do something more rough every now and then, but he doesn't want it to cause you or him any great pain. And he is definitely against sex in front of someone's eyes and sex in semi-public places (although in semi-public places he may agree, but on the condition that you both know and are sure that no one will come there).

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

He loves to give. He's a little clumsy about it, but he'll try to give you whatever pleasure you want, where and how you want.

He doesn't really like to receive since he's too sensitive to your mouth in any of his spots, but he loves it anyway.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Definitely prefers a sensual, gentle and slow pace. He loves it when you cover his face/neck/chest/etc with kisses as you gently thrust into him and his hands rest on your back and gently squeeze it when you hit a particularly sweet spot.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

No, he's not a fan of that. And especially not a fan of this if you are the kind of person who is not enough only one orgasm. He loves leisurely sex where both of you can enjoy each other without rushing anywhere. But if you are too desperate to fuck him, then he may agree.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Not very experimental, but he trusts you, so he will comply. If you want something that is not in his no, then he is willing to try it anyway.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

I guess Deuce is pretty tough. His maximum is about 5-9 rounds. Although, if you want to do a total overstimulation of him, then about 12.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

He hardly has any toys. He doesn't want to buy them (and probably didn't know they existed before your relationship with him, lol). But if you give him something, he will accept it, not without embarrassment, of course, but he will accept it.

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease)

He doesn't like to tease you. He wants you to enjoy his body and his activities as much as you want. Although he can tease you if that's what you want. But he would probably prefer you to tease him.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

It's not too loud, but not too quiet either. Something like 6/10, yes. He knows how to act without being too loud. But he can be more vocal if you enjoy his sounds.

W = Wild Card (Get a random head canon for the character of your choice)

He has many scars on his body from his "dark" past, which he wants to get rid of as soon as possible and the best. But he loves when you touch them one way or another. Stroking/kissing/pressing lightly/etc. Not even in a sexual way, he can even tell you a couple of stories about their appearance if you want.

X = X-Ray (Let's see what's going on in those pants, picture or words)

Slim but muscular body. Strong headcanon for having a tiny waist, yes. Also, as I said earlier, he has a lot of scars. As for the cock... I think it's a strict 6 inches / 15 centimeters, and his shaft is quite small in girth.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Below the average. He does not need to have sex too often, his body simply does not require it. Although he is ready at almost any moment if you want it.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fell asleep afterwards)

He gets very tired after sex, so he falls asleep almost instantly. Especially if you hug him and snuggle up to him.

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Selfish ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Dazai Osamu

a/n: hiiii h i hii! my first fic in god FOUR years??? i have never written for BSD before... but i'm excited to be a part of this community and get back into the ff writing scene and get to know everyone! i hope you will accept me as a part of ur community & that i can learn from everyone *__* onto the fic!

this takes place (s2 spoiler!) after oda's death while dazai is in port before he quits to join the detective agency. reader is female.

genre: angst and da nasty, f!reader

content: dazai is a meanie to you :((( meaningless sex, no aftercare, toxic and unrequited feelings, it's giving emotionally unavailable guy from tinder that you can't help but run to oops?

**minors DNI** cunnilingus & later he's a bit rough with you during sex

why is he so selfish? is it not so selfish to act this way? a girl like you in the port mafia head’s bedroom. shouldn’t you be with some do-gooder? you know dazai isn’t going to be your boyfriend, right? no matter how right you treat him?

he’s not going to say the words, ‘i love you,’ and the warmth you feel in his arms is lost in his eyes. leaning against his desk, dazai absent-mindedly uncloaks his jacket, staring out the apartment window that looks over yokohama. there’s a certain solemnity in his gaze, something that you can never read. these days, dazai feels more and more distant – even more than before.

you approach him from the doorway. gingerly, your fingertips graze his hand, which is idling on some papers on his desk. you touch him, and he doesn’t move, not even an inch, his hand limp and cold against yours. no, don’t touch me, he feels an urge to say. the thought even surprises him, though he understands the impulse. now that odasaku’s gone and died, this body of his suddenly feels dirty. he remembers oda’s words.

don’t touch me, dazai thinks to himself. he aches at your touch. but he relents. sighs into your touch, even.

“dazai, what’s wrong?”

his lips turn down slightly in a frown at your inquiry, eyes clouded over in thought. it’s only a moment. barely noticeable, though your keen eye observes it. then he chirps up, “well well, shall we get to it?” he brushes you aside completely. there it is again, that facade of his that comes so naturally it’s got everyone fooled… almost everyone, anyway. he turns around with that smile on his face. that fake smile of his that’s always bothered you. that smile haunts you.

dazai’s fingers find your waist, his hand settling on the small of your back. now, it’s you who wants to push him away.

he never answers your questions – he just leaves you in the shadow like the others.

“you said you have a treat for me, yes? you know i don’t like to wait for these kind of things~” he hums, looking at you devilishly. “now, how about we get right to it?”

this is always how it goes.

now his breath is hot on your neck, his voice a whisper in your ear. his grip on your hips tighten.

“dazai–” you gasp, suddenly becoming weak for him as he corners you into the desk. why is he so selfish? he thinks to himself again. he knows he’s being selfish. but he can’t help it. your body is warm, and his is so very cold. he wants to steal your warmth and keep it all to himself.

“ah-ha, don’t act so surprised now,” he teases, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth. “this is what you want, right?” he pulls back again to make sure, a grin on his face. “or am i mistaken?” he’s not wrong – your little rendezvous at his apartment always start and end like this. you can never resist him. you feel your defenses lower. you want his defenses to lower for you, too.

but you know he’s not going to say the words, ‘i love you,’ and the warmth you feel in his arms is lost in those cold, unfeeling eyes.

why are you like this? you’re wondering to yourself. you know you’re being naïve again. why are you just like the others? you can’t stop comparing yourself to them, the countless imaginary women in your head. the thought of them makes you feel so helpless, so angry. when you relent to his touch like this, when you let him hold you like this, it feels so wrong. how many women has daza touched? how many girls has he brought here? did they all feel this way? do their hearts pound like yours? ache like yours?

“dazai…” your voice is weak. your voice is a whisper.

your voice is full of want.

your voice is full of need.

“i like it when you say my name,” he murmurs softly against your earlobe, his voice sending a shiver down your spine, a flippant grin forming on his lips as he brushes your hair to the side. you know just what comes next… and you’re not going to fight it, either.

his fingers travel up your body, then he grasps your neck in his hands. he teases the tender skin with his tongue, languidly licking along the side before finally taking you into his mouth and sucking gently. rougher, but never rough enough to leave a mark. he knows better than to mark you. you’re not his, and he’s not yours.

your head is spinning. your hand immediately goes for his pants, but he pushes you aside. “not yet –” slender fingers grab a hold of your waist and hoist you up to the table. “– face fuck me first.” he says it so casually and deadpan, it catches you off guard and makes your cheeks flush red. then he kneels before you and suddenly smirks up, some playful glint in his eye as he chuckles to himself, leaving you at a complete loss for words. dazai’s always like this, completely unreadable and unpredictable.

large hands travel up your skirt, smoothing the skin of your thighs. his gaze is full of wanton heat, full of lust, as his wandering fingers toy with the garter of your panties before slowly pulling your underwear down your legs. you shiver quietly and look away. “ah, embarrassed, are you?” he quirks his eyebrow, looking up at you deviously. no matter how much you’ve done this, you can’t help but feel flustered every single time. as you avert your gaze once again, he protests with a loud, exaggerated sigh. “uh-uh, eyes on me or i won’t do it at all. you want to watch, don’t you~?”

pulling you closer to him, he presses you to his eager lips. his tongue is warm and wet, and it knows you all too well from nights spent wrapped in his bandaged arms. you gasp at the sudden heat that envelops you, finding your hands suddenly tangled in his soft brown hair. he moans quietly against you, letting you know he enjoys your pleasure just as much, his fingers digging deep into the fat of your thighs. you try not to look but end up peeking at him only to meet his gaze, staring up at you shamelessly as he eats you, his saliva and your arousal smeared across his lips. soon enough, you feel his fingers penetrating you, one finger at first then two and three; he’s preparing you for him. you want him – “please… dazai… dazai…” his name is all you know, a quiet prayer on your lips. this man will be the end of you.

without saying a word, he suddenly grabs you again and tosses you on the bed with a reckless thud. you hear him shuffle through the desk for a condom, then he flips you onto your knees and pushes you into the mattress nonchalantly, like you’re no one at all. he doesn’t bother to take off the rest of your clothes or even his; he just unzips and lifts your skirt again, hands roughly grabbing a hold of your ass, then you feel the tip pressing flush against your entrance. “i’m gonna put it in now,” he says callously, not an ounce of feeling in his voice.

you’re so wet that it takes no time for you to stretch for him. he chuckles from behind you, an empty laugh. “i guess you enjoyed?” he teases, “you’re basically begging for it at this point.

reaching out to stroke your hair, dazai’s touch is gentle and almost loving as he lets the tendrils slip delicately through his fingertips. there it is again, you think to yourself as you feel a pang in your heart. that wretched touch that’s so achingly sweet it confuses you. there’s always that sudden switch up with, fleeting moments where he’s a different person. but it’s only an instance. he presses himself inside of you with a shaky breath, pushing you into the mattress roughly, and you find yourself in reality again. you don’t face each other. instead, you bury your face into the bed as he pulls you against him again and again and again until you forget all about that moment.

it’s better than way, you think to yourself. sometimes looking into his eyes is too confusing.

…

after all’s done, there’s nothing but silence between the two of you. dazai’s at his desk organizing some papers, and you’re sitting on the bed trying to collect yourself as the feeling of shame overtakes you. another night spent in this mysterious man’s bed, knowing you’re in love with someone who you can’t possibly ever have. as usual, you’re the first to break the silence. no point in asking him any more questions, or trying to make conversation. you’ve learned your place. “i should probably go,” you say.

dazai looks up at you for a second, almost disappointed, as though he were expecting you to ask him for more. it’s a rare instance of hesitation that surprises even him. “you can stay if you want,” he says flawlessly, acting it was a normal thing for him to ask you to stay in the middle of the day, for no reason at all. it catches you off guard, but the way that it comes out so naturally has you convincing yourself that the pause meant nothing. after all, what would dazai want with you? dazai is the head of port mafia. you are no one to him.

“didn’t you say there was something you wanted to give me?” he asks, snapping you out of your thoughts.

oh, that explains it all.

“oh, that — i, uh... i totally forgot,” you lie through your teeth. he looks almost disappointed, this time visibly frowning. but he perks up in no time.

“ah-ha, you’re so scatterbrained,” he says cheerfully, ruffling your hair. his words are followed by the emptiest laugh.

“next time?”

but dazai’s not there anymore. “right,” he says plainly, but he knows there is no next time. right, he’s being selfish, he thinks to himself. there’s no point in this at all.

you smile as best as you can, then the two of you wave farewell. as you walk down the steps of his apartment, you crumple an envelope in your hands, the reason you came in the first place, to deliver a letter you’d written weeks ago.

dazai:

i can’t see you anymore. it hurts to.

i can’t understand you at all.

i couldn’t tell you face to face because i knew i would cry.

i’m sorry i’m selfish.

you brought your hand to your mouth, suppressing the sob that was about to escape you. in your heart, somehow, you knew you couldn’t stop seeing him. his touch, his hands, his warmth, his scent. the way that he kissed you; the way that he fucked you. that lost look in his eyes. no, you could never leave him - for it’s become all too routine to you now.

what does he dream about? what does he smile about? what does he cry about? why do these things matter so much to you?

with these thoughts in your mind, you let your arms fall limply to your side and tossed the envelope into the garbage as you walked mindlessly from his apartment, the bitter taste of dazai’s tongue still on your lips.

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @v6que~!

[studentinpursuitofclouds]

can you do head canons on an upset farmer? They are just really overwhelmed / overstimulated??

(bachelors(

Eyyyyyy, another opportunity for hurt/comfort headcanons! (As I understand it, you want vanilla SDV candidates) Thank you, dear anon, for your ask! ☺️💕

_________________________________________

Elliott:

It was not new to Elliott that his friend, Farmer, was a fan of fishing on the seashore, even in the pouring rain. However, looking out the window of his little beach house, Elliott saw them not far from the pier: without an umbrella, without a fishing rod, looking away and completely drenched by the downpour. The writer's heart clenched at the pitiful sight of his intimate friend, and so he hastened to invite them into the house and give them a chance to dry off. Elliott began cautiously to ask Farmer what was the matter, and Farmer recounted all their troubles. To which the writer calmed and comforted them as best he could. Elliott asked Farmer not to keep everything to themselves and to talk to him if they felt sad and upset again.

Sam:

Although Farmer tried to hide their terrible mood behind a fake smile, Sam's keen eye did not miss their facial expression, which was ready to crease with a restrained urge to cry. Not wanting to embarrass his friend with the presence of other residents, the young guitarist invited his friend over to his house on the pretext of "showing him new lyrics for a future song," but when they entered the room, he honestly asked Farmer if everything was okay. Sam doesn't like that their friend is so sad and he thought that maybe he could help them in some way. Farmer couldn't hold back the tears and told Sammy that they felt bad, that they're so tired and exhausted, while Sam petted the Farmer's back, jokes and offering comfort snacks to cheer them up a little.

Sebastian:

Sebastian probably knows better than anyone that nasty feeling when everything around you seems so awful and you wish everyone would leave you alone. For him, the stop near the railroad became one of the secluded and quiet places, when, feeling upset, he wanted to take a break from people, from noise and events, from the whole world. It was there that he took Farmer so that they could cool off. He wouldn't insist on talking if Farmer didn't want to, and they could both just stand in complete silence for a while. But he will listen to them if they need to pour everything out of their souls, all the pain and anger over someone or something. Listen to them and not interrupt them. He's not too great at giving advice, but he'll try to help his friend and comfort them.

Shane:

Shit... When Shane saw Farmer, he thought he saw himself, in the same depressed state he'd been in a couple of months ago. And he didn't like the thought that his friend, who hadn't left him in that state, was now in the same state too. Starting a conversation about what had happened with Farmer and whether they wanted to talk would be difficult and awkward for Shane, but he would try to casually ask the reason why Farmer was upset. The chicken man himself will try to give a couple of advice that he has learnt from talking to therapist and, if Farmer doesn't get better, seek therapy too. In the meantime, the door to the coop at Marnie's Ranch is always open to them if they want to get away from their problems and just vent to Shane.

Harvey:

Farmer looked so pale, ducking their head and paying no attention to anyone.... So Harvey rushed to them immediately, thinking that they had overworked themselves and were about to faint again from fatigue. But the trouble proved to be quite different. Yes, Farmer was tired, but tired more mentally (though physical health was also affected). The doctor invited them in for a cup of coffee to find out more about why Harvey's friend was so upset and depressed. The doctor listened patiently and gave Farmer some good advice, assured them that everything would be fine and they could always count on him if they needed help or just to talk to him. He also reminds them to to take time to rest. Doctor's orders, because the health of a patient, especially a close friend, is important to Harvey!

Alex:

Alex was just about to open his mouth to ask Farmer if they wanted to hang out on the beach after his work at the ice cream counter. But the athlete immediately shut his mouth when he saw how depressed Farmer looked. Nevertheless, he invited his friend to the kiosk and gave them ice-cream at his own expense and asked casually how Farmer was doing. Apparently not very good, because they were almost crying, telling him that they were very upset about someone/something. At least Alex's pep talk and delicious ice cream helped a little, Farmer feel a little better. Alex didn't know what advice to give them, but promised to always be there for them, just like they were there for him during a rough time. Plus, the free ice cream would definitely help them a little, eh? All for his friend!

[saphronethaleph]

The Natural One

Ric Olie looked down at the note in front of him, and then up at the gungan who'd given it to him.

 "You're sure?" he asked. "This… kriff, I don't know what to say."

 "Yousa don't have to say it," Jar Jar replied. "Mesa knows what mesa is suggestin'."

 He shook his head. "Mesa knows mesa made mistakes. Mesa… generally thinks that mesa did not make the big-nasty mistake in a way that other people did not make, because mesa does not remember anybody bein' worried about Palpatine until himsa became Emperor. Not in that way. But… mesa did it. Not anyone else."

 "Damn," Ric said. "After that, now I think I've thought too little of you, Jar Jar."

 "Yousa have not thought anything mesa has not thought about mesa self," Jar Jar declared. "And mesa… wants to make a difference. A good one, like mesa did in the grand army."

 Ric frowned a little.

 "You know, people are going to think you worked for Palpatine," he said. "He's from here, and I know he fooled everyone, but – that's what people are going to think."

 Jar Jar nodded.

 "That is why mesa made the suggestion that mesa did," he said, firmly. "Yousa has no need to be tellin' me anything. Yousa has no need to give mesa anythin'."

He looked suddenly worried. "Though, it would maybe help mesa a little if yousa got mesa the weapons of a militiagung."

 "We can do that, Jar Jar," Ric said, and realized there was no longer really any question about how he was going to answer the impassioned plea of the gungan opposite him. "And… I don't know what else to say. Thank you? Sorry?"

Jar Jar shrugged.

 "If mesa can help, mesa will be all good with that," he said.

 "How long?" Gregar Typho asked.

 "Distraction could be starting any time now," Ric replied. "It could already have started, but exactly when doesn't matter – we go at the time chop."

 He glanced back at the group of resistance fighters – two dozen commandoes, and a dozen pilots.

 The main hangar of Harte Secur was not far away, and inside lurked fourteen N-1T starfighters – significantly more advanced than the standard N-1, and fully as capable as a modern fighter like the flight-one X-wings.

 Capturing those fighters and getting them to a safe hangar on the far side of the Chomell Sector was the primary objective today. They needed independent strike fighter capability if they were going to be more than a group meeting in underground rooms and occasionally assassinating someone in the street.

 Then his comlink crackled.

 "Heyo, uh… Captain?" Jar Jar's voice said, through the link. "Mesa knows you said a distraction, but mesa… may have made a little bit of a boopjak big mistake."

 "What kind of mistake, Jar Jar?" Ric asked, already having dire thoughts about some kind of absolute, unmitigated disaster.

 Jar Jar Binks had a reputation, and it was a hard one to forget at times like this.

 "Well, mesa was assumin' that yousa wanted the distraction to still be goin' when you did whatever it is yousa is meant to be doin'," Jar Jar replied. "But mesa threw mesa first booma, and it hit one of their-sa two legged walker things, and mesa guesses that theysa did not actually see mesa booma? But the walker was shooten, and the other stormtroopers thought the walker had begun shooten them deliberately, an' they were shooten back, and then mesa had to run away from a flame-shooten trooper for a bit so mesa lost track of what was goin' on, but, uhh… there'sa no distraction any more, because the troopers all shooten each other."

 Ric stared at the comlink.

 "...all of them?" he said. "You mean all the gate guards?"

 "Not just themsa!" Jar Jar replied, clearly trying to get the whole thing explained in one go now he'd started. "Themsa, an' the white armoured guys from the barracks place too, an' all four of theirsa doopeewee landspeeder things, an'… well, mesa will simplify and say mesa doesn't think there'sa anythin' left. Sorry, Captain, mesa screwed up."

 "...I'm… sure we'll handle it," Ric decided. "Thanks, Jar Jar."

Some weeks later, Darth Vader examined a data screen.

It detailed how a single fighter had attempted to attack two Star Destroyers and their escorts on patrol out near Adelphi.

It also detailed how the Star Destroyers had somehow been persuaded to actually crash into one another, resulting in ninety-five percent total casualties, and how nobody had been entirely clear about whether the fighter had escaped or been shot down.

And, as a footnote, it said that the next place the two ships had been planning to visit had been hit by a Rebel attack that had caused significant damage – precisely because the capital ships had been missing.

 "We can take your squadron there at need, Lord Vader," his captain said.

 "No," Vader replied. "I recognize the signs of this. I want nothing to do with it."

He shook his head. "Nothing whatsoever."

[sinningforrory]

stupid // stan uris smut

a/n: hey everyone! it's been so long since i've posted and a lot of people have been sending me requests but since my first and only fic i've uploaded on here has gained 1,000 notes i thought i'd gift you guys this fic as a thank you. i'm gonna try and upload a lot more now because i appreciate so much the love my writing gets fr thank you guys so much. hope you enjoy and as always, reblogging really helps me out so if u enjoy, pls don't hesitate!

WARNINGS: dom!stan, submissive!bratty!reader, slight choking, mention of drugs (if you squint) SMUT, majorly NSFW minors please dni, thank you!

WORD COUNT: OVER 6K

SUMMARY: Your parents best friends' son. The picture perfect grade A student of the perfect suburban family. And a cocky douchebag. You hated him. But, since you both got into the same college, Stan has been making it clear that he definitely does not hate you...

Stanley. Even his name irked you. I mean, who in their right mind births a beautiful baby boy and names him Stanley. What a stupid name. It fits him though, that’s for sure. Stupid Stan with his stupid family and his stupid friends and his stupid studying. He was just so stupid that you wanted to bash his brains in any time he so much as breathed around your presence. 

Of course, he hadn’t necessarily done anything to warrant your intense hatred towards him. He just irritated you. You were Jewish too so you’d always see each other at the Synagogue and your parents were enamoured by Stan’s stupidness. They saw it as ‘perfection’ instead though. They were always bothering you about how you should ‘aim to be more like Stan’ or ‘Stan’s parents told me he got an A in this class. So why are you getting a D?’ He drove you insane. You weren’t Stan, you weren’t stupid like Stan so why couldn’t your parents just love you for you instead of comparing you to that stupid, stupid boy.

Due to your parents being very good friends with Stan’s family, you saw each other a lot more than you’d like. And every time you were there you took every opportunity to be nasty to Stan just to wear off some steam. But that made it even worse. It wouldn’t matter if he was a dick to you too. But no. He’s NICE to you. And you know he’s doing it on purpose to get on your nerves because every time he compliments your hair and sees you glaring knives into his eyes, he does a subtle smirk to himself as if he’s fucking won this silly little game you play. He knows he’s driving you insane and he’s proud of himself for it. What a fucking douche.  

It had always been this way. Stan irritates you, you’re a bitch to Stan, Stan eats it up, Stan irritates you, blah, blah, blah. It was an endless cycle of hate. 

However, something had flipped in Stan the summer before you both left for college. Luckily enough, you’d both managed to get into the exact same ivy league as each other so you would be stuck with Stan for the next four years. When you found out you immediately wanted to bash your head into a wall repeatedly until you woke up from this absolute nightmare that was Stanley Uris. 

The news that you had both gotten into an ivy league warranted a celebratory party for the both of you. The idea from your lovely mother, of course, and at said party, Stan was acting a lot stranger than normal. So strange to the point where you were currently hiding in the bathroom with your back against the door breathing heavily as if he was chasing after you and about to knock the door down with an axe.  

It started in the garden. You wore a white summer dress with tiny yellow flowers scattered among it. Stan was looking very punchable in cream khakis and a navy polo. Unbuttoned, of course, because he could never look TOO tidy. You stood by the refreshments, sipping a virgin pina colada when Stan strutted his way over with a teasing grin on his face, ready to ruin your relaxed mood. 

‘So, I guess we’re going to college together. It seems you really can’t escape me, can you, y/n?’ He leaned against the table next to you, taking a sip from his beer. You glared up at him, already infuriated by the fact that he was leaning down with you stood up straight next to him and he was still taller than you. 

‘Oh please, Stanley, don’t pretend to be so happy about this when we both know you are just as excited about this as me.’ 

He gasped in mock surprise before laughing softly at the frown on your face, ‘Oh, come on, princess, you know you love me. I guarantee that you would miss this adorable face as soon as you knew you couldn’t see me anymore.’ 

He smiled at you gently before moving his sunglasses up to rest on his curls and taking a sip of beer. 

You moved to stand in front of him, making a move to leave the refreshments and flee to your room (or anywhere away from Stan). ‘Bite me, Uris.’ 

‘If you insist, princess.’ He smirked at you and folded his arms over his chest, his muscles straining under his polo. 

Your eyes widened slightly, shock evident on your face at his words. He had always been overly saccharine with you but he had never flirted with you so boldly. Shaking yourself out of your daze, you scoffed before walking off with your pina colada into your kitchen for some snacks. 

5 minutes later, you were still stood in front of your fridge, supposedly searching for food but instead, you found yourself staring off into space. You could not scratch that smug image of Stan out of your brain, his words engraving themselves into your memory, messing with your mind. 

Worst of all, you found yourself repeatedly wondering why you liked what he had said to you. Pulling yourself together, you closed the fridge door but immediately jumped as you saw Stan standing right where the fridge door had been resting. 

‘You look a little lost, princess, is everything okay?’ He was stood so close to you that your chests were half an inch away from touching. You gazed into his eyes for half a second before realising what you were doing and coughed before putting some distance between the two of you. 

‘Uh-uhm, I’m fine thank you, Stanley. Just couldn’t find what I was craving.’ 

He nodded his head understandingly before taking a step forward so you were nearly chest to chest once again. ‘What exactly are you craving, y/n?’ 

He hadn’t meant to sound so enticing, or maybe he had, but the way he said that with his gravelly voice and his tiny smirk made your thighs involuntarily clench together. 

‘E-erm, just some guacamole dip. My mom always hides it from me though because she knows I’ll eat it all before the other guests can have any.’ You fiddled with the hem of your dress, avoiding eye contact with the boy in front of you. What had gotten into you, why was he making your confidence dissipate so easily and why were you suddenly acting like a nervous school-girl?

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed before an evil look took over his features. He was planning something, you could tell. And you didn’t like it. 

‘Oh, you mean.. this guacamole? The one on top of the fridge? That I can reach? But you can’t?’ 

Your eyes trailed along his veiny, muscular forearm before they met his slender, mocking hand where you found it gesturing towards... of course: the dip. 

Frustration filled you head to toe as you realised that Stan, once again, had the upper hand. Your jaw ticked as your eyes finally met Stan’s cocky, patronising eyes and you had to resist the urge to make those smug, brown orbs black and blue. 

‘It seems that you have something you need to ask me, darling. Because, let’s face it, we’re not gonna have a stare-off all day in front of this fridge. So, let’s hear it: “Oh, please, Stanley. I need you to get me that dip off the top of the fridge because I was born with incompetent height and I can’t do it without you, Stanley.”’ 

You crossed your arms over your chest as you listened, painfully, to Stan mock you with such arrogance you found it hard to resist whacking him with a frying pan. However, to Stan’s surprise, before he had the chance to continue making fun of you, there was no one standing in front of him anymore. 

Where had you gone? he thought. That’s unlike you, to admit defeat so easily. Where was your usual snarky bite back, attacking him on his ‘unusually long legs’? 

But before he could get too worried, there you were. Returning into the kitchen to fight back to Stan.... with a chair. 

Wordless and emotionless, you put the chair down in front of the fridge, stood on its seat and grabbed the dip, finally retreating from the kitchen, not before throwing Stan a victorious wink before you disappeared around the corner. 

Truth be told, you had no idea how to respond to Stan’s unusual behaviour so instead of arguing back like you would normally do, your mind blanked of insults completely and you did the next best thing that you could think of: beat him at his own game. 

It was obvious that something about Stan had changed since the last time you had spoken and Stan seemed to think he was one step ahead of you. What stupid Stan didn’t know was that you were nowhere near as Stupid as him and knew that the only way to irritate him like you used to was to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

Sure, you weren’t exactly completely against the idea of flirting with Stan for fun. He was obviously a good-looking guy; you knew because he would never let you forget it. And you would never pass up the opportunity to get a hot guy flustered. 

This was how Stan wanted to play? Fine. He’d better prepare to lose. 

It had been two weeks since this little game you and Stan were playing had begun and you couldn’t hold out much longer. The tension between the two of you had sky-rocketed and even the slightest twitch of a smirk in the corner of Stan’s mouth had your panties pooling with desire. 

You had an inkling that Stan was in the same boat as you were as your lingering caresses on his arm or leg when laughing with him and his family seemed to make him blush much easier than before. 

The point of why you were doing all of this was still vaguely swimming around in the back of your mind: do not be the first to give into your temptations. Don’t sleep with Stan. 

However, with Stan so perfectly positioned behind you so your butt met his bulge as he leaned over your petite frame to reach for a glass, you had to take deep breaths to remind yourself once again: don’t sleep with Stan. 

You gulped and took a deep breath of relief once he removed himself from his position behind you to lean on the counter next to you. His gaze burned into the side of your face and you met his eyes briefly just to find him with a cocky smirk plastered on him. 

Your blood boiled (with rage or desire, you didn’t know) but you looked away without giving even the slightest of a reaction. You could never let him know how much his actions affected you. 

It was that dreaded time of the week when you go over to the Uris family’s house for dinner and after eating a delicious meal cooked by Mrs Uris you did the routine of standing in the kitchen and drinking an iced tea with Stan whilst the adults got drunk in the living room. 

Usually, you and Stan would bicker pointlessly during this time of the evening, but tonight it was completely silent between the two of you with only lingering gazes and glares thrown from one to the other. The tension could be cut with a butter knife. 

However, your torment was put on pause as, suddenly, Mrs Uris appeared at the kitchen door. ‘Hello sweeties,’ she hiccoughed slightly, clearly tipsy. ‘I know that the kitchen is very beautiful but you are welcome to go up to Stan’s room if you want. Stan certainly won’t mind a beautiful girl like you to be up in his room, y/n.’ She winked as you blushed and Stan coughed out an embarrassed ‘Mom!’. 

She then made her departure, giggling to herself softly as she went. Stan then coughed to get your attention and gestured with a jerk of his head to the direction of his room, indirectly asking if you wanted to take up his mother on her offer. You shrugged before making your way up the stairs to Stan’s room. 

Stan’s room. What a place to behold. You hadn’t been up there since you were about 12 and had to work with Stan on a class project. It had changed a lot since then. Posters of bands that Stan listened to were plastered all over the walls and clothes were scattered all over the floor, and let’s not forget to mention the faint aroma of marijuana. 

Stan manoeuvred you out of the doorway, his fingers gracing your waist ever so slightly with his bulge pressed against your lower back as he shimmied past you. 

He jumped on his bed, his arms and legs in a starfish position on either side of him, and closed his eyes with a big sigh. 

You carefully sat yourself down next to him on the bed, feeling too hesitant to lie yourself down next to him. He leaned up against the bed frame with his hands behind his head as he studied your appearance precariously as ever. 

‘Why do you hate me?’.

The question took you by surprise. It was so out of the blue and even more so out of character for Stan to be so straight-forward. You blinked delicately before shrugging your shoulders at him. 

‘Do you want the honest answer or the answer that you want to hear from me?’ You pressed, speaking so quiet that it was almost a whisper. 

He glanced swiftly over you for a second before responding, ‘Honest.’ 

It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting Stan to want that answer but the fact that you had to admit it to yourself now, let alone to Stan, was enough to make you faint from nerves. 

You looked away from Stan and fiddled with your fingers as you spoke in hushed tones. ‘I envy you. You have better grades, better looks, better charisma, better music taste, better style... a better life. You are better than me in every way. And I despise you for it.’ 

A masked look of shock ghosted over Stan’s face before it was replaced once again with a stony expression. He sat up straight so that your knees were touching and he placed a hand on the centre of your thigh. 

You looked up at him and connected with his gorgeous hazel eyes. He ran his tongue quickly over his lips before his eyes locked onto yours. ‘Now, we both know that’s not true.’

It was as if your body was moving with a mind of its own. Slowly, you were leaning in towards Stan as if you were magnetised to him and to be too far would hurt you in unimaginable ways. ‘How do you mean?’ You breathily responded, your heart pulsing rapidly.

He was so close to you now that you felt his breath against your lips. ‘Because I envy you ten times more.’ And with that closing sentence you felt his lips crash immediately into yours. 

All the tension from the last few days swarmed around you both like a storm of arousal and need. His kiss was passionate and rough as he pressed his lips into yours with so much want but his hand on your leg was gentle and sweet as he caressed your inner thigh gently with his thumb. 

The constant nagging of your brain screaming at you ‘Don’t sleep with Stan’ was shoved into the back of your mind falling to deaf ears as Stan moved his hand ever so slightly higher up your leg, falling to play with the hem of your dress as he detached his lips from yours to suck on your collarbone with the obvious attempt of planting a hickey. 

Stan skillfully moved you both up to the headboard so that he could deepen the passion of your kiss and you quickly maneuvered yourself so that you were now straddling his lap. 

His growing erection pressed into your centre as he trailed his smooth hands down to the flesh of your hips, his lips dragging down your jaw to find solace in the crook of your neck.

You felt like you were on fire, Stan’s touch was magnetic and no matter how you’d been trying to resist him, it was impossible. You were addicted to how he made you feel. 

Neediness began to bubble through your tummy and you could tell Stan was feeling the same way as his hands were digging into your hips harder than before. Then, his hands began to carefully drag your hips across his hardness, slowly at first. 

You could feel every bump of his length through his thin sweatpants and your hands moved down his toned body to fiddle with the hem of his t-shirt. 

His hands began to move faster, dragging your thin panties over his hard, clothed dick. He detatched his lips from your neck when you began to let out tiny, little moans of pleasure, thankful for the little bits of stimulation Stan was feeding you. 

His eyes trailed down your body, admiring every single bump and curve: the strap of your dress falling off your shoulder, your soaking panties rubbing against him as his hands moulded perfectly with the fat of your hips. They then fell on your face, growing darker at the sight of your furrowed eyebrows, messy hair and plump, red lips from you biting down too hard on them. 

Likewise, you were admiring Stan, his sharp jawline clenching and unclenching every time you dragged yourself over his most sensitive spots, his hair uncharacteristically messy from your hands tugging on his curls. He noticed your movements speeding up and he flashed you a dangerous grin; a grin that would make even the biggest prude on the planet drop her panties to her knees. 

Acknowledging your shaky hands still fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt, he slowed the movement of your hips with his strong hands and dragged you painfully slow now, refusing to let you continue with the rapid pace you’d set before. 

“You want this off, baby?” referring to his t-shirt. You nodded shyly, hands still fiddling with the hem. 

“Want me to take it off for you? Are you too dumb to do it yourself?” He stared up at you with a patronising look on his face. You groaned annoyedly, but deep down your cunt throbbed with anticipation.

“Just take it off Stan, don’t be a dick.” You glared down at him but your glare immediately switched to a look of shock as Stan’s hands had stopped your hips moving completely now, denying you any release that you were desperately craving. 

Narrowing his eyes playfully, he tutted at your lack of control. “Now, that’s no way to ask for what we want is it, sweetheart?” The corner of his lips tugged up satisfactorily as he took in your menacing glare, but also your glossed over eyes indicating your desperation for his cock. 

‘Oh, how cute,’ Stan thought pityingly. ‘The poor, little slut’s already gone dumb and I haven’t even fucked her yet.’

You breathed through your nostrils fiercely before succumbing to the begging of your aching clit and gave Stan your best doe eyes before tugging pathetically at the hem of Stan’s crumpled shirt. ‘Please take it off Stan, I’ll do anything, please..’ You pressed down on his length for extra measure just to make sure he would give you what you needed. 

A low hum of appreciation mixed with a strangled groan of pleasure escaped Stan’s throat and he mulled it over for a few seconds with that irritating smirk plastered on his face before nodding, clearly satisfied with your begging before he lifted his slender fingers to his collar and removed his shirt - finally. 

You took a moment to appreciate the art that was Stanley Uris' abs and sighed contentedly. It seemed your hands had a mind of their own as you wasted no time in rubbing your hands up and down his beautiful torso, gliding over the valleys and hills of his defined muscles.

"Enjoying yourself there, princess?" Stan chimed, clearly cocky that you'd spent about 30 seconds just groping him absentmindedly.

Tearing your eyes away, you glanced up at Stanley's face, adorned with a shit-eating smirk, one of his hands resting behind his head, the other still gripping the fat of your hip, rubbing gentle circles into your flesh.

Slightly embarrassed but, nevertheless, growing quite needy now, you rolled your eyes.

Eyes narrowing at the evil spawn, you thought 'The ego of this man is absolutely atrocious. How dare he try and make fun of me for admiring his physique when if I decided to strip naked right now, his reaction would probably beat mine.'

And then it clicked.

Focusing back on Stanley's disgustingly smug face, you did something you'd never done for Stanley Uris in your entire life.

You gave him a real genuine smile.

The apples of your cheeks beamed down at him and your eyes sparkled lovingly at the boy who was now slightly confused and, albeit, a little bit scared.

Slowly, you leaned down over Stan so your breath tickled his nose and your lips brushed gently against his, just in time to see his cheeks tinge red and his eyes flutter closed, like a naïve teenage girl who was experiencing her first kiss.

Aw, how cute.

Finally, you pressed your lips to Stanley's, so softly Stan thought he might've been kissing a cloud, and just left them there, in a gentle peck, before sitting up again to admire the look of bliss on Stan's face.

His eyes were fluttering open again and his breathing was shallow but fast.

This was the real face of Stan; he had finally taken off his mask for you.

He was so pretty, obviously you knew that already, but you couldn't get lost in his beauty again or your plan wouldn't work.

Then, when he dazedly smiled up at you and made to pull your head down so he could kiss you again, you teasingly began to lift up the hem of your dress until it had been lifted over your head and discarded somewhere on Stan's bedroom floor.

There you sat, on Stanley's clothed, throbbing cock, in just your white silk panties, the little bow just oh so enticing, and your bare, perky breasts on display for Stanley's greedy eyes.

His lips parted ever so slightly as he not-so-discreetly took in a sharp intake of breath. His eyes roamed hungrily over your exposed chest, and you knew you had him when his needy little hands reached up to thumb your erect nipples.

Arrogantly, you smirked down at him, your sweet, loving smile erased. However, Stan failed to notice, too enamoured by your naked body, like a toddler in a candy store.

"Aw, you're like a needy, little puppy, aren't you Stanny?" Your heart beat fast as you finally dropped the sentence you'd been waiting to release since Stan's cocky demeanour had surfaced.

Stan froze as he realised what you had done and his jaw clenched automatically, clearly embarrassed that he had let you entice him just how he had you not even a few minutes ago.

Narrowed eyes were glaring into yours and your confident façade faltered slightly as you realised how deep in shit you were now.

He was gonna ruin you.

However, Stan didn't flip you over dominantly so he was on top of you, or rip your panties off in anger like you had expected him to.

Gradually, he eased himself up his headboard so his back was resting comfortably against it and so the two of you were eye-level, 'innocent' doe-eyes levelled with furious, narrowed eyes.

His hands gently gripped you hips and moved you a little further up his chest, so he could remove his sweatpants, so slow and so patient you were so confused.

He looked deadly, that's for sure. But you'd expected him to be rough with you, teach you a lesson for being so naughty. All in all, other than being clearly vexed, he was treating you like you were a china doll.

As soon as his sweatpants and boxers were discarded, he moved you back to your old spot on his lap and carefully caressed your hips, his thumbs hooking under the straps of your thong and pulling at the sides, fiddling with them gently while intently drilling into your eyes with his own.

"You wanna be in control, huh, sweetheart?" He muttered so quiet you could barely hear but so full of malice your heart immediately sped up.

You had no idea what to say. No, you didn't wanna be in control. You wanted Stan to bend and contort you into any position he wanted, you wanted him to fuck your cunt until you couldn't even form a coherent word, you wanted him to paint the canvas of your body purple, pink and black, in the form of hickeys, bruises and mascara stains.

And you knew he knew that.

You knew by the look on his face, the restraint in his jaw, the rage in his eyes that he definitely did not want that either.

So why was he doing this?

Just as your brows started to furrow in confusion, Stan's thumb had started to rub harsh but deliberate circles over your clothed clit and you let out a gasp.

He tilted his head to the side slightly, furrowing his brows in faux confusion. "Is that... not what you want, baby? You see, I'm just a needy little puppy, right?" He spat at you, evidently fuming but clearly enjoying seeing you in such a state.

You shook your head and dropped your it onto Stan's shoulder, moaning softly as he used one hand to hook your panties to the side while the other found your soaking wet hole and gently inserted two very long fingers.

But, immediately he removed them.

Your head shot up in irritation but you relaxed and hummed contentedly as you realised that Stan was finally lining himself up with your entrance.

You lifted yourself up slightly to make room for his 'oh my god that's scarily big why am i only just noticing this' cock, fluttered your eyelashes closed, and waited for the stretch of him pushing up into you... but it never came.

The first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Stan's eyes, still level with yours, looking bored and his hands, once again, behind his head, biceps flexed and causing a big distraction for you.

He looked at you pointedly, but, realising you still didn't get it, rolled his eyes and motioned for you to sit on his cock.

At this point, you would've jumped off a cliff if Stan asked you to if it meant he would grant you some form of release, so you carefully began to lower yourself down onto his tree-trunk of a dick, the stretch of it stinging slightly but the depth of it stimulating you in all the right ways.

You let out a guttural moan as you sat on the base, his cock bottomed out inside of you. You gripped Stan's toned shoulders with force and wiggled about slightly, trying to adjust to this new, amazing feeling and, as you wiggled, you noticed a slight tremor in his mask as his jaw clenched and his eyebrows briefly furrowed in pleasure.

But, as quickly as it faltered, it reappeared and Stan's stoic, unimpressed gaze fell on you once again.

"Well?" He rasped, as if what he wanted was the most obvious thing in the world. "You're in control, right, babe? I'm not moving a muscle."

You knew immediately that he was not kidding, so you bottled up the impatience you had for this stupid, stubborn man and put your game face on.

You could get off without help from Stan, of course you could. You didn't need his touch when you could do a perfectly good job with your hips and your hands.

'Fine.' You thought, glaring at Stan with pure hatred in your eyes. 'Suit yourself.'

So you began to move up and down on Stanley's cock, feeling every vein and twitch as you dragged your walls all over his length, coating it in your slick.

You gripped Stan's flexed biceps, his arms unmoving from behind his head as his eyes flickered between watching your face slowly morph into a dreamy, fucked-out expression, soft, pretty moans escaping from your parted lips every time the tip of his cock would prod at your g-spot, and watching your glistening, stretched out cunt swallow up his length, each time producing more and more slick so every time you slammed back down on his base, you could hear a squelching noise.

The only sign Stan was giving away of him holding any emotion was the twitch of his jaw and brow growing more frequent as the speed of your bounces grew quicker and harsher.

Soon, your bounces grew erratic as you craved your release, the only noises in his room being your desperate whimpers of pleasure, the sound of your wetness, and skin slapping on skin, along with the occasional grunt of approval from Stan.

However, you started to grow tired and out of breath as it had been nearly 5 minutes of you bouncing up and down on Stan's length, with no help from him and your determination to beat Stan at his own game was overwhelmed by your desperation to cum, and you knew you had to admit defeat because you were never gonna cum if you carried on like this.

Reluctantly, you sank down onto Stan and stilled with him deep inside you as you breathed heavily and whimpered with the desperation to cum deep in your tummy, your clit throbbing, begging for release.

Stan's furrowed face quickly changed to that of faux sympathy as he moved his hands to rest on your waist, rubbing gentle circles into the skin. "Oh baby, are you tired? Do you need my help?" He asked, patronising you just a little bit further by stretching out 'need' just to annoy you.

You had no time to be annoyed, however, because you could feel your release creeping just that little bit further away from the loss of stimulation, so you nodded your head frantically, practically begging Stanley to help you with your pathetic little doe eyes, glossy and desperate.

"Please, Stanny, please I need it, I need you, just please make me cum." You whined, your lips ghosting his ear, and gently kissing his cheek just for good measure.

That was all Stan needed to hear as he grabbed your neck, squeezing gently as he brought your face back to his and kissed you harshly, bruising your lips with his teeth as he dragged your lip with him, pulling away, and then releasing it.

"See, that wasn't so hard was it!" He smiled gently at you, pecking your plump, red lips and squeezing your neck in approval, before he moved his hands back to your waist, his grip turning nasty and he lifted you up right to his tip, then plunging his hips upwards into yours.

You choked on your moan from the sheer force of his thrust but soon gained your voice back as he continued his rough, rapid thrusting up into your eager pussy, practically dripping, begging for a long overdue orgasm.

You collapsed your tired aching body on top of Stan, your head buried in his neck, muffling your high-pitched moans from the ears of your drunk parents downstairs.

Stan moved his hands down to your ass and gripped the flesh harshly and his thrusts were slamming repeatedly into a spot that made you clench fiercely down on him and shriek with overwhelming pleasure.

Stan groaned into your ear as you continually clenched around him, whispering filthy praises into your ear making your legs tremble and your stomach flip as your impending orgasm was getting closer and closer.

"Can you hear yourself, princess? Can you hear the noises your pretty pussy is making?" The squelching of your wetness was embarrassing to say the least and you could feel Stan smirking without even having to look at him.

As he kept hitting that same spot, you could feel yourself so close to the edge as your legs trembled and your moans grew louder and higher.

"I'm gonna- I'm gonna come, Stanny." You managed to babble out through your whimpers as you felt that overwhelming rush of pleasure build up deep inside you.

Stan lifted your head up and grabbed it with both of his hands whilst still thrusting repeatedly in and out of your sopping cunt, forcing you to look into his eyes.

He had a look of pure concentration adorning his face, brows furrowed, jaw clenched and hair messy, letting out little breathy moans of his own every now and then.

"That's it princess, I wanna see that pretty face when you come all over my cock." And the coil snapped.

You let out a scream of pleasure as your entire body jolted, your orgasm washing over you, your toes clenching and your pussy spasming around Stan's length.

You collapsed onto Stan once again, letting out tiny moans, clearly exhausted from the intensity of the orgasm Stanley had given you, and the spasming of your cunt had clearly not been lost on him as his relentless thrusting had begun to grow sloppy.

Stan was moaning quite loudly in your ear now, a death-grip on your ass cheeks as he fucked up into you, chasing his own high.

You knew he needed a little push so you sat up slightly so you could whisper in his ear breathy and raspy like someone who was recovering from one of the best orgasms they'd ever had in their life, "I want you to come inside me."

The words that make every man orgasm on the spot did not lose their effect on Stan as he let out a loud groan of ecstasy and his thrusts slowed until they came to a stop, clearly having done what you asked.

He dropped his forehead to yours and grabbed your hands, fiddling with them as you both caught your breath.

Holy shit.

You didn't know what to do as you both just lay there gathering your thoughts, attempting to comprehend what just happened.

However, you knew you couldn't stay in this post-orgasmic bubble forever so you gently lifted yourself off of Stan's softening dick and got up to look for your dress.

You were halted, however by a hand closing around your wrist.

Turning around, Stan was lazily grinning up at you with a look of victory on his face as he was dragging you to lie back down on the bed with him and you couldn't help but smile back at him, full of a mysterious feeling for the boy who was just so beautiful.

How could you say no?

Climbing back into bed with him, you both turned to face each other, him still grinning at you, and you studying each and every freckle and blemish on his skin, realising that you loved each and every one of them.

You loved them.

Oh my god.

You loved Stan.

Suddenly, you burst out laughing and Stan jumped slightly before a grin erupted back onto his face as he asked what was so funny.

You managed to get through your laughter, barely, the words that you never thought you'd say in your life. "I- I'm in love - with - with you." Before you immediately started giggling again uncontrollably.

Stan joined in on your laughter, his shoulders moving up and down from the force of his laughs as he breathed out "I'm in love with you too."

You both laid there giggling uncontrollably like a pair of middle schoolers, laughing at your own stupidity.

Once the laughter died down you smiled up at Stan and nuzzled yourself into his chest, planting a few soft kisses there as he pulled you in closer and buried his nose into your hair.

You were drawing shapes on his arms, daydreaming in the comfortable silence when you heard Stan mutter into your hair something inaudible.

You sat up gently looking at him quizzically for a second until you noticed the look of pure adoration on his face that was directed to you before he said gravelly and clearly exhausted, "I hate you so much." before he buries his face into your neck and peppered you with kisses.

You giggled and whispered, "I love you too, stupid."

[inwhosereverie]

afab!reader x kyle ‘gaz’ garrick | 1.9k words

description: you were in need of relief after your boyfriend broke up with you. your last ditch effort to go in a club was not wasted.

note: my first time writing smut, i felt like i lost my vocabulary.

warnings: 18+, mating press, p in v, drunk sex, unprotected intercourse.

you stood lost as the music blare into your eardrums through your head prohibiting you from hearing your logical opinions as to why you shouldn’t even be here in the first place.

it was not your place, far and opposing to what you usually are into. you didn’t even know how to enter the place, yes, a club.. the scent of vomit, alcohol, sweat, drunk mindless people screaming and dancing through bright colorful lights you could get blinded by.

you pull the hem of your pink silk dress, nervously brushing a strand of hair off your face, brushing it behind your ear with a shaky breath walking further into the very messy place.

your reasoning, very dumb, even for you. your boyfriend of 2 years just recently broke up with you about 2 months ago.. which was still fresh in your mind and one thing you very much miss about the relationship was the physical touch, in which at first you weren’t so fond of but now you searched for—

the way he’d hold you, nestle into you, breathe you, kiss you, fuck you, you missed that. and now to find the most saddest excuse to have it, a club, get drunk, get too out of your head and finally have the guts to pull a guy out the bar for some fun time.

a dangerous yet very endearing idea you’ve been thinking every night about, your fingers never satisfied you, your thoughts weren’t enough— and maybe tonight you can finally get him out your head, wish that somebody in here would knock the longing out of you via their dick.

despite how insanely nasty your thoughts were, how everything was just about getting laid.. the way you prep yourself, look all dolled up and ready to mingle, putting yourself in a dress that felt it revealed too much of you shouldn’t go to waste no matter how embarrassed you already felt.

in all honesty, if it weren’t for your personal needs you’d be bundled up in bed, on your phone in a cozy outfit throughout the whole day and night, relaxing, enjoying your free time before you go back to work. not this, be around loud social people who slurs their words.. but you were only comforted by the thought that maybe someone here has the same intentions as you.

first thing you went to was the bar, of course, where else? you weren’t going to dance sober because you’d be sober enough to get flustered and run as if everyone was laughing at you. you wearily asked for a shot of whiskey, the only alcohol you knew that was high on its level; probably just a few shots would get you drunk.

and that you were correct, you sat down on that bar stool no longer than 30 minutes with 4 shots and you have a spinning world, your brain foggy, eyes droopy, looking around made you want to puke. but no! you have a mission! clumsily hopping off the stool, snaking your way to the dance floor.. bumping into everyone that is.

“woah.. easy there, dove.” you’ve harshly bump your shoulder against a man’s chest, you were about to tip and fall over if not for his large hands catching you around your waist, the other held you forearm in place.. your eyes fluttered up immediately from the sound of his soothing voice, a tone that immediately got your veins to pump. not only was his voice charming, so was his appearance. you didn’t realize his own slurring of words, but be damn sure you were more drunk than he was.

tall male, chiseled jaw, pretty smile, a clean faded cut, properly shaven, strong arms, handsome… very.

“drinkin’ me up well?” he teased, pulling you forward, a cheeky smile plastered on his face. “mhm.. you got the looks.” you slur, though you try to hide it willingly stumbling ahead, watching as he would slide his hand from your forearm to your hand— calloused, rough and bigger than yours yet, he held you gently now that you’ve managed to balance yourself in his hold.

“you’re not too bad yourself.” your breath hitched when he twirled you around, tugging you closer, getting your back to press against his broad chest- tipping his head forward to whisper down your ear. you felt his breath caress your jaw and cheek, the smell of alcohol coming from him. something you never knew smelt so attractive until now. he whispered, the gravely tone in his voice tickled your ear “a gorgeous babe, in fact..” it was suggestive, without even looking over your shoulder you knew the man was smirking.

you felt a shiver ran down your spine, especially when his large hand slither down your abdomen, feeling the silky fabric of your cute pink dress.. a mischievous hand resting roughly over your pelvis pushing your ass to press on his crotch. you, stupid you, mindlessly started grinding for him. you heard him sigh, keeping his hand over you, the other repositioning to your hips— the subtle grinding while following along the music as if you were only dancing.

you feel him slowly get hard over his trousers, only from the feeling of his bulge against your ass, you bit your lip by how big he felt. you never knew you were this needy for something so quickly, you were always someone who stood by your words that sex means more when there’s strings tied. you’ll stumble upon those words when you spoke of it again, now that you’re doing something you once believed was stupid and useless.

but that is a thought that will not appear in your fucked out head now that you were prompted near the edge of his bed, smelling the fragrance he’d normally use, the soft cotton of his grey sheets underneath the dim light that his bedside lamp lit. legs pushed up your chest as he rammed his cock deep into you, your silky dress somewhere on his floor.. you two couldn’t wait, even in his car on the way to his place you were already sucking his veiny dick greedily..

yes, he was drunk driving but shit he had to get you home, he just had to.

it escalated so fast but if someone like you had to bump into him, such an eye-catcher, well-dressed, drunken eyes yet your eyes still held such innocence within such a place when you looked up at him, what would you expect a man would do? he swore his brown irises was covered by his blown pupils from the sight of you. you both quickly muttered your names in-between hungry lips when you two were stumbling to get inside his house, undoing the first strap of your dress.

he’s got you where you both wanted yourself to be, underneath him with the only sounds you knew how to make were moans, whimpers, and whines of his name. lips not once leaving yours or the skin you let him behold as he marks your insides with his pre, your tightness made him growl with every hard thrusts. “fuck, y’feel good..” he breathily moan out, trailing kisses down the sides of your lips to your jawline. his room echoes the sound of his creaking bed and the slapping of skins.

you cry out of ecstasy, a pleasure you haven’t been feeling for months, or maybe even years.. a whole stranger treating your pussy better than your boyfriend ever did. “Kyle..” you called his name in such a slutty tone that it caused him to push deeper, the tip of his fat cock bullying your cervix over and over. ruining your insides as if he wants your pussy to remember every veins of his cock. his size. “mmhh, fuck, lovely.. say that again. say my name.” he grunts, his dick twitching only from the sounds you were making, his balls hitting your ass with every hard shove. “K-Kyle!” you repeat, gasping it out this time.

clawing the bottoms of your thighs while he fucks you deep, the kisses and love bites he gives from around your neck down to your collarbone and breasts making you shiver underneath him. nipping your nipples, pulling at it roughly by his teeth continuously plunging his girth into your needy little hole.

you were seeing stars, every pistons of his hips felt like he’s sobering you up. watching him lick your hardened nipples, sucking like his life depended on it only for him to stop when you clamp down around him. leaving his mouth open yet remained pressed on your small plump breast, a loud moan erupting from his throat— you felt so fucking good it made him dizzier, like you were better than any alcohol or drugs he would ever take. both your thoughts were hazy, rutting into you like a horny animal.

the sight of your head tipped over the edge of Kyle’s bed, your body rocking along with the rhythm of his hips, you felt so full- looked so full.. your gummy walls leaking around his cock creating a creamy ring around his base, the wet sounds your pussy makes mixing with both of yours’ fluids, he was sure his sheets were soaked of your juices with the way you were leaking. “shit.” he mutters, movement slowing down only to lean back and watch you through half-lidded eyes.

so fucked and stretched out beneath him, like a wonderful.. pleasurable wet dream his drunk ass had created in his head, perfection. “fuckin’ gorgeous, you are..” he praised bending back down with a smile drawing on his lips, it’s not just his drunkenness talking ‘cause you are one hell of a pull. his hands leaving your thighs alone to bring your arms above your head, pinning you further down the soft mattress of his bed.

you squealed from the sudden jolt of Kyle’s hips, plunging his cock impossibly deeper down your bullied womb, the heels of your feet hooking around the back of his thighs to hold on to while he bounces his cock into your sopping pussy. your hips jumping at the sudden friction he gives your clit, a hand in-between your sweaty bodies swiping at it with his thumb. you felt your orgasm approaching, you started to spasm— your toes started to curl, with your eyes rolling back and you arching your back.

you’ve probably met the fucking lord by how good it felt, feeling heaven just above you, you squirt painting his pelvis and thighs with your sticky cream.. “mmhh, there you go.. there she is..” he caressed the tip of his nose over your jawline with a gentle chuckle. continuing to move inside you helping you ride out your high, overstimulation hitting you like electricity when he kept going on a rhythm. the last thrusts before he nestled his dick deeper inside your sensitive little cunt shooting thick ropes of cum inside you, filling your womb.

next early morning you’ve been greeted by a strong migraine and very sore muscles especially along your inner thighs. took you a whole minute to recall bits and pieces of what happened last night, you were reminded. a panic flowing through your blood but only for it to immediately falter when you took sight of a snoring man beside you.

his lips slightly open, half his gorgeous face buried into his fluffy pillow. you’ve sobered up, just a bit hung over but you know for damn sure your drunken mind didn’t fool you when you first looked at him back at the club, he was undoubtedly something to behold. to have him pressed against you like this, a hand draped over your midriff.. the faint looming smell of sex and alcohol still lingering in the air, maybe a little more rest would do fine.. choosing to cuddle yourself closer to his warm body, missing the way Kyle would subtly smile when you did.

[sillyromance]

Hellooooooo yeah

What do you think of writing some vore stuff about tfp starscream?...😇⚡️🌌

Good day, dear anonymous!

Yes, of course! I remember I was asked about it before, but, unfortunately, at that time I had mental breakdown and couldn't come up with anything. I'm very sorry about that, and if you're the same anon who sent me the first ask, I sincerely apologise for the delay... However, now I finally made it up! Hope you'll enjoy!

Homesickness

Rain. Through the monitor you looked at a wide grey valley disappearing inch by inch as “Nemesis” was flying north, farther and farther. There was something dreamy, nostalgic about that melancholic landscape; pale colors set numbing bitterness in your chest, but it didn’t mean there was no beauty in them… You could almost sense fresh, chilly air and cool heavy drops on your cheeks and neck – rain water has an amazing, unique bouquet combining wild, crazy variety of natural scents: grass, earth, field flowers, mushrooms... All living beings love summer rain – it fills them with peace and hope for the better times. And what an incredible view it is when the sun comes out and the water on tree leaves starts to sparkle like trillions of moon stones.

But it wasn’t the thought lingering in your head. Watching as a wall of piercing, needle-like streams were bombarding the ground beneath, you thought of your loved ones, people that you had to leave behind to be here. Of course, you kept in touch – you texted them every week and they did the same, even more often… But it was impossible to go back, at least any time soon. Conspiracy had to be strictly kept: your decepticon friends wouldn’t be glad to hear that even more people knew about them – it was literally luck that Megatron, their huge scary boss with more scars on his armor than hairs on your head agreed to let you join the crew and didn’t kill you as far as you showed up. After getting some experience you figured out that these big mechanical creatures were not very fond of humans. Well, most of them.

- Nasty weather, isn’t it? No matter what Megs says, I won’t go out until this nonsense stop!

You glanced back and saw a pair of familiar long wings twitching in annoyance and distaste.

- You think so, Starry? I rather find it relaxing.

- Well, you don’t need to worry about rust eating your joints if you get outside…

- Ha! You has a point…

The seeker seemed irritated, though you knew he wouldn’t be like that for long. He loved complaining – everyone has their bad habits, and grumpiness is an innocent sin. He saved your life, he gave you food and shelter – and he became your ally you could count on despite the fact that at first others wouldn’t give a tip of a finger (or a digit) for your partnership to last at least a month.

It had been two years already. And so, who wouldn’t bear some little disadvantages when there was so much to be grateful for?

Starscream stepped closer to you and, in spite of his exclamation, layed his gaze at the monitor, his manipulators clenching behind his back.

- Back at Cybotron, we didn’t have rains.

You lifted your head, now looking at his pointy face, two ruby-red optics flaming on it. They were unnaturally sad.

- Really?..

He nodded.

- And the skies had different hue, and our stars looked brighter and bigger. And the cities! Oh, you must have seen them in their golden days… I miss it. Those careless days.

The rain grew heavier; it turned into a solid white wall.

- Did you have a family?

- Hm?

- I mean… Someone who you would be close with, like… Parents? Siblings? Friends?.. Did you have such connections with someone back there?

Two pines far away looked like shaggy beasts standing in the fog – their hairy muzzles swayed back and forth as if they were arguing about something and biting each other’s long “fur”.

- Actually, we don’t have such concept as… family. But I did have friends. Some were very good ones. I still remember things we did when we were young. And there was one I would even call a brother… Though, all of them are gone by now. Killed, missing…

Something bubbled painfully in his chassis.

- Sometimes… Sometimes I think if I could choose: to become a leader of Decepticons or to make things like they were before - I would choose the latter. I’m not kidding! I… I really would. Even now, it’s so strange to get up in the mornings and realize that you are actually alone on another planet and your… home… is destroyed. Everything is dumb and alien: whatever I see or touch has nothing in common with me. At the same time, I’m afraid to remember… I’m grateful Knockout and you still pay attention to me – if you didn’t, I would most likely crush down on Earth.

He grimaced. His wings lowered. The more Starscream spoke, the less he looked like himself, but you knew – it was him. True him, hiding back in the shadows. Who can tell what he lost? Who can claim him to be heartless? If a vase is empty, it doesn’t mean it wasn’t full. If a man can’t love, it doesn’t mean it has always been so.

And if you fear to look back… It doesn’t mean that you stopped longing.

- I miss home too, Starry. My planet is in one piece, it blooms and lives – I can’t possibly compare your grief to mine. And still… I’m lonely here. I guess, you understand. Though, not that lonely. At least, I have you.

There was an unreadable expression on his faceplate for a minute or two, but then he smiled softly.

- At such moments you fleshy things hug each other, don’t you?

- Yeap! We do. But it would be quite complicated now.

- Agreed. However, not for us, don’t you think?

You lips stretched in a mischievous grin.

- Ha! You think about the same thing I do?

The seeker bent to you and turned his head on a side, examining your artificially-naughty face with only one optic – at that moment he reminded you of a big carnivorous bird.

- Well, tell me, little one… - He murmured, his endless claws suddenly appearing just beside you...

… Sitting in a comparably spacious, slimy pouch of Starscream fueltank, you listened to the quiet noises of his huge body, your heart beating slowly and thoughts lazily crawling around your tired mind. Your muscles still could recall the tenderness of your friend’s long throat and esophagus, gentle licks of the glossa trying to sneak under your shirt and reach the bare skin – and so making you squelch in surprise while your cheeks were getting much, much hotter from slight embarrassment and annoyance; by the way, you and his tongue had quite an impressive fighting session (which he almost lost) before you, content and completely exhausted, let your limp wet body helplessly slide down, in the comforting confines of the warm stomach. At that moment even you couldn’t believe you was able laugh that hard!..

Greyish cobalt walls kneaded you, squeezing your tiny frame in strong, affectionate embrace. Hints of red and blue lights ran across them like shooting stars in August. Forgetting about your miserable weight, you floated in your personal small piece of cosmos, rubbing it gently and receiving low, pleasured purr from above, vibrating in your bones.

Rain. It doesn’t rain, but pours. But it’ll be better one day, if you stay strong.

If you stay together.

[female-woman-wiffman-lass]

Though in think tank:

It's just the two of us (three actually, its a tricycle now)

harringroveson, metalsandwhich

just the two of them wanting the same guy and finding each other

while said guy is trying to be filling. they're having the feels and steve is horny. he's fine though. I'll decide if I can keep this going. they will fuck nasty. in like, the next parts.

Billy Hargrove and Eddie Munson are hooking up. They've got a good thing going on.

They're into each other, they have stuff in common, be it music, the fashion, their preferences. They're fast and quick. Furious and sharp, all teeth when they're together. Get a thrill and kind of comfort with how consistent and similar they could be. They bounce off and work each other to heights. It feels like it's only the two of them, like steel sharpening steel. In this small hick town.

Billy's always felt a lot, even more now he's stuck here. Always ran hot now he's stuck in a chilly, dreary town, used to feel like he could breathe slow and easy out there but not when he's stuck here. And with Eddie. Well, Eddie always wanted more, knows he's made for more. He's flagging half-heartedly in a small town, and now Billy has to tuck himself in. They both always feel bigger on the inside. No one is like them. Not in the way they know.

No one else feels jagged or rough. Neither Eddie nor Billy know anyone who can stop the itch, the aches in their jaw, the tightness.

Enter Steve Harrington. Just, not really.

Now, Steve seemed exactly nothing like either of them. Yes, he's masculine. A man. But he's not.. like them. Not dark or sharp, probably not what either of them would experience, probably doesn't feel like a whirlwind in his body, doesn't scratch. But it doesn't stop either of them from ogling. Shooting the shit with each other, letting out comments and thoughts on guys the've seen. And even if Harrington was open, or experimenting, or anything that would lead preppy jocks astray, he probably wouldn't be any good. Wouldn't be fun, no matter how pretty. No matter how soft.

Billy and Eddie's standards on the anyone in Hawkins, any man they might think of in the sense they'd think of each other. None for now, just them. Clocked each other so fast and collided with each other like a car crash. But both can agree, yeah. Steve's hot.

Billy's been knowing about it, having been hanging out with Steve. Knowing who he is, mostly on the court. Gets a kind of satisfaction being able to push this boy around.

And Eddie, who's there with his comments as they talk, will also have assumptions. He's known the guy longer. (If he ever really knew him. What more do you need when everyone else knows some.)

"Bill, he's just the usual, man." He takes a drag out of his cigarette, leaning on the side of his van. "Harrington. He's just a dude. I mean we're in Hawkins. Pretty boys like him got to be repressed. One way or another."

He scoffs, turning his head to him, eyebrows raised and hands waving vaguely in front of him, "have you seen him with Tommy? Before you came around those two were—" he puts up a tight fist and shakes it, like it would mean something. "Y'know? Tommy boy's been trailing after him since eighth grade."

Billy let's out a sharp laugh, stealing Eddie's cigarette, "calling me a homewrecker, Munson?"

"Is it homewrecking when you 'wreck' both parties? You ensnare Tommy away from the King and then you come round to have a chat with Harrington in the showers?" He let's Billy have the cigarette, crossing his arms as he leans in closer, "which, what was that about?"

(Eddie's been in this town, longer than the fresh meat Billy was supposed to be. Has seen the King parading around, stuck in his own little world. Head up in the clouds and not bothering to look down and check if his feet were even touching the ground. Til '83 that is.

It was weird. After Nancy Wheeler, sometime in November with all of them being gone for a while after two people go missing —one was Byers' little brother he remembers, he wasn't sure who the other one was, a girl?—only to come back with Wheeler on Jonathan Byers side of all places. Sweet and looking at each other like they've found someone who understands. Found someone who knows life outside. As if they knew there'd be more out there.

And Steve. Steve looked settled. Looked normal and still moving even when he looked at either of them, the couple. Like he knows he's small in this stupid town but doesn't feel tight in his own skin. That even though he hasn't found anyone like that, and even lost something he's still fine. That he's seen more and knows better even when he stood still. He's found out about the same things Byers and Wheeler had. Went through the motions. Was just waiting for a pin drop to be able to live. It fascinated, Eddie. He envied it. He scoffs in his mind, what would Steve Harrington know?

Will he ever get to know? The boy and the why?)

Billy rolls his eyes, taking one last drag from his cigarette before putting it out, dropping it on the concrete for hi to stomp, "fucking nothing, Edward."

Not nothing. He heard Eddie and his 'normal dude' rant. But he can't fool Billy. He knows the guy saw the same thing in Harrington he did. He was different and radiant in this stupid town while also fitting in perfectly. He was fucking lame and didn't know a single thing. But. He also knew some things. Makes it seem like the things he knows were life altering

Harrington was an enigma. A person with thoughts and feelings and in some kind of state. He was your average fucking prep. Image obsessed, vain, and so impossibly normal. And a flea who only knows the jar can't jump over the cap. But Steve. It's like he doesn't care. He doesn't know why he only knows this side of The King's rebrand. How he only knows one side to the story. How he knows Tommy and his weird obsession with Steve and how he left, and turned fucking bitch. Acted like he was now bottom of the barrel. But the King (although Billy has a feeling he isn't one anymore) is fine. Acted like dropping his nuclear friend group and demographic was nothing. Which in the grand scheme of things, maybe it wasn't. But it's supposed to be something, to boys like Steve Harrington. He doesn't know why he cares.

"Ouuh, fucking nothing, Edward, blah blah. Also, don't call me that." He huffs. "You're not the only one thirsting, William. Everyone wants, envies, covets at a piece of Steve Harrington. But again, he's just a dude. Hell, I had the hots for him too. Besides," he knocks shoulders with Hargrove, finger going up to flick at his piercing then to loop around a blonde curl.

"Ya got me right now."

Billy looks at him with considering gaze, before smirking. He straightens up off the van, "you wish, freak." He goes round to the back of the van, opening it up, before crawling in.

Eddie grins, scampering off after him. He pushes the both of them obssesed with Steve Harrington bit away from his mind. He's hanging with Billy.

Steve frowns a bit as he sees both men hop into the back of Munson's van. He was just passing by the parking lot. He sighs, scratching his head. He needs to go to another fucking bar. His nightmares are acting up again. Who knew the eerie light of the pool and his own house lights would make him twitch? What a life. He's okay though, pretty sure.

He smiles as he hops in the car. A night in Indy will fix him up. Surely. It always does. (And although Nancy –and Jonathan suprisingly– were worried, he assures them both as sweetly as he could that it was definitely not alcoholism. It's either more or less better than they expected. But he's glad his new friends slash two wheels he third wheels slash co-monster fighters were worried.)

As he drives off, he takes a glance at the rear view mirror, before shaking his head. Why would they hook up out in the open, in that back of the guy's van in a parking lot? Sure they could be hotboxing or some shit and smoking the weed in that dweeb Munson's lunchbox but Steve doubts that. With how hot the both of then are and how intensely they were looking at each other they were for sure fucking. He thought at least Hargrove would know better.

"Shame, shame," he shrugs, even though no one can see him, his expression set in 'it is what it is.' He wonders what he should wear and what he should order. He licks his lips and hums happily. He gets to feel alive for the weekend.

[descendantsramblings]

I have a request for Hades x Insecure!Prince Male reader cause i just know that Hades would fight that Depression like a King

I hope this is how you wanted this love, I did my best to make the insecurities an internalized thing based but if this isn’t want you wanted just let me know ❤️

Body Better

Hades x Prince! Reader

Pronouns Used: he/him/his

Title inspired by this song by Maisie Peters but this isn't a song fic

Summary: Being a prince in title alone, never set to take the throne can way on you. Goodness knows the pressure of perfection with no outcome has poisoned that Prince’s mind.

Warnings: talks of insecurity and major body image issues, Reader is Hans of the Southern Isles if you squint, Hades calls the reader "field mouse" in an adoring way

Word Count: 1.7K words

     What was that quote he heard once? The physics one, he believes -or some form of science at least. He could vaguely hear it in Merlin’s voice, “an object in motion will stay in motion, at a constant speed in a straight line, until acted on by another object.” It wasn’t meant to be relatable, he was sure of that. It wasn’t even a true quote, just a fact he’d learned for a class. And yet the prince couldn’t help but think about it as he stood in front of the golden framed full body mirror that sat in the corner of his room. Lost somewhere between staring at himself and yelling in his mind.His headphones tight on his head playing some sort of sad song that the boy thought was just so relatable. What force could wreck into the ever growing stress of having to be the perfect prince who would never take the throne other than jealousy? Not that his boyfriend had ever given him a true reason to be jealous. Hades despite his ever stoic expression when he was in public, was a good, caring boyfriend. He can admit that, it was obvious. 

    But there was something about Maleficent. About the way she’d grab his shoulder while talking to him, laughing as she rolls her eyes. It was just a casual touch, a simple platonic motion. It wasn’t even like touching her friends was out of the question, she’d been known to grab on Hook too, (Y/n) knew that. Of course he did, but that somehow didn’t make it any better. Not in the mindset he was in, if it was a better day it would. On a better day he wouldn’t have cared, Maleficent has even grabbed on him before. He shouldn’t be so upset over her. Here wrapped up in his mind though, he can’t seem to help himself as his hands trace over his skin. His arms could be better, that was something he was heavily aware of. Hades has nice arms, his could be more like that. Did he compare his arms to the prince’s own? Would he be willing to start working out with him?  And his legs weren’t that great, not like Morgie’s, even Maleficent had better ones. Morgie’s were lean, of course, but they were muscular, built from the way he jumped around and did flips. Constantly on the move. If Hades said no to working out with him maybe Morgie would start tumbling with him, that could be fun couldn’t it?  It wasn’t fair of him, he knew it wasn’t fair of him. Hades had never given him a direct reason to compare himself to the VKs none of them had, at least not purposely. But it was so hard not to. 

    No matter what they did, everyone at the school was aware that the VKs were attractive. That’s undoubtedly how they got away with things, and in an odd way they knew it too. No matter what they did, they were still the type to swoon over. The flirting that followed their nasty endeavors would still get you flustered even if they weren’t normally your type. Confidence leading to them being almost impossible to resist. It made it hard not to compare yourself to them, especially if you had to be around them as much as (Y/n) did. Hades loved having him around at the hideout, it was so easy for him to hold onto his boyfriend while talking to his friends. The other VKs didn’t mind it either, Hook and Morgie were actually pretty kind to him once he got through their walls. So he knew in some part of him, he was being ridiculous by letting his insecurity be set off by them. They were his friends in a way, weren’t they?  It would make more sense if it was being triggered by another prince. There were plenty of those to make him insecure, his seven brothers and his brother-in-law to be exact. Who needs other kids to make you insecure when you have so many family members who do it without trying? So many people whose existence alone was a major stressor in your way of life.

     He was a touch too busy looking in his mirror to notice the way his dorm’s door creaked open.  The reflective surface turned in a way that prevented him from being able to see the head of light blue hair that slinks into his room, eyes flickering around to find his boyfriend. Hades lets his eyes land on the boy, a frown stretching across his face as he watches the way that his prince grabs on his thighs. Glaring at his own reflection. What on earth could the prince be doing? Hades closes the door gently behind him, leaning against it as he watches his lover stare into his reflection. In a different context, maybe if he was learning a dance -as the boy tended to do- or if he was trying on outfits, Hades would find the display cute. The god not a stranger to watching the boy he loved prance around in a mirror, but something about this had a dark air hanging around it. (Y/n) was visibly upset, maybe not to everyone but he knew the boy too well. 

    The corners of his mouth were pointed ever so slightly down, bottom lip poking out further than it normally would. Hands wringing over each other when they aren’t shakily brushing over his skin. And (Y/n)’s eyelids were hanging lazily, exhaustion present in them in a way that makes him seem like he hadn’t slept properly in days despite the fact that his eyes were so bright and bubbly the day before. Hades knew something was wrong, slinking over to stand behind the anxious boy, hands sliding (Y/n)’s headphones off of his head. Earning himself a soft gasp and a wide eyed stare for his sneaky behavior.

    “What’s going on in that pretty little mind? Where are you?” (Y/n) looks at his boyfriend in the mirror, watching as Hades encircles his shoulders with his arms, pulling him back against his chest. His body was always so warm, he adored the feeling of his lover pressed against him and in any other moment that affection could melt away everything. But those arms, those perfect, well built arms, they were the only thing he could look at. Tracing the ripples of muscles and veins that stretched under his heated flesh. “(Y/n),” he coos, leaning down into the shell of the prince’s ear, “What’s wrong, field mouse?” He kisses it softly, humming as he lets a hand slide down the boy’s body. 

     He should be able to tell the boy he loves when something’s wrong right? That’s something that made relationships healthy, wasn’t it? And Hades was asking, that means he should be okay with whatever it was, shouldn’t he? But if he knew that his friends were the problem, would that upset him? Not only his friends but Hades himself. It had the risk of upsetting him, didn't it? Would (Y/n) be upset if Hades told him he’d been comparing his body to the Prince’s? Of course he would, his boyfriend was perfect. He was an amazing boyfriend and literally a god. He had looks that deserved to be worshiped, you’d have to be a fool to not realize that. 

    So he shakes his head, spinning around in Hades’ arms to force a smile up at him, placing a quick kiss on his lips. “Nothing my love, I’m okay. Just,” he pauses, brushing a hand over Hades’ cheek bone, “I’m just thinking.” A dark eyebrow raises, hand coming down to cup his cheek, “Don’t lie to me. What’s happening in there?” He sighs, leaning against the heated chest that stood firm in front of him. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll be okay.” Hades rolls his eyes, accepting that in the current state he was getting no where. Resulting in lifting his boyfriend off the floor, carrying him bridal style to his bed. Wrapping his partner into him, tucking his face into the Prince’s neck. “Tell me what’s got you so upset. You and I both know you can’t lift me so you’re stuck with me until you start talking. And as a god I don’t have the same needs as you, so, I’d recommend you start talking.” 

    (Y/n) huffs, crossing his arms across his chest as he refuses to look at his lover. “You’re being ridiculous, my love.” He lets out a sarcastic laugh, pressing soft kisses to the boy’s neck, “Yeah, I’m the one who’s being ridiculous? I’m not the one grabbing at my body in the mirror and refusing to talk about it. You obviously are going through something, stop trying to pretend you’re not upset.” A shaky breath comes out of his lips, looking down at the light blue hair resting near his head. “Would you maybe consider working out with me? Or if you don’t want to, do you think Morgie would consider it?”  He looks up, staring at the prince with his brows furrowed, “What? You hate working out, sweating makes you feel nasty and you hate being sore.” “Yeah well, I was thinking of trying something new. And your arms are so,” he traces the arm he can reach, lip between his teeth, “so hot. And Morgie has nice legs, he could definitely help me get better ones.” 

    In a swift movement, the god moves to hover over the prince. One hand resting on either side of his lover’s head as he stares down at him. “Is that what this is about? You don’t realize how gorgeous you are?” He could feel the heat rising to his face, reaching up to cover it with his hands. “No, let me see you.” Slowly he lowers them, looking up at his boyfriend with a lip between his teeth. “You are so genuinely gorgeous, field mouse. You have the best body I have ever seen because it is yours. I love you, if you want to work out for you, sure. But if it’s an attempt to make anyone else happy, there is no reason to do something you hate.” He smiles, searching for any sort of lie in the fiery man’s eyes. “You mean that?” Hades laughs, leaning down to place a chaste kiss on his lover’s lips, “Yes, I mean that.”

[ronearoundblindly]

A, K, & Z for my rare grimy man? 🥺

*While I have seen Snowpiercer a few times, I don't know the whole culture of the train thoroughly, so let's just say Curtis is A) really used to crowded spaces with no privacy, B) somewhere cold as hell, and C) still has very little, i.e. not a bunch of different clothes or idk soap and shit...

Prompts are from this dirty ask game, and they do get somewhat graphic (am I considered a hoe yet? i've written 18 of these suckers). MINORS DNI. You know I love you, you know I'll create content for you, but this isn't it! You want the Light Masterlist.

A - Alone Time

I believe Curtis's exact words would be "what fucking alone time?" but, sure, on the super rare occasion he gets to touch himself, here's how it goes.

He doesn't have access to porn. It's all imagination at this point.

His living space is so over-stuffed with people in bunks who, ya know, live their lives as best they can and so, yup, they have sex in those bunks and almost everyone can hear them. He can use those sounds in his imagination. Some are better than others.

What he imagines, though, is pure escapism.

He pictures someone soft and clean, they smell good, and they take all the time in the world just to look him in the eye when they touch him. There are no toys, just his own hands. He uses both. A recurring fantasy is (while he uses his weaker hand to jack off) teaching some innocent, sweet thing how to touch him. Gets him going, makes him a little wild to think about. Smidge of a corruption kink, this Curtis, but not in a mean way.

He wants someone all his own. Everything is shared and sparse here. He dreams of possessing someone, body and soul, because then they're his, unlike reality.

K - Kissing

Curtis may be desperate for some lovin' but he isn't a bully. This man hardly believes you're his, so he is completely adoring and slow. He wants to know what every possible way to touch you feels like. He holds your chin or cups your face to kiss you, softly, feather-light to start. You taste, smell, feel, and sound real; it's overwhelming and addictive.

He starts this slowly every single time you two kiss. Doesn't matter how nasty the fucking was the night before. Doesn't matter his mood. He really fucking likes these sweet, innocent kisses where you choose to go further, to pull him closer, to accept him into your body. Huge turn on for him.

(🥵 oh shit, I got myself, sweating now, give me a sec, yikes.)

There are some nights where those soft kisses are all he wants and needs in the world. Just the comfort and the escape of your little bubble of love is enough to soothe him to sleep, which is in and of itself a miracle. He's so tired of living on edge all the time...

Z - Zones

For warmth, as much of his (and your) body is covered at all times as much as possible. No one is naked during sex, not entirely. There aren't thick enough blankets to warrant that, and he's not going to lose a toe to frostbite simply to get his cock warmed. That's a bad trade-off. No deal.

Because of that, however, Curtis finds you touching those non-essential-to-sex-places highly erotic. There is no reason for you to have your bare hands way up by his shoulder blades. Sounds bizarre out of context, but he goes fucking berserk when you slither your grasp under his layers of shirts and dig your nails in just a bit. He loves that more than a goddamn blowjob, honestly.

Similarly, most of the back of him down to his thighs, at least half of his legs, and his feet have remained untouched by any human save himself since he was a kid. When his shitty, fourth-hand boots gave him horrible blisters, you scrounged up a bowl of warm water and washed his feet.

He fucking cried, and you thought it was because he was in pain. He's just never felt so loved and cared for in his miserable life. He still gets choked up thinking about that. He holds you that much tighter each time he remembers.

What areas does he love on you? Oh fuck, does he have to choose?

He can't possibly pick just one or two places. You're just all soft and all sensual. Nope, he can't pick favorites. He just can't. Although...one of your nipples seems more sensitive than the other, so maybe that? But he's not gonna give up any other bits! You can't make him. He will fucking fight for all of you.

Thank you for asking!

[Main Masterlist; Dirty Asks Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

Oh, hell, here comes another blorbo...

*faints*

[bambiraptorx]

For the ask game! Raph and with either Starved or Punishment

Oooo this is gonna be fun.

content warning: disordered eating

---

Raphael 'Ragnarok' Hamato learns many things when he gets tossed back in time, and one of them is that he'd apparently underestimated just how scarce food had gotten during the decade or so that he'd been living in a world dominated by the Krang.

Sure, he'd known there were limits to what he could have--snapping turtles have a nasty habit of growing throughout their lives, after all, and feeding someone who's just going to keep getting bigger and bigger puts a strain on anyone's resources. He's gotten used to a reduced food intake over the years, everyone has.

But he just doesn't quite realize how reduced it really was until being thrown into the past, bruised and battered and more exhausted than he'd ever been before, and somehow ending up in the care of none other than Baron Draxum.

And it's not like he minds the Baron attempting to nurse him back to health--he needs to recuperate somewhere, anyway, and watching Draxum trying to hide his research when Raph already knows full well what's going on is kinda funny--but it involves way more food than it should. Three meals a day, plus snacks in between? It's ridiculous.

At least, that's what he thinks at first.

The weeks pass as he waits for a sign from his brothers, his injuries healing. There's more than he'd thought at first; at least there's more things Draxum considers to be 'injuries' than Raph does. A few cracks in his shell, some thin places where the scutes never fully grew back after taking damage, scars and old wounds galore, not to mention all the actual damage. So what if those are all healing slowly? Not like Raph has anything else to do right now but heal, rest, and pretend to eat all the food he's given.

And it's not like it's even that hard to hide what he doesn't eat. Some of it he squirrels away here and there, just in case. Some of it he pawns off to the gargoyles: all it takes is telling them he doesn't like the texture or the taste, though if he isn't careful with how much he gives them they'll bring him more. Most of it he sneaks back into the kitchen, hiding it away in the back of the fridge or taking the time to stash it in a container.

A few times he's had to take a protein shake (or the weird yokai equivalent of it, anyway) to the bathroom, and pour it down the toilet, cringing internally at the waste of food, but it's fine, really, it's not like he would have eaten it. Some days he hides or stashes or replaces more than he eats, but it's not like he wasn't managing just fine before. He's not even that hungry nowadays.

And maybe it's just all the time he has now, but he seems more tired than he ever was before. Colder, too. Draxum must not have heat in his house or something, that seems like something a mammal who lives with two employees made of rock would forget about.

Not like it matters too much right now, when he's getting himself a glass of water in the middle of the night. Also putting his bowl of rice from earlier back in the fridge. Why did the gargoyles bring him that, anyway? He'd already had his three meals for the day, he doesn't need extra food.

It's just after he puts the bowl away (well, puts the rice away in a different container, he's not leaving an entire untouched bowl in the fridge to be found later) that the kitchen lights flick on. Raph blinks a few times at the sudden brightness as he automatically shifts into a wider stance and lets ninpo bubble up his arms--oh, it's just Draxum. He looks pissed, is he not sleeping well again? Couldn't be Raph, he knows for a fact he's been too quiet to wake someone up.

Draxum glares at him with a ferocity he hasn't witnessed since coming to the past, and even before that hasn't been directed at Raph in years. "I don't understand why you keep doing this."

Raph sets his empty bowl in the sink, gently so it doesn't crack. "...doing what?"

"Don't play innocent, you're getting rid of your food again." Draxum jabs an accusatory finger in his direction. "You've been doing this for weeks and it cannot continue."

"Noooot really sure what you're talking about here." Raph reaches for the cabinet where the glasses are kept. Maybe Draxum's just in one of his moods again. He's a lot crankier in the past, that's for sure.

"You nearly passed out earlier today!" Draxum yells, and okay, Raph does not care for that at midnight.

"Pretty sure that was just exhaustion catching up with me. 'Sides, I don't need that much food anyway." He sets the cup under the faucet and turns the water on.

Draxum's mouth falls open. "You don't--you need more food than what I've been given you for the last few weeks, any simple calculation of your caloric needs could show you that. That's what the food between meals is supposed to be for! Not hiding away! And you'll only need more as your recovery continues and your metabolism jumpstarts again--" he pauses as Raph tilts his head.

"You sure?" It's a genuine question, but it makes Draxum ball his hands into fists so tight they tremble.

"Ragnarok--do you realize the condition you were in when I found you? The injuries that wouldn't heal, the lack of appetite, the constant cold you complain about--those are signs of starvation. You were on the edge of mass organ failure when I found you, and with your continual avoidance of food--" Draxum presses a fist against his temple. "And you're telling me you didn't even know?!"

The water is still running, overflowing the side of the cup. Raph slowly reaches out his hand and turns it off. He blinks, first with his outer eyelids, then the inner membrane.

"No, I didn't."

There are a lot of things that he'd learned before coming to the past, but the signs of starvation weren't among them. That would explain a lot more that he's actually comfortable with it explaining.

---

I don't want this to get too much longer so I won't write the resolution, but I couldn't not tie this into my I'm Not Dead Yet AU.

ask game

[idontplaytrack]

✧ I Dare You(to love me)

Jos Cleary-Lopez x physically disabled fem! reader

Warnings: MDNI, smut— oral, fingering, kissing, marking, slight overstimulation, first time(reader receiving), fluff, some angst, mentions to surgery & scars.

Reader’s first time reveals some truths about herself to Jos.

Bit of self-insert, sorry not sorry🫢

(Pictures used a from Tumblr & Pinterest)

“y/n, it is the middle of summer. You’re already sweating.” Jos says quietly, “Why are you still wearing long pants?”

You looked back at her, swallowing harshly as you began to panic. You couldn’t let her know, you could never. She’d hate you and be disgusted with you just like anyone else, then. The more you thought about it, the more you felt like crying. You feel the painful lump in your throat and the racing of your heart. Fiddling with your thumbs, you looked down and your crossed legs.

Jos doesn’t back down. She asks again, “Baby, what’s the matter? You can tell me anything, you know that.”

Your fists balled together trying to divert the tears that were pricking your eyes, away. “Look at me, y/n.” She says, moving closer to you. You shook your head, still avoiding her gaze. “Baby, please.” She repeated, hand reaching for your chin and tilting it up so she could see your face. The card game on the floor was long forgotten.

“You’ll just be disgusted by me like everyone else.” You croaked.

Her eyes narrowed, puzzled. But her gaze was soft and filled with obvious concern. “y/n, I don’t— I promise you, nothing about you could make me feel that way.”

“I don’t know how to tell you.” You admit. “I’m scared.” A tear slips from your eye. “I like you so much, Jos. And every time our make-outs almost turn into more and I just— I know I say no to it but it’s not because I don’t want to do it.”

She looks at you, still concerned but listening attentively.

For the lack of better words, you rolled up jeans to show her. “I…have cerebral palsy.” You revealed fearfully, “I had to get surgery twice when I was a kid to make sure I would stop tiptoeing and actually walk because my muscles and tendons were so tight. So by the end of twelve years, two surgeries and four long and very obvious, ugly scars…after many of my friends saw these and got terrified a disgusted by them…I don’t ever show them. Because I know better than to do that.”

She looked at them, then looked at you. You got self-conscious and looked away again. “Baby, they’re not ugly. Okay? And as cheesy as it sounds, they got you to where you are today. It improved your life, you could do more of what you wanted. Kids are assholes sometimes, they didn’t know better. But I do, I know you and those scars and your condition don’t define you. What does define you, however, is how you treat others with so much respect no matter how nasty some people can get with you. You’re kind, you cherish your friends, your family, me. You love me for who I am. y/n, you are perfect the way you are. You are my girlfriend- you’re perfect for me.”

You told yourself not to cry, but of course she still managed to make you cry. You shook your head, desperately rejecting what she was telling you. Your mind didn’t want to accept it even though it was the sort of response you’ve always wanted. You couldn’t believe your ears, and not in a good way. But damn, your eyes watching Jos…how that tank top perfectly hugged her figure? It was making you feel some things. You exhaled harshly, avoiding her eyes again while swiping the tears away, “I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for? Don’t ever apologise for things that aren’t your fault.” Jos sat closer to you, tilting your chin again so she could see your face. “I’m just happy you trust me enough and told me so I know what to look out for and help you.”

“I’m not used to such a reaction so I just— I can’t believe it, literally.” You admit, “But thank you, Jos. For not ditching me like everyone else has.”

She doesn’t say anything but smile at you, cupping your cheek and leaning in. Her eyes silently asking for permission to kiss you. You were feeling so many emotions at once, but desire won. You nodded, allowing her to crash her lips onto your own.

“Ever done this before?”

“No.” You mumbled.

“That’s okay, I got you. We'll figure it out together." She assured, "You can show me how you like me to do it."

Fuck. You whined into the kiss as she deepens it, then telling you to sit in her lap. You pulled away, looking at her right in the eye. “Yeah, sit in my lap.” She confirms. “Okay…” You agreed hesitantly and let her pull you onto her lap. Her fingers hooked on the hem of your underwear and your jeans, “Take ‘em off, baby.” You gulped, lifting your hips and allowing her to pull both pieces of fabric down. You laugh, it was a bit of struggle but somehow neither of you thought of standing up to remove them first. Once the pieces of clothing were abandoned, you were sat comfortably in her lap. She tilts your face to kiss you, hand cupping and caressing your cheek. Once she started to kiss you, you’d forgotten about your worries. Her free hand was tentatively on your thigh but it soon started inching closer and closer to the juncture between your thighs.

“I’ll take it slow, okay?” She broke away, lips separating unwillingly. Jos looks at you, searching your eyes for the answer since you didn’t open your mouth to talk. “Yeah, yeah.” You finally managed to say, “Okay.” Jos starts kissing you again once she gets a confirmation from you, her fingers ghost your clit and you flinch. A second later, her fingertips were on your clit, rubbing slow circles on it to let your arousal grow for a while. You fought a whine that was caught in your throat, painfully swallowing it when you felt her slide a finger down towards your entrance. Your clit throbs, causing an ache and she’s definitely felt that little movement. Jos chuckles into the kiss, finger teasing your entrance for a little too long. Right before you could complain, she started pushing her finger in slowly. A whimper falls from your lips, muffled by the unending kiss. Jos takes this as her cue to pick up her pace, her hand’s also left your face and was now on one of your thighs to keep them open for her.

Jos laughs lowly, sending a shock down your spine, “You’re so wet, baby…” You whined at that, and the fact that she’s slid a second finger in. “Oh, shit.” She groans at your tightness, fingers staying still so you could get used to the feeling. “Does it hurt?” She asks quickly, gaze studying your face for any signs of discomfort. You mumbled incoherently and shook your head, “Keep going?”

“Okay.” She grins, moving her lips down to your neck while her fingers got back to work. Jos kisses a trail down the side of your neck, and when you let out a yelp at a certain spot, she went back to it and started to kiss it over and over, sucking and then biting down on it lightly. Shit.

You moaned, squirming in your position. Jos chuckles right into your ear, proud that she figured it out so easily. It only made you even whinier. “Baby~ are you close?” She teases.

Your breathing hitches.

“Tell me.” Jos said gently, handing caressing your thigh.

You breathed in then exhaled harshly, painfully admitting, “Yes.”

She smiles then pressed a kiss to your shoulder. Retracting her fingers as much as she could without leaving you, they were then forcefully jammed into you so she could hit your sensitive spot and push you over the edge. Jos did this a few times over before you started to clench erratically around her fingers.

“Shit.” You panted, “Oh, my God.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” She cajoled, “That’s good, just let it happen. I’ve got you.” Jos’ voice was so sweet, but her actions were so sinful— it drove you crazy. Your heart was beating in your ears, breathing coming out in short gasps, you were whining and whimpering…all because of Jos.

“Go on, baby. Come for me.” She whispers, “Come on.”

With a final push of her fingers poking at the spongy part deep inside you, you felt yourself unravel. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” You mumbled, leaning fully onto her while your head fell back onto her shoulder lazily. Jos keeps going though, until you let out particularly high-pitched cry and lifted yourself of her. She quickly removes her fingers from you and eased you back down into her lap while she whispered sweet words into your ears and caressed your thigh, “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay. Breathe, beautiful. You’re alright, I promise.”

————

Next thing you know, Jos lifts you off the ground and places you on her mattress. You locked eyes with her. She asks, “You…wanna go again?”

“Again?” You asked, a little bit winded while you leaned against the headboard, legs still apart while she knelt in between them.

She nodded, biting back an excited grin.

“So—”

“I’ll use my mouth if you’d like.” Jos continues.

“Oh.” You said back, the same giddy smile forms on your face again. Nodding your head, she moves, face to face with your dripping cunt, her ass tilted in the air. Dear God.

Jos was incredibly gentle, seeing that you’d just came once. Yet, you were still so sensitive and kept flinching. So, she went slower, and softer. You let out a ragged breath, she holds onto your inner thighs causing your hand to fall off your knee and limply onto your side. “Mm— fuck—” You murmured shakily, “Fuck— Jos— feels so good.”

Satisfied, Jos laughs, breath fanning against your heat and eliciting a whine and a string of profanities to spew from your lips. Jos fully attaches her mouth onto you, like she was trying to suck you dry. The sudden increase in intensity numbed your mind, causing your clit to throb harshly in her mouth and your wetness to leak out more and more every time she did it. You cried out, “Fuck!” You gripped the sheets beneath you, unsure of what the hell you could do with them other than that.

A long string of ‘oh, my god’ and ‘fuck’ coupled with her name comes from you without an end as she ruthlessly ate you out, helping reach your second high with ease. Your hips bucked right before you came, making Jos grip onto your thighs harder so you stayed put like this— closer to her face than ever. Your knees were giving way, though and she knew so she just let that happen too after a little bit. You fall back on the mattress, a whiny mess following her ministrations. Trembling as you came down from your climax, you were also breathless.

“Fuck, that was so hot.” Jos knelt again then sat down. Your gaze falls onto her face, and you were dumbfounded. Using her hand to clean off her face and chin that was dripping with your cum, she leans forward to capture your lips into her own. “Are you okay, baby?”

“Mhm.” You hummed, “I’m okay.”

Her hand strokes your cheek, “Good. You did so good, baby.”

You smiled blissfully, catching her gaze for a beat, “Fuck.”

“So beautiful, baby.” A similar smile creeps onto her face as she attacks you with kiss after kiss all over your face making you giggle.

“I love you.” You told her, arm resting on her shoulder as she sits before you and between your legs.

“I love you more, baby.” She seals the promise with yet another kiss, “I love you— so, so fucking much.”

————

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[uriekukistan]

jjk + tg ask because they rotate and swirl 2gether in my head like melted ice cream

favorite ghoul hcs for jjk characters ? whats megumi and his family tree look like in ur minds eye? r they crazy investigators or a fucked up ghoul clan.... (redundant, every ghoul clan is a fucked up ghoul clan)

argh im so glad you asked this bc im actually hoping to write a jjk tg crossover at some point so this gets my mind going >:)

i think the zen’in clan would be a reallly fucked up ghoul clan. the clans put a lot of emphasis on inherited techniques, and in the tokyo ghoul manga it said that the kagunes of ghouls that are related tend to leave 60-70% matching kagune marks, implying some kind of inheritance, so i can see them focusing on that.

ofc there are two inherited techniques in the zen’in clan, the ten shadows that megumi has seeming to be the prized inheritance. i can see that translating into like…a chimera kagune probably, which is what megumi would end up inheriting. in the tg manga banjou is unable to use his kagune, so i think that would be how maki and toji ended up.

but yeah, the zen’in clan is just trying to breed the best kagune…super fucked up about it too.

i would love to see yuuji in a kaneki position because i think their motives are. honestly identical. they want to save everyone and protect the people that matter to them.(although i have my arguments about yuuji not having any cursed energy before eating sukuna’s finger, i think they’re otherwise very similar in storyline)

im also thinking about geto and yuuta because i think their techniques in jjk, curse manipulation and mimicry, would translate to a similar effect in tg, some kind of ability to recreate other’s kagunes. though it would be a different acquisition process, yuuta just needs to see it, while geto needs to eat the kakuhou of other ghouls (ugh he’s doomed to eat nasty tasting things to gain power in every universe ig)

gonna talk about the culling games manga spoilers under the cut

also the culling games being like kanou’s half ghouls? so like tsukimi getting a kagune implanted in her rather than a reincarnated sorcerer. and they have to fight to the death but instead of points they get to eat the losers and gain more strength. i havent fully thought this out though because there’s no veils? so how do they enforce this idk