#how would you feel if i told you this is the only time ive drawn cassian <- says man who has never seen andor or rogue one

[constellation-skirmishes]

jurassic park au? in my blog? more likely than you think.

[coriphallus]

DA: The Veilguard Spoiler review pt2 - The Grime

this is a hard one to tackle without strawmaning anyone because itll be a direct response to alot of defense ive seen for the games morality system so ill just start by saying, iykyk

never a genre has been better equipped to discuss ethics than the interactive medium of games and yes, bioware games have been doing it since baldurs gate and no, theyve not always been 'centrist' and 'conservative'. im not even gonna entertain that idea. do you remember the cultural landscape DA:O released to? the landscape it was developed in? dont give me that just because zevran doesnt write in his little notes -that you can conveniently read- 'gay good. not me but me bisexual'

Thedas is a flawed world and its a world thats just as desperate to hang on to its status quo as our own. every time you play an elf thats thriving, or a human thats queer, or a mage thats not institutionalised you exist in a world that doesnt want you, it is an act of defiance that you do.

im sure we can all see why these games were so popular with the audience they can only weakly try to pander to today.

derailing time again; so one of my favourite paintings of all time is saturn devouring his son. it makes me feel so uncomfortable that it gave me nightmares as a child, and i still cant look at it without feeling this knot in my throat. i hate it. i hate how it makes me feel, how that man looks at me in terror like its begging me for help while cannibalising another. weird story but i was bewitched by that painting as a little kid.

it is not a well drawn painting, the proportions are all over the place, brush strokes crude and inelegant. it doesnt even have a deeper story nor was it intended for an audience. i will never know what goya thought of when drawing it.

i thought alot about that painting later in my life when i was struggling with mental health problems, i thought about goya alot too as an adult and after learning about his life. i stared at his paintings and remembered when i told my dad that i hated [saturns] big eyes and hed jokingly said "it would be scarier if he didnt have eyes"

i know what the drawing looks like now, nearly everyone with a little access to the internet does. if somebody removed saturn from it, we'd still be left with a brutalised headless carcass of a man in a canvas too big for itself. if we removed that too all we'd be left with would be void.

i dont want to live in a world where all i know of goya is his rococo work, i dont want to stare at the painting of a void knowing what filled it before. i hated every second of germinale but i never wanted it to be anything other than itself, the story it tells could never hold credence otherwise.

DAV has done its best to paint over it, but its still on the old canvas and i cant look away from the negative space its left, i know whats under it and it unsettles me, infuriates me. it hands me a palette with baby blues and pinks and tells me to paint over it to make a prettier painting. didnt i hate the eyes? wasnt it gross before?

i am not going to write why we need some grime in art, but its absence is disheartening. and to those who say hanged people in the streets or blighted villagers is dark and mature ill say no. its a kids idea of maturity, its the aesthetic of it with no substance. it means nothing to me if rook can just drench themselves in gallons of blight as they crawl through it. the horror of blight has never been the black goo and slimy tentacles, or the monster woman with way too many tits. it is watching people you love slowly fade away, it is a woman who was forced to cannibalise the contaminated flesh of her friends because the woman she loved betrayed her, it was the sheer scale and inevitability of it.

one area we go to is overrun by it and the game begs me to feel hopeful that flowers are growing again when it never let me lose hope. people have already prevailed, they have roofs over their heads and a steady supply of food on their tables. their spirit is unwavering.

its bad, everybody says. the sky is grey and soil is blackened, as my rook turns some statues to access a haunted house whos inhabitants are long gone and the only story they could ever tell is gone with them.

if the question is do i want to see famine? plague? misery? abuse? assault? the answer is yes. yes. i want to see it all of the filth. i rather face the fucking monster head on with its big bulging eyes and misshapen limbs than stare at the abyss its absence leaves on the canvas.

and if nothing else, this bastardization is disrespectful to the people who gave the IP its fame.

Why choose to be good?

back in the bsn days ive wondered why, even in a fictional universe where your choices have no real-life repercussions what-so-ever, players had more 'good' playthroughts than 'bad'?

what happens when you start killing NPCs, when youre needlessly mean to them? the game actively closes off its own content. you get less out of the game. just as, completely incidentally, you'd get less out of your life if you just started killing everyone around you. The world would be emptier, youd be alone.

in that quote i stole from good place chidi doesnt ask "why be good?" the wording is painfully deliberate. doing good is always a choice, and often not the easy one. what makes the act matter is that you chose to do it, even when given 6 other options not to. did i stop in the middle of an important quest to help a man retrieve an heirloom from a darkspawn infested hut? did i hear what that heirloom meant to him?

i cant stop thinking about that speech ever since playing this game after knowing its predecessors.

So, why do it then? Why choose to be good, every day, if there is no guaranteed reward we can count on, now or in the afterlife? I argue that we choose to be good because of our bonds with other people and our innate desire to treat them with dignity. Simply put, we are not in this alone.

i cant stop looking at this game that spits on its own legacy and think how could they have missed what fundamentally makes us human so bad, what makes us relate and empathise with eachother. what makes us pick the option to interact with an npc who openly hates what hawke is, and allow us to see the traumatised man underneath.

these characters of fiction are written by real people. i have absolutely nothing in common with a guy from canada yet for a brief moment in time i feel a sense of camaraderie as ive felt with goya that i couldnt articulate as a kid.

Nothing too terrible

DAV says it over and over again -as its wont to do with every piece of its flimsy morality- that people can change, people can be redeemed yet it shines as the game with most static characters in its franchise. it simply says things, and since it has nothing to show for it it makes sure to say it repeatedly, in case you missed it.

so when i first played DAO i was in high school, i started with a human noble because fresh out of dark side edgy kotor fame i wanted to be a posh brat. also because, ya kno, we were poor my entire life up until that point and i wanted to have power.

i committed to it, even as the game stripped cousland of everything he had, because i thought a man like him would. i picked the racist options, the sexist options, the options a man in couslands place would. halfway point of the game as i exhausted the initial dialogues something happened; this man who got paid to kill people, who showed no remorse nor care for his victims, begged my cousland to stil his blade.

and i did. i thought maybe he would be as confused as i was, maybe he had a moment of clarity but from thereon bit by bit he was less of an asshole. the characters grew around me, and my character grew around them. i chose to be good because -textually- we were in this together, at the end of all things.

rook is not a character, theyre a mascot. and quite frankly i think they may be a very evangelical mascot because they remind me of evangelical preachings of jesus more than the man from the bible (and i say this as someone whos only exposure to christianity has been through foreign media and the bible ive read that one time). they are the epitome of do no evil and their existence hinges on the frail concept of moral purity. theyre not a person trying to do good, who wants to be good, they are 'good'

-and lemme tell you its a wild choice to have someone like that locked in a prison of 'regret'-

rook can be mean to only one person in the game, and thats someone they dont even have a personal beef with for the most part. but even then they would be shouting at a wall because the game doesnt only undermine them with its narrative, but also every npc in the game suddenly gets possessed by the ghost of wattpad rejects past for a moment to tell them everyone can be redeemed. and i believe it because i played the other games, i believe it because i know zevran and sten and morrigan, isabela and thom and iron bull and dorian. i know it because i can see the vague shapes behind the new coat of paint but i am not rook.

so no, the game fails to get people-can-change points by its own merit, and it cannot gain points from its prequels because it destroyed them. none of those characters i watched grow exist in this universe. zevran cant exist with DAV crows, fenris` story cant exist in an imperium with invisible slaves only glimpsed through empty cages and broken chains left scattered on the ground. i dont know which morrigan this NPC is, is it the woman who grew to learn kindness, who begged to sleep with her friend just to save them despite knowing it would play into the plans of a destiny she so desperately tried to break free from? or is she the clever puppet her mother groomed her to be who wanted to harness the power of a god? i dont know her, i dont know this dorian or this isabela beyond their names ipso facto this is not a sequel.

bellara asks an assassin why he is trying to save the world and his answer is "ive done some things in the past im not too proud of. nothing too terrible, but some of it was bad." and i can hear the games desperation for me to not engage with its material in that 'nothing too terrible'

lucanis never killed anyone innocent, taash never harmed an animal they could shoo of or reason with, emmrich venerates the dead and is friends with every wisp he pulls to use in menial labour, davrin joined the wardens willingly because he wanted to do good...

rook tells harding that her anger is justified when shes not even allowed anger of her own.

nothing too terrible.

aside from creating boring and nonsensical and static characters it creates a dreadful echochamber that we're forced to sustain. No taash is not valid, their gender is but their behaviour is not and for the character to grow and mature it needs to be addressed. lucanis doesnt need to be pampered in shock blankets he needs to see how repressing his problems and jeopardising his health puts people around him in danger etc etc. they are adults and they need to learn more complex ways of healing. and if rooks flaw is that theyre an enabler, then that needs to be acknowledged by the narrative in some way too, and not mindlessly endorsed because they say some buzzwords.

none of these interpersonal relationships feels real because none of these people feel real beyond some draft of themes and tropes. some interactions literally remind me of two bots in facebook comments

i look at this dialogue wheel with familiar symbols and all im reminded of is hawke telling carver he carries every death with him, of him telling his uncle that he wasnt fast enough, of him begging the person he loves to tell him that his mothers death wasnt his fault.

and they dont. they just sit there with him.

[catjest3r]

i dont think ive ever done this before, accept my sloppy 20 min explanation + bonus notes below!! (feel free to ask follow ups! this is just my pose/skeleton style, I wasn't sure which part you wanted help with :x)

⚠️THIS IS NOT A DO/DONT GUIDE AND IS BASED ONLY ON HOW I PERSONALLY DRAW!!!⚠️

these days i usually look for references or at least inspiration for poses on pinterest, which can be broken down to whatever kind of "skeleton" youre comfortable with!! this is how i draw mine :3

i go for a blocky head that i shape out AFTER the face is added, so i can reference where the eyes and mouth are for the cheek placement

i block out the ribcage, torso, and pelvis, the legs usually have to be adjusted a lot with lasso/transform tools bc they start to skew right most of the time xD i use those a lot in the sketch phase, if youre drawing digitally, take advantage of this!!!

important things to note!!

-thighs/calves are usually rounder on the top! ankles and knees are typically the thinnest point (i can do a separate tut for fat if anyone wants!)

-arms are curvy too, i'll admit this example is drawn a bit hastily so its not a great example, but typically the forearm and back of arm(?) are flat and the opposite side will "pop out"

-tails are harder than expected tbh, posing a tail can be difficult! drawing a tail bone is a must for me, thin tails are like tubes, fluffier tails like wolves are a bit easier! padding with fluff makes everything look better bc you can cover up any parts that look kinda "off" xD

-i dont differentiate "male" or "female" figures, just build and vibes. id rather be told directly where a character holds their weight, if they have breasts or not, etc. blocky vs curvy tutorials you will always be infamous (bad)

i have no idea if this makes any sense so feel free to ask more!! im really happy a beginner would come to me for advice... ;; good luck!!

[moonstruckme]

Hello you wonderful, WONDERFUL creation of brilliance! I have another request for the 1k if thats alright.

I think it would be two ghosts?? But its reader x remus (again) where she know hes a werewolf without being told and uses halloween to tell/show him because she can see how guilty he feels for not telling her and scared to tell her.

How/why she knows and how she tells him is up to you love!!

Thank you love x (hopefully that's coherent, toddlers suck and ive only slept 3hrs 😭)

Thanks for requesting (and omg, I hope the toddler(s) become more manageable) <3

join the party

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Remus comes to the door looking endearingly rumpled. He’s wearing pajama bottoms and a wrinkled t-shirt, his hair is fluffy from lying in bed all day, and his pillowcase has left a faintly pink crease on his cheek. You gather all this from the split second between him opening the door and promptly shutting it in your face. 

“Remus?” you knock again. “Come on, let me in.” 

After a moment in which you can picture him sighing laboriously on the other side, the door cracks open just wide enough for you to see one eye, narrowed with displeasure. Were it anyone else or under any other circumstances, you’d really be quite offended. “What are you doing here?” he asks.

You hold up your bag. “I didn’t think you’d want to face the slew of trick-or-treaters bound for your house alone. I brought movies for us and candy for them. Or, well, the candy can be for both, actually.” 

Remus is silent for a moment, and you press at the door insistently. “Let me in, Rem.” 

He capitulates with a sigh, stepping back to let the door fall open. His apartment is dark, every curtain drawn, and it takes your eyes a second to adjust after stepping out of the sunlight. There’s half a dozen empty takeout containers strewn about the coffee table, and the space has the stale aroma that comes from lack of movement. 

Remus has that aroma, too, you realize as you step closer to him, pressing a kiss to his cheek regardless. He looks like he could use it. 

“Sorry about the mess,” he says dully. “I wasn’t expecting you.” 

“Course you weren’t,” you wave him off. “How could you have been? You’ve been avoiding me all week.”

Remus closes his eyes as if this conversation is already too much for him, and you feel instantly guilty. 

“It’s okay, honey,” you say gently, stacking the takeout containers to clear some space for your candy. “You’re allowed to take some time to yourself. It’d be nice if you’d let me know in the future, but I’m not upset at you. I promise.” 

His features relax slightly, a tension you’d barely noticed around his eyes easing. “Thanks, love. Sorry.” 

“It’s really alright,” you promise, taking him by the hand to pull him down onto the couch with you. “Listen, you seem like you’re not feeling well, so I know you might not want company right now, but would you be open to just having a relaxing night? We can watch Halloween movies and eat sweets, and I’ll handle all the trick-or-treaters.” 

“Yeah?” Remus looks at you with something between hope and sadness, and your heart breaks for him. You squeeze his hand lightly, like your boyfriend is a sponge that you can squeeze all the woe out of and force to absorb your love instead. “That sounds really nice, dove. Thank you.” 

“Course,” you say brightly, and you’re unable to resist pressing your lips to his cheek again before you turn back to your bag, laying your small collection of movies on the table. “Okay, we have some options.” 

Remus hums. “Well, there’s Halloween, the obvious choice.” 

“But too obvious?” you muse. “I mean, we definitely have time to watch more than one, but we only get to watch these at a certain time of year, love. Let’s not be hasty.” He chuckles, and your heart flutters. “I know The Exorcist is a classic, but it might be too scary for me, honestly. Um…Dracula is good…oh! This one’s my favorite.” 

Remus looks to where you’re pointing. “The Werewolf of Washington?”

You pretend you don’t hear the slightly hoarse quality of his voice. “Yup! It’s so funny, and I like that it’s technically a Halloween movie even though werewolves aren’t really scary.” 

He pauses. “You don’t think so?”

You do your best to appear blasé, knowing you have to tread carefully here. “No, of course not,” you say, as if the mere idea is foolish. “I mean, they’re dangerous, sure, but as people, they don’t really mean any harm. It’s not their fault.” 

Remus is being oddly quiet, and you babble on anxiously. 

“If I were a werewolf, I’d hope my friends wouldn’t care about me any less. It’s not like it’s me, it’s just something I have to deal with once a month. I mean, would you stop loving me if I turned out to be a werewolf?”

“No,” Remus says slowly, eyes narrowed to the point where they’re just amber. The circles under his eyes look really dark, you note with concern. You wonder if he hasn’t been sleeping. “Is there something you’re trying to tell me?” 

You take a breath, gnawing on your lip. “I think it’s more about if there’s anything you want to tell me.”

He slouches into the cushions, features slackening in resignation. “Seems like you already know.” 

“I’m sorry to do it this way,” you say genuinely, grateful that he hasn’t pulled his hand from your grip as you run your thumb over his knuckles soothingly. “I know it’s your secret, and you should get to tell anyone whenever you like, but I’ve known for awhile, and when James told me how down you’ve been this week—”

“What,” Remus says sharply, “did James say exactly.” 

“He only told me that you were sick. I asked if you might like a visitor, and he said he thought you’d rather be alone.” Remus sighs, tipping his head back against the couch. You can see the strain of the upcoming full moon on his face, his features pale and gaunt. 

“He didn’t have to tell me, honey,” you say quietly. “I guessed on my own. I know it’s a big deal, and I’m sure it’s been a massive burden for you." You run your thumb tenderly over the dark circles under his eyes. “I just wish you wouldn’t assume it’d be a burden to me, too. Give me some credit here, Lupin.” 

You feel his cheek twitch as he resists a smile, however small. 

“I don’t care, you know,” you go on, emboldened. “I just want to be there for you. It’s killed me not being there for you every month. I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t take it anymore.”

Remus opens his eyes, and your heart swells at the fondness in his gaze, even if it's mingled with wariness. 

“Would you watch some movies with me, please?” you ask enticingly. “Or we can nap, or just sit here. Whatever you want to do.” 

“You sure you want to stick around?” he asks, and you know he’s talking about more than just tonight. “This time of the month is not pleasant. I’m not pleasant.” 

You let your hand slide from his face down to his shoulder, rubbing delicately. “I don’t need you to be pleasant,” you tell him. “I just need you to let me be here.” 

Remus sighs. “Alright, but we’re watching Halloween. That werewolf movie is shit.”

[tadpoletiddles]

𝐏𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧

PART 2

Brozone x Reader (fem)

WARNING: NSFW

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

“Oh, you have no idea.”

The words echoed through your head. You gulped and remembered what John Dory had stated before about 'saving the best for last.' Now, your thoughts began to wander to the possibilities of what was next to come. However, you were drawn back to the conversation at hand when a hand moved across your thigh and gave it a soft squeeze. "Y/N," your head swiveled to meet the voice. "How are you feeling, honey?" Bruce asked you. You gave him a light chuckle, "Like I'm not sure if I'm still dreaming or not." Bruce furrowed his brows slightly, giving you a sweet smile. His eyes lingered on yours, slowly trailing down to your lips. You not only noticed this but so did his brother, who leaned over in your ear to tease you, "So you've been dreaming about us, hm?" 

Well, shit. He’d caught onto you, hadn’t he? He may have been dense, but he wasn’t blind. Even if you hadn’t just outright told them you’ve been fantasizing about them, you figure he would have taken notice eventually, especially with how you acted towards him and Bruce. The way you’d giggle when they’d say something funny or the little doe eyes you had with something sweet. But what was most interesting to him was how you’d subtly tense up when either of them was close to you. How would your breath hitch as a hand was 'innocently' placed on your shoulder. Your body language gave you away well before your words had.

"And if I have?" you spoke. John let out a breath, taking his hand under your jaw and forcing you to hold Bruce’s gaze, "well then, you wouldn't be the only one." Hearing him say that gave you butterflies. Knowing that they may have wanted you as well was enough to prompt your tail to start wagging again. “Why don’t you tell us the dirty little thoughts you've been having about us,” John started, his thumb stroking your jawline. Bruce chimed in, “Come on, sweet girl, let us make them a reality.”

At a loss for words, the only thing that you managed to give them was “I…” The boys chuckled at your reaction, sharing a look of amusement.

“You think you’re ready, sweetheart?” Still struggling to form complete thoughts, you simply just settled for an "mhm." Oh, you were so ready. And cue your body giving you away again, as you could feel the slickness as you subconsciously rubbed your thighs together. "So, what would you like us to do, sweetheart? You must have some ideas?" Much closer this time, John Dory was speaking into your ear. His fingers drew light circles on the tops of your thighs.

There were so many scenarios that you had imagined in the past. Although, now that you were here, between them, you couldn't choose one. "Um... surprise me," you suggested, hoping they'd take the lead and make things easier on you. Well, maybe not that easier.

"Letting us decide? Brave girl~"John's hands were less gentle than Bruce's as he came to grip your thighs. "Are you sure that's what you want?" Bruce chimed in, "Yeah, yes," you looked him in the eyes as you had before, "please."

With a sharp tug to your hair, your head was pulled back to meet John Dory's gaze. Not to his surprise, or yours, a moan was pulled from your lips. Your head is tilted in his grasp, "Ive- we've wanted to do this for so long. "Then don't make me wait," you start to plead, "Please, I want it just as much as you."

And you don't have to wait. Within seconds of hearing you, he's moved his hands off you. You start to make an aggravated whine when John's touch had left. That is until you realize he'd already stripped himself of all of his clothes aside from his underwear and goggles, which he pulls off his head and sets on the side table beside your water. With your attention focused on JD, it takes you a moment to see they'd both done the same. You do a doubletake, snapping your head to Bruce. Eyes grow wide as they glance down at what lies between his legs. Oh boy, you thought, wondering how the hell that was going to fit all in your mouth, much less other places. Yet, your pussy was soaked and now aching for something to fill it. To the best of your abilities, you were going to try to make it work.

Without clothing to restrain it, Bruce's cock now stood at full attention. As you had expected, his hair down there was just as well groomed as that on his head, the same pretty shade of purple too. "Honey," he took notice of your staring, a slight blush on his face, "I appreciate the admiring, but um..." He looked away from you, "Could you please help? It's starting to hurt." Your tail swatted the air as you shifted to face Bruce and settled between his legs on the couch, "mhm." You shoot him a small reassuring smile.

Before you were going to do anything, you were going to kiss him, because fuck, you have been wanting to for so long. Thus, leaning in, you capture his lips in a soft, gentle kiss. He melted into you as your lips moved slowly in unison and all the tension that you'd both been holding in snapped. Bruce's hands found their way to your hips and guided you up into his lap. You straddled him, thighs pressing against his own as your weight relaxed onto him. Bruce was intoxicating. The smell of cedar and saltwater radiated off of him. It made the kiss all the more enjoyable. The haze let up briefly when John placed his hand on the back of your neck, running it up into your hair again. It was long enough to pry you away from his brother and steal your lips. His kisses were a bit rougher. That in no way meant that you didn't enjoy them. Even more so when he thrust his tongue past your lips and into your mouth. Bruce took this time to make his way down to your chest. He'd run a finger over your pierced bud, lightly rolling the jewelry. His fingers would soon be replaced by his tongue as it followed the path his fingers previously had.

"Mmmm," you moaned into John's mouth when Bruce clasped his lips around your nipple. The sensation of it sent flutters down to your core. You put a hand on John Dory's chest and pushed him back so you could kiss Bruce again; you had to pull him off your breast first, of course. For a few minutes, these minstrations would continue, and you would go back and forth between the boys. Finally, you broke the cycle and sat back on your arms, lightly heaving.

Bruce was sitting in front of you with his eyes glued onto your pussy, which had been spread open to him just as it had been all evening. It had been so hard for both he and John to be patient. He tilted his head to the side when you closed your legs, upset that you'd ruined his view for the moment. John, however, sat smiling because you were crawling towards him now. You were getting a little impatient now, wanting to have something inside you.

"Double trouble?" You asked slyly. John Dory gave you a look of confusion, "huh?" You wiped the trail of precum that was leaking down the head of his cock with your finger, then ran it over the tip slowly, which made John flinch. "You asked what I wanted," you paused, " I want both of you at the same time." John raised his eyebrows at you, peering over to Bruce to see if he'd heard what you said, "I think we can do that, sweetheart."

A mischievous smile comes to your lips. You sway your hips side to side, on your hands and knees. The couch sank behind you as Bruce knelt behind you. "I've been eyeing this beautiful pussy all night, fucking finally, Bruce huffs, leaning in closer to it. You feel his tongue give broad sweeps across your folds as he laps up the dripping juices. You merely hum in relief that he's finally touching you there.

"you wanna get started while he warms you up?" John refers to his cock in front of you, which was, fuck, also massive. To which you waste no time, giving a long lick up the shaft. Poor thing was so pent up that his hips bucked up into your touch. You gave him what he wanted, letting his cock slide past your lips and down into your throat. "oh...fuck," he groans, slipping his hands into the familiar place in your hair. You didn't stop until his tip was nuzzling the back of your throat. You hummed around him, moving your tongue across his shaft. It was now that you realized the sensations from your backside had ceased. With a pop, you pulled your head up off his cock to look back a Bruce, who was no longer eating you out but gently massaging your hips. "Ready, honey?" You nod your head, biting your lip.

Bruce lines himself up with your entrance. The head of his cock prods your folds before he gives a few slow glides through them. You could tell how soaked you were, considering how easily he could do so. His grip on your hips tightens slightly to hold you steady. Your eyes flicker back to John, whose hand is stroking your hair. You let a breath out as Bruce begins to push in. He is slow and gentle trying not to hurt you. "F-fuck," you gasp. John chuckles at your reaction, tilting your chin up to watch your face.

Once fully seated within you, balls deep, he sighs. He rubs your sides, allowing you time to adjust since he is larger than his younger brothers. There wasn't any pain, just a bit of pressure, which soon faded. You grind your hips back into his, hinting at him to move. Bruce pulls out slowly, then pushes back in. This rhythm was terribly slow, almost too slow, "Bruce," you whine his name, "Please, I need you." Your words make him melt like butter, and he obliges you with a hard, deep thrust. It sends sparks through your core, and you're unable to hold back the moan that follows.

As Bruce continues to thrust into you, John shifts onto his knees. "Double trouble," he says as your head is yanked back. He takes a finger, tapping at your lips, "Open up, sweetheart." Your mouth is open, tongue lolling out to greet him.

Now, you were being filled from both ends. Although the two were definitely at different paces. John was far down your throat, drowning out your moans, while Bruce's cock was stretching out your velvety insides, balls slapping against you with every thrust. You were in heaven. "Such a good girl, taking our cocks so nicely," John cooed. He held your head between his hands, guiding your mouth onto his cock. The feeling of being between them like this was far better than any of your fantasies.

It was so good that you were already close. Bruce was the first to notice, "Ngh, she's, fuck, squeezing," "Hm?" John looks at him. With each thrust from the two, you could feel the creeping tightness growing in your stomach. It's not long before the tighten releases, and your eyes are rolling back in your head as you cum. Bruce moans as your pussy clamps around him. Oh, it milks him to his own high, which he releases into you. He grabs your hips and slams deep inside you, filling you up with his seed.

John is quick to follow and pulls his cock from your warm mouth. His hand vigorously pumps his shaft, aiming at your open lips. "Mnghh," he grunts as thick strings shoot out into your mouth and onto your face. After swallowing what he'd managed to get in your mouth, your tongue sweeps across your lips, "Mmm."

"Whew, " John smiles tiredly and plops back on the couch momentarily. Bruce eases himself out, watching as his cum leaks out of you in globs, "oh, that's good," he whimpers. You're pulled back with him when he leans back. Bruce lays down, letting you nuzzle into his side, grinning. "I'm gonna go running us a bath, John says as he gets up. " Lifting your head up, you look at him, "Are you two gonna join me?" you ask. "Yes, sweetheart, is that okay?"

You smile, glancing between him and his brother, "That would be wonderful."

*+:｡.｡　you’re welcome ;)　｡.｡:+*

TAGLIST: @raydoitbetter, @benignbryophyta

[ay0nha]

Some Unholy War | Theseus Scamander (IV)

SUMMARY: Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay put within the walls of the Ministry. You contrasted his very being. 

PAIRING: Theseus Scamander x f!reader  

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: canon-typical things, flashback of sorts, mutual pining, semi enemies-to- lovers, always a protective Theseus, SLOW burn, etc.

A/N: HELLO. Again, this took me longer than I would have liked. So, rather than rushing it, I’m going to break it up into two parts...I’m going to take a lil break to get my head together, but I’m v excited in how this second part is going to go!!! So, stay tuned...As always, thank you, @kalllistos​​​​. Comments are always welcomed. Enjoy.

PART I, PART II, PART III

Effort was a comical notion.

Magic required it at times, just as breathing did. The effort now felt good, worth it. The icy air that reached the ends of your lungs stung. Yet, each breath was quieter, the effort only coming in the form of physical mechanics of pushing a warm breath back out that the air around you marked.

“Are you mad?” Theseus’ exclamation hadn’t taken any exertion. The pent-up anger almost made you flinch. Theseus yelled after you as you continued forward. He never begged you to stop; he told you. Sometimes you’d listen just to display your wit.

You were quiet, entering the idyllic fog, hoping it would swallow you whole.

“Keep up….” Your voice was airy, the instruction more for yourself. The memory was faded, your mind trying to hold onto it as it threatened to slip between your fingers.

It started in Theseus’ office—a muddled memory overlapping with the friction of everything around you. It was more a feeling, something foggy and unrestrained that called you forward. It felt a bit like apparating, where your body didn’t quite belong for the moments it took to find your footing again.

You scolded yourself for not seeing it clearly; that was the thing about divination.

Although studied meticulously, its real trait was its vitality.  It shifted and molded. Evolved.  It made even more concrete things seem like rubber, rejecting electricity with an uncanny ability to mold into shapes unknown. It was the type of thing that could be so exciting to happen just to become something so vague that it no longer held value to it.

Theseus’ words were drowned out as your ears produced a ringing. All you could hear was your shaky breaths, and all you could see was a faint familiarity with your surroundings. Even your stumbling steps backward felt practiced.

Your breath became labored as the hazy recollection returned. Even through the blur, you saw how the tips of his ears and nose burned red with frustration. It was a trait of his that remained as he rose so many inches he towered over you, and his hair curled the longer her let it grow.

The years did nothing to change it.

“This is it….” Your fingers fumbled with a curl at the nape of his neck. His hair was long, longer than he usually kept it. Time had gotten the better of him. How could you be so blind?

Theseus’ tirade wavered. He was supposed to be angry. He was supposed to do so many things, but your touch felt like an enchantment. It reminded him of how dangerous you could be.

The walnut of Theseus’ wand was always stiff, but it cast its spells briskly and powerfully. Ollivander told him it wasn’t rare to be drawn to the material, but it scarcely paired with dragon heartstring. Because of the extreme dominance of this wood, the core was stoic and gentle and had done Theseus well from the moment he received it. Yet, pressed against your chest to stall your next step, it felt that even the wand knew it was a misguided action.

“Don’t be foolish, Theseus.” You spat at the gesture. His wand only pressed into your chest as if trying to will away his emotions. “Don’t you recognize where we are?”

He shook his head. If he looked beside him, he knew he would crumble.

You tried to reason, “We couldn’t stay there. The Ministry—

“We’re going back.” Although his voice was steady, emotion wavered in his eyes. “I won’t fall into your trap. You can’t just—

“It’s too late.” You pushed forward, the wood digging into your clavicle with drive. “I’m ruined anyways.” The invariability of the words reflected your decision.  “By your hand or his.”

Theseus was always talented in thinking clearly. Logically. He wanted you to be wrong, but your instincts pushed you to keep moving. It was the only way to stay one step ahead of Sinclair. It contrasted Theseus’ plan to stay within the Ministry's walls.

You contrasted his very being.

“Why did you bring me here?” Anger drifted from Theseus’ voice, and the space it abandoned was soon tenanted by something else—a kind of endearment, muslin light.

Theseus first brought you there for a quiet you didn’t know you needed. It was ambient full of croaking creatures and twigs snapping from the pressure of unknown forces. It was a blissful oasis that lured you into its dark depths.

The environment was damp, still reflecting the country’s dreariness. It was hidden, though. A broken-off path Theseus—well, Newt—had stumbled upon in childhood. It was a good hiding place to play, to sneak, and for you to abuse.

“I didn’t see it coming.” It felt strange to admit your best-hidden secret. “Any of it.” Your eyes remained on Theseus, willing trust to transfer. “But I just couldn’t—I knew deep down, I couldn’t lose everything.”

One time, you came to read Theseus’ palm under the full moon—a silly excuse to feel the weight of his hand in yours. The times following grew, the touches still shy with adolescence but bolder in a discovery of emotion.

The memory was a shared favorite, an inside joke of sorts to make the other feel warmth in your fingers that spread to the center of your chest. You hadn’t meant to bastardize it, but its safety was all you could rely on.

“But this, I saw this.” You would continue until Theseus understood. You had told him of your vision all those years ago. It was your only justifiable proof. “This needs to happen.”

Recognition flashed across his features.

Theseus dropped his wand with a tight breath. Looking to the sky, he became lost in turmoil. Once his gaze hit the dirt beneath his feet, it did nothing to aid him. You watched his fingers pull through the hair at the back of his head as if unraveling an answer.

You spoke when his hand fit over his mouth in frustration. “You promised me.”

“We were teenagers.” He snapped, denying the truth. “What did I know about prophecies?”

“Enough to believe me.” You felt young again, begging Theseus to revert with you. You wanted to hear his reassurances, his bold-faced vows to remain by your side despite the trouble you found.

That holiday, you told him everything—your plans to run away, the images that flashed in your dreams of the future, and how he centered them all as an essential turning point.  It spilled out of you, and you couldn’t stop. At the time, the swampy place was at the core unbeknownst.

If Theseus had known, he may not have regretted the promise to always be there for you. No questions asked. It sounded embarrassingly naive. You could still hear how desperately he wanted you to believe him. Even then, you knew it would lead to something like this.

Even then, just as now, you diminished how well Theseus knew you. “What aren’t you telling me?”

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

Replica (Part 5/Finale)

Summary: You finally accept his love.

Perturabo/fem!Reader

Warnings: incest (kinda), possessive behavior, manipulation, smut, dubious consent.

Word Count: 2426

It was an interesting experience. It's very sad to say goodbye to this story. But there will be others. You know, I thought that my beloved traitor-primarch Konrad Curze. But judging by the way I described these two, probably my favorite is Bo.

Song: Mitski - Washing Machine Heart (I can't even describe how perfect this song is for this story)

You didn't know how much time had passed. A couple of minutes or several hours until your quiet tears turned into sobs. The Iron Lord, who had been lying next to you all this time, looked at you with displeasure. He expected you to either fall asleep or be happily drawn to him after such closeness. But the primarch’s face quickly smooths out after you speak.

"It's hurt".

He carefully examines you from head to toe. A semblance of fear flashes in the eyes. Perturabo quickly gets up and lifts you from the bed as light and gentle as a feather. All you can do is press yourself against his massive chest. Blood is still seeping from between your legs. You almost don't feel them. While belly and bones are almost burning with pain. You wanted to tear off the lower part of yourself and throw it away just to stop experiencing these torments. Your body doesn’t listen and all you can do is close your eyes and fall asleep. Hoping that you'll never wake up.

But the Iron Lord decided otherwise.

From now on you live in the primarch's chambers. According to the man, he needed to monitor your condition, and now there is no point in you living separately. You thought he would call an apothecary or a mortal physician but Perturabo was quite knowledgeable about how to treat you. He gave you the best medicine. He fed his own blood so that the wounds would heal faster. You couldn’t help but think that it tasted exactly the same as your rations.

You could already feel your bones and your hips hardly hurt. The bruises were almost gone, which greatly pleased the primarch, who could not deny himself the pleasure of touching the exposed areas of your skin with his fingertips. A lot of time passed, but the man was in no hurry to make love to you again.

The primarch was too keen on the idea of ​​trampling his main enemy into the mud and spending almost all his free time at work. But you, seeing his gaze, felt how much he longed to enter inside you again. But Perturabo waited, savoring the anticipation of the desired victory. You were supposed to be a reward for his efforts and pains, which no one appreciated.

And if the body gradually developed, the spirit was broken. There was no way you could get his behavior out of your head. How he took you. Appropriated you as his lover. He loved you. But along with this... someone else.

You've never heard this name. Didn't know who this girl was. But one could guess that it was someone important to the primarch. So important that at the moment of closeness he remembered someone else. And the worst thing was that at the same time he called you his... sister. That guess alone made you feel sick, and you desperately hoped you were wrong.

It's no wonder that you soon became withdrawn into yourself. Perturabo did not notice the quiet depression, focusing on your physical state. And of course, in his main goal in life. Creation of the Eternal Fortress. The greatest masterpiece that could break the body and spirit of his sworn brother Dorn.

You lay on his massive bed, putting down the book about architecture that you were reading with interest. But when the primarch speaks, all your attention must be focused on him and only him. No excuses. Perturabo enthusiastically told you how his Legion and slaves were completing the final work on Sebastus IV. Soon the fortress will be ready and the noble Rogal Dorn will fall into a trap. The Imperial Fist will lead his legion to destruction and will finally be humiliated.

“Who is Calliphone?”

You couldn't stand it. No, you couldn't do this anymore. You never asked questions, never contradicted him, and obeyed him in everything. Even when Perturabo lay in bed with you, you didn’t resist, although you were scared.

Silence reigned in the room. Perturabo sat at the table with an unreadable expression on his face. For a second you thought he was going to explode in rage. But he remained frighteningly calm. Moving the drawings aside, the men approached the bed on which you were lying, wrapped in a blanket. Sitting down on the very edge, the man carefully began stroking your knee.

“I see that human memory is failing you. The flaw of your kind, but how can I be angry with you.” - the primarch looks straight into your eyes with a grin. - "It's you. My adopted sister from Olympia.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat. Sister. He called you his sister when... when... You shudder and pull your legs up to your chest. Disgust and denial overwhelmed with renewed vigor. You wanted to hide under the blanket like a little child. You're almost babbling.

"It's not me"

“No, it’s you, my dear sister. Daughter of a tyrant, maiden of Olympia... Forgive me.” - the man, clearly not understanding the whole gamut of emotions, speaks the cherished words almost with a breath. With difficulty and with relief. Completely opening the soul that was closed from everyone. Giving his hearts to you alone. - “Please... forgive me. How could I think that you are nothing to me? You are the only one who has loved me all these years. Not one of my brother primarchs is worthy to spend even a second with you. Especially him.”

Bo moves closer and softly whispers your real name. Almost purring with pleasure, inhaling the smell of your own hair. You look at him in disbelief. Weren't you his sister a few seconds ago? Why did he suddenly remember your real identity now? The man carefully twirled your curl in his hands.

“The False Emperor always preferred Rogal to me. He wore his mark, built him a Palace... and he had you. He dared to hide you from me. To pick you up while a decrepit old woman lived at Olympia. Daring to be insolent to me. A pathetic replica, incomparable to the original. Frankly, now the memory of how I broke her neck brings only pleasure.” - all the primarch’s envy and irritation immediately disappear when he meets your gaze. The man takes your face in his giant hands, smoothing your cheeks with his thumbs. - “I will make them all regret it. They will all suffer. For you. And now I want you to sing.”

Perturabo climbs onto the bed and for a second you think he'll rip your clothes off again. But instead, the man slowly lifts your dress to your knees. You see his steely eyes mist and his mouth moves closer to your lower lips. Oh. You want to pull away, but the man squeezes your thighs forcefully, leaving new bruises that only recently disappeared from your body.

You feel his tongue slowly running along your insides. These were not passionate and uncontrollable caresses, but cold calculations. He knew exactly how he wanted to touch you, how to make you squirm. The primarch kissed you as if he was planning another attack. Measuring every movement, stoically and impartially. As if it wasn’t your moans that caused the pain in his crotch.

If only your soul were as submissive as your body. All this time he saw her. All this time he spoke to her. And in those moments when you were different from Calliphone, Perturabo saw you. And he accepted. Because you are not made of iron, you bend, you curve as it suits him. Melting under his gaze, not challenging him. You are a twisted memory of years gone by. A living replica, an imperfect but improved version. And you can't wonder. Is he kissing her now or you?

But your thoughts are lost as soon as Perturabo accelerates. A shiver runs through your body, you moan loudly, feeling your body relax after a minute of tension. And again you feel the heat, feeling how someone else’s tongue greedily collects your juices, not wanting to leave even a drop. You feel bad, scared and sad. But at the same time it’s so good.

Didn't he promise to take care of you and cherish you? This is exactly what he is doing now. You just need to let go. You no longer wanted to tremble and cry from horror or sadness. You wanted everything to be as before. So that he can show you his wonderful inventions again. So that you can talk again about the books you read, drink wine and eat fruits with him. You wanted to see a smile bloom on his gloomy face and if you are the reason for this. Then why are you still resisting? It doesn't matter who you are. He loves you. And you him?

The man, having finally had his fill and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, hovers over you. With one hand leaning on the bed, the other grabbed your waist possessively. Perturabo carefully, almost analytically, watches your tired but pleased expression on your face. The corners of the lips tremble, ready to stretch into a smile of pride.

“I have dreamed for so long that we would become truly close. But I couldn’t even think that it would be so.” - almost growling, he touches your lips with his, tongue penetrating inside. There was little tenderness. Perturabo wanted to subjugate you, appropriate you, brand you so that everyone would know who you belong to. And you…

You kissed back.

***

This place was wonderful. Your little personal paradise. Where you can be safe and no one will ever hurt you. Bo took care of it. He himself recreated your chambers in his native Olympic style. Massive columns supported a gigantic ceiling, and the snow-white walls were decorated with golden birds. Your chambers were exactly like the golden cage you saw on the first day you met Perturabo.

He often visited you after he took care of business. The rest of the time you were devoted only to yourself. Alas, the servants could not entertain your pastime. The Iron Lord took care to rip out their tongues and eyes. Slaves should not offend your ears with their voices. Should not look at the property of the daemon-prince.

You stood on the balcony, leaning on the railing. The Fortress of Hate had the best view of Medrengard. Absolutely black buildings were buried in smoke and fire from constantly working machines. Neither the smell nor the heat could touch you. Perturabo has ensured that your chambers are well protected from the stifling surface temperatures.

You could see the Iron Warriors arriving from the Imperial world with a new regiment of slaves. Frequent guests, the Dark Mechanicum, were already leaving the residence with a very satisfied look. It appears that the meeting with the primarch ended satisfactorily for both parties.

There is no limit to the genius of the Iron Lord. Only he could create such a truly terrifying fortress world. The Imperial fists were not one iota able to create such perfection. Remembering your young years on one of Rogal Dorn’s controlled worlds, you could only marvel at your naivety.

No, you were from Olympia.

You hear the massive door of the chambers open and a menacing voice orders the slaves to leave the chambers. You almost choke on air and with incredible difficulty restrain the desire to joyfully run out to meet the primarch. But until the servants leave, you must save face.

But how happy it was to see Bo again. He has come to you! You can see him again, hear him. Feel the touch on your body. As a sister, as a lover, but you are not his sister either. To feel with every fiber of the soul his demonic presence, his divine greatness. Only when the door closed behind the last servant did you exhale. It turns out you weren't breathing all this time.

A mutated hand, blessed by chaos, rests on your shoulder. Claws gently touch your delicate skin. The blood of a primarch with rejuvenation drugs did not allow you to fade away. Bo said that you, like him, cannot grow old, cannot die. No, not just can't. Should not.

“Another world of the Corpse on the Throne has fallen. Soon the galaxy will be cleansed and you will never feel in danger.” - the mechanical rumbling voice hardly turns to a whisper. - “I remember you saying that you could become a remembrancer of Dorn. How long ago it was. But you became mine. Always was."

Oh, yes, you were his former captive from your homeworld Rudah. You will always be. You've never seen Olympia. It was Perturabo who told you about the wonders of his home world, and you fell in love with his culture. Exactly. How could you forget? Bo himself didn’t remember who you were.

He says your name. It sounded like a cacophony of sounds the most beautiful melody. You turn around and look at him adoringly. He's so handsome. Black flesh with red veins fused with iron. The once human face resembles the symbol of the Iron Warriors.

Perturabo was with you again. You will drink wine, he will talk about his grandiose plans, and then you will either go to the baths or end up in bed. Or maybe all at once. You hug the primarch tightly around his wide waist, unable to clasp your hands.

“Bo, I love you so much.”

The daemon-prince rumbles with pleasure as he allows the frail mortal girl to touch him. The claw gently lifts your chin, forcing you to look straight into the black eyes of the primarch. Perturabo kneels down to be at eye level with you.

“As always, you can’t contain your emotions, dear sister.” - the man pulls your small seductive figure closer to him. Even in his world, in his tower, he strives to hide you from everyone. The iron mask opens slightly and a long black tongue touches your neck. The skin hisses with the primarch's saliva. - “But enough words. It's time to get down to business."

You just smile happily, holding back so as not to moan at the top of your lungs. The personality is bursting at the seams, sticking together again like plasticine, as soon as Bo tells who he sees you. Whom does he desire right now or in the future.

And you will be anything for him.

[thecherrytarot]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐤𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐜 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐭.

pick a hiromi higuruma to know about your karmic debt.

pile 1 → pile 2 → pile 3

Pick the photo you feel the most drawn to and please remember that this is a general reading so take what resonates!!

𝐏𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏:

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞:

this pile is confusing me cause one, there are multiple messages and two, im not exactly sure what is the 'debt' that you owe but im seeing more of what is happening to you as a result.

you feel like you have lost all the structure in your well-balanced life due to some sort of authority figure taking control of you and your decisions, you have this feeling of helplessness and you keep thinking that "if i had control i would have achieved so much by now but things aren't aligning and i keep delaying my plans due to XYZ not making better decisions and life choices and i have to suffer the consequences of their actions while they get to live life easily while i settle" or something along the lines of that, (I was getting an even bigger message because i felt like you finally got a chance to communicate) you have bigger plans that you want to achieve and you know there is more to your life than what is in front of you but this feeling of not accomplishing your goals or what if you don't is eating you alive. for some of you, this may be due to you putting "minimal" effort in it and hoping that it everything magically works out but that is not the case sometimes. you let outside influence set you back and lose your will to progress in other areas as well. (i believe that it is okay to "fail" in certain things cause to me rejection is redirection and there is no harm in trying again) the advice here is simple; create and follow your path and put effort in, motivation will help you but only for a few days, what you need is discipline. do not let fear and your negative self-image hold you back from taking the direction that will take you in your desired direction. i don't know why but Santigo's journey from the book Alchemist came to my so if you haven't read that book please read it cause it might help you. learn to be patient with your decisions doesn't matter if they are long-term or short-term because regardless of that, they have consequences (our Karam) and it is important for you to not be impulsive to feel some sort of control over the decisions in your life. find a healthier attitude in your life and watch things change for the better, it is a slow process but it is worth it.

overall, the message is asking you to self-evaluate yourself and see if your actions have led to these consequences and what is that you are not learning. you always have a choice to make and it is a bitter pill to swallow but you can not blame others for it. i keep thinking about this dialogue said by King Baldwin IV, "When you stand before God, you cannot say, "But I was told by others to do this." Or that, "Virtue was not convenient at the time." This will not suffice. Remember that.”

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐:

𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞:

the message is similar to some parts of pile 1 so if you felt drawn to it, do check it out.

some of you could have been knowingly or unknowingly avoiding the accountability of your actions. life feels unjust and cruel cause of outside forces but remember to maintain balance and stay true to your higher self because the way you will react to these situations is gonna create your karma. im seeing that you will have a chance to fix your negative karma into a more positive one. heal yourself and realize that nothing outside of you has power over you, you are the one who decides how you accept, feel, think and do the things in your life. learn from your lessons and grow through the experience instead of refusing to accept anything. this will set you free. the more you neglect it the bigger it will get. it may feel as if you are trapped but remember that sometimes it is an illusion that we create in our heads out of fear of both, failing (the 'now what will i do?' feeling) and succeeding (the 'then what will i do?' feeling) detachment with the results might help you with this. i keep thinking of this saying in Quaran, "kun faya kun" which means "be, and it is!" life is not simple for anyone and hardships are also a part of our journey. it may feel like it is easy to avoid it and run but for how long will you do that? you have the free will; either to repeat those same mistakes and hold on to the things that are no longer helping you or find something new for yourself. i don't know how to write this in a way that will make sense but the message im getting is that the karmic debt that you owe to the universe is just rising above this and making peace with yourself and your surroundings. put your energy into things that you know will help you instead of being manipulated by outside influence remember that you are your own person before you are anyone to someone else.

𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑:

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐨𝐧, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐭𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐭.:

this pile feels a little heavy cause this includes past life karma (for some it could also be generational) and im pretty sure many of you are already seeing or sensing a pattern of past mistakes happening again and again and you feel like regardless of what you will do the outcome will be the same. the message here is that it is not entirely true but rather an illusion that you have created. you have your free will to continue it or change it. it is a slow and long process with lots of ups and downs as it is a cycle of multiple lives and not something that can fixed magically overnight. taking the shorter and easier route won't help you. it is important to heal, connect with yourself and trust your instincts. you may feel like the outside guidance is confusing you more rather than giving you clarity. the answer to this is simple; it is within you, catered to you since it is YOUR life and YOUR karma. you are becoming aware of the things that make you feel so restricted and some are even working on limiting the control others have on you, for others, the motivation is rising (if not use this as a sign) learn from the previous mistakes and avoid them. cause you do have a big purpose in your current life regarding this karmic cycle and you are being called out to make the necessary decisions to bring the change. You are not being punished for your past or someone else's mistakes, you are meant to learn a few life lessons to grow. for some reason, i felt picking out separate cards as a guidance message for this pile; your self-doubt is creating an illusion in you and you are letting it win. things get hard now and then but we shouldn't give in to our negative energy and insecurities. show determination and willpower, there is a strong desire in you to succeed and you need to execute it and it will be yours.

thank you so much for reading !!!

[rvblos]

౨ৎ⋆˚｡⋆ gucci dinner (blurb)

warnings: SMUT, unprotected sex (be safe pls), slight degradation, sub!reader, soft!dom (kinda) jannik, public sex(?), i went crazy sorry. this is the nastiest shit ive ever written.

notes: im ovulating so bad im so sorry i just need him FUCKED YOU IN THE BATHROOM WHEN WE WENT TO DINNER

the dinner was fantastic and the venue was wonderful, each table had a bouquet of flowers in the center and candles were scattered everywhere, creating a relaxing and intimate atmosphere. your attention had been drawn by the background music coming from the speakers, forcing you to briefly disconnect from the conversation.

“i tried to save that game, i really did. but your boyfriend’s serve is just unbelievable, right?” taylor fritz’s voice came muffled to your ears, bringing yourself back to reality. “i’m so sorry, could you repeat that?” you tried to apologize for your rudeness and jannik, sitting next to you, laughed to himself. to warn him you gave him a small pat on the shoulder gaining another light laugh from him.

“i was just talking about how good your boyfriend is at tennis.” he laughed too, taking a sip of his wine nonchalantly. you chuckled at his words, relieving the tension. “what do you think?” he asked you, morgan’s eyes following you as you drunk from your own glass. “yeah, what do you think?” you boyfriend asked you repeating taylor’s words with a shit eating smirk on his face, his hands suddenly gripping the flesh of you upper thigh under your linen skirt.

you gulped, feeling him going upwards within every second and finally reaching the hem if your panties. “yeah, i think he’s very talented.” laughing, you tried to keep your cool, even if it was nearly impossible since his digits were now circling your skin, making you shiver under his touch and getting even closer to your core.

“would you excuse me for a second?” you tried to sound calm and relaxed, but it seemed so challenging just because his fingers were so close to your folds and you couldn’t believe that he was really doing it in front of taylor and morgan. “is everything alright?” the girl in front of you asked with a concerned expression on her face. you nodded “yeah, just need to go to the bathroom.” you smiled to reassure her and disappeared into the sea of people that were roaming around.

entering the small restroom you ran to the mirror only to find your cheeks redder than ever before. he really did make you blush. you rested your arms on the small sink in front of you, leaning your head against the glass and trying to regain control of your body, inhaling deeply and not wanting to let him win over you. but before you could even notice it, the door opened.

shit. that was it.

you didn’t turn, you could see his reflection in the mirror, his body leaning against the door and that same smirk on his face. “what are you doing here?” you scoffed, now facing him. he was looking at you hungrily, like he’d never seen you before, like it was his first time. “what’s up with this attitude?” he joked, closing the door behind him and reaching you slowly.

“what were you trying to do earlier?” that was a rethorical question, you both knew very well what he was doing and even better what he wanted to do. and you could see it in his eyes that he was having fun, he was enjoying it. “what do you think, huh?” he asked you back, his lips now almost touching yours, trapping you between the wall and his own body.

“we can’t.” you placed a hand right on his face as to stop him. “what did you told them anyway?” “that i needed to park the car or something, i don’t remember.” he sounded so calm and relaxed, you hated him when he acted like that.

“c’mon, ten minutes.” smiling boldly he begged you, taking a strand of your hair in his hand, twirling it over his fingers. he was towering over your body, looking down at you while his red hair fell beautifully on his face. one of his hands found place on your hip, caressing your flesh under your skirt’s material and sending shivers down your spine.

“five.” you finally gave in, rolling your eyes back at his insistence and demanding that single word like it was a sentence. you thought he didn’t want to lose any time with you, his hands were quick as they started to undress you, leaving your top fall onto the ground, followed by your skirt as well. his lips took place on your neck, kissing and biting your skin gently, leaving some red marks that would’ve been very evident once you were going to be back to the table.

where was the bold guy, unable to wait to touch his girlfriend now? it was like he was scared to touch you even knowing damn well that since you had such little time that he should’ve made the best of it. but there he was, taking his time with you, kissing your boiling skin as you two had an eternity of time. “jan…” you tried to say, panting for air when you felt him gently nibble at your earlobe. “they’re gonna get suspicious.” your panties suddenly slipped down, now resting between your knees. the sudden contact with the cold air made you shiver and your walls clenched around nothing, looking for some sort of relief.

you could feel the wetness between your legs starting to drip down but it was finally relieved when you felt him abruptly making his way into you. a scream of surprise almost escaped your lips, if he haven’t been so quick to cover your mouth with his hand. “shhhh.” he mumbled with a broken voice from the pleasure, his lips pressed onto you shoulder as he tried to be quiet as well.

he slowly moved out of you, only for slipping inside one more time to try and find his own pace. it was all so sloppy and slow it was making you see stars. the way he looked, holding your body in his arms against the wall, his bright green pupils staring right into yours as he fucked you and the unholy noises your bodies were making, parting just to reconnect once more.

jannik was giving you slow strokes, rolling his hips against yours as your nails claws all down his back, a soft and small moan escaping your lips. he groaned as he could practically hear the sloshing of the stretch deep in your cunt. “please” you managed to say between whimpers, your back on the cold marble of the wall. “what is it?” he asked you, cheeks so red from the effort that made him look so cute.

“faster… please.” it sounded like a question cause your voice was almost giving out. “fuuuck” he panted “you look s’pretty like this, doll.” his hands gripped the flesh of your legs to sustain you better, making you squirm under his touch. he was reaching spots you didn’t even know could be reached, and as he hit one in particular you whined so loud he had to warn you again.

“look at you, begging me for more when you didn’t even wanted to be fucked in the first place.” he made fun of you, knowing it turned you on even more; there was a hint of laughter in his voice when he suddenly felt your walls tightening around his cock. but his movements didn’t stop, not even for a second: his hips were rolling against yours harder than before and you knew you were close but when he twitched inside you, you felt you could cum in that very moment.

little tears of pleasure rested at the side of your eyes while you squeezed them shut. he placed a little kiss on your cheek before saying “i know you’re close, let it go.” with one final thrust you clenched so hard around him he almost whimpered out loud. you could feel your juices dripping down your tight but you couldn’t tell if they were yours or his, since he filled you up completely, like he always did.

“fuck, that was intense.” you whispered, breathing normally again. he chuckled taking his pants from the floor and giving you your skirt. “c’mon, you don’t want to miss dessert, do you?”

tag list: @rublito @yungbludz @gogz-ee @xoxolovlies @pretty-hate-machineee @2manytabsopen @carlosalcarazlefttoe @heyitsconysstuff @ithinkimokeei @kuroppiii @dilf-daniil @ricolaviecher

[deobienthusiast]

drunk on woo | ksw.

• pairing: kim sunwoo x gn!reader

• word count: 1k words

• genre: non idol!sunwoo, suggestive, there isn’t really fluff, but there also isn’t really angst. it’s just, suggestive

you meet the perfect stranger on accident in a club, and now you keep coming back for more as he leaves you feeling more intoxicated than alcohol ever could

warnings: mature themes, no actual description of a sex scene, but there is call backs to sex, im hesitant to say 16+, probably would say 18+ just to be safe. i wouldn’t consider this something a minor should probably interact with so mdni (pls), mentions of alcohol

notes: i welcome you to the most spicy thing ive written. not sure if ill get more spicy or if ill fizzle out but this has been on my mind for a while and i needed to put it into words. so enjoy. this wasn’t proofread btw i just sent it to sana (@sanaxo-o) so she could be surprised😏😉

the barstool you occupied pulsated from the loud music pumping through the speakers. the drink you were holding shook slightly, leaking onto the sides of the cup from the bartender overfilling it. you weren’t worried about that, though. you already had a few drinks, a form of liquid courage if you will. this wasn’t a regular scene for you. you weren’t the party and drinking type, however you were drawn here for one reason and one reason only. kim sunwoo.

you knew he frequented this club, and he came here on fridays. after meeting on accident due to your friends dragging you here out of pity, you two met. he was enamored with your quiet and shy demeanor. he thought you were breathtaking. and honestly, you thought the same thing about him. his hair was jet black, shiny, and curly. it fell in front of his dark, boba-like eyes and had a bounce to it every time he moved. what really drew you in were his lips. full and pink, constantly being pulled between his teeth and licked by his tongue. you two danced together the whole night before he inevitably dragged you away from your friends, taking you back to his place.

he showered you in lust-filled kisses and filthy words hidden inside the sweetness of his voice. his lips, the same ones that drew you in, brought you over the edge repeatedly. whether it was through his words, or the skilled way he buried himself between your legs. you were a goner before he was even inside of you. the night went by quickly. when he dropped you off at your friend’s place the next morning, you were left wanting more. you never got a phone number, and you were desperate. you slept with other men after him, but it wasn’t the same. it didn’t feel the same. you craved him in ways that other men or your own toys couldn’t satisfy.

hence how you ended up back in the club, this time accompanied by no one. you needed another night (or more) with sunwoo. you told yourself it would be just to get him out of your head. deep down, you knew that wasn’t the truth, but you would cross that bridge when you got there. the lights were low, black lights decorating the walls, casting a purple haze across the crowd of sweaty bodies lumped together on the dance floor.

despite the amount of people in the building, it wasn’t hard for you to find sunwoo. the way he moved through the crowd, the way he danced, the way he moved his hips, was all subjective to him. he stood out, in a good way that is. his hair still black and shiny, but the black light was picking up a light color, turning the strands a bright purple color.

he put in highlights.

you remembered the silky smoothness of his hair between your fingertips. the way his hair bunched up between your fingers as you pulled on it. he loved it. he told you to pull harder.

you grabbed the drink on the counter and downed it, pushing yourself off the barstool. the liquid courage had you feeling bold, but who knew how long it would last, especially around him. you made your way through the crowd, bumping into people who didn’t bother to say anything, because they were too busy dancing offbeat to the club music. he had his back to you, keeping his distance as he danced with a girl and her friends. when you were just a foot away from him, you tapped his shoulder. the tap was enough to alert sunwoo as he turned.

his eyes widened as a smirk made its way to his face. his full lips pulled up slightly revealing his pearly white teeth that glowed under the black lights. with how close you were now, you could see hints of blonde in his hair, the light color attracting the black light. sunwoo wasted no time in grabbing your waist with his large hands, the same way he did in his bed, holding your waist in place as he spoke above your high pitched whines. if you keep moving, i’ll punish you.

the words echoed in your head, making you shudder as he pulled you into him, turning you around just before you make contact so your back is pressed against him. he moved your hips in time with his, feeling him move one hand to completely circle your waist, while the other moved up to tilt your head to the side. the music made everything he did more intense, before you felt his plush lips plant themselves on the exposed skin of your neck. you gasped.

i missed you.

his words muffled against your neck, just barely being loud enough for you to hear. you swallowed hard, feeling your throat go dry. he continued peppering kisses on your neck before he found a particular spot he was fond of, sinking his teeth lightly into your skin. you whimpered at the feeling of his tongue gliding back and forth on the mark he just left on you.

i missed those pretty sounds. couldn’t stop thinking about how good you were, how sweet you tasted.

you felt yourself heat up at the thought of living rent free in the kim sunwoo’s mind. his thoughts poured out of him, letting you know he hadn’t taken anyone else since your night together, getting himself off to the thought of you and your pretty sounds as he put it. he was slowly driving you crazy, making you dizzy at the touch. he knew the effect he had on you. spinning in his arms, he lifted his head quickly before you pulled him into a deep, yet messy kiss. teeth clashing, tongues colliding, and groans being shared. all of it being laid out in the vicinity of the club without a care in the world other than getting lost in each other.

when he pulled away, you whimpered, feeling yourself rub your thighs together at how worked up you were. sunwoo chuckled as he laced his fingers with yours, pulling you through the crowded dance floor to the exit.

don’t worry baby. gonna take good care of you.

[dirtybitfic]

Reality- pt.1

Matt x y/n - Matt was your creative writing professor throughout all four years of university , he made lectures interactive and fun making him your favorite professor , throughout having him as your professor you caught feelings for him , now that you have graduated you think about reaching out....

( didn't proofread cause I didn't have the energy so I apologize if there are any typos)

Y/n pov-

Ive been having the time of my life on vacation with my best friends , we graduated this past spring so we decided to plan an amazing trip to Greece .

Im more than happy to be done with school for the rest of my life but ... I find myself missing one class in particular on this trip . Every time I sit down to read or write about my day or even as I write the book i'm working on , I think back to my creative writing teacher . Ive always loved writing wether it was my dreams as a kid or crazy stories my mind would come up with I found it made me happy . After having Professor Sturniolo for four years he made me fall involve with literature and writing even more . The day I graduated he told me he was so proud of the student I had become in his class , he loved my determination and creativity , and he loved watching me blossom into the hopefully soon to be author I am .

I grew to love him and a professor but also I slowly felt the feelings blossom for him throughout the years . I mean he's young , he was only 23 my freshman year and 19 year old me was foaming at the mouth walking into that lecture hall , His fluffy brown hair, Peircing blue eyes, tattoo scattered arm and deep but calm voice god he was just perfect.

Im three glasses of Santo down while writing a few chapters of my book but start to read over it a bit and feel like its missing something but I cant quite figure out what. Thats when I remember Professor sturniolo told me I could email him anything I write in the future if I ever needed notes or help , he is a published author after all . I search in my notes for his personally email he gave me and start up an email .

*email to profesor Sturniolo

Hi mr. Sturniolo ,

Im sorry to bother you , but I wanted to see if you could maybe read over my latest chapters of my book i'm writing . I trust that you will give me the feed back and guidance I need .

hope your summer is going well !

( inserts pages for him to read)

sincerely , y/n

After clicking send my stomach flutters with nerves , the books I write are... suggestive is the best way to put it . Dark romance is the style i've always been drawn to something about a stalker romance does something to me . When I was in his class I kept it classy with my writing style so having him read this type of work by me seems a bit inappropriate but then again he is no longer my professor so its not as bad .

I set my computer aside and fill my glass again and take a sip as I look over the beautiful scenery in front of me . I put my AirPods in as I start playing Young and beautiful by lana del rey . I close my eyes feeling the warm breeze blow through my hair as a smile spreads across my face . I could get used to this life , traveling around , writing in beautiful places just being happy while doing what I love.

Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac comes on next and I stand as I slowly dance along to the music on the terrace and dramatically turn and grab the railing leaning back . It feels like i'm in a movie with how beautiful the scenery around me is . I hear the sound of an incoming email notification and my heart drops . I pause the song and sit back down looking at my computer seeing its from him . I take a deep breathe before opening it.

Good evening y/n,

I just started reading over the first few pages , your writing is amazing its filled with raw emotion which as a reader makes me more interested to keep reading . Would you be up or able to call once I finish fully reading what you've sent I think it would be a lot quicker for me to just tell you on the phone my feedback then type it out in an email.

Sincerely , Matt.

As I read over the email again just to make sure I read it correctly my heart literally falls to my ass . Im embarrassingly eager to talk to him on the phone . I decide to send him and email saying id love to call and left my number at the bottom .

I sit in the chair buzzing with nerves waiting for my phone to ring. I zone out looking at the water for god knows how long before I snapped out of my trance by my phone ringing. I look to see its a California # meaning its probably Matt.

I shakily pick up the phone and put it on speaker .

"Hi y/n its so nice to hear from you" his voice rumbles through the phone " You too I know its probably very late in California so I'm sorry for emailing you so late" I say shakily as the nerves fully take over my body." oh no please done apologize i'm actually in Italy right now so its not late at all" he says and I gulp Italy isn't too far from here meaning were probably in the same time zone. " oh god even worse ...I bothered you on vacation didn't I?" I ask now feeling terrible for bothering him. " No no trust me your fine i'm taking sometime here to get inspired for some upcoming books i'm writing so really its no bother at all" he says ending it with a warm chuckle that makes me smile. " well thank you again for even taking the time to do this I really appreciate it " I say sweetly " of course so lets talk about these chapters so far , I love the base line I think you've written dane very well , the detail you write about him makes it easy for me to envision him and get a feel for the character , ivory is written even better I mean she almost reminds me of you , but I think its missing some fear aspects . What I mean by that is Dane is her stalker and is following her around and entering her house without invitation so I feel like she should be more scared and fight back more than you have her , I feel like she's a bit too ... calm about the situation. I think if you add in that fear hes distilled in her it will help a lot with their character and relationship growth throughout the rest of the book but other than that I think the writing is amazing so far . I really am happy you came to me for help , I know I could be a little hard on you guys but I really did care about seeing you grow into the amazing writer I know you can be" he says and I cant stop smiling , hearing his kind words and praises have my stomach twisting and my heart beating a mile a minute. " I knew something was missing thank you so much this feedback really did help Mr. sturniolo " I say and I hear him chuckle " Of course and please call me Matt no need for the formality , you probably need to get some sleep I could imagine its very late in Oregon " he says and I smile

" well it is but i'm actually in Greece right now so i'm not to tired" I say " Oh wow then I guess you're watching a beautiful sunset right now , its beautiful here I can only imagine how amazing it is there" he says as I sigh and smile " It really is beautiful , the way it reflecting off the water is the best part " I say as I stand up and walk over to the railing looking out at the beautiful colors filling the sky " show me " he says and I furrow by eyebrows in confusion " what do you mean ?" I ask nervously " Face time me I want to see how beautiful it really is " he says calmly . " O-okay " I say as I hit the face time button and it connects almost instantly , I flip the camera quickly as I show it to him but instead of looking at it with him i'm staring at how fucking hot he looks . " wow your weren't lying its amazing " he says as his eyes move around taking in my view " I know , this place really makes the U.S seem dull and boring " I say as I still cant stop admiring him . "Sadly I have to agree with you on that " He says smiling . He flips his camera showing me the sunset he's currently seeing. " Oh my god ... its beautiful especially on a vineyard god I cant even imagine " I gasp as I take in the view . " It really is something huh" he says behind the camera . "mhm" I hum back smiling . He flips his camera back to his face and reluctantly so do I as I go to sit back down in my chair. " So are you in Greece all alone ?" he asks and I shake my head . " No i'm here with some friends but they've left me alone so I can write a little bit" I say and look into his beautiful eyes through the screen. " Ahh well that seems fun , a big trip with friends is always a good time " he says smiling taking a sip of wine . I admire him as I sigh and smile "Yeah its fun I just... I know i'm only 22 but I feel like i'm too old to be going out like they want to you know , its an every night thing " I say and he shakes his head laughing " trust me you are not too old y/n , you should be going out and having fun ... your young you gotta take advantage of it " he says and I smile " yeah I guess your right " I agree and he smiles before looking slightly behind me . I turn around seeing two of my friends standing by the back door smiling " WHO IS THATTTT " one of them yells and I smack her as she approaches . " No seriously hes so hot " my other friend says smirking . My face gets so red I look like a tomato . " Im so sorry Matt .... I should probably go but thank you again for the help " I rush out nervously " Of course y/n feel free to reach out anytime i'm more than happy to help " he says with a smirk that has me about to pass out in my chair . " Sounds good , have a good night " I say smiling " You too gorgeous " he says before hanging up. I gulp as I realize what he said before he hung up and my heart literally beets so loud I can hear it in my ears and feel it in my head.

" Guys seriously ... That was my old professor " I say as I turn to them still red in embarrassment . " WAIT LIKE ... PROFESSOR STURNIOLO THE ONE YOU NEVER SHUT UP ABOUT" she squeals and I nod . " Oh my god y/n whatttt ... he called you beautiful " she gasps and I hide my face in my hands . " I knowww " I say in a high pitched voice embarrassed. " Okay but like ... a FaceTime is crazyyyy , how did that even happen?" my friend ally asked and she sat down Callie doing the same. " well I emailed him asking if he would maybe read the recent chapters of my book and give me some feedback because I was struggling and then he emailed back and said it would be easier to call instead of email his notes so I gave him my number and then he told me that he thought my writing was great and a couple things I needed to add and then somehow we got to talking and he said he was in Italy and I said I was here and then he said something about how he was watching a beautiful sunset and I told him I was too then he asked me to show him over FaceTime so I did and then you guys came out and yeah " I rambled as they reacted with facial expressions and small gasps and squeals .

" No fucking way I mean girl ... he's gotta be into you I men he fully initiated the calls and shit andddd kept the conversation going after giving you the notes so like ..." ally says making me smile and blush . "Oh for sure he definitely wants you " Callie says smirking and shoving my shoulder . " No he doesn't y'all are reading into it to much" I say as I roll my eyes. " Y/n he called you beautiful ... be so for real right now he definitely likes you " Ally says and I cant help the smile that spreads across my face. " Okay I mean yeah but ... he was my professor we cant go there" I say and shake my head " Oh yes you fucking can , you graduated he isn't your professor anymore " Callie says making me laugh " okay whateverrr now lets go out I need to get drunk " I say as I close my computer and head back inside to get ready.

After a long night of drinking , dancing and laughing with my friends and random people we met throughout the night , Im stumbling up the stairs to our place with all of us giggling like school girls . " Y/n you should totally text him " Callie giggles and I laugh " No I may be drunk but I still know that would not be a good idea" I say and they all giggle " Oh come on you've wanted him for 4 years and he called you beautiful there's no way he'd shoot you down" ally says and I trip making us all laugh. " Shut the fuck up i'm not gonna do it " I say back but the thought runs through my head . " I mean you can send him a picture of this sunrise and say something like , this view would be better if you were beside me " she says and I burst out laughing " That is terrible like level 10 cringey " I say through gasps and giggles. " Okay yeah it was pretty bad but like send him a pic of it and say , is it as beautiful there or something" Callie says and I think about it " You know what okay fine ill do it" I say as I tussle through my purse grabbing my phone and taking a picture sending it to him then the " is it as beautiful there as it is here" .We all steel when I hit send and I throw my phone back in my bag .

" Alright i'm going to bed , my head is spinning right now" I say as I stumble to my room . I tear off my uncomfortable shoes and outfit and use a makeup wipe to get a good amount of my makeup off . Then flopping into bed way to exhausted and drunk to put pajamas on . I hear my phone ding so I fish it out now my purse seeing its a text from Matt . I open it and see its a picture of a sunrise with a text that says " Its pretty but not as breath taking as you" I gasp and throw my phone down giggling . I think of what to text back and decide to let my intrusive thoughts win " Thats a naughty thing to say Mr. sturniolo I was your student after all" with a smiley :) . I giggle at my text but my heart drops when I see the bubbles appear . " Key word was , ive always thought you were beautiful y/n I just kept those feelings hidden for the sake of being professional " his text read and I gasped . No way he just confessed to finding me attractive for these past four years . " Are you fucking with me ?" I text back . " No I mean every word I said , you're the most beautiful girl i've ever seen" he texts back and I scream into my pillow . " Well if we are being honest here ... i've had the biggest crush on you , the entire time I was in your class I couldn't keep my eyes off of you" I text back letting the alcohol fully take over . " Oh really , how many times did you fantasize about me during class?" he asks and I get nervous " every single day to be honest" I text back and 4 seconds later my phone is ringing . I pick it up giggling .

" Y/n " he greets " Matt " I greet back and I can hear him groan " Such a dirty girl for fantasizing about your professor " his deep morning voice says through the phone and I literally have to cover my mouth son moan doesn't slip out . " mm I have no shame about it " I say back smiling like a maniac " Oh I bet you don't , care to share any of these little thoughts you've had about me ?" he asks in a breathy tone making me clench my thighs " mmm I don't know, How bad do want to hear them? " I ask in a drunk but also seductive voice " Very bad " he answers back and I smile " Well i've thought about how you'd be in bed even had day dreams about it in class " I said and I could hear him groan " Oh trust me I know ... the way you'd look at me with your thighs clenched tight told me all I needed to know" he says with a deep chuckle . " y-you noticed that? I ask in a squeaky tone . "sweetheart I notice everything , you really think I didn't know you wanted me come on you made it so obvious" he says in a deep condescending tone making me clench my thighs as wetness pools between them . " I ... I didn't think I was that obvious " I say feeling embarrassed " No need to be embarrassed , I though about you too ... so so many times I wanted to take you over my desk but I couldn't ... but now now I can say whatever I want and there will be no consequences" he practically growls through the phone . I let a small whimper escape my lips and I can hear him groan . " God y/n you have no idea what you do to me" he groans and I whimper . " I could say the same to you Professor " I say in a teasing manner but I hear him mutter a fuck thinking I wouldn't hear it . " when do you get back to Oregon " he asks and I giggle " why ?" I ask " Just answer the question sweetheart " he says and I gulp " Friday" I answer and I can hear him click his tongue through the phone " You live alone ?" he asks and I gulp again " y-yes why" I ask again now feeling very nervous now. " How would you feel if I said im about to redirect my flight home to land in Oregon and stay for a couple days?" he asks and I can practically hear the smirk on his lips through the phone . " I-I yes I mean y-yeah id be okay with t-that" I answer back stuttering like an idiot as my stomach does summer salts. " Good now thats settled , ill be landing on Sunday that sound okay to you sweetey" he asks and I nod my head before realizing he cant see me . " Y-yes sir fuck I mean yes matt s-sorry force of habit " I rush out and I can hear him chuckle "Oh trust me I don't mind you calling me sir , sounds so good coming out of your pretty little mouth" he says and I moan unintentionally . "Well judging by the subtle slur to your words im guessing you haven't gone to sleep yet so ill let you go but well talk soon okay" he says " Mmm yes sir , goodnight " I say as I roll onto my side and get comfortable " Good night gorgeous sleep well " he says before ending the call .

Oh the girls are gonna freak about this when we all wake up .

....

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Badge Bunny Part IV

Masterlist here!

Summary: When it all becomes too much, you're ready to leave Lehigh behind but Gator has other plans in mind.

18+ Only! MDNI!

Warnings: Reader is referred to as "Bunny" or "Bun". Minimal use of Y/N. ANGST!!! Gun use mentioned for protection. Unprotected P in V (wrap it before you tap it). Tad bit of size kink. Creampie.

Word Count: 6.4K

You watched him leave, with tears clouding your vision as they began to roll hot down your cheeks. It felt like a stone sat deep within the pit of your stomach.

It was for the best. At least, that's what you keep telling yourself, while your head and heart are at odds with each other.

He was always stuck in limbo. Never fully present with you even when he was home. At Roy's beck and call any and all hours of the day. It made your heart ache knowing he would never be truly yours.

It surprised you when he hadn't fought back, accepting the finality of it without a single protest.

He'd left that morning and seemingly hadn't looked back.

After spending most of the day in bed in and out of consciousness, with your body thoroughly spent of its tears you trudged your way into the kitchen. Your eyes scanning the living room right away, as if they were drawn there.

He'd cleaned up while you had been sleeping that morning, even going as far as cutting out the carpeting that held those wine-colored stains. A fresh wave began to sting and build at your lash line at the thought of him trying to clear any reminders, as if it would somehow erase what happened all together.

It would be the first night of many that the loneliness was almost unbearable. The house was far too quiet.

Every little sound puts you on edge. He'd left his spare gun, so you moved it to your bedside. It had even crossed your mind to go to the pound and pick up a big dog for security mostly, but you'd also have someone in the house.

Nights were when the walls started to press in around you. Anxiety at its highest. Reliving all those moments over and over again. It was enough to drive someone mad.

You didn't want to go back to work, Henry understood and told you to take all the time you needed. Your job would still be there when you were ready. You also knew you couldn't stay unemployed for long.

Maggie came over a couple of times to check on you. Her hard exterior melted at the first sight of your swollen eyes and bruises barely beginning to heal, pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

You were waiting for that “I told you so” that never came. She didn't mention Gator, which was a first, always having something to say about him or his father. You were grateful for the mindless chatter and town gossip instead.

She'd brought you enough groceries that you didn't need to leave the house for a few days, but you were growing stir crazy.

When you'd finally made the decision to get out it was a breath of fresh air. The house was beginning to feel stuffy and small as you got that caged in feeling thrumming through your veins.

The next day you went back to work, opting for the morning shifts. It was shit pay, but it was better than coming in at night. Still worrying that someone could be lurking in the dark. Ready to finish what they'd started.

Gator finally came and got the majority of his things making sure to avoid you, doing it while you were away. You weren't sure how he knew you wouldn't be home. He hadn't reached out, but you knew he had ways of finding everything out in this town.

Your heart ached when you saw the now bare side of his closet. Drawers emptied of their contents. The finality of it hitting you with a magnitude you weren't expecting. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

That very moment you decided you were leaving Lehigh.

It's been two weeks since you last saw Gator Tillman.

You'd finally began to work nights, keeping that gun in your purse for added peace of mind. Pulling doubles as much as possible, saving every penny you can scrounge up. It still doesn't seem to be adding up as quickly as you would like.

It's been a slow morning, when you notice Andy walking through the door, not missing the way he tried to avoid looking directly at you when he sits himself at his usual booth.

You sighed to yourself as you headed over, grabbing him a drink before doing so.

“Hey Andy,” you tried to sound chipper, but you weren't even fooling yourself. Sitting his drink and a menu down in front of him.

“Hey Y/N. How ya’ been?” He asked, with a kind smile.

“Uh, I guess about as good as one could… after… all that.” Waving dismissively.

“I'm sorry. That was a dumb question. I…”

“No, Andy. It's ok.” Placing your hand to his shoulder in a reassuring manner.

No one ever asked about it. You wished someone would say something to get it out of the way, but they never did. Instead, looking at you like a fragile piece of glass.

“You wanna look over the menu or you know what you want?”

He ordered his usual. You knew he wouldn't have come here by himself. He never came in here before you and Gator got together. Gator dragging him here at least once a week while on shift just to see you for lunch.

You made more menial small talk, checking on him here and there.

Before he left you made sure to catch him.

“You can tell Gator I'm fine. And if he's so worried about me he can come talk to me himself.”

He didn't try to deny it, simply nodding his head smirking as he went.

“See ya later, Y/N. Stay safe.”

-

Being completely honest with yourself, you hadn't slept well since that night. A glass of wine quickly turned into a bottle before bed to fall asleep. It didn't help the bags under your eyes, but it took your mind off the pain for a little while. Relaxing you enough to coax your mind into a few hours of rest.

You'd been stocking up at the grocery store each time you went and today would be no different. You made the trek, leaving work at a normal time.

Henry could see your exhaustion and told you to take the night off. Well, more like ordering you to.

You hadn't realized when you left the house, you'd grabbed one of Gator's old hoodies instead of your own, but it would have to do for a quick trip.

Opting for a basket instead of a cart would make it a quick in and out. You browsed the frozen food section picking out a couple of things then heading straight for the wine aisle grabbing a couple of bottles of rosé.

You turned the corner, bumping full force into someone.

“Fuck,” you hissed out steading yourself against a broad chest, looking straight up into hazel eyes that you knew all too well.

“Gator, what the fuck?” He had a hold on your basket, making sure it hadn't fallen from your grasp.

“Sorry Bun… Y/N.” He blurted out, while his eyes roamed over you. He noticed his hoodie immediately, making a small smile creep up on him that was quickly wiped away by your disheveled appearance.

Bags are starting to form under your eyes. The bruise on your cheek is a distant memory now. The cut above your lip is nearly healed but will leave a scar. A small, taunting reminder that this is all his fault.

He'd had a couple of buddies watch you from time to time. His way of trying to keep you safe. Andy had relayed your message earlier today. You were smart he knew you'd see right through him when he stopped by.

He finally realizes the death grip he still had on your basket when you looked up at him with your signature, “what the fuck are you doing?” expression.

He let go and took a step back. Giving you the out he knows you'll take.

“I'm actually glad I ran into you.” You spoke, not meeting his direct gaze, looking back down to the basket not containing much of anything but the alcohol you planned to down for the evening.

“You are?” He perked up at that, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Uh, yeah.” Willing yourself to meet his eyes. “You need to tell your goons to back off. I'm fine. I don't mind Andy so much, but I don't need whatever you're trying to do.”

You weren't fine. You both knew it.

He scoffs. “I… what're you talking about?”

“Come on Tillman.” Titling your head up at him, leveling him with a sharp stare. “That savior complex you've got for me. Plus, you're a terrible liar. It's written all over your face.”

He snapped his mouth shut, gaze falling away from you, and finally noticing the wine. He didn't say anything, it would only make it worse, but you didn't drink. Not like that. And from what he's heard from one of his friends you came by the store daily for it.

“I just worry about you.” He said it so low; you almost missed it.

“You could have called.”

“Would you have answered?” He asked, but when you stayed silent it told him all he needed to know.

“I've got to go. Just… just back off. Please.” You quickly shuffled toward the front, trying not to watch the crestfallen look on his face. You glanced back once you made it to the register, but he was already gone.

As the days went on, you realize that even the doubles weren't getting you enough to move from Lehigh as quickly as you wanted.

An idea struck a couple of days prior, something Maggie had mentioned when you first got into town. The prospect became more and more alluring with each passing day.

You were stuck and it seemed like the most logical thing to do.

Henry was sad to see you go but he understood. Everyone understood. He was surprised you'd stayed around this long with everything that went down.

“I'm sorry, Henry. I just need to get out of here. It pays the bills but not enough to get me out of town.” Laying it all out on the line, giving him your notice.

“Hey kid, don't be sorry. It's ok.” He hugged you. You'd come to see Henry as a fatherly figure. He often rolled his eyes at your antics but always had a listening ear when you needed it.

“Just take care of yourself.” He added.

“Of course! I've made it this far on my own.” You grinned, leaving behind your apron.

You were headed across town to see a man about a different kind of job.

Gator stomped through the door of the Lucky Lizard a couple of days later, a man on a mission.

Henry spotted him as soon as he came barreling in, sighing to himself.

“Where is she?” Asking in a huff.

“Gator, nice to see you too.”

“Don't fuck with me right now. I know she quit her job two days ago. Where is she?” He fixed him with a pointed glare.

“Why don't you ask her yourself?” He turned away from him, grabbing a fresh beer for someone at the end of the bar.

“Because she doesn't want to talk to me. But I need to know she's safe. At least give me that. I know she talks to you.”

“Uh… that's a kicker now. Safe? I'm not so sure but I know she doesn't need you causing an uproar.” He was hesitant, mulling it over. Watching the younger man's expression turn a little more rigid. He was already mad; this would probably send him over the edge.

“Gator, now don't be a dumbass about this, but I know she went for a chat with Jeremy Nash.”

He felt like someone poured ice water over him. Anything but that.

“Fuck.” He hissed. Henry called after him, but it was too late. He was already out the door.

You weren't new to this kind of job, moonlighting as a cocktail waitress a few years ago, but you'd never taken the plunge to actually be an entertainer.

You'd gotten hired on the spot by Jeremy to start the weekend shift, luckily giving you a couple of days to prepare.

You arrived early. He showed you the grand tour giving you a locker and a vanity to get ready at.

The other girls looked at you with disdain and jealousy as soon as you walked in. Seeing you as nothing more than fresh meat and competition to take their money.

They chatted amongst themselves, not so much as a word toward you as they quickly got dressed and left you alone in the dressing room.

“Nice welcome,” muttering to yourself as you continued getting things out of your bag to get ready.

As you were finishing your eye liner, Jeremy came bustling into the room.

“Looking good! Ready to make some dough? You're up next.” He stated enthusiastically, eyes trailing your exposed skin, as if he didn't see tits and ass every day. He was a little sleazy but nice enough.

You were about to go on stage at The Tender Trap.

The only strip joint within 100 miles and it just so happened to be close to Lehigh.

“Uh, sure.” You put on your best fake smile and stood.

“Wow, you look great. What's the stage name again?”

“Ugh, Bunny.” Holding up those bunny ears you'd had stored away in the closet back at home for emphasis. Going with all black, fishnets with thigh high boots, you'd only have white ears. Your body suit covering you until it would be time to remove it. Nothing underneath, leaving those fishnets, making you feel a little less exposed.

He grinned, nodding his head “it fits.”

It felt a little wrong to use the name. But you had the outfit right down to the ears and tail, might as well use it to your advantage. Guys go crazy for that stupid Playboy bunny persona.

He led you to the backstage, curtains drawn as another girl was finishing up.

The bass of the music thumping through you. Doing absolutely nothing to quell the jitters you had.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a special newcomer. Everyone give it up for Bunny!” The DJ came over the loudspeaker as Wicked Games by the Weeknd started to play. It was your cue.

Your hand slightly trembled as you pulled the curtain back. Stepping out into the small spotlight, temporarily blurring your vision.

You smiled at a couple of men to your right as you took a few more steps to the center, hips swaying with the song.

There were some whistles and shouts that spurred your confidence. You continued to look around the stage as you slowly walked forward.

Your smile dropped when you locked eyes with a familiar figure. He stuck out like a sore thumb at the end of the stage, as he loomed over the other men.

His arms were crossed over his chest, staring you down, feeling the heat of his gaze from across the room. You froze for a moment before regaining your composure.

He tilted his head as if daring you to continue, eyes dark and zeroed in on you.

You tilted your head toward him and placed your hand around the pole to go ahead with your routine. His presence be damned.

It was then he jumped the edge of the tip rail, much to the grumbles and protests of the other men surrounding you, shedding his jacket as he stalked over.

“What the fuck, Gator?” You yelled, as he held the jacket up around you, pushing you back toward the curtain.

“I don't fuckin' think so Bunny. Let's go.”

With your heels you were nearly nose to nose with him, standing firm, you just stared him down.

“No.” You spat.

“Hey!” Both of your heads shot toward a very angry Jeremy Nash storming your way.

“Get the fuck off my stage! You entitled fuckin’ prick. Your father doesn't own this place Tillman.”

Gator rolled his eyes then narrowed his gaze back to you.

“Gator, just get the fuck down!” You yelled, pushing his chest but he hardly budged.

Jeremy reached the edge of the stage, pushing himself up and over, grabbing Gator’s arm momentarily knocking him off balance.

It all happened so fast. Once Jeremy grabbed him, he'd turned quickly, his fist meeting the other man's nose with an audible crunch that could be heard above the music.

He grabbed his face with a groan and started backing away immediately, yelling for you both to get the fuck out as blood poured down his mouth.

Without a second thought Gator turned back toward you, bending down, throwing an arm around your waist, and in one fluid motion hoisted you up over his shoulder.

“Gator Tillman! Put the me the fuck down right now!” He ignored your protests, as you kicked your feet and pawed at his back.

“Quit it, Bunny. No girl of mine is working at a place like this.” He placed you back on the ground once you'd reached the dressing room.

The other girls gawked and cursed at the both of you before practically running over each other to get out the door.

When he rose up, you reared back and smacked him across the cheek.

"In case you forgot, I'm not your fucking girl." You hissed.

He wasn't shocked but he slowly released a breath through his nose before speaking.

“Get your shit. You can scream, yell and slap me all you want in the fuckin' truck but your comin’ with me.”

There was no point in arguing, you knew as much but at least you could let him know how you felt about it.

You gathered your belongings, tossing his jacket back at his chest and pulling a hoodie over yourself. Moving to the back door without saying a word, you let yourself out into the cool night.

You spotted his truck and got in, slamming the door making him wince.

He hauled himself into the driver's seat and started it, easing out of the parking space.

“You fucking humiliated me in there.”

“You’ll live.” He sighed. “As if you weren't about to humiliate yourself.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? At least it's honest work, unlike what you and your goddamn daddy get up to. And don't play dumb Tillman, I don't know everything, but I know enough.”

You crossed your arms and stared out the window as he kept his eyes trained on the road ahead. You expected him to snap back but he didn't say anything which only infuriated you further.

He wasn't the strong silent type; you can tell he was holding back. He'd throw his own tantrums, ending with you two clashing because you were so much alike.

“Goddamnit Gator you can't do this to me. We aren't together. You can't barge back into my life when you think I need saving. It doesn't fucking work like that!”

He slammed on the brakes, making you jolt forward and quickly pulled off to the side of the road throwing it in park.

“I can and I will! Especially when you end up in some shit hole like that! What the fuck were you thinking?” Sounding more disappointed than angry.

"I was thinking I can get enough money to finally leave this fucking hell on earth you call home behind because I don't want to be here anymore! That's what I was thinking. Anywhere is better than here. I won't have to see you, or your fucking bat shit crazy dad anymore.”

"Bunny," he tries.

"No, stop Gator. I'm not… you don't get to call me that anymore. Just drive me home. I'm done.”

He stares at your profile for a moment before releasing a heavy sigh, pulling back out into the highway. Neither of you bother speaking for a while until his calm voice cuts through the silence.

“You should leave, you know. Get out of Lehigh, hell out of the state. Get as far away from here while you still can.”

You were stunned. You'd expected him to beg and plead for you to stay, not this. Something was going on with him. You watched him concentrating on driving, but he was chewing his bottom lip.

“Is… is that what you want?” He didn't immediately answer, instead he pulled back off the road to give you his full attention, turning to face you in his seat.

“Of course that's not what I want, but if it means you'll be safe from… from all of this shit, then yes. Leave for your own good.” His eyes never left yours. You could see he was fighting his own emotions. “I love you, Bunny. I'll always fuckin’ love you until the day I die. It's just not safe.”

You could tell something was there. He wanted to tell you more.

“You… you could just come with me?” You looked up at him with pleading eyes, tears forming at your lash line threatening to spill. “Please? We could leave tonight. Somewhere no one knows us. Somewhere no one would find us.”

“Baby, I… I can't. I…” he reached out to touch you, but you quickly flinched out of his reach.

“No. This is exactly why we broke up. What the fuck was I thinking?” You laughed out, salty tears now flowing freely dripping from your chin.

He'd had enough of seeing you cry. He didn't know what else to do.

“Bunny, look at me.” His voice was stern, pulling you from your current spiraling thoughts, as he placed his hands on your cheeks. The pads of his thumbs wiping away your tears as you nuzzled into the tender touch.

“Fuck it,” he hissed. Quickly surging forward, pressing his lips to yours.

You pulled back, your hand meeting his cheek harshly. Slapping him before you realized what you'd done.

He nodded, pulling his lip between his teeth before releasing a harsh breath.

“I'm sorry… I…” you began, grabbing his collar, pulling him back and pressing your lips back to his, pushing him further back into his seat, swinging your leg around so you could straddle him.

It was messy, full of want. Tongue and teeth. Pushing and pulling at one another.

“It's okay baby, just… just take it out on me.” He mumbled, between kisses.

His hands found your hips, fingertips catching the holes of your fishnets. His touch setting you on fire as he pushed you down onto the tent already forming in his pants. Guiding you to grind against him, as you both moaned out.

“Fuck, I missed you.” You rasp out, as his lips begin trailing down your jaw, finding that juncture right below your ear, sucking a little harshly before soothing it with his tongue.

His hands trail up, pushing the hoodie up, until your barely clothed chest is on display. Squeezing your breasts in his large hands had his hips bucking up into yours. Already so eager to be inside of you.

“Fuck Bunny.” He leans back to take another look at you, slowly appraising your outfit. “I think ya’ need a reminder of who you belong to. Ya’ can't be showin’ everyone this. It's f’me. All f’me.”

“We weren't together.” Rolling your eyes, knowing it would get a rise out of him.

“Don't care.” He pulls the cups of your body suit down haphazardly, as you hear the fabric tear beneath his rough grip. “You're mine.”

“Gator!” Protesting that quickly turns into a moan, as soon as his plush lips meet your chest, sucking harshly at your nipple while he pinches and rolls the other between his finger and thumb.

He pulls off with a pop, smug grin plastered across his face.

“What was that sweet thing?”

“Oh, fuck you,” you hiss, with no real malice behind your words.

“Don't worry baby. We’ll get to that.”

You roll your eyes again, reaching a hand down to palm his very now prominent erection, eliciting a small moan cutting through his cocky demeanor.

“What's wrong baby?” Looking at him with your best doe eyed expression. “You miss me that bad?”

“You know I fuckin’ did.” He grits out, closing his eyes a moment before his hand wraps around the back of your neck pulling you down into another heated kiss.

Your hands quickly get to work as you ease back, reaching for and unlatching his belt buckle, undoing his pants and reaching in, finding him hot and heavy as you pull him free from his boxers.

Your thumb collects the precum from his slit, dragging it back down the length of his velvety shaft, as you swallow his stuttered moan.

You pull back slightly, his bottom lip between your plush ones, sucking before letting it pop back into place. You take the opportunity to catch him off guard, letting a string of saliva slip between your lips landing on the head of his cock.

“Fuck, Bunny.” He rasps out, hips pushing his dick further into your hand, searching for more friction.

He pulls at the hem of your hoodie, pulling it up and discarding it quickly onto the floor, as your hand comes back to languidly stroke him.

“Baby, please. If you keep that up, I'm gonna cum. I need you.” He didn't let you answer before his fingers slid the side of your body suit over. Bare save for your tights.

His fingertip grazes your clit as you throw your head back. He growled when the fabric caught, restricting his movements and further access.

You knew what he was thinking when he smirked up at you but before you could say anything to stop him, he pulled at the fabric, ripping it at the seam.

“Gator! What the fuck!” You hissed, before his fingers found your slit, sliding down catching at your entrance.

“I'll buy you a new pair. Promise.” You nodded, closing your eyes at the feeling, you ceased your ministrations gripping onto his shoulders for purchase. He circled your entrance, gathering slick before sliding back to your puffy clit. Relief flooded your veins as he began rubbing circles against you.

“More. I need more.” You moaned out, your cunt aching to be filled.

“Ride my fuckin’ cock then. S’all yours baby.” He said, gripping himself at the base and slapping it back against your bare pussy.

You raised up, allowing him to line himself up with your weeping entrance. As soon as his head breaches slightly, you grip his cheeks pulling his face up.

Maintaining eye contact as you slowly sank down around him. You relished in the stretch and slight sting, as he splits you open.

Pleasure begins taking over as your eyes start to roll back, releasing the grip on his face, bracing yourself against his chest. Your jaw went slack, as another wanton moan fell from your lips.

You slide down easily, inch by inch, feeling every vein and ridge as he fills you from beneath.

Your ass finally came to rest on his thighs, with his cock filling you to the brim.

He takes your palm and pushes it against your lower stomach.

“You feel me in there baby? Feel how fuckin’ deep I am?” You feel the bulge from where his cock is nestled within you, making your pussy flutter around him. “No one else could fuck ya’ that deep. Huh?”

“No… mmm… fuck, baby. God, I've missed you.” You breathed out, as you started to bounce, giving you both much needed relief.

“Yeah Bunny. That's it. Shit you feel so fuckin’ good. Missed this pussy. Missed you.” His eyes watch your tits bounce with the movement, as his hands grip your waist, helping raise your hips when you slow down just a bit.

Your bouncing begins to slow to a rhythmic grind, the thatch of hair at the base of his cock catching your clit with each pass as heat starts to pool in your lower belly.

“Keep going baby, I know your fuckin' close. I'm gonna… fuck… gonna fill my fuckin' pussy up.” He grabs your cheeks roughly, as your eyes pop open to look at him.

“Tell me baby. Whose pussy is this? Huh? Who do you belong to?” He growled out, holding you still as he begins to piston his hips, fucking up into you.

“You… it's yours… Gator! Fuck!” You scream out.

“Yeah? All mine baby…mmm…play… play with your clit f’me. I want you to cum with me Bunny.”

He watches intently as you hand trails lower, finding your aching clit as he continues to fuck you from below.

“That's it baby. Feels good, huh?” Coming out a little mocking.

“Ugh… yes… feels so fuckin' good. I'm gonna cum all over your cock.” Your fingertip glides over your nub, feeling that electricity licking up your spine.

“Yeah baby? Gonna cum f’me?” Watching his length move in and out of you creating a creamy ring at the base, a mixture of both his and your arousal nearly sending him over the edge.

“Yesssss baby. Fuck…” His cock continues to nudge that sweet spot within you with every upward thrust.

You grasp his shoulders as your orgasm begins to wash over you, dragging you under with a blinding force.

“Baby, I'm cumming… I'm… ahhh…” It was all consuming, your pussy clenches around him like a vice, as those sparks began to flicker behind your eyelids. Your legs trembled as you writhed atop him.

“That's it, sweet thing. My tight, little…mmm… pussy is grippin’ me so fuckin' good.” He continues to push into you from below, as you try to come back to yourself.

“Cum… cum in me baby.” Your voice comes out shaky, as his cock twitches at your words.

“That what you want? Huh? I'm gonna fill this pussy full.” He grips your hips with a bruising force, pushing you down onto him, somehow impossibly deeper as he begins to cum.

You wrap your arms around his neck, as your hips grind down, working him through his own release. Your pussy milking him of every last drop. His face was turned upward, jaw going slack at the feeling as he breathes out a heavy moan. You loved the fact that only you ever got to see him like this.

“Fuck, Bunny. Baby… stop… I…” His fingers tighten on your hips, halting your movements.

You both still, foreheads resting together, chests heaving trying to catch your breath.

You looked into those lovesick eyes that you've missed so much. Unsure of what to say. Unsure of where this left the two of you.

You slowly lifted yourself from his lap, as he slid from you, you quickly moved off and tried to cover yourself. Your tights were in shambles and your top was ripped. You pulled the hoodie from the floor and pulled it back over you.

He sighs, watching you as he stuffs himself back into his pants.

“No matter what I fucking do I can't stop. I still fucking love you, Gator.” You were transfixed on the window, gaze on nothing in particular. He lets those words wash over him. He never wanted it to go this way.

“I’m sorry. For everything. For not being there. For not protecting you. I should have goddamn been there instead of working that night.” You look over at him with tears in your eyes at the pain and regret emanating from his words. You know he blames himself for what happened.

“I know you're sorry but…” you closed your eyes, trying to steady your thoughts into words. “It's not your fault, Gator.”

You reach your hand out, placing it on his and squeezing gently.

“Bunny, I can't go back to pretending we don't give a shit about each other. I'm moving back home.” He fixed you with a serious gaze. Giving you no room for discussion or arguing.

“And there are going to be some nights I get home late, maybe not until morning.” He intertwined his fingers with yours and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You have to trust me when I say I am doing this for both of us.”

“You aren't going to tell me what's going on?” Your voice trembled.

“Bunny, I can't. Just please, trust me. It's all going to be okay.” There was something in the way he said it so reassuringly and unwavering.

“I trust you, Gator. I love you.” The words came out as you reached over wrapping your arms around his neck hugging him tightly to you.

“I love you, Bunny.”

In the following days, he moved his things back home as you both fell back into routine.

He rolled in some late nights, but you didn't ask any questions. He would come home and crawl into bed, pulling you into him, just like tonight.

You'd heard him enter, as a small smile crept at the corners of your lips when his arm wound around your waist with his warm chest to your back. His face buried into your neck, freshly washed hair tickling at your cheek as he sighed heavily.

“You awake baby?” He whispered, lips grazing your skin.

“Yeah, can't sleep until you get home.” He smiled at your admission but his heart aches all the same.

“I have to leave early in the morning.” He kisses your shoulder before continuing. “Whatever happens, I love you.”

You knew better than to ask what he meant. You just closed your eyes, praying to whoever might listen that whatever tomorrow would bring he'd come back home to you.

“I love you too.” You whispered through the dark, as the two of you held each other tight.

-

True to his word, his alarm blared before the sun rose, startling you both awake.

You'd followed him to the kitchen, watching his every move. Boxers slung low in his hips with his hair messy from sleep as your eyes drank in every detail.

“Baby, you didn't have to get up with me.” He chided, back of his knuckles running across your cheek as he sat beside you on the couch.

You curled into him, wrapping your arms around his torso, as he draped his over you resting his hand on your hip.

“Wanted to be with you.” Mumbling from your position, your head resting on his chest. He chuckled into his coffee before taking a sip.

“Whatever it is, you could just stay home. You don't have to go.” You muttered, grip on his waist tightening.

“I wish I could.” He kissed the top of your head, basking in warmth and love that he'd never had from anyone before you. Never thought he would be worthy of it, if he was being honest with himself. If he could bottle this moment and take it with him, he'd never ask for anything more.

He truly loves you more than anything in the world and reminds himself that this is for you. The both of you.

You stayed close to him until he practically had to push you off of him to head out, although reluctantly.

Once he laced his boots, he wrapped his arms around you one last time as you did the same, his hand rubbed your back with his lips pressed to your temple.

“I love you Bunny, but I've got to go baby.”

You hesitantly pull away, as he gathers his vest, slipping it over his shoulders.

“Be careful. I love you.” Saying it as he took his leave. You watched from the kitchen window as his truck left the driveway, taillights disappearing down the road.

You wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, so you began getting ready for your shift at the bar. Henry was more than happy to give you your old job back after Gator made it impossible to go back to the Tender Trap with his rescue mission.

It was one of those days that he didn't text very much which usually meant it was a Roy’s business kind of day, always leaving you on edge.

Your shift was going smoothly, which seemed to improve your mood. You checked your phone at break to find a missed call from Gator.

He'd left a voicemail, that you immediately began to play.

“Hey Bunny, I know you're working but I wish I could have caught you. Baby, I know I've been quiet about everything and I'm sorry. Just know that whatever goes down today that I love you. I just wanted you to know that, and… (muffled background noise) shit … I've got to go.”

It caught you off guard. You sat there looking at the phone in your hand, as you swallowed a lump you hadn't realized was caught in your throat.

“What the fuck?” You breathed out.

You dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. Your heart rate kicked up with your mind visiting the worst possibilities.

You sent him a quick text hoping he would see it and put some of your worry at ease.

Baby, please call me back when you get this. I love you.

You shoved it back into your apron pocket making sure it was on vibrate making your way back into the bar.

You made your rounds checking tables, as you heard sirens approach, snapping your head up to watch five black unmarked SUVs pass by quickly headed East.

It caught the attention of the entire bar; everyone was silent for a beat as they watched.

“What the hell was that?” Henry, cutting through the quiet.

“I don't know, but it doesn't look good.” You watched them until they disappeared down the road and out of sight.

Andy burst through the door a few moments later, making a beeline straight for you. Looking a little worse for wear, color drained from his face aside from his flushed cheeks. When he'd gotten closer you noticed a cut on his left eyebrow.

“Y/N! Something's going down at the ranch. I think Roy's finally lost his goddamn mind. Feds are headed over there.” He rushed out, breathless as if he'd run all the way here.

So, this was it. His unwillingness to answer questions and sneaking around. It started to make sense. Something big went down and he's known about it, keeping you in the dark.

Gator, what the fuck have you done?

[sweethartlullaby]

hi again! i really loved part 2 of the cheating scenario i loveee your writing! i think the breakup and make up idea is good, could u write it ? 🥹

word count: 1027 genre/theme: angst (ofc), new beginnings as always, imagine who you would like... find part i here find part ii here find part iv here sweethartlullaby ꕤ masterlist songs: can't go back - troye sivan (recommended by anonymous!)

He has anemones today. 

No yelling. Just wait for her.

He sits on the bench just outside of your apartment and he waits. It’s a Friday, which means that you’ll be home early, which is soon. He checks the flowers and makes sure that they aren’t wilting. He used to buy flowers for you early on, but after a while, he just stopped.

He got comfortable.

He hasn’t touched a drink in months but he still finds it tempting when you reject him. He has been in this exact spot for weeks now. Every Friday, he sits there and he waits for you to come back home, wishing that this time, you’ll look at him and hopefully speak to him. 

All the times he has done this, you walk past him and never come out again. He waits outside for an hour or so before he leaves the flowers on the bench and walks away. And every Friday, he tells himself that he has to try, that maybe this time it truly is different. 

He keeps checking the flowers, sometimes standing to stretch out his legs as he checks the time. It should be any minute now.

And then he finally sees you. 

You are walking slowly this time and he fights the urge to call you. He sits there and he wishes and waits. And then you do the impossible. 

You approach him and he is too startled to say anything. He just moves to the side as you sit and leaves ample space between the two of you. 

“What are they?” You murmur.

“Uhm,” He can feel his heart thump against the flesh in his chest. 

“A-Anemones.”

You only chuckle weakly.

“For new beginnings?” You finally turn to him and he has to keep it in himself to not burst at the seams.

“Yeah, the old man told me they were his wife’s favorite.”

“Did they break up too at some point?” You ask.

“Didn’t get to ask.” He places the flowers near you and retreats back to his own space.

It’s silent for a while and he can feel his hands shaking but he isn’t sure if it is because he is excited that you’re finally acknowledging him or because he’s too nervous for what you’ll say. 

“I keep all of them.” You suddenly say.

“Sorry?”

“They’re all, at least the alive ones, in my living room. You give so many that I have some in jars that I saved.” You laugh a little and he finds himself smiling as he fidgets with his fingers.

Silence again. 

“I thought you’d have lots to say, considering you’ve been coming here for a long time.”

He only nods slowly. He had so much to say before but now that he’s here, he can’t find the right words to blurt out. His silent stature now is quite a contrast to the thought that he would be on his knees, begging her to take him back. 

“So, do you?” 

“Hm?” He asks. 

“Do you have a lot to say?” Your eyes are glassy and all his nervousness has washed away. He just stares back and he finds himself lost in you. He has looked at you a million times, kissed you a hundred, and held you for longer. Yet he feels that he is looking at you for the first time again. He is just as drawn, just as enticed, and just as helpless around you. 

“I…” He takes a deep breath and he is about to speak when she bursts into tears. He can only stare for a moment. He doesn’t know what to do as you sob in front of him. 

“Why’d you even do it? Why’d you cheat?” He opens his mouth to speak.

“Why couldn’t you just break up with me like a man or tell me how you felt?” You beg and he shudders. He thought that you were better, that you had moved on from him. 

But you look so torn here now. And he feels so helpless, just like that night you told him to leave. He sees the tears in your eyes and he tries to stop himself from blurting out the tells of blame he used to say to himself each night. 

You pick the flowers and caress the petals gently. 

“You could’ve just left.” You murmur, shaking his core. You were right. He could have. So why didn’t he?

“I-”

“No,” His voice trembles.

“No, I…need to say this. I am sorry.” He looks right at you. He hopes that this reaches the both of you. He doesn’t want nights of torment anymore. And he knows, he knows it is unfair for him to ask for forgiveness, for so much from you. But he needs to hear you to say that you forgive him. 

But he doesn’t. 

You sob silently across him and he feels that it’s hours before he decides that he should leave. He wants to stay but your cries have died down and only the moon sits by with the both of you. He should let you be. This was a mistake. He shouldn’t have gone to see you. Maybe he is pressuring you too much. 

He stands to leave. 

“Stay.” You say.

He stops.

“Just stay with me for a while.”

He sits. 

“Just be here for a bit. I’ll probably still be mad at you tomorrow, and the next day, and the next, all the way until Friday where I’ll see you here again.” 

“And then I’ll be sad again before the cycle begins again.” 

He stays silent. 

“But I don’t want it to stay that way forever.” You say softly. The two of you sit there, with only each others’ breaths audible. He is trying to take in that you want things to change between the two of you. 

“And yet, I don’t know what I can change.”

You finally stand and he thinks that you’ve changed your mind. 

But then you say, “So I guess I’ll see you next Friday then.”

He looks at you with wide eyes and a small smile breaks out of him. 

“I’ll see you next Friday.” 

a/n: thank you so much for requesting again! i know that this one took a while but i'm off my break so i have less time! but i will still try to write a bit :( i also wanted to say please drop in the comments any thoughts you had about the fic! whether it's song recs you think fits well with this one, or who you imagined. i'd love to hear what you thought about it! hope to see you soon!

[todayisawthewhxlewxrld]

"hey Lucid Dreamer make up your mind, caught on the other side."

"you dream for the one you swoon."

synopsis// a boy you believed to simply be a figment of your imagination ends up being real.

pairing// izuku midoriya x gn!reader

word count// 3.4k

contents// fluff? maybe like a hint of angst? UA is a hero college, y/n's quirk is never told/explained but plot armor yk.

notes// i feel like this kinda sucks n is kinda cringe bc i wrote this MONTHS ago but i digress !! anyway omg guess what... this is actually inspired by a song... omg i know ive never done that before how unique!!! the song is the dreamer by I the mighty (my fav so good ughhhh)

You lean against the sink, palms flat against the countertop, your head hovering over the sink bowl, water dripping from your face. You, in a poor and ultimately futile attempt, splashed yourself with water to try and calm your nerves. Tomorrow was your first day at college, but not just any college; no, it was your first day at UA, the ultimate hero college. How could you not be nervous for something like that? You sigh deeply before standing up straight and grabbing a nearby towel to dry your face off; once finished, you begrudgingly shut the bathroom light off and make your way back into your room. You stop at the side of your bed, looking down at your bedside table and the clock on it.

The clock reads one a.m., and you groan; even if you somehow manage to fall asleep right now, you’ll still be completely dead in the morning. You ignore that thought and slip back under your covers, sighing. You lie there for what seems like an eternity with your eyes closed, tossing and turning, trying desperately to fall asleep but to no avail. You quickly return to lying flat on your back before turning your head to the side to check the time. You let out the loudest and most guttural groan in frustration, realizing it’s barely been ten minutes. Once you’ve accepted that you can’t fall asleep and probably aren’t going to for a long while, you decide to just lay there glaring at your ceiling, as if that would help your situation at all. Eventually, your mind starts to wonder toward everything and anything, from your first day of UA tomorrow to your childhood, and you suddenly remember him.

You frown at his remembrance; you haven’t thought about him in ages, nor have you seen him in ages—which makes sense given that the him in question is an imaginary friend from your youth, and typically, most college students don’t have imaginary friends anymore. Now that the first thought of him has occurred, you can’t stop the rest from coming. Recalling how you spent your entire childhood with him. You first met him a few months before you turned five. You had just come to the realization that you weren’t a late bloomer in developing your quirk; no, you simply didn't have one. So it’s safe to say that almost five-year-old-you was absolutely devastated and you cried yourself to sleep that night.

You ended up waking up in a cold sweat, soon realizing that this was not your bed—nor your room, for that matter. There were All-Might posters plastered all over the walls, and even the new sheets that covered you were All-Might themed. After looking around the room in confusion, your attention was drawn to a desk in the far corner of the room and the video playing on the computer that sat atop it. You made your way out of the bed and toward the desk only to find a little boy sitting there, a boy who didn't seem shocked to see you there at all. After a few minutes of talking with him, you learn his name is Izuku, and he’s also quirkless like you, something you were excited about considering how terrible and alienated you felt about it.

The two of you were inseparable after that day, or as inseparable as you and a figment of your imagination could be. Considering that you only ever saw him once you fell asleep, you spent more time sleeping than what would be deemed healthy your whole childhood, constantly sleeping just to spend time with your only (imaginary) friend. You appreciated having him around since he was constantly going through the same things you were at the same time. Like when, you realized you truly were just a late bloomer in middle school, and then that night when you saw Izuku, it turned out he was also a late bloomer. Though it was bittersweet, yes, you appreciated it, but how sad and lonely were you that your brain felt the need to provide you with an imaginary companion for all of your huge life experiences?

Though in high school you stopped seeing him when you slept completely, you were relieved at first to finally feel normal. Relieved to not be the only teenager who still had an imaginary friend, but that relief very quickly faded when you realized how lonely you were without him. Even though he wasn't real, Izuku was your closest and dearest friend, and you missed him so much it hurt. Most days, you'd take sleeping pills in hopes of seeing him again, but to no avail, your childhood best friend seemed to have been completely wiped from your brain. So you accepted it; it took a long time, but you eventually came to terms with the fact that he was just your imaginary friend, and that was all he’d ever be; he wasn't real, and he’d never be, so you stopped thinking of him. Until tonight, when you ended up dozing off while thinking about him. 

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You groan as you awaken to a faint light shining in your face. Your eyes shoot open when you remember that you didn't leave any lights on or leave your curtains open.

You’re not in your room.

Your heart begins to race.

You are not in your room.

You sit up straight, anxious yet impatient, and are pleasantly surprised to see the familiar walls filled with All-Might posters and the familiar All-Might themed bed sheets, which you can't help but laugh at because if Izuku ages when you do, he'll be a college student with All-Might sheets. Suddenly, your gaze darts all around the room, hoping to spot Izuku, but he's nowhere to be found, and you frown.

“I can make up his room again, but not him?” you mumble angrily to yourself.

You get out of his bed with a sigh and begin looking around his room; everything is mostly the same as you remembered it, but there are some new things. There are new pictures of him and his friends on his walls scattered amid the All-Might posters, as well as clothes thrown haphazardly on his floor and a messier desk. All in all, it appears to be his room, but a more mature version, which you chalk up to your brain just taking after your own room since it seems like your brain likes to do that a lot. You attempt to pick up some things from his desk only to be brutally reminded that anything you touch here simply ripples away before returning to normal, as if you just touched a puddle of water. Except for his bed, you can't physically interact with anything here. You dont hear the door creak open because you're too busy glaring at the stuff on his desk that you can't touch.

“Y/n?” someone calls out breathlessly from behind you. 

You whip around so fast that you momentarily lose your balance, mouth agape, as you stare at the boy in front of you. “Izuku?”

He cracks the largest grin you’ve ever seen from him. He looks exactly how you remember him, yet different all at once. He still has his curly green hair that messily falls in his face despite his best efforts, and his cheeks are still permanently flushed with his constellations of freckles, but this Izuku is bigger. He’s tall and lean, you can see all the muscles that have grown on him, and you think if you ran a finger down his jawline, it would cut you. But it doesn't matter; you can't touch him anyway; he's not real.

“Holy shit! I can't believe it's you!” He exclaims excitedly, and he looks just like he used to when he would tell you about All-Might as a child.

You can't help but giggle at his excitement because you're feeling the exact same way. “When did you start cussing?” you ask, still giggling.

He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Ah well, I picked it up from a friend of mine…”

“It’s really nice to see you, Izuku," you mumble softly with a grin as you take a step forward toward him.

Izuku’s entire face turns into the perfect hue of pink. “It's really nice to see you too, Y/n,” he mumbles back, “I missed you.”

He’s not real, what are you doing?

“I missed you too,” you say without missing a beat.

Izuku poorly attempts to bite back from smiling even harder than he’s already been this whole time as he walks to his bed. Once he's sat down, he pats the space next to him, and you go wide-eyed. He remembers that you can only interact with his bed?

You sigh and murmur to yourself, “Of course he remembers; he’s pretty much you, Y/n.”

He tilts his head at you. “What’d you say?”

You shake your head quickly and sit down. “Nothing,” you squeak out far too hastily for belief. 

“Where have you been?” He blurts out quietly, and the way his voice wobbles ever so slightly sends a twinge of agony directly to your heart. God, your brain is very good at making him seem like he has actual emotions.

You sigh and fidget with your hands, which are resting in your lap. “High school was rough, but at least it's over now, right?”

He hums in agreement. “It was rough for me too... Do you wanna talk about it?”

You shrug. Oh fuck it, why not? This is essentially your brain giving you free therapy; you might as well indulge yourself. “I’ll talk about it if you talk about it.”

He nods enthusiastically. “Deal.”

You sigh before lying down, and he does the same, turning your heads to look at each other. “I’m gonna be honest, high school was only rough for like a few reasons.”

He frowns. “You say that like you think it means it shouldn’t have been rough... Any reason is reason enough.”

You give him a small smile before continuing, “One of them was just me pushing myself to my limit to try to get into college, another was just not really having any friends, and uh... The last one was because I missed you.”

You don’t miss how his eyes practically flutter at your words. “Would you believe me if I said all of those reasons were also why high school was rough for me?”

You hum. Yes, because he's literally just made up to make you feel less alone. “Zuku, you have pictures of yourself with your friends.”

“I know, I know! but I didn’t really make them until senior year…” He explains sheepishly. “You mentioned college; you’re going, right?”

You nod. “Yep, I’m assuming you are too?” 

“Yeah!” he exclaims. “What college are you going to?”

You exhale heavily in defeat, remembering that you do, in fact, have college to attend when you end up waking up from this. “UA, I actually start tomorrow.”

Izuku sits up excitedly. “No way! I’m going to UA too!”

Of course he is.

You sit up with him. “That’s great, Zuku! I’m so proud of you for getting in. Not like it’s been the only thing you’ve ever talked about since we were little.”

He laughs, and if you were standing up, the sound would’ve made you weak in the knees. “I did talk a lot about that, didn't I? But didn’t you also talk about not wanting to go to UA?”

Even though you know he’s not real, you're flustered by how much he remembers about you. “Yeah, changed my mind.”

“And what made you change your mind?” he asks, coyly. 

“Definitely not you.”

“Rude."

“Okay, maybe it was you,” you admit sheepishly, mostly because you’re embarrassed at how a figment of your imagination could have such an effect on you.

He smiles at you warmly and places his hand mere inches away from yours. Lord knows he’d love to hold your hand, but he also knows that if he even tries, you’ll disappear. “I never forgot about you, Y/n.”

You go wide-eyed at his unexpected confession, and a lump forms in your throat. “I—I never forgot about you either, Izuku,” you practically have to choke out the words past the lump in your throat.

“You know, we practically grew up together,” he reminisces fondly. “And we've still never actually, um, I don’t know, met in person?”

Cause he's not real.

“I know.” 

“You should find me,” he whispers, his voice deep and low, and his eyes never looking away from yours, sends shivers down your spine.

You swallow harshly. “Find you?” 

He nods, his gaze still unwavering. “At UA, we’ll both be there. Find me.” 

You can’t.

“Okay."

He smiles softly, but there’s a hint of melancholy in it, and you realize why when he says, “One of us is probably gonna wake up soon.”

You feel your heart drop; he’s right; you’ve been here far longer than usual; it’s only a matter of time. “Izuku."

“Yes?” 

Oh god, this is so humiliating. What has gotten into you? Why are you seriously about to confess to someone who isn’t even real? “Izuku. I lo-“

He puts his hands out in front of him in a stop pose and immediately interrupts you, “Don’t.”

If possible, your heart drops even more; actually, no, it doesn’t drop; it breaks. This is your brain, your imagination. Why is this not going as planned? How is someone you made up rejecting you?

“Don’t?” you ask quietly for confirmation, like you don’t even really want him to clarify what he meant.

“I know what you’re going to say, and I want to say it too, but I want to say it in person.”

Okay, well, that’s never going to happen.

“Izuku.”

“Please?" he pleads, his expression softening. "Find me and tell me that face to face.”

You.

Can’t.

“Okay.” 

He can’t help but smile. “Okay.” 

You return his smile before sighing. Oh fuck it, this is most likely the last time you’ll ever see him again. “I’m going to do something, but the minute I do, we’ll wake up.”

He looks at you wide-eyed, slightly afraid even. “Do wh-“ 

He doesn't have time to finish his sentence before you’re pulling him into your embrace, or you would be if you could touch things here, so the minute you do "touch" him, both of you are rippling away like reflections in a pond.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

You jerked awake at the sound of your alarm clock, sitting straight up. Your chest heaves as you take in the fact that you’re back in your room and you just saw your imaginary friend, whom you're evidently not over, which is, within itself, embarrassing that you even caught feelings for someone who's not real in the first place, but you digress. You cringe as you have to practically peel your covers off of you from how much you were sweating. You quickly find yourself back in your bathroom, your head hovering over the sink and water dripping from your face. You, again in another futile attempt to calm yourself down, tried splashing your face, but like last time, it didn’t work. Every time you close your eyes or let your mind wander for even a second, you're met with Izuku telling you to find him. You can’t seem to escape how he was staring at you, like he could see right through you, like he was real and sentient. Like he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. You slap your cheeks softly as if to slap the thought away. 

After a few moments, you take a deep breath and point at yourself in the mirror. “No. Nope. We are not going to be delusional today, Y/n. We have places to be,” you say to yourself, half-heartedly.

And someone to find.

You shake your head at the thought before ignoring it ever happened and getting dressed.

☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。*。☆。☆。

By the time you were finished getting ready, it was already a little past eight in the morning, and class starts at nine, which wouldn’t be so bad if it weren’t for the fact that you have to walk. You practically flew out of your house and down toward UA, never stopping for a second, even when you were breathing so heavily that it sounded like you needed medical attention immediately. You start to calm down a bit when you can begin to see UA, but you’re still running, even through the other college students who are calmly heading toward the entrance. But you can’t stop now because, honestly, if you do, your legs would most certainly give out on you and then you really would be late, so it’s either you keep running or you'll tumble to your demise. The closer you get to the entrance, the more people you have to run past and the more crowded it becomes, so it’s no surprise when you run into someone's back just as you're about to enter UA.

“Shit, I’m so sorry!” You exclaim breathlessly as you stumble backward from the impact.

The person stumbles forward momentarily before regaining their footing. They turn around to face you, reassuring: “It’s okay! Don’t wo-“ 

Both of you grow wide-eyed when you’re face to face with each other, and you feel your mouth go dry.

“Izuku?”

“Y/n?”

You don’t say anything; you simply stare at each other in disbelief until recognition flashes in your eyes, then excitement; your whole demeanor shifts as you realize what's happening.

“Izuku!” you exclaim excitedly as you quite literally jump into his arms, causing him to stumble backwards, falling down and taking you with him. You instinctively cover the back of his head with your hands to save it from hitting the pavement. It dawns on both of you simultaneously that you’re touching him. He’s real, you’re real—and you’re touching him, and he’s actually alive. He’s actually a person, a true thing, no longer just a figment of your imagination.

He smiles up at you, who’s straddling him from the fall, your face hovering over his. “You found me.”

You nod fervently. “You’re real,” you remark breathlessly.

Izuku reaches up and cups your cheek with one of his hands. “You’re real.”

You can't say anything or do anything but laugh with glee; he’s real. His curly green hair is real; his constellations of freckles is real; he’s actually real. You push a strand of his hair out of his face and watch how his cheeks flush scarlet.

“You’re staring, Y/n.”

“How can I not?”

You notice his adam's apple bob up and down as he swallows harshly and brings up his remaining free hand to cup your other cheek, both hands engulfing your face, and you know there's no way in hell he doesn't feel his palms burning from your face growing hot.

“Can I kiss you?”

You go wide-eyed, your mouth falls slightly open, and you catch his attention flit down to it before returning to your eyes. You nod slowly and lean down hesitantly.

Izuku meets you half way by lifting his head off the ground, and with his mouth just inches from yours, you close your eyes, nervous from the anticipation. You can feel his breath fan against your face as he prepares to kiss you. But when he does, he doesn't kiss your mouth; he more so kisses the corner of your mouth before pulling away slightly to see you staring at him in confusion, though you aren't confused for long when he suddenly and roughly crashes his lips against yours passionately, as if he’s been waiting for this, dreaming of this, and who's to say he hasn't?

You can't help but smile into the kiss, and he does as well. You pull away slightly, both of you trying to catch your breath, but even so, Izuku is looking at you puzzled and disappointed. Before he can ask why you pulled away, you lean back in and cover his whole face in tiny kisses, eliciting little giggles out of Izuku that make you kiss him even more just to hear the warmth of his laugh.

“I love you,” you mumble inbetween pecks on his face.

Izuku pulls away from your kisses, causing you to stop momentarily and pout, before he's leaning back in and kissing you all over your face.

“I love you.”

©TODAYISAWTHEWHXLEWXRLD

[goodluckclove]

clove my kind comrade. i have a very emotional writing advice question for you. this turned kinda long, i apologize

i've been working on college applications these last few months, with the majority of that time taking the form of essay writing. and in these months it has been discovered that, at least to my dad's standards, my normal nonfiction prose writing skills are absolutely abysmal. i would write a draft, think i had everything pretty much shiny and complete, only to have everything i had worked so hard to finish absolutely picked to shreds by my dad and told i needed to start over. and there's nuance to this; i do quite literally forget a lot of writing tips and processes that worked for me, and it took last week's adhd diagnosis 17 years too late for me to stop hating myself for not being able to write a 300 word essay in a week. but this has left deep scars on my psyche and sent me for the most intense mental heath loop ive had in years.

that all contributed to a very intense anxiety ive developed about writing. i'll open a wip (or hell start writing an ask) and i will feel such a sense of dread. it's like i'm reaching into an oven that i know i've burned myself on so many times before. i can barely write a sentence before i start overthinking things too much and give up. this is specifically talking about my own personal writing. five minutes ago i opened my most self-indulgent wip that only four people on earth would ever be allowed to see and felt such an overwhelming fear of "what if it's bad". "what if it doesn't read this way to people". i've never had that before. i write what i write, and it's generally pretty damn good. but the anxiety i have about these stupid college essays has bled into MY work, MY own fun projects.

essentially, what i'm asking you is if you can offer any advice of how to conquer this anxiety. i know that an essay and a gay little fanfiction are fundamentally different things that cannot be equated with each other, and i know that other people's opinion on what is ultimately a self indulgent project can be easily and happily disregarded. but i can't have a self indulgent project if i can't even bring myself to physically write it.

this turned into a vent lmao. i hope you and Wife and the cats are doing splendidly.

Hi Bas! This ask made me deeply angry when I read it last night! Shame from artists, especially young artists just starting out in life and in their craft, apparently provokes a pretty deep rage in my soul.

I'm fine now. I'm at a coffee shop. Thank you for a pretty vulnerable and heartfelt insight into your brain-space, and I'm going to give it a pretty long and ramble-y response because that's what it deserves - and honestly, you've known me for long enough that I'm sure you kind of assume this is what's coming. Before that, though, I get the sense you're pretty anxious and drained. In the name of meeting your sincerity I would like to offer a look at the drawing my surrogate child demanded I draw for them after they saw the terrible Sonic the Hedgehog I drew from memory last night. Their prompt was "T4T Sonic/Shadow"

What do you think? I gave Shadow a wallet chain. I've never drawn fan art before but I do think going forward I'm going to give most, if not every famous IP I draw a wallet chain. This made me grin a lot because it's so fucking weird. Also it's not canon. Canonically Shadow would not smoke a blunt. Canonically Shadow the Hedgehog vapes.

Okay I made myself properly silly time for business. Come follow me into a hypothetical situation so I can talk to you (and anyone in your position - which is a lot of people your age) more intimately.

Okay, so I'm at a new coffee shop. It's open concept, fairly minimal an industrial in decor. I'm in this seated nook in the back at a bench by a large round table. The lighting is soft. There's a lot of plants and the baristas are like kind of anti-social which usually means the coffee is going to be great or pretty bad. Luckily it's the former - I got this iced maple cardamom latte. They have other drinks too. Tea. Your usual coffee varieties. They have a rosemary syrup you can put in lattes that I might try if I feel like I want another coffee later. Take my card and order something. I'll wait here.

You're back? What'd you get?

Mm. Fuck. I should've gotten that too. Nevermind, it's fine. I'll probably come back here again.

Okay, so college essays. I'm going to go ahead and just open by saying that college essays are absolutely not the same as nonfiction prose. Flat out, end of sentence. They're aren't apples and oranges - it's like comparing an apple and a used 2007 Honda Accord.

Good nonfiction means different things to different people. I personally enjoy a bit of humor and love for a subject, even if it's mundane to most of society. My wife prefers a Wikipedia-level of dry Academia. Different strokes.

College admission essays, however, are not good. They're really not. From a vague amount of research it seems this has been an issue for decades now.

You can still write like a bad college essay, don't get me wrong. Something riddled with typos or dribbled out by a generative AI. But if you look a little bit at what the people who actually check applications are, it seems the spectrum isn't "bad to great" as much as it is "bad to fine". My own college essay was some bullshit about how I learned about myself and the world around me by going to the grocery store before school and buying a baguette to have for lunch. It was stupendously mediocre. I got into college.

There's a lot of reasons for this. It could be because the average 17-18 year old isn't given the tools or opportunity to write really solid nonfiction - probably because the society we live in doesn't expect them to have anything to contribute in that way, but that's beside the point. You're taught essays. Ways to format papers that, from what I gather, only really apply in academic settings. When I was in high school the average essay had pretty stark parameters students were expected to follow, and from what I've heard those parameters have only gotten more specific.

With all that in mind, I understand why you're freaked out. If you look up tips on solid college essays the advice is like just comically vague. Be authentic! Focus on deeper themes! Pose a philosophical question! That last one actually made me laugh out loud when I read it, because it's so insanely discordant compared to how I've seen people you're age be treated. To go straight from people assuming you need your hand held on nearly anything to having a person say "Hey solve nihilism in 450 words " is baffling.

There's real advice in this odd, clickbait-y quips. You shouldn't feel like you have to play a character or pretend to be something you don't want to do, because that comes across in the text pretty easily. You should consider exploring a topic, because it reveals more about you as a person and that's valuable to the application as a whole. You - I'm going to go out and say you don't need to pose any sort of philosophical quandary at all, actually. That's a pretty wild thing to ask a huge portion of New Adults to be able to do.

So this isn't nonfiction. This isn't a think piece or a memoir, even though people might compare it to both. This is closer to a cover letter. You should still try, but do so knowing this is separate from your skills as a writer. Once you do that, you'll hopefully be able to relax enough to actually let your character slip into the work. What you mainly want to do is express a sense of your voice and sort of imply an idea of the type of presence you would be as a student at your school of choice. That's the point of the application as a whole. It's not going to win a Pulitzer. It would be truly, very weird if an admissions essay won a Pulitzer.

The other thing that I think might be making you and people in your shoes feel crazy is that you're in the period of your life when a lot of adults around you are going to say just the wackest nonsense. Oh this application determines the rest of your life! The stakes have never been higher! This is your future! You're setting the entire course of the rest of your life right now, somehow!

That obviously is also not true. Next year will be a decade since I graduate high school, and I still actually have no idea why some people had that level of intensity. It strikes me as incredibly counter-productive. I explained this to my kid, and they were shocked when I told them how many paths there are to get a higher education. You can get your first few years at a community college and then go to a university. You can go to a polytech school (They make them for the arts too! my brother went to Cogswell and it was such a cool campus) and get straight into industry experience. You might get into a university and transfer to a different one because it has a better program or opportunity.

All of these are cool. Not going to college is also cool, although it comes with other pitfalls. You can also go to college later on down the line. If you haven't figured it out yet, existing in the world is actually really flexible and open in terms of life choices. A college application, essay included, is not likely to play a huge part in the grand scheme of your life. The results of this will give you a sort of better understanding of your options for a plan for the next - like - year, maybe? It won't even determine it. It's more of a cool, maybe or a cool, I guess not right now situation.

It's also way harder for most people to work with a smaller word count. Less words mean less margin for error. That's stressful. You aren't a failure for struggling to write 300 words in a week when you can't choose the parameters of the writing, can't change the deadline, and probably have a bunch of people saying how crazy important all this is. Those are batshit work conditions for someone who doesn't have ADHD.

For someone who does, I can see how easily this would warp the perspective you have on everything else you do. Being picked apart by someone who hasn't been where you are in like 20+ years but still expects you to take their words as gospel? Confusing! Maybe feeling the inexplicable need to compare yourself to any published nonfiction you've read and loved, even though this isn't even nonfiction - and if it was, those writers have definitely been working in the genre longer than just goddamned now.

I think I've told a few people your age that this is the point where you kind of have to pick and choose how often you listen to the adults in your life. That feels irresponsible for me to say, but I do stand by it. When it comes to the transition between high school and college, most established adults are just crazy biased. Maybe because they raised you. Maybe because they're blinded by nostalgia and think that high school was the best part of their lives. Maybe they aren't familiar with the work you want to go into and what's needed to get a start in it. Or they could just straight up not understand how the college system works now.

It is such bullshit that you eventually have to craft a sense of internal intuition out of essentially nothing but it is a thing. It takes time, though. I won't pretend like you can make it happen immediately right now.

What matters is that you're okay. I promise you that - you're okay. Looking you straight in the eye, Bas, you're a good writer. Not "good for your age", I have read enough of your actual writing to know that you're pretty solid already. I've also read enough of your posts and had conversations with you to know for certain that if you wanted to pursue nonfiction you'd be pretty good at it right off the bat. This would be under the usual standards of a nonfiction writer, of course - meaning you get to pick the length, subject, and when you finish it.

You are in the unfortunate period of going through multiple transitions at once. It's hard enough to navigate the way relationships change when people decide (or struggle to process) how you're an "adult" now (also not really true in a lot of ways, but that's another ramble). But going so long under the assumption of having a Default Brain Experience and then realizing that all of the struggles you assumed were normal are actually an imbalance of chemicals is jarring.

It's treatable, yes. Once you get on a medication that helps with the dopamine everything is immeasurably easier, holy shit. But even then it's still painful at times because the difference is so palpable you sometimes stop and think why did it take so long for me to be able to have this? Why did no one see I was struggling? That was my experience, at least.

This is a crucial point in life where you have to be extra kind to yourself however you can. Once you get on stimulants, if you go that way, drink a lot of water and remember to eat (Some of them can make appetite wonky and I think they all dehydrate you). Be careful with caffeine because they do make you more sensitive to that. Maybe like just stop thinking about whether or not your writing is bad or doesn't work in certain ways because I am a Professional Writer and those kinds of thoughts have literally never been helpful to me. When they pop up in my brain I literally say "no" and force myself to think about something else.

Whether your writing is "good" is not an actual question. Is it coherent and does it contain a noticeable and unique voice? Yes. Is it what you want? I can't answer that, but if you say no the way to fix that is usually read more/write more/think more/share with other more.

Also does it read the way it should to other people? Stop it. Don't worry about that yet. You have to finish the damn thing or else it won't read any way to anyone. So much of writing is Second Draft You's problem.

Anyways that's all I have to say. My heart goes out to you for being pulled in so many directions. From my own experience it gets slightly easier once you submit the apps, but people do continue saying dumb nonsense until like midway into your first year in college. And if you end up leaving college for some reason or another people will keep occasionally saying dumb nonsense. But usually by then you're more equipped to ignore them.

You're going to be okay. You are an intelligent, insightful, artistically capable and deeply kind individual. Whether you share your thoughts and make your stories, true or not, through text or art or a mix of both, you have so much to offer. Just remember that.

Also I'm hungry. I've been writing this for a while and I didn't get any work done on the painting for my wife, but it's almost noon and I didn't have breakfast. There's an American Chinese place near here and they have pretty cheap lunch specials. Come on, get your stuff and let's take a break.

Mongolian beef yum yum.

[destinysbounty]

Huh. I just dug up an old fan-theory i came up with back when i was like 15. And while its definitely way too weak to hold up against any real scrutiny, it at the very least makes for some mildly interesting fanfic fodder so i thought id share it with the greater fandom hivemind.

(Dont come at me about the holes in this theory btw, i was practically a baby when i came up with this and it was one of my first attempts at theory-crafting. Trust me, ive come a long way since then)

Anyway, the theory goes like this:

While in the lighthouse, Dr. Julien builds a replica of his son. But try as he might to get it to turn on, it never actually works. Whatever special spark brought the first Zane to life is inexplicably absent from this one. So he locks it away in his basement, and never gives it the light of day again. This is the reason Dr. Julien never told Zane about Echo, or brought him with them - because at the time, Echo wasnt even functional. Wouldnt even turn on. Was nothing more than a lifeless shell collecting rust in the basement.

So how, then, did Echo become sentient by season 6? Great question! But uhh heres where the theory kinda starts to go off the rails. So buckle up, folks.

Basically the theory goes that when Zane died at the end of s3, his soul still lingered in Ninjago. And his disembodied spirit eventually found itself drawn to a vessel that was similar to the one he'd lost - one his father had built yet long abandoned. But his new body lacked the memory storage contained within his old one, and his resurrection effectively gave him almost complete amnesia. All he could remember was his name and his purpose (to protect those who cannot protect themselves).

Meanwhile, when Titanium Zane says hes a replica, hes actually completely right about that. Some fragments of his code left behind from his visit to the Digiverse gained sentience and inherited Zane's elemental power, creating the Zane we know and love today.

But the original Zane, the one that died fighting the Overlord, actually ended up becoming Echo Zane. Which then would have explained why Zane had so many holes in his memories after being resurrected, and why his sixth sense became much less active as well - he was only made from fragments of the real Zane's code, after all.

Now, as the big smart grownup i am today, i can look back at this theory my baby self had crafted and poke about a million holes into it. But...idk, i always feel nostalgic about this theory in spite of all that. Not just bc it was one of my first fan theories ever, but also bc it would have such fascinating narrative implications if true.

Like, the idea of Mr. E being Echo? Well, if we apply that to the concept of Echo being the Original Zane, then his hatred for Current Zane takes on a whole new dimension. It also gives me a lot of emotions about the whole Ice Emperor situation, as well as Zane's apparent discomfort towards his own statue.

And what kind of position does that put the rest of the gang in? If they had to choose between saving one or the other - the Zane who died for you, or the Zane who lives for you - which one would they choose? Could they choose? How long do you have to love a replica before it starts to feel more authentic than the original? And in that case, who becomes the 'real' zane? The one you love, or the one you lost?

Again. This theory has more holes in it than the Titanic. Cut me some slack, i was an idiot child and also a novice at making theories. But giving credit where its due, i do think it at least raises some interesting concepts. And Ive always casually wondered what would happen if it turned out to be true.

Like i said. Fanfic fodder.