#i really shouldn’t even have to say this

[hatshepsut9]

If Trump doesn’t feel distress then why is he always acting out? He may not have NPD but he sure isn’t enjoying himself. I definitely agree we shouldn’t call every destructive behavior a mental illness, and people with mental illnesses shouldn’t be lumped in with “ooh scary dangerous bad people”, but we can still acknowledge that happy people who have nothing wrong with them don’t regularly engage in extreme amounts of destructive behavior. I’m not even sure if it’s coherent to separate societal sickness from individual sickness in that way. Individuals are shaped by their genes and their environment and if their genes are “normal” but their environment is sick then they’ll still end up sick. Isn’t there a way to discuss that there is pathology here (caused by the oligarchical environment or individual tendencies or both) without throwing people with NPD under the bus? Like, even Trump’s core beliefs about what the world is and who other people are and what success means are pathological. That doesn’t mean it’s a *mental illness* specifically but there’s also no way for a human to live like that without suffering and messing up their brain. He might swear up and down that he really enjoys screwing people over and loves making tons of enemies and never knowing what it’s like to have actual friends, but psychology says otherwise.

The psychiatrist who wrote the criteria for narcissism just made an extremely important point about what’s wrong with diagnosing Trump with mental disorders

Dr. Allen Frances says in speculating about Trump’s mental health, we are doing a disservice to those who do suffer from mental illness. In a series of tweets, he explained why he doesn’t think Trump is a narcissist �� and how harmful it can be for us to keep assuming that he is.

[munsonsmixtapes]

That's My Man

rockstar!eddie x popstar!reader

Eddie defends you in an interview and you repay him in the most generous way

cw: MDNI (18+) oral (m receiving) handjob, the interviewer makes some inappropriate comments about reader

This is a request made my the always lovely @the-witty-pen-name who also came up with the title!

Eddie puts on the pair of headphones that were pervaded for him as the “on air” sign glows the bright red, signaling that the show has started. He doesn’t even know why he even agreed to this interview. The guy’s an ass and Eddie just knows that he’s inevitably going to say something inappropriate. 

He’s really only doing this because his team begged him to. Why, he doesn’t know since the majority of the band’s fanbase hates the kind of guy that Rick is. He’s everything in the book that Eddie can’t stand and now he’s gotta sit here for an hour for his segment. It can’t be too bad, can it? 

“Eddie, welcome,” Rick greets and Eddie puts on a smile even though all he really wants is to kick Rick’s ass. He’s unfortunately caught clips of the show here and there and all he does is sexualize women and talk badly about people of color and members of the LGBTQ+ community. 

“Hey, thanks,” Eddie replies, trying his best to not say something he really shouldn’t. He just sits there and waits for Rick to start the conversation. 

“So you’ve got a new album out which is “From the Upside Down.” What was the process like for creating the record?” Eddie’s genuinely caught off guard by the question considering that Rick never seems to care about that kind of thing. Maybe this won’t be as bad as he initially thought. 

“It was actually so different from what we’ve done for past albums. We actually did everything ourselves this time and that was really fun. We took some time off and wrote a bunch of songs and Gareth actually produced them so that was a really cool process to see.” 

Eddie loves talking about his music. It’s like a parent talking about their child. He’s always so proud of himself and his bandmates for what they do and he doesn’t think that’s ever going to change. They worked so hard to get where they are now and he’s nothing but grateful that this is his job. 

“That’s very interesting,” Rick nods and there’s just something about the look on his face that makes it obvious that he’s about to say some dumb shit. “So I know you’re seeing y/n l/n and can I just say, well done, man.” Yep, definitely some dumb shit. 

Eddie can’t help but roll his eyes. Normally, Eddie would love to talk about you. It’s actually his favorite thing to do. But not like this, not in the way that Rick and a lot of other men like to. Where they just sexualize you and reduce you to an object. Eddie won’t stand for that for anyone, but especially not you. 

“Well, I wouldn’t say that I’m “seeing” her,” Eddie laughs nervously. You’ve been trying to keep your relationship under wraps for the past six months but it’s so hard to do when the two of you are under a microscope. 

“Oh, so you wouldn’t categorize this as seeing her?” Rick asks as he pulls up a photo of you and Eddie kissing outside a bar. He didn’t even know that anyone had taken photos of that and now he feels gross.

“Well-” he tries to explain himself but Rick quickly cuts him off. 

“Is she a good kisser? Better yet, is she good in bed?” All of this makes Eddie want to throw up and he can’t believe that men like Rick actually have the audacity to ask questions like that. 

“I don’t feel comfortable answering that,” he answers politely even though he’s seconds away from a crash out. 

“C’mon, you can tell me. It’s just us.” It’s actually not considering it’s a live radio show and even if it wasn’t, that’s something just between you and Eddie and no one else. Especially not pigs like Rick. 

“No, I’m not sharing anything about our relationship. That’s the only thing we have that’s ours.” 

“Is she flexible? I bet she’s flexible.” He shows Eddie a photo of you doing a split on stage and his lunch is about to come up. “Oh yeah, definitely-” 

Rick doesn’t even have time to finish his sentence before Eddie snatches the tablet and slams it down on the table. He would never let any woman be talked about this way. Especially not his girlfriend. 

The anger is festering and he’s having a real hard time trying to keep his cool. Fuck that. He’s not going to be so nice anymore, not wanting anymore disgusting things to be said about you. He can’t let anything else be said about you or he’s going to do something he regrets. 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” he points at Rick, glaring at the man and the man actually looks afraid of him. Good. “I know you tend to objectify women and that shit stood today. If I ever hear you talk about anyone else this way or in a derogatory manner, you’ll have me to answer to. Now keep my wife’s name out of your mouth or we’re going to have a problem.” 

With that, out of the room. Nothing is worth sitting there and letting that man sexualize you. It makes him feel disgusting and now he feels like he needs a long shower. He’s wiping his jacket with his hands to try to literally get rid of that feeling, but he knows the only thing that will help is seeing you. He just needs someone to talk to about the whole thing. 

He’s driving to the venue where you’re performing tonight before he can stop himself. He just wants to hold you in his arms and tell you how much he loves you, hoping that you haven’t been listening to the radio even though he’s sure that you are because you always listen to his interviews. 

Eddie’s so angry about the whole thing, still letting it eat at him even though he already took care of it. He just needs to calm down and he will as soon as he sees you. That always makes him feel better. Just thinking about you is doing the trick and when he pulls up to the venue, the weight on his shoulders is lifting.

You’re sitting in your dressing room, doing your makeup when he walks in, your face lighting up when you see him in the mirror. The anger on his face seems to melt away when he sees you, his smile matching yours as he makes a beeline for you. He saw you just this morning but the time you’ve spent away was far too long. 

You get up from your chair and he’s quick to pull you into a hug, a tight one as he buries his face into your neck. This is all he’s wanted all day, especially since he stormed out of the interview. You always seem to calm the screaming that’s constantly going on in his head. Your hand moves up into his hair, scratching at his scalp as he kisses your neck, moving your hair away from it as he does so. 

You pull away far too soon for his liking before pulling him in for a kiss. He’s needy and desperate and he just wants to show you how much he loves you. Your hands are in his hair as you lick into his mouth, moaning loudly which is only making him harder. He needs your cunt so bad and is so close to taking you right there until you begin to grind against him. 

“I heard what you said on the radio,” you tell him as you kiss down his neck, unbuttoning his jeans. “Defending me like that, it was so…hot,” you whisper the last part into his ear before biting down on the lobe before kissing his neck again, giving it a rough suck, making him squirm. 

You’re backing him up against the vanity, pinning him there as you continue to suck, his hands falling from you to grip the table behind him, white knuckling it as he lets out a whine, his cock hardening even more to the point where you can now fully feel him against you. 

“Now I feel like I owe you.” He defended you and you know it’s because you’re his wife, but you know that he would do that for anyone and that’s how you know you got one of the good ones. 

“You-you don’t owe me anything, sweetheart,” he breathes. He really wants whatever you’re willing to give but only if you really want to not because you think he deserves in return for defending you.

“How about I suck you off, is that payment enough?” His eyes widen at both your question and the way you’re biting down on him. 

“Please,” he whines, needing to get some sort of relief. You give his neck one more kiss before pulling down his jeans, his underwear following as you get down onto your knees. You’re looking up at him with lustful eyes and he watches you, wondering what you’re going to do next. 

You start by spitting into your hand then grab hold of the base, slow strokes to warm him up but they progressively get more intense. He’s already leaking with precum, letting out stuttered breaths as he watches, white knuckling as a moan escapes his lips. 

You keep up the pace, moving as fast as you can as Eddie lets out moan after moan. He’s coming undone already so you know he won’t last long. And you only have a few more minutes before you have to be on stage, so you’ve gotta make it worthwhile. You’ve really gotta make this count. 

You bring your tongue to the slit, licking up the cum that’s already come out, not wanting to waste a drop then bring your lips to the base, kissing it which catches Eddie off guard. You’re now peppering it with kisses and he somehow gets even more hard as he watches you leave lipstick prints behind. It’s hot. You’re hot and he thinks this is where he likes you most, on your knees.

You then bring your mouth back to the slit, licking it again before bringing it into your mouth, sucking lightly as Eddie’s hands wind into your hair, letting out yet another whine as you bring him in deeper, sucking harder as your tongue swirls around the head. You’re taking him inch by inch and he’s so close, on the edge of an orgasm as you finally get the last bit of him inside. 

Cum leaks into your mouth as he screams your name, your eyes watering as the head hits the back of your throat, gagging as you suck him off for just a bit longer. Tears are streaming down your cheeks as you pull him out of your mouth with a loud pop, making sure to swallow as he helps you to your feet. 

Eddie pats your tears dry with a tissue so as to not smudge your makeup before you press a lingering kiss to his lips. You clean him up before pulling up his pants and touching up your lipstick.

“How’s that for repaying you?” You ask and he smiles, still dizzy from receiving the best head of his life as he follows you to the side of the stage, wondering how he can get you to do that again once your show is over. He’s sure that you won’t need much convincing.

[rosones]

social media au - being in an all-girl K-pop group touring with bigbang

liked by taeyangforevaaa & 1,203,998 others

tmz_tv ✓ - y/n from lumina and big bangs Top spotted together in a parking garage !! after multiple flirty on-stage interactions during their joint tour, is this the start of a budding romance? are these two k-pop stars taking their romance off stage? fans want to know !

view comments

user - paparazzi is so invasive .

user - I KNEW ITTTTT

user - don’t know why their companies allow them to be out in public like this

userlikespepperoni - let them do whatever they want, they’re full grown adults

user - /@userlikespepperoni exactly !! everybody is so parasocial it’s weird

user - i think they look great together idk

liked by ttt, xxxibgdrgn, & 3,478,629 others

y/n ✓ - thank you for having me @breakfastclubam <3

view comments

user - does she address her dating rumors with Top in this ??

user - ugh brown is her color

cinephile2015 - she’s so beautiful

user - /@cinephile2015 preach 🙏

user - your relationship is beautiful and you shouldn’t let anybody ruin it for you ❤️

liked by author

the following article was written by maya peters and published by tmz .

Are Lumina’s Y/N and BIGBANG’s T.O.P More Than Just Tourmates? Fans Think So!

K-pop fans are buzzing after Y/N from Lumina and BIGBANG’s T.O.P were spotted together in a parking garage late last night, fueling already rampant dating rumors. The two idols, whose groups have been touring together for the past few week, have been serving undeniable chemistry on stage—but is there something more happening off-stage?

The duo’s interactions during performances have been a hot topic, with playful glances, inside jokes, and even a few “accidental” touches keeping fans on their toes. While some chalk it up to stage presence and fan service, others are convinced there’s something real brewing behind the scenes. And now, after Y/N’s recent interview on The Breakfast Club radio show, the rumors are only gaining more traction.

When asked about her relationship with T.O.P, Y/N played it cool—but her response left plenty of room for speculation. “T.O.P is… a great guy. He’s been in the industry for a long time, so I really respect and admire him,” she said with a knowing smile. “Touring together has been an amazing experience, and I think we’ve all gotten really close.” While she didn’t outright confirm the romance, that little smirk (paired with the way she quickly changed the subject) didn’t go unnoticed by fans.

Life on the road has only made these whispers louder. The joint tour has been a dream for fans of both groups, with electric performances and unforgettable moments in every city. From sold-out arenas to late-night fan interactions, Y/N has expressed how much she’s loved connecting with supporters around the world. “It’s been exhausting but also the most fun I’ve ever had,” she shared. “Seeing fans’ reactions, hearing them sing along—it makes everything worth it.”

But between the hectic schedule and endless travel, it seems like Y/N and T.O.P have still found time to enjoy each other’s company. Whether it’s subtle matching outfits, disappearing from afterparties at the same time, or that now-infamous parking garage sighting, all signs are pointing to a potential K-pop power couple in the making.

So, is it official? Y/N isn’t saying… but she isn’t exactly denying it either. And in the world of K-pop, that says everything.

liked by ttt, xxxibgdrgn, __yungbae__, d_lable_official, & 8,372,746 others

y/n ✓ - thank you for everything

view comments

user - omg are they like official now???

user - the group photo ❤️‍🩹

user - THEY KISSED I WAS THEREEEE

ilikebagels1234 - love that they confirmed their relationship on stage 💓

user - /@ilikebagels1234 they love and trust their fans sm

user - never want this tour to end

[chimielie]

match point

hajime opens the door, blinking blearily as the permanent fluorescents of the hallway greet his eyes. he drags a hand down his face, taking a quick opportunity to take you in, your shorts and knees (the left one has a nasty green bruise, leftover from his forcing you to try indoor climbing last week) and fuzzy socks peeking out from your sneakers. your shirt almost swallowing you, making the jacket you’re wearing look oddly cropped. your hair sticking straight up.

“hi, hajime,” you say, yawning uncontrollably. “thank you. sorry.”

“no problem,” he says, “come in, it’s too bright.”

inside, there’s only the pinpoint of his cell flashlight on, a beacon leading you to his room—first left in the hallway, you really would be able to find it blindfolded. you don’t act like it, though, putting a hand on his back and closing your eyes while he forges forward. the light brush of your fingers over the thin t-shirt he’d pulled over his head thirty seconds ago is the confusing kind of thing leaking out of his dreams.

“there’s a protein shake pack there, watch your—yeah. your step.” the warning comes just in time for you to stub your toe as he shuts the door behind the both of you.

he busies himself digging in his closet while you swear as quietly as you can.

“you want the bed? i’ll take the couch,” he offers.

“‘m not kicking you out of your own bed at—” you squint at your own phone screen. “3:47 a.m. i just really appreciate you letting me stay over, haji. thank you so much.”

“not your fault your roommates set off the fire alarm at 3:47 a.m. seriously, take the bed.”

you were lucky, he thought, lucky he had your contact set to break through Do Not Disturb, lucky he lived a floor above you so you didn’t have to scream hysterically at them for waking you up like this again in the middle of exam season. the violent string of texts he’d woken up to (and the distant shrieking of your apartment’s alarm) had made him laugh so hard he’d typed come over almost without thinking about it, i promise i won’t hotbox the bedroom while you’re trying to sleep.

“let’s just share,” you suggest, and he fumbles the spare blankets in his hands. he’s glad he’s facing away from you. “it’s too early to fight.”

“too late,” he corrects you. “you sure we’ll both fit?”

it’s a reference to your freshman year, when you used to climb into his twin XL bed and lie on top of him so neither of you were falling off the edge. physical affection was more common for you then, before he’d realized that his dumbass had gone and fallen in love with you and you were just his very affectionate friend.

“yeah, you have a big boy bed now. i miss the lightning mcqueen sheets, though.” you’re already hanging the jacket on the back of his chair, crawling through the vast ocean of cotton to curl into a ball near his pillows. he checks his phone again, wondering if he ever really woke up. he has dreams, secret, shameful ones, like this often.

there’s a song and dance missing. shouldn’t he be fighting harder to take the couch? building a pillow wall? as he joins you, even as he’s stretching his body out and feeling his left shoulder pop, you gravitate into him. he puts an arm around you, his bicep thick enough beneath your back to make you shift around to get comfortable again. your fuzzy sock-covered foot pushes up the ankle of his sweatpants.

“hey, wait,” he says. you make a soft sleepy noise that breaks his heart to hear like this: so close, and yet not at all. “was that my jacket you were wearing? the one i’ve been looking for?”

“yeah,” you nod into his chest. “you gave it to me last time we went out.”

“oh, i’d forgotten,” he hums. a few more moments pass, his own eyelids getting heavy.

“i like wearing your clothes,” you tell him, “it makes me feel like you’re my boyfriend.”

maybe in the morning he’ll do something about that; for now, he sleeps with your deep, even breathing an inch away, the warm glow of something new and right and shared suffusing his chest.

[ashironie]

As a high schooler, one thing that really discourages perseverance is grades. Most of us are taught we need to do it 100% right as soon as we learn it then forget it immediately after to learn the new thing. History is one of the few subjects i feel heavily encourages remembering things and that doesn’t have focus on instant correctness. I understand teachers are not given the time to walk through it so students can learn and go back to it throughout the year, and i’m not talking about them. A system that doesn’t allow for the one thing it’s built to do, learning, is a bad system.

When a deadline is coming up and i know i won’t be able to do it well in the time given, i cannot turn off the part of my brain that says i just shouldn’t try. If i know i can’t get an A or even a B in any world (even if i will get an A for C work) i instantly don’t care. I have too many other classes and too many things outside of school and too many things at home to add the stress of something that i couldn’t do well.

I personally have never used AI for any assignments, but if my friends did i wouldn’t care. In one class my teacher says we should have an hour of homework per night (it is and AP class) which means that homework would take me three times as long. Then i have Every Other Fucking Class, so three hours for one class, an hour for another, two for another, and that’s 6 hours. I do not have Six Fucking Hours. And my school is one that has minimal homework. My middle school had an hour for homework every night for one class, my AP class doesn’t even do it every night, and then the other classes and the disability multiplier, i couldn’t do the homework in the allotted time, so i didn’t. And when i did if i couldn’t knock it out easy i would be late for every other class.

I failed Math in middle school, and Now, three years later, i am in an AP math class. I can do the work, i can be smart, just not instantly.

Something I don't think we talk enough about in discussions surrounding AI is the loss of perseverance.

I have a friend who works in education and he told me about how he was working with a small group of HS students to develop a new school sports chant. This was a very daunting task for the group, in large part because many had learning disabilities related to reading and writing, so coming up with a catchy, hard-hitting, probably rhyming, poetry-esque piece of collaborative writing felt like something outside of their skill range. But it wasn't! I knew that, he knew that, and he worked damn hard to convince the kids of that too. Even if the end result was terrible (by someone else's standards), we knew they had it in them to complete the piece and feel super proud of their creation.

Fast-forward a few days and he reports back that yes they have a chant now... but it's 99% AI. It was made by Chat-GPT. Once the kids realized they could just ask the bot to do the hard thing for them - and do it "better" than they (supposedly) ever could - that's the only route they were willing to take. It was either use Chat-GPT or don't do it at all. And I was just so devastated to hear this because Jesus Christ, struggling is important. Of course most 14-18 year olds aren't going to see the merit of that, let alone understand why that process (attempting something new and challenging) is more valuable than the end result (a "good" chant), but as adults we all have a responsibility to coach them through that messy process. Except that's become damn near impossible with an Instantly Do The Thing app in everyone's pocket. Yes, AI is fucking awful because of plagiarism and misinformation and the environmental impact, but it's also keeping people - particularly young people - from developing perseverance. It's not just important that you learn to write your own stuff because of intellectual agency, but because writing is hard and it's crucial that you learn how to persevere through doing hard things.

Write a shitty poem. Write an essay where half the textual 'evidence' doesn't track. Write an awkward as fuck email with an equally embarrassing typo. Every time you do you're not just developing that particular skill, you're also learning that you did something badly and the world didn't end. You can get through things! You can get through challenging things! Not everything in life has to be perfect but you know what? You'll only improve at the challenging stuff if you do a whole lot of it badly first. The ability to say, "I didn't think I could do that but I did it anyway. It's not great, but I did it," is SO IMPORTANT for developing confidence across the board, not just in these specific tasks.

Idk I'm just really worried about kids having to grow up in a world where (for a variety of reasons beyond just AI) they're not given the chance to struggle through new and challenging things like we used to.

[zorostitties]

Aurora; 7 (m)

⤕ Your existence had been an endless night, where shadows whispered long forgotten secrets. Trapped in a golden cage, your fragile mind and shattered memories were chains that kept you from dreaming of freedom. Then, he appeared with the first light of dawn, like a gentle sun warming your cold skin. In his gaze, the promise of a new beginning; in his presence, the sunrise your soul had longed for.

In which Alucard saves you from Erzsebet.

pairing: alucard (castlevania) x (f) reader

genre: angst, romance, slow burn, eventual smut

warnings: violence/blood, explicit language, mental health issues, grief, physical abuse.

rating: 18+

word count: 5k

A/N: HELLO Y'ALL!!! This one is coming a little earlier than usual because I am more anxious to update than y'all are anxious to read lmao Past chapter had so many comments!!! I'm glad you guys liked it so much. It was such a fun chapter to write! Hope y'all will like this one as much! ALSO checks page HOW MANY KUDOS??? WHAT THE HELL??? 😭😭 Thank you so much!!! It truly means so much to me 😭😭 Anyway let me shut up lol enjoy!! <3

⤕  Chapters: check masterlist in bio!  ⤕ Also on AO3

Guilt was a feeling Alucard avoided vehemently.

After you reach a certain age, you realize that there are some feelings and situations that you should avoid for your own sanity. One of them – perhaps the most important – is to avoid thinking too much about the past. One thing is to cherish the people you’ve met and loved, to keep some moments close to your heart; another thing is refuse that they will never come back and to avoid facing the present. Alucard knew quite well that this can sink you. That’s why he was constantly busying himself – traveling the world, meeting new cultures, learning new things.

Another thing he avoided – this one took him a long time to learn, a whole lot of grief to understand – was to… get too attached. And yes, this made him lonelier than ever. Yes, this wasn’t entirely healthy. He knew about all that. But his mortal heart wasn’t strong like his immortal body, and there was a moment in his life when he decided that he couldn’t take much more pain anymore. Stepping away from the Belmonts was… difficult, but was what the needed at the moment. He needed to let his heart heal, and the only thing that heals is time. Perhaps much more time than he first assumed.

And then there was guilt. Alucard didn’t like to feel guilt because it meant that he failed. Unfortunately, he wasn’t someone that could fail. His ways of life, his fights, the things he stood for usually involved countless innocent lives, so he couldn’t give himself the luxury of failing. Alucard was methodical, precise, insistent – not to say stubborn. Because yes, he could he stubborn –; he only accepted perfection of himself. Him succeeding meant no one suffered. Therefore, no guilt.

That’s why Alucard was partially hating himself at that moment. He’d felt more guilt in the span of 48 hours than in the last few years.

He almost couldn’t look at Ruby in the eye.

Luckily, she was sitting behind him as he guided the horse on the streets of Paris, so he wouldn’t have too see her for some moments – but her arms around his waist and the warmth of her body were a reminder that she was there.

His feelings were a bit… chaotic at the moment, to be honest. On one hand, he was glad – relieved – that Ruby had healed. On the other hand, he knew that the reason why she got so hurt in the first place was because of him. He told her she wouldn’t get hurt and he weren’t there to protect her, even if she claimed to have jumped in front of a night creature to save Annette. And then there was the other part of him (the methodical, precise and stubborn part of him) hissing that he shouldn’t be wasting time going to the Louvre because there was an army of vampires coming and he had to act.

But Alucard couldn’t tell her no. Not really. Not when she looked at him with that glow in her eyes – a glow of hope he hadn’t seen in her yet. Alucard couldn’t bring himself to be so cruel. Especially not after what she’d been through mere hours ago.

He owed her that.

Ruby was becoming a bigger mystery to him in more complicated ways than he first assumed. It didn’t involve only her unknown past, but also her behavior. It was difficult for him to understand how she was acting so normal after what she had just suffered. Sure, the methodical part of him was thankful to that – he had to act fast; quite frankly, he wouldn’t have time to wait until she recovered. If her healing took longer than it did, he would have a real problem at hands, and if she was frozen in shock, it would also be a problem.

But then there was his mortal heart speaking into his mind, too. It never shut up, unfortunately.

There was something so deeply wrong with Ruby.

The more time he spent with her, the more he watched her, the more he heard her heart race and her fingers shake at the most casual situations – like walking into a crowd or mustering courage to speak –, the more he realized that Ruby didn’t have any care for herself, the angrier he got.

Alucard also avoided getting too angry. Anger was a form of attachment as well; it tied the ones he despised to him. Anger could take a person like him – eternal and powerful – down a very dangerous path. Anger led to wrath, which let to hatred.

But again… it was getting hard for Alucard to keep his feelings in place. Not when he could still feel the now faint smell of Ruby’s blood.

In fact, he thought she was going to die.

Her blood was everything Alucard could feel the moment he stepped out of the Seine. He knew it was Ruby’s; he got quite familiar with it due to that scratch on her heel as they walked to Juste’s cottage. It was so strong that he almost could see the air turning red. It must’ve drawn the attention of every vampire in the area.

And then he rushed to the palace and saw her in that state.

She can heal, Alucard tried to convince himself, but could she, really? He’d seen her heal from cuts, not multiple fractures and mass bleeding. Those wounds meant death to any human and vampire, unless they could drink blood to strengthen their healing process.

Alucard barely knew her. He was still a tiny bit suspicious of her – of her cloudy past, at least. And yet, the thought of Ruby dying scared him.

Not many things scared him.

Death was one of those things. Not the fear of facing death himself, but having to watch someone close to him die. Alucard was far too familiar with the feeling and he never got used to it.

If Ruby had died at that moment, he’d carry that scar with him for a long time. She didn’t even had a chance to live. She didn’t even remember if she had lived before her imprisonment. If Ruby had died, it wouldn’t only be painful; it would be unfair.

So yes, he got scared. Yes, he held her close and tried to ease her pain – Hell, she looked in so much pain, even if she didn’t scream – because it was the only thing he could do. The Universe couldn’t be so cruel to that woman to just let her die like that. It… it couldn’t.

To his utter relief, Ruby healed. Her skin closed the wounds, the bleeding stopped, she finally passed out and slept for a bit.

Mixed with his relief was also confusion.

Her healing was far more powerful than Alucard first assumed. Alucard didn’t know many vampires that could heal from injuries so serious.

What was Ruby?

Why did she have this strange condition? How did she achieve it? For what end?

Alucard wanted to know. He needed to know. Erzsebet must’ve had a reason not only to keep her, but also to want to retrieve her.

The white-haired vampire instinctively held the reins a bit tighter as he remembered Drolta.

Ruby’s face of pure panic. Fuck, he couldn’t take her expression off his mind. The way Drolta was twirling that necklace around her finger. A ruby necklace. Everything made sense at that moment.

Her nonchalance after getting injured, the little care she had for herself, her fear and hesitance…

These things were growing on him in an ugly way.

A week ago, Erzsebet and Drolta were just two maniacal cult leaders that needed to be stopped. It wasn’t exactly personal. Alucard had dealt with vampires like them many times in his life.

Now, however, he not only needed to stop them – he wanted to kill them.

And this time, he would make sure that they were gone. He would personally make sure that Drolta was actually dead. He would make sure to slash her head off her neck and burn her body to ashes.

He would make sure to shatter that necklace to pieces.

Alucard couldn’t heal Ruby’s soul, but he hoped that their death, at least, would bring her some peace.

Alucard pulled the reins and made the horse gallop significantly slower until it stopped.

“What’s the problem?” Ruby asked close to his ear as she tried to peek ahead over his shoulder.

“The streets around the palace are blocked.” Alucard tightened his eyes a bit. Soldiers barricaded the entrance to the front square of the Louvre, trying to keep a crowd of curious people away. The man let a tired sigh. “Well, I guess I should’ve expected it.” He looked at her over his shoulder. “We’ll have to sneak in by foot.” Ruby nodded. She dismounted from the horse first, being shortly followed by him.

Alucard wandered his eyes around the crowd. They chatted suspiciously among themselves. “I heard an attack happened,” someone said, while another person murmured that “my cousin’s a guard, he told me it were the royalists that wanted to avenge the King,” or someone else said “This is all fake! It’s just to keep our attention here. Another faction is planning to take the country overnight as we speak!”

But then, some young voices caught his attention the most. Three boys discussed excitedly among themselves.

“He’s obviously lying,” the boy in the middle said, crossing his arms and frowning. “Don’t believe him.”

“I’m tellin’ ya!” The shortest of the three insisted, gesticulating excitedly. “I saw a dragon flyin’ inside the palace. Then, some minutes later, I saw another winged thing flying away!”

“It could’ve been a bird.”

“It wasn’t a bird! Never seen a bird so big in my life!”

“Your eyesight isn’t even that good anyway. He said he saw a crocodile in the Seine last week, remember?”

“Hey– you said you saw it, too!”

Alucard couldn’t help but feel a bit of his tension dissipate. The sight was... a bit familiar.

He made a sharp whistle, immediately calling the three boys’ attention.

“Do you lads mind watching my horse for a while?” Alucard said, still holding the reins with one hand. He shook the small coin pouch in his palm.

Their eyes immediately gleamed excitedly. They clumsily made their way to approach him, bumping into each other and grinning.

“Of course, sir!” The shortest one saluted Alucard as if he were a soldier.

The tallest one, noticing Ruby standing near, bowed awkwardly, pinching the tip of his worn out beret. “Mademoiselle,” he said in a high pitched voice. Then, his eyes rapidly traveled from her to Alucard, and he coughed. “I mean– madame.” The two other boys imitated his action like tiny echoes, all equally clumsy.

They earned an endeared smile from her. She held her skirt and bobbed a small curtsy graciously in return.

The three blushed.

Alucard inhaled a small chuckle.

“We won’t take long, so stay in the area.” The white-haired vampire said, catching the boys’ attention again. The shortest one seemed to be some sort of leader of the group, as he was the one to approach and hold the reins. Alucard swiftly placed a coin on each of their open palms. “Rest of the payment when I get back.”

“Thank you, sir!” They said in unison, eyes glued in their shiny coins.

The one that looked the oldest tightened his eyes. “Hm, may I ask, sir, what exactly is your business here? The palace is blocked, as you can see.”

Alucard tightened his eyes at him, too. “I certainly see that it’s blocked, and I certainly wouldn’t advise you boys to get any closer to it.” Then, he dropped his voice, his tone picking their attention once again. “I wonder, however, if you were to get closer to it, which street would you pick?”

They eyed each other. The tallest boy coughed again.

“Well, if I were to get closer to it, I would pick an alley behind the Perrault street… most people don’t gather around there, so…”

“...Less guards,” the oldest completed.

Alucard nodded. He placed one more coin on each of their hands. They giggled.

He pointed ahead with his head to Ruby. However, as he was turning around to leave, he stopped and looked at them.

“By the way, what you saw is correct,” Alucard said in a quiet, serious voice. They all froze. “But that wasn’t a dragon; it was a demon. The city is in danger. When we get back, you boys should get your families and hide.”

He didn’t wait to see the boys’ reaction. Ruby, however, lingered her gaze a little longer on them before following him.

A quiet sadness clouded her eyes, made her shoulders drop a bit. She interlocked her hands on her lower stomach as she walked. It seemed to be a standard quirk of hers, besides the one of gripping her skirt when she was nervous. This specific movement as she walked, however, was very… polite.

Alucard didn’t exactly like it.

Not because he didn’t appreciate good manners. Ruby was, in fact, very gracious in anything she did – from her impeccable posture at all times to the way she sat or the way she ate, the way she held cutlery, the way she never raised her voice too much, or even how she insisted in calling him sir when they first met. She had the good manners of a high society lady.

But Alucard knew that all of this was a product of what she had endured. Making herself smaller, quieter, imperceptible. Ruby didn’t do any of that to impress anyone or to fit into some sort of societal standard. She did it because she was afraid of bringing any attention upon her.

The more he observed her, the more he caught himself silently wishing Ruby would… slouch. Raise her voice, show anger or tiredness or boredom. Make it clear when she didn’t like something or voice her opinions without becoming a puddle of anxiety.

That’s one of the reasons why Alucard couldn’t bring himself to say no when she asked to go to the Louvre. Most of the time, she wasn’t brave enough to speak her mind and make requests. She felt comfortable enough at that moment to ask him. And… Alucard actually hated it, but he had also noticed that, sometimes, Ruby flinched away from him and seemed scared when he showed annoyance or moved too abruptly. Unfortunately, he still had similar physical traits of the ones who hurt her so much. The fact that she was growing comfortable around him made him feel… content.

Ruby looked down. “Poor kids. Their clothes are so worn out…”

“This is the situation for most children in this country. That is mainly why the revolution started.”

“...I guess Richter was right. How can a king have a palace this big while his people die of hunger?” She took some moments to speak again. “And if Erzsebet succeeds… she will make things worse.”

Alucard nodded. ��Yes. But she won’t, because we’ll stop her.” He pointed with his finger to a nearby street. “Let’s go.”

They quickened their pace, keeping silent for most of the way. Most streets were crowded by a mass of curious people; the news traveled fast, and it seemed that everyone forgot about the execution earlier and decided to gather at this part of the city. Paris was drowned in chaos. Most soldiers were too worried trying to quiet down the population. How could they even prepare for the incoming battle?

Finally, they arrived at the alley the boy had mentioned – and the little bastard was right. It was a dirty small alley where most people avoided, only being guarded by two soldiers that weren’t paying much attention to their job.

At last, Alucard stopped walking in a spot out of their sight. The back view of the palace was just ahead. He turned around and looked down at Ruby, sending her a hesitant look.

“My apologies, but I will need to do that again.”

She widened her eyes slightly. “Oh. Okay.”

“...Do you think you can handle it this time?”

“Yes. Yes, I’ll be fine.” She was clearly lying. Well, there was nothing he could do about that.

Alucard wrapped his arm around her waist and lifted her up slightly to a point her feet weren’t touching the ground anymore. He narrowed his eyes, visualizing the path he would have to make.

A familiar red glow enveloped his body–

He sprinted through the alley, passing in between both guards so fast that they didn’t even understand what was happening; to them it was just a sudden, violent gush of wind that made their hats fly away and their eyes widen in confusion.

And just like that, they were within the palace’s gardens.

Alucard put Ruby on the floor again. She was visibly dizzy, so he still held her arm for support. She blinked several times, as if trying to fade the vertigo away.

“It… wasn’t that bad this time,” she lied again. It didn’t look like she wanted to vomit this time, though. Alucard smiled slightly and let go of her arm.

“Do you remember in which room you found the artifact?” He asked quietly, worrying that anyone would hear them. He didn’t want to have to confront any human.

“The same where I was trying to hide in,” Ruby looked around the tall building. “The night creature came crashing through the window. We can use it to get in.”

Alucard nodded, trying to remember in what section of the palace that was…

Then he realized that he didn’t need to remember anything, because the scent of her blood was still very much in the air. They didn’t even have time to clean it. Alucard turned his head in the direction where the scent was stronger.

“There. Let’s go.”

They walked fast, Alucard always placing his body in front of her, walking near the wall under the windows to not get caught. They crossed paths with some guards, but luckily were not seen. He wondered why the hell did that place need to be so horizontally big.

Finally, the sight of a destroyed window appeared ahead. As the building had a double height ceiling, it’d be necessary to climb to get through the window. Alucard gesticulated for Ruby to wait. His sword unsheathed itself and floated up; through the reflection on the shiny iron, he saw that although the doors were opened, the gallery was empty.

Alucard once again wrapped his arm around her waist and floated, graciously passing through the window. As soon as their feet landed on the floor, he nodded his head softly; the double doors closed and locked.

He let go of her and she stepped aside.

The gallery was absolutely destroyed; debris and glass everywhere, broken pieces of the wooden crates, rags of once was a curtain around the floor, statues and paintings destroyed… and blood. A lot of blood.

Ruby widened her eyes at the sight of her own dried blood over the floor. It seems she hadn’t realized how much she bled. She gulped and averted her gaze somewhere else.

“It seems they didn’t start to clean things up yet,” she stated the obvious in a nervous tone.

“They’re probably measuring the damage first. It’ll take them a few days,” Alucard crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the room. He, in fact, felt bad about all that. So many artifacts were destroyed during the fight… thousands of years of art and history went to waste. It was especially outrageous how Drolta didn’t care about the damage at the Egyptian gallery, given that she came from those same ancient times. She had no respect for her own culture anymore.

“Is it here?” he asked, paying attention to her again.

Ruby hummed quietly.

She walked towards the doors, looking for something on the floor. She tip toed around a pool of blood, trying to avoid stepping on it at all costs. Alucard followed her, albeit keeping a good distance so she could scoop the area without his interference.

Finally, she gasped and rushed to grab something at the corner of the room, near the wall. It was hidden behind a destroyed crate.

Ruby turned around, holding a golden scepter with both hands. Her eyes glowed with afraid amazement.

“This is it,” she confirmed.

They approached each other, meeting at the center of the gallery. Alucard analyzed the artifact she held. It was almost as tall as her with a symbol of the sun at its tip. Throughout the entire staff, there were tiny writings engraved. Although it was golden, it wasn’t much adorned; other than the symbol of the sun and the intricate sun rays in the form of curvy spikes, it was very plain. It appeared to be something used in religious ceremonies.

“What happened exactly when you held it for the first time?” He asked.

Ruby looked down at the scepter. “It was covered in rust. I didn’t even know what I was looking at. Then, when I held it, it got… hot. And it shone.”

“It shone?” Alucard quirked one eyebrow up.

“Yes. So bright that I had to close my eyes. And then… all the rust was gone.”

“And after that?”

Ruby pressed her lips together. “...Nothing. The night creature came in and I dropped it.”

Alucard nodded. “Do you feel anything strange right now?”

She shook her head slightly. “No.” She lifted the object closer to his eyes. “But, see? The writings? It’s that same language. Do you recognize what this is?”

Alucard narrowed his eyes. “Can I?”

Ruby handed him the scepter, which he held with both hands. It was quite heavy – actual pure gold. It was a miracle that the royal French family didn’t melt it, or whoever was in possession of the artifact it previously. He brought it close to his face, analyzing the scriptures.

The characters appeared to be organized vertically instead of horizontally, very similar to Mandarin or Japanese structures of writing. These characters, however, meant nothing to him. They weren’t rounded like Sanskrit, weren’t allusive of animals or nature like Egyptian hieroglyphs or ancient Mandarin, and they didn’t resemble the common Latin alphabet. At most, it reminded him a bit of Sumerian writing, given how simplistic the characters seemed to be – but if it really was Sumerian, Alucard would’ve known.

“You know how to read it, but don’t understand the meaning of the words?” Alucard asked without taking his eyes off the scepter.

“Yes.”

“So, each character means a sound.” Ruby nodded. Phonetic, as he suspected, since the characters repeated themselves over and over again.

“Do you have any idea of what it is?” she repeated, sounding hopeful.

Alucard pressed his lips together.

He really missed Sypha in moments like this.

She would’ve immediately known what it was – or at least, had an idea of how to start investigating the origins of this strange language. Alucard became quite good at learning new languages over the years, but not as good as her. Never.

It felt like there was an invisible cold hand pressing around his heart – like it did anytime he thought of her.

“Unfortunately no.” Alucard shook his head. Ruby’s shoulders dropped. “Let’s not be discouraged. This artifact definitely has magic in it; I can feel it.” Yes, it vibrated under his palm in a high frequency – a metaphysical frequency, like all magic things did. It didn’t reek of demonic magic or negative alchemy either. It felt quite neutral; Alucard couldn’t tell what type of magic it stored.

The white-haired vampire frowned.

“And it certainly doesn’t like me.”

Ruby tilted her head to the side, visibly confused. “What?”

There was a strange sensation in his gut. A certain aggressiveness. Alucard didn’t feel like the scepter could actually hurt him, but the bad feeling was there anyway. He handed the artifact back to Ruby; the moment it left his hands, the sensation was gone.

“Some magical items don’t accept being touched by anyone. Some can only be touched by their masters.”

“Like your sword?” She asked, eyeing the weapon that was still protectively floating near Alucard’s body.

“Precisely.” Alucard shrugged. “Or it just doesn’t like me because I am part vampire.” At her utter confusion, he decided to elaborate. “In magic terms, my existence is an aberration. A half-human, half-vampire being goes against the natural order.”

She pressed her lips and looked down. “...But it’s not your fault.”

Alucard chuckled softly. It sounded like she felt bad for him, which he found quite endearing. “The scepter doesn’t know it.”

They were interrupted when someone tried to open the doors. Both turned around immediately, Ruby visibly startled at the sudden sound.

“Who’s in there?” a male voice was heard from the other side. “Open the doors!”

“Let’s go,” Alucard hurried towards the window again. Yet, she froze in place.

“Do we take it with us?”

“Of course.”

“Isn’t it stealing?”

He couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed at her. Alucard stepped closer again. “Everything here was stolen from some other country, Ruby. They won’t miss it.”

And then, he was holding her close to his body again, floating out of the palace through the window. The sword obediently sheathed itself again. However, when he stepped foot on the grass, he didn’t let go of her.

“I’ll have to…”

“Yes. I understand,” she nodded before he could finish, tightening the scepter close to her chest.

Alucard felt a tiny bit bad for a moment before sprinting out of the palace’s gardens in a red blur. She seemed to handle the post-dizziness a bit better this time, though.

They hurried around the streets. Ruby held the artifact with nervousness.

“This thing isn’t exactly subtle,” she said between gritted teeth. Indeed. An object made of gold wasn’t something you could hold around and act nonchalant about.

“I can hide it under my cape if you want,” he offered, to which she shook her head.

“No. If it makes you feel bad, I’d rather not.” It seemed she really didn’t think before saying that, because she froze for a moment and immediately avoided his gaze.

Alucard knew that if he chuckled it’d make her feel bad, so he swallowed it.

They didn’t take long to reach their destination with their fast pace. The street appeared a bit less crowded now. And there they were – the three boys sitting on the sidewalk, the horse obediently beside them. They got up in a jump.

“Here it is, sir!” The tallest presented.

“We took care of it. See?” The oldest boasted.

“Some men even wanted to take it away, but we fought valiantly!” It was the youngest’ turn to lie with a grin.

Alucard opened a small smile and took the reins again. “You did a good job, indeed. As promised, the rest of the payment.”

Their grins got even bigger when the white-haired vampire deposited two more coins each over their open palms.

The shortest of the group then cleaned his throat and stepped further towards Ruby. He had both hands behind his back and an already apparent blush over his cheeks.

“Hm, sir! Respectfully!”

“Respectfully!” The tallest one reinforced. He fiddled with his beret nervously.

“We got madame a gift!”

“Out of respect!” The oldest one reinforced again.

The three eyed Alucard with much apparent nervousness, waiting for his… permission. Ruby looked down at the boys with quiet confusion.

Oh, this was getting funny.

Alucard shrugged and nodded. The three boys smiled again and turned to Ruby. Once again, the shortest cleaned his throat.

“Madame! We were attentively taking care of the horse when we saw something that could suit you!”

“I saw it,” the oldest one elbowed him.

“But it was my idea,” the short one hissed back before turning to her again. “Anyway, hm, here it is!”

Finally, he unveiled what he was hiding behind his back in an extravagant gesture: a lily flower.

Alucard looked behind them. On the other side of the street, under a windowsill, there was a vase full of lilies. He had to cross his arms and lower his head, trying to muffle a laugh.

“It matches your ribbon, madame,” the oldest remarked.

“I was the one to pick it. None of them could reach it but me,” the tallest said with pride.

Ruby watched the three boys with a bit of shock for some seconds.

Then, she smiled.

Not one of her small, timid smiles. For the first time, that smile reached her eyes, too. For the first time, it seemed that she wasn’t embarrassed for smiling; for the first time, her giggle wasn’t dry. Wasn’t clouded by sadness.

Alucard knew that it was the first time he was seeing the real Ruby – the person she was underneath the trauma, the fear, the anxiety; the person she didn’t even know she was yet. And at that moment, the glow of the golden scepter got pale in comparison to her.

Ruby lowered herself to get to their eye level. She took the flower and placed it inside the small pocket of her vest, right above her heart.

“What are your names?” she asked.

“Victor,” the tallest said.

“Pierre,” the oldest one.

“Oliver,” the shortest.

Ruby repeated their names, then patted their heads, rubbing their hair softly.

“This is very sweet, boys. Thank you so much. I promise I’ll take care of your gift.”

It looked like the three boys forgot how to close their mouths. They stared at her in awe, their faces completely red, their three little hearts beating at a rapid pace.

Alucard couldn’t blame them. Not when his own heart missed a beat.

Three hundred years didn’t make him much better than a little boy, after all.

“Ruby.” He called quietly. “We should go.” She nodded and straightened her posture. Alucard turned to the boys, and they all seemed utterly embarrassed when his gaze fell over them. “I wasn’t joking about what I said earlier. Tell your parents about it. After the sun goes down, do not leave your homes.”

The three tensed up at his words, but nodded accordingly. The short one – Oliver – seemed to be the smartest, too; he was the only one that paid attention to Alucard’s mouth and had a fast glimpse of his fangs, which made him get pale. Well… if that helped send the message across, he was fine with it. They finally started walking away.

Ruby waved them goodbye and they waved back, clumsily bumping into each other and elbowing one another. At last, they ran into the crowd again.

A ghost of that smile still lingered on her lips as she turned to him, touching the flower with care. Alucard mimicked her small smile.

“You just made their day.”

She looked shy again, and it made Alucard regret saying that a bit; he didn’t want her to feel embarrassed of herself, not after what he had witnessed. “No, you made their day by paying them.”

Alucard shook his head softly and closed his eyes for a moment.

“It doesn’t even compare.”

He looked down at her again.

This time, instead of the skirt, she gripped the scepter nervously.

Still, Alucard sustained her gaze for a few more seconds. He… enjoyed this. He liked how her attention was frozen on him, even for these brief moments. He liked the sensation of having the world around him blur as if he entered a parallel universe until she’d finally look away.

Alucard knew himself all too well. He didn’t bring himself the trouble of being in denial about anything. It was also one of the things he learned over the years, for the sake of his own sanity.

He understood why the entire mission was becoming personal to him very fast. He understood that, behind his growing anger towards Drolta and Erzsebet, there was something else growing, too – though he wasn’t sure if he’d act on it. No; it was way too early to assume anything. There were still many mysteries to solve, too much at stake, too much trust to be gained on both ends… and way too many traumas to get through, too.

For now, Alucard was satisfied with these small moments of sweetness.

Finally, he took the reins again, and then they were in a crowded street of a city in chaos, and not in a quiet parallel universe.

“Let’s go… madame,” he said jokingly, imitating the honorific the boys repeated over and over again. Ruby chuckled, at least.

Alucard was under the impression that, if Ruby knew what the implications of being called a madame meant, she wouldn’t be so calm about it.

He’d like to keep it as his little secret for now.

[luvhcarly]

the council would like to request a part 2 to tell me how much u want it

PUT THAT SMART MOUTH OF YOURS IN A GOOD USE.

previous part

After you break up with your boyfriend because you found out he cheated on you again you find yourself infront of his apartment with tears streaming down your face, even though you told him that you should keep it professional…

PAIRINGS: dom!san x fem!reader

GENRE: smut, professor x student, college AU

TAGS: smut, p in v, cheating, cum swallowing, oral (m receiving), San is mean and toxic towards reader, age gap (San is in his 30s and reader is 22), angst, use of pet names (love, slut), swearing, kind of manipulation, San is obsessed with reader and can’t let her go, dirty talk, mention of divorce!, lmk if I missed anything!

WC: 7.3k

A/N: I wanted to thank you guys for the love on the previous part! I decided to give you part 2 of this so enjoy!

Reminder! English is not my first language if you find any mistake lmk!

© All rights reserved luvhcarly do not copy, repost, or translate.

You knew it would be a mistake to step into his office, but you couldn't ignore it. A few weeks have passed since what happened and clearly you couldn't stop think about it, but at the same time you felt guilty. You cheated on your boyfriend even though you basically just paid him back. Well, it wasn't you. You never did such impulsive things. You didn't tell anyone about what happened, despite the fact that your friend suspected you of something.

"Come in." You were snapped out of your thoughts by a man's voice that sent chills down your spine. You took a deep breath and stepped inside, immediately meeting his gaze, which you couldn't quite place. He was sitting on a chair and his hands were on the table, as if he was waiting for you to sit down. As soon as you looked around the room, you remembered everything that happened. The way he fucked you against the desk, the way he told you words that you would like to hear again.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" You put your thoughts behind your head and broke the silence that was between you two. He laughed at your 'sir' and shook his head. He pointed with his hand to the place in front of him for you to sit down and so you did. You sat down on a chair and put your hands on your thighs and cleared your throat nervously.

“Weeks ago you called me San, now you call me sir, again.” With a raised eyebrow he said as if he wanted to indicate something, but you didn't know exactly what. He sighed when you remained silent at his words and he leaned his body more against the seat, not taking his eyes off you. San scanned you, your hair was down and you were wearing a t-shirt that once again hugged your body too well. He cleared his throat when he realized that thoughts lead where they don't belong, but damn why did you have to look so fucking good. Your lips were slightly parted as if you were about to say something, your eyes looked at him with that look that drove him crazy.

"I think-" You took a deep breath and looked at him. "I think we should forget about what happened. It could affect my studies and-" if he was telling the truth, he really didn't expect this. He was expecting something like it shouldn’t happen again or that you should be careful about this? Did he feel… duped? Forget what happened? How the hell do you want him to forget?

“Yeah, It could affect my job so I agree.” But he did not argue and only nodded. He had nothing to say to you even if he wanted to scream at you, Kiss you and do it again and again without any consequences.

"That's all I wanted to talk about. You can go.” His words were sharp, toxic. Something inside you broke, your heart shattered as if you had been stabbed in the heart. Why did you want him to say something else? To say that he doesn't want to forget. That he wants it again and again.

"Okay." With those words, you stood up and turned around. Before you left, you gave him one last goodbye look and then left. You let him sit there, thinking about the fact that he should have stopped you and told you how he really feels. But he knew that he would hurt you and himself.

“Fuck-“ San mumbled under his breath and ran a hand through his hair, when you left. He didn't want to forget what happened, even if it was just an one time thing. He wanted to help you so that you wouldn't feel stupid that your boyfriend cheated on you, but rather he did it for himself because he couldn't stay away from you.

-

"Are you okay, babe?" Your boyfriend’s voice interrupted you when he noticed how you were playing with the food with your fork. Your expression was nervous, tired, something he hadn't seen in you that often.

"What?" You shifted your gaze from the food to him and swallowed loudly when he gave you a puzzled expression. "It's nothing just school stuff." You lied to him and gave him a smile, he nodded at your words and smiled back. Then there was a silence between you, which you didn't like that much, but you weren't in the mood to break it. Your thoughts were elsewhere. You were lost. You were lost in your own head.

“We should go on a dinner tomorrow, to take a break from the stress." He proposed to you with a nice smile and you took a sip from your drink, nodding at his suggestion and smiling at him. "Yeah, that would be great." You really weren't in the mood to go somewhere social, but you didn't refuse.

“Is something bothering you, y/n?” With that he suddenly asked and the fork fell from your hand to the floor. "I-..." you opened your mouth and were about to tell him everything that happened, but then you closed your mouth. “No. I am just tired as I said." That's the only thing you told him and he didn't discuss it further, even if he didn't believe you. Well, he wasn't planning on arguing with you or anything like that so he just nodded his head and continued to eat his food.

After dinner you lay down in bed and took your phone in your hand, your boyfriend was lying next to you and he was also on his phone. You decided to check whether the results of the tests you wrote last week had not arrived yet. Your eyes widened when you saw that you didn't pass his class.

Didn't pass.

How? He tutored you, you wrote everything correctly there. You furrowed your brows at that and your anger rose. What's his problem? You didn't understand it. And that’s why you stayed after his class the next day.

“Professor, wait!” You shouted as he left the classroom and you caught up with him with quick steps.

"I have another class, Ms. Y/n.” His words were again sharp without interest, as if he was telling to leave him alone that he was not interested in talking.

"It won't be long, I just-"

"We will discuss it tomorrow during class, if you have some problem." He stopped and turned to you. His brows were furrowed and he wore glasses. You swallowed loudly at his words and sighed.

"I-..." You opened your mouth and were about to say something, but then you nodded. Despite the fact that you were angry that you didn't pass his class, you suppressed your anger again. His expression made you feel the respect you had for him. "Okay." You said and he left without another word. When he was out of your sight enough, he let out a sigh that he didn't even know he was holding back. He knew that you probably wanted to talk about why you didn't pass. But his reason was simple. He thinks you have more in you than what you wrote in the test. That’s why he didn’t let you pass, or maybe there was another problem?

“Asshole.” You muttered to yourself as you slammed the locker shut and an annoyed sigh escaped your lips. He was acting strange.

"Who is an asshole?" Your friend's voice rang out and you jumped a little. You did not expect that she would be here and that she would hear you.

"You scared me!" You punched her on the shoulder and she laughed at your words, but then immediately gave you a serious expression.

"Who were you cursing at?" She asked again, her curiosity growing. You raised your eyebrows at her question and pretended that you didn’t say anything before

"What? No one." You gave her a smile, but she still didn't believe you, she already knew you very well. "Your boyfriend again?" She leaned against the locker and crossed her arms over her chest, patiently waiting for your answer.

"No, of course not." You blurted out quickly and she just sighed and bit her lower lip as if she wanted to tell you something.

“You are acting weird lately. Is everything okay?” She finally asked and you ran a hand through your hair and furrowed your brows.

"I'm fine! Why is everyone asking me that”You said with a raised voice and your friend sighed and shook her head. She didn't understand why you were suddenly so angry and nervous. You were never like that, you always walked around smiling, but now you looked like you were going through something. When you realized that you had raised your voice at her and that you are taking out your anger on her for no reason, you swallowed loudly and squeezed your eyes.

"I'm sorry... I'm just tired." You rubbed your forehead and looked at her. She had a disappointed expression on her face, as if she understood you. "Yeah, I get it. Get some rest, y/n.” With her hand she stroked your shoulder. "And stop stressing about school." She added and gave you a sweet, friendly smile, which you returned in return.

You were nervous all day, probably because of school. Despite the fact that you were not in the mood to go to that dinner with your boyfriend, you went. You went to a romantic restaurant together and sat down, talked and joked. You felt that it was the same again as before and your stress subsided. "I will be right back, babe." He stood up and you smiled at him from behind the glass and he directed his steps to the bathroom. At that moment, his phone, which had its screen facing downwards, started ringing. Somehow you didn't pay attention to it, but when the phone rang several times, you gave up. You looked around the restaurant to see if he was coming back, but when you saw that he was nowhere to be found, you picked up his phone.

"When are you going to break up with y/n?"

"Babe, I want you. Please?”

"Can you come over tonight, we could have some fun?" ;).”

You swallowed at the texts and a tear started to run down your cheek.

“I’m back-“ A voice came from behind you and you gripped the phone tighter in your hand and gave him a hateful look.

"Babe, It's not what-"

"Save it. I don’t want to hear it. You didn’t change.” Your voice was hateful and your words were sharp, he leaned closer to you and wanted to stroke your shoulder, but you pulled away.

"Can we talk about it? Everybody is watching us, y/n. Calm down." He looked around nervously when he noticed people's curious looks. You wiped your tears and picked up your jacket.

“No.” You muttered. "We are done." You said and he shook his head at your decision. With those words you left and left him there alone. As soon as you left the restaurant, you put on your jacket and hugged your body. Raindrops began to fall on your skin, which you let out a sigh. You didn't know where to go. Only one place came to your mind. His apartment.

Flashback.

“She signed the papers.” He informed you and looked up from the phone to you and measured you. You already had your skirt on and put your t-shirt back on. "That's great!" You gave him a sweet smile and he sighed but then smiled. He leaned his body against his desk and ran a hand through his hair before resting his hands over his chest.

"Yeah, it is, but I will have to move out."

"Move out? Where?” You blinked fastly at him being confused. He could hear in your voice that you were a little afraid that he would leave, but you didn't try to show it in any way.

"You know the new apartments just two blocks away from school?” For a small moment, you thought about his words, but when you remembered the new apartments nearby, you nodded.

"Well, I already have papers set for this but I waited if she would sign the papers and she did so." He usually didn't talk that much, but now he wanted to. He wanted to tell you everything that was on his mind, and it didn't bother you at all. You liked to listen to him and you were glad that he was saying something that was bothering him. San looked at you nervously, as if he realized that he might be talking too much, but your words calmed him down.

"The apartments are beautiful and I think that it's a great opportunity to start a new life for you." Your words were soft and kind, it warmed his heart. Maybe it's an opportunity to start something new. Something that will fill him and make him feel good. He gave you a smile and his thoughts took him where they probably shouldn't have. Well, for a few seconds he imagined that he lives with you, but then he immediately put it behind him. It's impossible.

End of flashback

“Y/n?” The door in front of you opened and he appeared there. His hair was messy and his eyes were tired, he was wearing a black oversized T-shirt and gray sweatpants. It was strange because you didn't usually see this on him.

"I'm sorry to barge in here like this but-" You stopped talking for a moment and took a deep breath. "I didn't know where else to go." Your hair was wet and so were your clothes. He had a surprised expression on the shapes that you were standing here in front of him, your eyes completely red and your mascara smeared.

"Come in." The words he usually spoke gave a completely different meaning to you. He stepped back from the door and let you in, taking your jacket off your shoulders and hanging it on the hanger to dry. He then directed his steps into the kitchen and you followed him, looking around the apartment with your eyes. It was nice and new. Everything was in white and black colors, which you would expect from him.

Without another word, he took a sip of water and leaned against the kitchen counter while you kept looking around. He could see from your shape that something was wrong, otherwise you probably wouldn't be here. But he was surprised that you remembered his words from a few weeks ago. He didn’t ask you what happened, he just looked at you with his eyes and then put the glass down.

You watched with your eyes as he left suddenly and then came back with a dry T-shirt and sweatpants. "Go take a shower." He ordered and handed you dry clothes. You nodded at his words and he let out a sigh. As soon as he pointed in the direction where the bathroom was, you directed your steps there. When you stepped into the bathroom, you smelled his usual scent and you swallowed loudly at that. Then you took off your wet clothes and stepped into the shower. Immediately warm almost hot water touched your skin and you tried to wash away all the bad thoughts and the anger you still had inside. You were a fool to think it wouldn't happen again. You naively thought that everything would be the same as before.

A small sigh escaped your lips as the same scene replayed in your head as you slowly scrolled through the screen of his phone and read the texts. You still couldn't believe that it happened so suddenly. You spent quite a long time in the shower, and he thought that something had happened to you, but when he saw that you got out of the shower. Your hair washed and his clothes on you. The shirt he gave you was a little bigger, and the sweatpants too…

San cleared his throat and he pushed you a cup of tea infront of your face, which you graciously accepted and sat down on the couch next to him. You took a sip of the hot tea and looked ahead. There was an awkward silence between you, as if you were both thinking of what to say. Well, the only thing you could say was:

"Thank you." You muttered and looked down at the cup of tea you were clutching tightly in your hand. You had the feeling that if you clenched it even more, it would shatter into a million pieces. Like you an hour ago. "I broke up with him." You suddenly blurted out and he immediately turned his gaze to you. He raised his eyebrows slightly at your words as if he didn't expect it.

"Sorry to hear that." He actually lied, he was glad you were not together. That you did it. Did he feel happy? Relaxed? He didn't even know how he felt, but he only knew that deep down he was glad that it was so.

“He did it again.” You added and he furrowed his brows. He didn't like it, but even more he didn't like that you were here and that you were saying this to him.

"Why are you telling me this?" You shifted your gaze from the tea to him and gently parted your lips. You didn't know what to say to that. A tear ran down your cheek and you wiped it away with the tip of your fingers and swallowed loudly.

"I'm just confused." He laughed, he didn't even know why, but he found this situation funny. "Yesterday you told me that we should keep it professional and now you are here. Crying.” His words were sharp and unpleasant. You put the tea on the table in front of you and shook your head at his words that he was right. But why didn't you feel it that way?

"You are right. I-" as soon as you started to speak, he cut you off.

"Are you doing this on purpose or what?" His eyebrows were furrowed and he had a strange expression on his features that you had never seen on him.

“What? No! Of course not I just-“

“You giving me those eyes during class, showing up in my apartment.” He shook his head at you, he didn't care that the tears were running down your cheeks more and more. He wasn't really interested at this moment because he wanted to understand why you were doing all this. What is your deal? Distracting him?

“Tell me y/n. Why?” He raised his eyebrows and stared at you, patiently waiting for your answer. "Because I'm curious. You just show up here crying and telling me the same shit over again.” He let out a sigh and you just stroked your brows furrowed and lips parted, tears still running down your cheek. "Expecting what? That I will tell you It's alright and some other kind of shit?" He chuckled at his words and ran a hand through his hair, leaning further into the couch. His eyes were fixed in front of him, but you were watching him. You watched his every move and listened carefully to his sharp words that came from the depths of his heart.

"that I will hug you and whisper lovely words to your ear?" He added and then got back into the previous position to see your face. He could see on your face that you were taken aback by his words and that you didn't know what to say. “Well, I am not that kind of guy, if you thought that I would do that.” You took a deep breath when he finally finished and wiped your tears again and stood up from the couch.

"It was a mistake coming here." You muttered and when you were about to leave, his words stopped you.

"Yeah walk away. That's what you are best at." He had his elbows on his knees and watched carefully as you turned sharply at his words, tears were no longer running down your cheeks, but he could see from your features that you were angry. Angry because of what he said.

“Says you. You walked away from your wife and almost cried at my fucking shoulder after you fucked me.” Your words were full of anger, you were like a ticking bomb. He got up from the couch at your words and stepped closer to you. His jaw clenched and his Adam apple bopping every time he swallowed.

"I fucked you because I saw that you were desperate, remember?" He said and you shook your head at his words, you knew he was right but still you didn't let it go.

"I let you because you were so desperate to fuck someone who actually gives a fuck about you." You spilled those words into his face and at that moment he grabbed your wrist and pulled you closer, his hot breath touching your face.

"I can choose who I want to fuck, love. You would be surprised how many students came to my office and flirted with me. But I only fucked you, isn't that funny?" His words were ridiculous, he directly mocked you. He moved closer to your ear and his words sent a chill down your spine. "Should I remind you the words you said to me?" Your breath hitched and he saw it. He saw how you suddenly became nervous and also how a chill passed through your body, his words full of mockery and teasing. He knew very well the effect he had on you and he intended to use it very well.

"That I fucked you better than your boyfriend. Pfuu… y/n.” He pulled away from you to get a good look at you. "Tough words, right?" You swallowed at his words because he was right, but you still had no plans to stop throwing arguments at him.

"I only said that to make you satisfied and to boost your ego." Your words were funny to him so he just laughed at you and your stupidity.

"Your body said something else that time." San enjoyed how your body trembled gently and how his words always sent chills down your spine every time. But he thought it was very funny how you pretended that it had no effect on you and that you looked confident. “And now your body is saying something else too.” He shifted his eyes to your parted lips and how you immediately closed them and swallowed. You hated it as he had readen you from head to toe. How did he know what reacts to you and what doesn't.

“You asked why.” Out of the blue you changed the subject and his grip loosened on your wrist and he raised his eyebrows. He didn't understand where you were going with those words.

"What?" He asked you incomprehensibly and a small sigh escaped your lips, wondering if you really should say that. "I came because of you." You looked into his eyes and searched for something in them, maybe a hint of what he was thinking. That he feels what you feel.

"I came because I can't stop thinking about you. Fuck, you- you are driving me crazy.” Your words caught him by surprise and he immediately let go of your wrist and bit the inner corner of his mouth. “And fuck, yeah I expected you to hold me and tell me that it will be okay. I admit, okay? I even admit that I always walk away from the problems instead of solving them. And I’m sorry about what I said about your ex-wife. Fuck, I even admit that you fucked-“

“Just, shut up.” He interrupted you and immediately took your cheeks in his hands, using them to bring you closer to him and kiss you. Despite the fact that his words before were sharp and unpleasant, you let him kiss you. You wanted it. His touch on your cheeks was soft and warm and the kiss was soft and gentle. “You talk too much.” He said between kisses and his hands slipped to your waist, pulling you closer. The kiss became more dominant and passionate, he ran his tongue over your lips and you opened your mouth and gave him the freedom to push his tongue into your mouth. His tongue exploring your mouth with a hunger that belied his earlier resistance and you sighed as his hands slid to your ass and squeezed it.

He lifted your body by your ass and you immediately wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck. Without breaking the passionate kiss, he carried you to his bedroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning you against it. He let your body slowly slide off him and put one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek and caressed it gently. You slid your hand under his shirt and ran your fingers over his stomach, as he let out a shaky breath as your fingers traced his abs, his head falling back briefly. "Fuck, you're going to be the death of me," he muttered, quickly pulling his shirt off and tossing it aside.

“Yeah?” You asked him with a teasing voice still tracing your fingers slowly along his abs. "Yes, really," San growled at that, catching your wrists and pinning them above your head against the door, having enough of your teasing. He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing your ear. "One minute I'm pissed as hell at you, and the next..." He trailed off, pressing gentle kisses along your neck. “Then next I want to fuck you until the only word you remember is my name.” A slight moan escaped from your lips as he started to leave wet kisses along your neck.

His mouth curved into a satisfied smirk as he felt your body tremble against his. "Like that, do you?" he whispered, purposely leaving another wet mark just below your ear. His hands released your wrists, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other began pushing your shirt up, sending shivers down your spine. His cold hands touching your warm skin made you part your lips slightly and he noticed.

“So fucking sensitive," he murmured, his cold hand leaving goosebumps in its wake as he pushed your shirt higher. San broke the kisses on your neck just long enough to pull the shirt over your head and toss it aside, leaving you in just a lacy bra. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, half-naked and breathing heavily against the door. He leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a rough, passionate kiss as his hands reached behind you to unhook your bra.

“Mhm~” Being too desperate you moaned into the kiss as the bra hit the floor silently, freeing your breasts. He growled softly as your breasts pressed against his bare chest, one of his hands coming up to grope one possessively. Your moan echoed in his mouth, making him harder.

“Fuck- San, I need-“ he cut you off immediately.

“Shut up." San said against your lips before kissing you deeply again, swallowing any further words. His hand squeezed your breast roughly as his hips pressed against yours, letting you feel how hard he was already. Breaking the kiss, he nipped at your bottom lip. "Pants off. Now." You swallowed at his sharp words and you slowly pulled your sweatpants down, keeping an eye contact with him as he watched you carefully, enjoying how you obeyed him.

His gaze remained fiercely locked with yours as you peeled off your sweatpants, a wicked grin spreading across his face when you stood before him in nothing but in your panties. “Those off too. Come on.” Without breaking eye contact, he ordered watching how your body trembled every time. Slowly you pulled your panties down as he watched you with a smirk on his face. God he liked how you obeyed him every time.

“On your knees.” When those words left his mouth you swallowed. At first you remained in your place not being so sure but his voice was heard again. “Come on, love. Get on your knees for me.” His voice was low, demanding and you slowly slid to your knees, looking up at him. With a soft touch he cupped your cheek and grinned at the sight of you being in front of him on your knees.

His thumb gently stroked your cheek as he leaned down and whispered, "Isn’t if funny how minute ago you screamed at me that you let me fuck you just because I was desperate to fuck someone who gives a fuck." He kept eye contact while he slowly pulled his sweatpants down, a smirk playing on his lips as you watched him. “Now, look at you, y/n. You are here again. Obeying like a slut.” You swallowed hard at his words and your body trembled even more as you watched how he pulled his sweatpants and boxers down in one swift movement and your breath hitched as you saw him fully naked now. He was huge just like you remembered. Long and thick. He smirked watching your reaction. "Now, put that smart mouth of yours in a good use, will you?”

With a shy look on your face you brought your lips to his length and a shudder ran through him as your lips barely brushed against the tip. San groaned quietly, his fingers twitching against your cheek. "What did I say, love?" His voice was low, furious as he grabbed you by your hair roughly and he pressed himself against your lips, silently urging you to take him in.

As soon as you opened your mouth, he pushed himself in, filling your small mouth instantly. He groaned as he hit the back of your throat, pulling your hair harder to keep you in place. "Look at me." he growled, his hips bucking slightly to push himself deeper. With a small tears in your eyes you looked up at him through your eyelashes as he enjoyed the sight of you. He enjoyed how you fell apart on his cock.

San's eyes darkened with lust as he held your gaze, drinking in the sight of you trembling slightly, tears glistening at the corners of your eyes. He smirked, pleased by how perfectly you were submitting to him. "You look fucking gorgeous with your lips wrapped around my cock," His thick length pulsed in your mouth as he admired the view—your pretty lips stretched around him, taking him so deep. "Such a good girl," His grip tightened in your hair, holding you firmly in place as he slowly thrusted, savoring the slick heat of your mouth.

You moaned against his cock immediately sending shivers down his spine at that, then slowly you made your way with your hand to your wet core, the pleasure being too much but his words cut you off right away. "No...don't you fucking dare." He warned in that deep, authoritative tone you loved. With one quick motion, he grabbed your wrist, preventing your hand from reaching its destination. "Only my hands get to touch you there tonight, got it?" His hips thrust forward again, making you gag slightly. You let out a little cry at his warning words and San smirked as he watched you suppress your whimper, pleased by your obedience. Keeping a firm grip on your hair, he began to thrust more deliberately, each stroke pushing deeper into your throat. The wet sounds of your mouth working his cock filled the room, punctuated by his low groans of pleasure.

“So pretty.” He tilted his head back, savoring the sensation as he hit the back of your throat perfectly, but then he looked back down at you, seeing the slight flush on your cheeks and the tears streaming down your face. He was close, so very close to bursting apart in your mouth. "So good, just for me, yeah?”

You moaned again and he let out a shuddering groan as your moan vibrated around his sensitive cock, the sensation almost too intense. The sight of you squeezing your thighs together desperately, unable to touch yourself yet trembling with need, pushed him over the edge. "Fuck, I'm gonna-" He threw his head back and with one final thrust, he buried himself deep in your throat and came undone, his hot seed spilling into your mouth as he let out a low, guttural groan. His hips jerked erratically as he rode out his release, eyes locked onto yours, intense and unblinking. You watched, mesmerized, as he came undone completely, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm. "Swallow it, come on.” Without second thought you swallowed all his release, squeezing your eyes.

He let out another groan as he watched you swallow every drop like it was the best thing you've ever tasted. Your throat worked sexily as you swallowed, making his spent member twitch again. "Goddamn," He muttered softly, petting your hair gently now instead of gripping it harshly.

“Please.” A whispered please escaped from your mouth as you squeezed your thighs more. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of you squeezing your thighs, desperate and needy. He knew exactly what you were begging for, he leaned down, cupping your chin in his hand. "What do you want, love?" He asked in a smooth, knowing tone.

“I need you. Please.” A small chuckle escaped from his mouth at your desperate cry, his fingers trailing down your chin to your throat. "You need what?" He asked, his voice dropping lower, "You need my hands on your thighs? You need my face between your legs? You need my fingers inside you? My cock?" You let out a shaky breath at his words, swallowing loudly.

“Please, make me feel good, San.” He smirked mischievously at you, grabbing you by your wrist tightly and pulling you up from the ground. You were immediately met with his intense gaze and his hot breath on your lips. “Please-“ When you started to beg again he silenced you with a harsh, bruising kiss, his other hand reaching to your hip, guiding you slowly to the bed. He broke the kiss, panting, "You want to feel good?" Your knees immediately hitting the bed and he showed you down on the mattress, watching you swallow and your breath becoming more heavier which made his cock twitch.

With your elbows you supported your body as you leaned back more and you observed him as he stood there watching you for a moment, admiring how perfectly you surrendered your body to him. Your chest rising and falling with anticipation, lips parted slightly. "Spread your legs," he commanded, his voice hoarse with desire. When you hesitated for just a moment, he added firmly, "Now." Without another second you spread your legs for him and he positioned himself between your thighs, his hands firmly gripping your knees to keep them spread wide. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, seeing how wet you were, your pink folds glistening with need. He slowly ran his fingers along your slit, not penetrating but just teasing.

“Fuck-“ When you felt his finger ran along your slit you threw your head back and shut your eyes, begging with your little moans to be touched more.

“Eyes on me, love.” With a raised tone he grabbed you by your jaw and made you look straight into his eyes, his fingers splaying out to keep your knees spread wide. When he slowly pressed his tip against your wet pussy he watched your eyes roll back slightly but snapped them back to his with a sharp tug on your jaw. "You just won’t listen, will you?" he asked, his thumb rubbing your chin roughly. "You want to be fucked?” You were unable to concentrate when he pressed his tip on your wet pussy, teasing you. The only thing you managed to do was shake your head which wasn’t enough for him.

He saw the contradiction in your body language and smirked. "You don't want to be fucked?" he asked, pressing just the tip of his cock inside you, but not enough to satisfy your need. He was teasing you, loving the power he had over you.

“No! I want to be- I want to be fucked, please!” A dark laugh escaped his lips as he heard you beg for it. He leaned down, his breath hot on your ear. "That's what I thought," he whispered, driving his cock fully into you in one swift motion. You gasped, your back arching as he filled you completely, capturing your mouth into a deep kiss. Right away you moved your hands to his back and he groaned into the kiss, loving the way your nails dug into his back.

He started to move his hips, slowly at first, letting you feel every inch of him as he pulled out and thrust back in. He broke the kiss to nip at your neck, sucking and biting to mark you. Then he pulled away his dark eyes locked onto yours, demanding your attention and devotion. "Tell me who's fucking you this good." He lifted your chin with his hand as he continued to thrust into you deeply and slowly, his piercing hitting your g-spot with each thrust.

“Y-you.”

"What I didn’t quite hear you." He teased, his voice low and commanding as he continued his slow, deep thrusts, hitting your g-spot with each movement. His other hand reached up to wrap around your throat, squeezing gently as he looked into your eyes. "Say my name, love."

“San.” You moaned more louder and he smirked at that, enjoying how you are taking his cock so well. "Like that," He growled, thrusting harder. "You take my dick so well," He murmured, watching your body bounce slightly with each snap of his hips. "Spread your legs wider." He ordered softly, watching you eagerly obey.

"You know what I love?" You gasped as he thrusted deeper into you, gripping your hip more tight every time. He enjoyed the sight of you how you opened your mouth into a little ‘O’ when he thrusted more deeper, making you take his full length.

"Watching your pretty face while I destroy this tight pussy," He whispered darkly, increasing his pace. His hand around your throat tightened slightly, showing his possessiveness. His thumb traced your bottom lip as he continued pounding into you. "Christ you feel so good..." He leaned down to nip at your ear as he felt your nails dig deeper into his back as he hit that sweet spot inside you, making you cry out his name loudly. He smirked against your neck, loving the sound of your voice saying his name. His hips moved in a circular motion, hitting your g-spot from different angles as he spoke. “So glad you left- you left that boyfriend of yours.” The fact he was struggling with his words made you moan even more. “Now you are all mine. Right?” The grip on your throat tightening as he looked at you with a hungry gaze. “Say it that you are mine.”

“I’m yours.” As his dick was too much for you, you hid your face in the crotch of his neck, but he immediately pulled you back. "That's right, you're fucking mine," he growled possessively, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, bitting your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, marking you. He continued to pound into you, the sound of skin slapping against skin filling the room.

“Y-yours.” Even though you were unable to breathe you repeated again but San hadn’t enough of it, yet.

"Again," His voice hoarse as he continued his brutal pace, his hands roaming your body possessively, squeezing your breast and spreading your thighs wider. "Say it like you mean it," He ordered, his eyes locked onto yours as he continued his punishing rhythm.

“I-…” You were moaning mess you couldn’t get a simple word out of you as he kept thrusting more rougher. He laughed at your state but still he said;

"Use that mouth yours like when you talk shit." He growled as his hips were snapping forward with each word. "Tell. Me. You're. Mine." He punctuated each word with a deep thrust, hitting your g-spot perfectly, his eyes burning with intensity as he watched you struggle to speak.

“I’m yours. Fuck-… only…” To catch a breath you paused for a second, “Only yours”

"Goddamn," Softly he muttered, slowing down his pace. He loved hearing those words from your mouth. Slightly, he pulled out then snapped his hips back in hard, making you cry out. He smirked wickedly. "You know what I wanna do?" Finally he moved your hand from your throat to your hip again and again he pulled out of you and then snapped his hips back in hard. With hunger in his eyes he watched you let out a little cry as he kept doing that for a while. But then he kept his pace slow and deep, dragging his piercing along your walls. "I wanna fill this pretty pussy up with my cum, mark you inside and out. Make sure everyone knows you're taken," He leaned down, biting your earlobe. "What do you say to that, love?" Your eyes widened at his words and a chill run down your spine.

“W-what?” Out of breath you asked him he chuckled darkly at your shocked expression, his slow thrusts maintaining their deep pressure. "You heard me," he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. "Want my cum inside you?" His hand slid down to rub your clit in tight circles, making your hips jerk involuntarily.

When his hand met your clit, teasing you, you let out a loud moan and shook your head in agreement watching him smirk at you mischievously loving the effect he had on you. At that he speeded up the pace again thrusting more deeper and rougher than before trying to chase your and his own high. His cock pounded into you with renewed vigor, his breath growing ragged and his eyes never leaving yours. "Fuck, you feel too good," he groaned, his fingers digging into your thighs as he spread them wider to accommodate his deep, brutal thrusts. "I’m gonna fill you up."

“Please.” With a loud moan you begged and you grabbed him by his cheeks, pulling him closer and kissing him roughly. He kissed you back fiercely, swallowing your desperate plea as he continued his relentless pace. His tongue invaded your mouth, claiming every inch as his cock claimed your pussy. "Fuck, you are so desperate for me." he teased breathlessly against your lips, giving a particularly hard thrust that made you see stars. He could feel that you were close when your walls started to clinching more on his dick.

"Are you gonna cum for me, love?" He whispered darkly, picking up the pace even more, his thrusts becoming almost violent, his pelvis grinding against your clit with every stroke. "Look at me when you come." He could feel his own release building, his muscles tensing. Moans echoed in the room as you sank your nails into his back once again as you came.

"Fuck, yes," he hissed at the sudden pain mixing with pleasure. His nails dug into your hips hard enough to leave marks as he surged forward, his entire body stiffening. He let out a guttural roar, his hot cum filling you up, overflowing and dripping down your legs. After that he didn’t pull out, he stayed inside you for a while pressing his forehead against yours, smiling softly at you. It was different than before. This didn’t feel like sex, like it did back then in his office. It felt more like love?…

[revelboo]

Auggah i cannot hold my children. Unless they mass displace, but they too baby to know how to properly do that with precision. Imagine mass displaced shenanigans with sparkling makes them blokee size? Cradling your babies inside your palms. Cupping them and staring at them while fussing and suddenly understanding how your alien partner sees you. Uugshshbs. My fictional babies. They don’t even properly exist and im already so attached and weeping for them. The lost light angst piece doesn’t help either. Twin kitten sparklings from cygate and megs sparkling. Honestly just Megatron in general with a protoform of a sparkling. Its so tiny in his servos and he can see aspects of your features so carefully placed and formed from choosing. The moment he watches as the little one goes online and he falls in love for the second time in his life. Aishhshsjsnsjh. Wheeljack as a sire makes go wild too. Honestly any or ang bot with their little sparkling makes weepy. Im getting baby fever for fictional mega robot aliens on a friday afternoon. Ooakahb. Revel im getting sick.

Does Soundwave’s tiny kitchen help any? At some point, Shockwave just starts hanging around out of morbid curiosity about the mess the other three are in. No one invited him, he’s like a stray they fed one time and now he just lives here

Everything Is Alright Pt 139

IDW Starscream x Reader, Soundwave x Reader, Megatron x Reader

• “Normally sparklings aren’t bigger than their carrier,” Megatron mutters, optics narrowing. But then nothing about this is normal. Aware of why you’re uneasy as he clears his vents with a little huff. Because you’re so fragile, something a sparkling isn’t going to understand and now he’s worrying about it. This shouldn’t even be a problem, but being accidentally mated to a human just keeps throwing him unexpected curves. And it’s not like he has that much experience with sparklings. Doubts Starscream does, either. Soundwave at least knows what he’s doing. “We may need to keep you separated from the sparklings until they’re aware enough to understand and recognize that you’re their carrier. And delicate.”

• Wings flaring when your face crumples, he’s half afraid you’re about to start crying again, but you’re silent. Clearly not liking Megatron’s suggestion. And he’s annoyed that the warlord thinks he even has a right to voice his opinion on you and his sparkling. “There’s always a possibility that the spark won’t develop fully because it’s part human. We might very well end up with a human sized Cybertronian,” he mutters, servos gently pressing you to his chassis alongside his cockpit. Soothing himself with the feel of your heartbeat as he frowns to himself. A tiny Seeker is a helpless, Seeker.

• “Size is irrelevant,” Soundwave growls, knows most Cybertronians tend to dismiss or look down on mini bots and cassettes figuratively and literally, and it’s always bothered him. If the sparkling is cassette sized, he’ll still love it. Watching you look from him to Starscream and back to Megatron, your expression bothers him. Makes him want to take you back from the Seeker. Hide you away again and keep you there. Refuse to share you with them while you’re sparked with his young.

• They’re talking at least without brawling and that’s progress. Resting your cheek against Star, your heart aches. You hadn’t even really wanted kids, never really thought about it, but now that it’s happening, you’re aware that you’re probably not going to have those milestones most parents get. That from the sound of it, Megatron intends to keep you away from your own sparklings for your safety. And you get it because you’re concerned about being hurt accidentally, but you still hate it. “And Shockwave designs the protoform?”

• “He will,” Megatron says, jaw clenching, because that’s one more problem. Sooner or later, they’ll need to request he build a protoform and then there’ll be no keeping the fact that humans can be sparked a secret. Knows he should probably warn at least the Decepticons with humans that it’s possible, but they’ll have to realize you’re sparked. Might start questioning why he’s so involved in your life and wellbeing. Why you matter to him. Because you’re the biggest threat to the Decepticon cause right now. One ridiculously fragile human that can likely be accidentally offlined by your own sparkling, and wiping out most of the Decepticon command as collateral damage in the process. Groaning, he rubs a servo against his helm. Why had he saved you again?

• Flicking out his wings when Soundwave reaches as if to take you away, Starscream rumbles a warning that you’re still his. Even if Soundwave sparked you. Can’t even muster the energy to be annoyed with you for letting the other mech bond and spark you. Knows it was most likely his fault, maybe it’s your way of retaliating for him severing that partial bond and almost costing you your life. Lashing out because he was afraid of losing you. Because he was upset with you for loving Soundwave to begin with when you’re his. And trying to hurt someone else when he’s hurting is something he knows too well. Something he learned under Megatron’s fists, but he doesn’t want to be like him. Doesn’t want to keep sabotaging himself because he’s afraid.

Previous

[cayleeuhithinknott]

❛ 𝑳𝑬𝑻 𝑴𝑬 𝑳𝑰𝑪𝑲 𝑶𝑵 𝑼𝑹

𝑻𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑶𝑶𝑺 ❜

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉…you love matt’s tattoos, and it escalates to something more.

pairing: sweetheart!matt & shy!reader

cw: SMUT, oral (m receiving), pet names, tattoo licking? LMAO and probably more!

wc: 2.8k

you really need to get a grip.

or at the very least, stop staring.

but it’s impossible, because matt’s sitting next to you on the couch, completely oblivious to the fact that you’re dying inside, and his tattoo sleeve is just there.

he’s scrolling through his phone, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, his muscles shifting every time his fingers move. and it’s stupid, so so stupid, because you’ve seen his tattoos a million times before. you’ve traced them with your fingers, asked about their meanings, even watched him get some of them done.

but right now, you want to do something else entirely.

something that involves your mouth.

and that’s mortifying.

your face burns as the thought sinks in. it’s not like you to have thoughts this bold, this needy. but for some reason, today, your brain has decided to hyperfixate on the idea of pressing your lips to his skin.

biting it. licking it. marking it, like that would somehow make it yours.

your stomach tightens. you cross your arms, shifting uncomfortably. this is ridiculous. he’d never let you do something like that. it’s weird. you’re weird.

but the urge doesn’t go away. in fact, it gets worse, especially when he sighs and stretches, rolling his shoulders, his tattoos moving with him.

you swallow hard.

your gaze drifts along the inked-up skin, the way the designs flow together, the way the dark ink contrasts against his pale complexion. your fingers twitch.

you want to touch him.

you want to taste him.

matt glances over at you, and your heart plummets.

“baby?”

your spine stiffens. “yeah?”

his lips twitch, like he’s fighting a smile. “you okay?”

“yep,” you blurt out, nodding too fast. “totally fine. why?”

his head tilts. “because you’ve been staring at my arm for like…ten minutes.”

your face erupts in heat.

you shake your head frantically. “no, i haven’t.”

he raises an eyebrow. “so if i asked you what i just said a minute ago, you’d remember?”

you open your mouth. close it.

you didn’t even know he was talking to you before he’d finally grabbed your attention.

his smile grows. “that’s what i thought.”

your heart is racing. you need to get out of this conversation. fast. “it’s nothing,” you mumble, turning away. “just zoning out.”

but he’s not buying it. you can feel him staring at you, studying you, and then—because matt is matt—he shifts closer, resting his forearm on his thigh, putting his tattoos right in your line of sight.

your stomach flips.

he’s testing you.

you try to ignore it, but your eyes keep flickering back, betraying you. and then he does the worst thing possible—he flexes his fingers—fuck, his fingers—veins shifting under the ink, and you swear you feel your pulse in places you shouldn’t.

oh, you hate him.

you squeeze your thighs together, hands balling into fists in your lap. your mouth is so dry. other parts of you are not.

“sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “what is it?”

you shake your head. “nothing.”

he doesn’t push, but he also doesn’t look away. he’s waiting. he knows.

and you know you shouldn’t say it. you know you should keep your mouth shut. but your brain-to-mouth filter decides to take the night off, and before you can stop yourself, you whisper, “can i…can i kiss them?”

silence.

your heart stops.

oh. oh no.

why would you say that?

you slap a hand over your mouth, mortified beyond belief, but matt doesn’t laugh. he doesn’t tease. he just blinks at you, like he’s processing the words.

your stomach drops. “forget i said anything,” you rush out, turning away, but before you can retreat, matt’s hand is on your chin, tilting your face back toward him.

your breath catches.

his gaze is steady, unreadable. “you wanna kiss my tattoos?”

your skin burns. “i-i didn’t mean—”

“you did,” he interrupts gently, watching you carefully. “and that’s okay.”

you can barely breathe. “it’s weird,” you mumble, embarrassed. “you probably think i’m weird.”

his thumb strokes your jaw. “i don’t.”

you hesitate. he seems…serious. and more than that, he seems open to it.

“really?” you whisper.

he nods. then, he lifts his arm slightly, offering it to you. “go ahead, baby.”

your heart pounds.

you hesitate for a moment longer, searching his face for any sign of amusement, but there’s none. he’s genuine.

so, cautiously, you reach out, fingers grazing over the ink. his skin is warm under your touch, the veins and muscles firm beneath it.

you swallow.

and then, slowly, you lean down and press a soft, tentative kiss to his forearm.

his breath hitches.

your stomach flips.

you do it again, lips lingering a little longer this time, and when you glance up at him, his jaw is tight, his eyes darker than before.

your confidence spikes.

you move up his arm, kissing along the intricate lines and shading, letting your lips drag. your hands slide up to his bicep, fingertips pressing lightly into the muscle as your mouth lingers on his skin.

when you let your tongue flick out, tracing over a particularly detailed part of the ink, you hear him suck in a sharp breath.

oh.

oh.

this is affecting him.

you bite back a smile, growing bolder. your teeth graze the skin, nipping lightly at the ink, and matt shudders.

his hand comes up to the back of your head, fingers threading into your hair. he’s not pushing—just holding. just feeling.

“fuck,” he exhales, voice strained. “keep going, baby.”

your stomach flutters.

you obey, mouth moving higher, pressing slow, open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder. your tongue traces over the ink, warm and wet, and matt shivers.

your eyes flicker up. his lips are parted, his breathing slightly uneven, and his grip in your hair tightens when you bite down again, harder this time.

he lets out a low, shaky laugh. “jesus,” he mutters. “didn’t know you had this in you.”

you don’t answer. you just hum against his skin, sucking lightly at one of the designs.

and that’s when you feel it.

something pressing against your thigh.

your breath catches.

oh, shit.

matt stiffens slightly, realizing at the same time you do. “ignore that,” he mutters, shifting like he’s trying to move away. “not my fault you’re—”

“you’re hard,” you say, voice a little breathless.

he groans, tipping his head back. “don’t say it like that.”

you bite your lip. “but you are.”

he looks back down at you, exasperated. “yeah, no shit, baby.”

your stomach tightens. because suddenly, the wetness between your thighs is impossible to ignore, too.

your mouth is still against his shoulder. his grip is still firm in your hair. and you’re both sitting there, breathless and flushed, knowing exactly where this is leading.

he exhales slowly, voice low. “c’mon,” he murmurs, tugging you closer. “we’re going to my room.”

your pulse races.

yeah. you definitely need to get a grip.

matt’s sat on the edge of the bed with you on your knees in front of him. things had escalated. you were only in your bra and shorts, matt being fully naked.

you’ve got one hand cupped under his balls and the other hand lazily stroking his length. matt’s got his fingers gently threaded in your hair, gazing down at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. because to him, you are.

you press feather-light kisses up and down his cock, occasionally deliberately dragging your tongue over the more pronounced veins. you were a little nervous. you’d given him head tons of times, so you weren’t quite sure what was different this time.

your movements slow even more, hesitation creeping in as your lips hover over his tip, unsure. your hand stills at the base of his cock. the heat of his gaze burns into you, and when you finally gather the courage to look up at him, it nearly knocks the breath from your lungs.

his eyes are heavy-lidded, dark and unreadable, but there’s something there—something that makes your stomach twist and your pulse stutter. is he…waiting? does he want you to keep going? or worse—was that bad? oh god, what if you—

“hey,” his voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts, gentle but firm. his fingers unweave themselves from your hair to trace lightly over your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin in a way that makes you shiver. “you’re doing so good, sweetheart.” the way he says it is so easy, like there isn’t a doubt in his mind. like you aren’t sitting here second-guessing every little thing.

you swallow hard, your breath shaky, and he must notice because he tilts his head, eyes softening. “you can keep going,” he murmurs, his voice low, warm. “take your time. i promise, you’re perfect.”

oh. yeah, that definitely does something to you. your fingers twitch where they rest, your skin buzzing under the weight of his approval. something about the way he’s looking at you—patient, expectant, the ghost of a smirk playing at his lips—sends heat crawling down your spine.

so you inhale slowly, steady yourself, and do exactly what he says.

you give him a couple more slow strokes before wrapping your plush lips around the head of his cock. as his breath hitches, you feel a familiar heat pooling in your core. but, this isn’t about you, right now. you want to make him feel good.

you start to take his cock deeper into your mouth, and matt’s hand immediately finds it’s way back to your hair. you force your head down a little further, choking slightly. “you’re okay, sweetheart. doin’ great.” matt mutters softly, and you can feel his gaze on you.

you transfer your gaze to look up at him as you start to move your head up and down. he throws his head back as you use your hand to pump the length you can’t fully fit, eliciting pleasured groans to fall from his pink lips.

when he looks down at you again, your eyes meet, and he almost cums on the spot just from fucking looking at you. he’s down bad.

you grip his cock a little tighter in your hand, moving your head a little faster as well. the feeling of your warm, wet throat constricting him is pure ecstasy for him. “shit, baby, you’re so good…” he groans, squeezing your hair a little but loosening his grip when he realizes what he’s doing.

tears drip down your cheeks as drool seeps out from the corners of your lips—now you were starting to struggle. you let out a soft whine, and matt looks down at you, taking the hint that you need help. he starts to move your head down until his entire cock is in your mouth and your nose is pressed to his lower tummy.

you gag slightly and he pulls you almost all the way off before pushing you back down again. he thrusts into your mouth slowly, not wanting to hurt you in any way. “can i go a little faster, sweetness?” matt asks breathlessly. you hum around his cock, which is a green-light for matt.

he starts to fuck into you a little quicker now, his tip hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. each little choke and gag of yours drew him closer to his release, and every one of his moans and groans powered you to hold it together.

“take it all, sweetheart, i know you can…fuck,” he tosses his head back. you start to incorporate your tongue more, to which he releases a sound that almost sounds like a whimper. fuck. “you’re—ngh—shit, baby, you’re so good..”

matt lets out a shaky exhale, a soft whine slipping out as he fucks your face even faster. your chin and chest were covered in drool, but you didn’t even care. he bucks his hips up particularly hard, eliciting a loud choked sound from you. “shit—sorry, sweetness, you just make me feel so fuckin’ good..”

matt notices how you’re starting to gag and choke more and more, and he knows you probably need some reassurance. “you’re good, sweet girl, just breathe through your nose. not much longer, baby, i’m so close.”

you hum around him again, the vibrations sending a shiver up his spine and into the back of his throat, where a groan comes out. tears streak down your face, and you’re sure your mascara’s got you looking like a damn raccoon. but, did you care? absolutely the hell not.

his hips start to stutter, and his breathing gets more ragged—that’s how you know he’s so close. you use your free hand to massage his balls and he whimpers. full on whimpers. holy shit. no way. no way that just came out of his mouth.

holy shit. your brain just short-circuited. completely malfunctioned. you didn’t know he could sound like that. but now that you do, you need to hear it again.

okay, stay calm. be normal. act like you didn’t just melt into a puddle. if you die right now, at least you’ll die knowing that noise exists.

god, that was so hot. wait, do you signal that to him? no. no, you keep that to yourself. you should not be this affected. but here you are. completely affected.

he sounds so pretty…is it bad that you want to keep making him sound like that? okay, now you have two missions. make him do that again. immediately. oh, and make him cum.

“fuckkk baby, i’m about to—shit—cum..” he groans, squeezing your hair in his hands even harder. you let out a soft, bashful moan around his cock, egging him on. he pushes himself down your throat one more powerful time before he pulls out. you stick out your tongue and his warm, white spurts of cum cover your lower face, some of it getting on your chest and some actually making it onto your tongue. and that’s when you catch it. another fucking whimper.

matt gawks at the sight of you. he uses his thumb to swipe the remainders into your mouth, not bothering to clean up the bits on your chest just yet.

your chest rises and falls, trying to catch your breath as you shift slightly, still kneeling between matt’s legs. your lips feel swollen, your face warm, and your heart is thumping so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

matt looks absolutely wrecked—head tilted back, eyes half-lidded, lips parted as he tries to process what just happened. but when he blinks down at you, his expression softens instantly.

“c’mere, baby,” he murmurs, reaching down to guide you up and onto his lap. his hands are so gentle, warm against your skin as he cradles your face and presses a lingering kiss to your forehead. “you did so good. so, so good for me.”

your stomach twists at his words, a mix of pride and bashfulness settling in. you tuck your face into his neck, feeling his chest vibrate with a soft chuckle. “stop,” you mumble, voice small.

“what? i mean it,” he hums, rubbing slow circles on your back. “so perfect. felt so good, sweet girl.”

you don’t respond, just nuzzle further into him, feeling warm and safe in his arms. but then matt’s shifting, pressing another kiss to the top of your head before standing up with you still clinging to him.

“let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?” he says, carrying you towards the bathroom. you let out a small sound of protest, but he only grins, setting you down carefully before reaching to turn on the shower.

you’re shy, hesitating as you stand in front of him, but he just cups your face, tilting it up so you meet his gaze.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

you nod. “yeah. just…still kinda nervous.”

you weren’t sure as to why you were nervous. you just sucked him off for goodness sake. your brain works in odd ways, that’s for sure.

his lips twitch into a knowing smile before he leans in, kissing you sweetly. “nothing to be nervous about, sweets. just wanna take care of you.”

he steps into the shower first, holding a hand out for you to follow. the warm water cascades down as you step under the spray, sighing at the soothing sensation. matt keeps his touch light—running his hands over your arms, your shoulders, smoothing your hair back with such careful tenderness that your heart clenches.

he washes you with so much care, fingers massaging shampoo into your scalp, then gently rinsing it out. “feel okay?” he asks, and you nod, leaning into his touch.

“you’re so sweet,” you murmur, voice barely above the sound of the water.

matt tilts his head, smiling. “because you deserve it.”

your throat tightens, but before you can respond, he’s pressing a kiss to your shoulder, whispering against your skin, “so proud of you, pretty girl. you’re everything to me.”

you close your eyes, letting yourself melt into his touch, into his words, into him.

“guess my tattoos aren’t the only thing you’ve got a taste for now, hm?”

a/n: omg i’ve wanted to write this for so long. i loooove matt’s tattoos and i love this song so i had to!!! thanks to @hearts4werka for supporting my idea and @strnilolover for proofreading 😌

tags: @sturniolo04 @admeliora94 @alexturnersgooch @snuffbut @frattboychris @marrykisskilled @mqttittude @purpledragon222 @aubsloveschris @slctsblogana @emely9274 @oliviasthatgirl @conspiracy-ash @matthewsroses @pasteldreams @matts-wife

[itsacruelsummerbaby]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒍

The Red Thread of Fate… To your surprise, it turns out Hotch believes in it.

pairing: Aaron Hotchner x reader || tags: fem!reader, bau!reader, soulmate AU || wc: 1.2k || navigation

You put the cup of coffee on the table in front of you, then pick up the Cosmo you left open. Out of the corner of your eye you see the small half-smile that appears on Hotch’s lips at the sight, but he doesn’t say a word, he just returns his attention to the report in front of him.

“I hate these articles so much,” Emily suddenly says in the seat next to yours, pointing at the page you’re currently reading. You send a questioning look her way, and she turns in her seat to face you. “I once took their “signs he’s into you” piece seriously, made a move on the guy, and it turned out he was into men.”

Somehow Derek heard this story over the music he was listening to, because he pushes the headphones down to his neck as he laughs. “Don’t tell me you actually used to believe what they write. It’s all stupid,” he says.

After briefly wondering if you should kick his shin under the table, you decide it’s not worth the fight. “It temporarily shuts down my brain,” you begin to explain. “That’s more than enough for me.”

Suddenly, Hotch lays the report on the table and raises his gaze to look at you. “Good thinking. I would have been disappointed if it turned out you’re the type to consider this magazine as some sort of a Bible for women.”

Derek and Emily exchange glances, and even you raise your brows in surprise. Why is he paying attention to a conversation about such a magazine? Not like you mind, of course, which sometimes truly bothers you. You shouldn’t want his attention this badly, your dreams shouldn’t be plagued with thoughts of him being with you.

It all began when the first signs of troubles with his marriage began to show. You saw that something was eating him, so one day after work you went to his office and started a conversation to figure out why he always stayed late. For some reason, he decided to tell you the truth, going into details that were none of your business.

Is it an emotional affair? Maybe.

Is it bad? Probably.

Are you happy to have even a scrap of his attention? Surely.

“Did you really think that’s a possibility with me? That I’m like that?” you ask hesitantly.

Hotch’s gaze is fixed on you, as it was just the two of you on the plane. “No,” he admits softly.

The way you’re looking at each other piques the interest of your colleagues, and not just Emily and Derek’s, but JJ and Rossi’s too. Lucky to you, Spencer is sleeping peacefully on the couch. To make sure your boss finally stops, you tear your gaze away and gently bump your foot into his leg.

Sadly, Hotch takes this as a challenge and hooks his legs around yours while returning his attention to the report. The others lose interest eventually, hopefully letting this go for now. It’s bad enough that the man across from you is playing some stupid game with you.

This is the first time he makes such an obviously flirty move, which leads you to an uncharted territory. Is he planning to take whatever is going on between you to another level? Because if he is, you’re not really sure if you’re ready for it. He’s still married, even if Haley wants a divorce, you can’t jump into a relationship with him.

When you try to untangle your legs, he subtly glances over at you with a disapproving look, one which tells you he’s not letting this thing between you end anytime soon.

You know for a fact that he and Rossi had a glass or two of whiskey at the airport while you waited for the jet to be ready, but after this case, you honestly couldn’t blame them. Maybe it’s the alcohol that gave him the courage to make a move on you, but you’re afraid he’ll regret it the next day when he sobers up.

It’s your responsibility to be smart, to help him without making him believe you want something from him. He’s handsome, intelligent, competent, and yes, every woman would be happy to have him for herself, but the timing just isn’t right.

Less than two hours later the plane lands and the team disperses to finally head home, and sadly Hotch uses this opportunity to catch you alone. He gently grabs your wrist to make you come to a halt, and when you give him a questioning look, he just shakes his head and pulls you in the direction of a place in the hangar that’s far away from everyone.

“You need to stop,” you tell him right away.

He lets out a sigh and takes a step closer to you, his hand moving up to cup your cheek. “Don’t tell me you don’t feel it. That pull, that goddamn force every time we’re close to each other. Hell, it’s even present when we’re apart, trying to get me to see you again.”

It’s insane; he’s insane if he honestly believes this. “And what is this… pull exactly?”

“It was a mistake to make you forget it,” he whispers when he rests his forehead against yours. “If I hadn’t done that, we would be together now. Maybe Haley and I would have never gotten married, because I would have been waiting for you to be old enough.”

Making you forget? “What are you talking about, Hotch?” you wonder, the conversation making less and less sense to you.

His hand drops to his side and he takes a few steps back. “You wouldn’t believe it, it’s better if you don’t know. Forget I mentioned it,” he says with a small, sad smile.

But there’s no way you’re letting that slide now, you need to know what’s happening, so you reach out for his hand to squeeze it reassuringly. A move that makes him take a sharp breath, as if your touch sent a wave of electricity through his body.

“What wouldn’t I believe?”

“That we belong together. You always found me when you were little, you were honestly getting on my nerves sometimes,” he says with a short laugh. “But… I got scared of what this was, what this could be, so I asked someone to make you forget about me, about that string that connects the two of us.”

This rang a bell in your head. “Like the Red Thread of Fate or something?” you ask him quietly, unsure about the whole thing. He nods, but remains silent, so you go on. “Hotch, it’s… Why would I believe you?”

“You don’t have to. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe you really did forget about this for good, and in that case I'll have to accept that you will never love me back. Unless, of course, you’re willing to give me a chance,” he says softly.

Blowing out the air you’ve been holding in gives you time to think it through. It must be the alcohol, there’s no other reason for this stupid story. But in that case, why doesn’t he look drunk? After another few seconds of waiting, you let out a sigh and give him your answer, hoping he will come to terms with it eventually.

[mminghaos]

pink in the night , yoon jeonghan x f!reader

“and i know i’ve kissed you before, but i didn’t do it right”

SYNOPSIS: jeonghan shows up at your door months after the both of you ended things, and despite everything that’s happened, you cant help but give in.

WARNINGS: smut, oral (f!receiving), angst

requests open, do send some in !!

jeonghan shouldn’t be here, really.

and you shouldn’t be standing here, staring at him like you don’t know exactly how this ends.

but you don’t close the door.

he’s watching you, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, hair messy like he ran his fingers through it a hundred times before knocking. you hate that he still looks good like this — casual, effortless, like he didnt wreck you months ago and then leave you to pick up the pieces alone.

“what do you want?” your voice is sharper than you mean for it to be, but you dont take it back.

he shrugs, like this isn’t a big deal, like he’s just passing through. “just wanted to see you.”

your fingers curl tighter around the door. that’s the problem, isn’t it? jeonghan always does what he wants. shows up when it’s convenient for him. says things that get under your skin, waits for you to react, waits for you to break first.

not this time.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you tell him.

“i know,” he says. and yet, he still doesn’t leave.

you hate him for this. for making you stand in the doorway of your own apartment, pulse too quick, mind too slow. for making it so goddamn hard to look at him and remember why you let him go in the first place.

this is fucked up. things ended months ago. you should have shut the door in his face. he played with your feelings like they were nothing, kissed you like you were nothing. and now he expects you to forgive him just like that?

but then he exhales, slow, careful, and his voice drops into something softer. “i should’ve done stuff differently.” he says, taking a step closer “i had my chance and i fucked up.”

you scoff before you can stop yourself. “seriously?”

“i mean it,” he murmurs, tilting his head, studying you like he’s trying to figure out what you’ll do next. “you don’t think about it?”

you shouldn’t. but of course you do.

it’s what pisses you off the most. that even after everything, there are nights you still feel the ghost of his hands on you, his lips at your throat, his voice in your ear. that you still remember exactly how he felt between your legs and how you woke up to him besides you in the mornings.

but that’s not enough. it was never enough.

“not my problem,” you say, but your voice isn’t as steady as it should be.

he catches it, of course he does. jeonghan knows you too well, knows how to read between the lines, knows how to press at your weak spots until you let him in.

his fingers brush against your wrist — barely a touch, but it sends something sharp and electric up your spine. your stomach twists. he’s always been good at this.

you should tell him to leave.

but then his other hand finds your waist, and your breath catches, and you realize you don’t move away.

this is a mistake.

jeonghan leans in, slow, like he’s giving you time to stop him. his lips are close enough that you can feel the warmth of his breath, and your body betrays you, leaning just the slightest bit forward.

his lips barely graze yours before you turn your head, his mouth landing on your cheek instead.

“you don’t deserve that,” you whisper.

his forehead drops against yours, and he exhales, his hands flexing against your skin.

“i know.”

his voice is so quiet, too quiet. too good.

your fingers hover over his chest. they shouldn’t. but he’s warm, and close, and familiar in all the ways that make your head spin.

“just once,” he murmurs, voice barely above a whisper. “let me get it right.”

you should say no.

but you don’t.

his lips don’t press to yours right away. he waits, forehead still resting against yours, his hands unmoving at your waist like he’s giving you the chance to stop this. to step back and slam the door in his face like you should have the second you saw him standing there.

but you don’t move.

and neither does he.

his fingers tighten slightly, barely gripping, barely holding. like he’s afraid he’ll push too far and youll disappear. you should make him beg for it, should make him suffer the way you did when he walked away the first time, but the way he’s looking at you — soft, unreadable, too much — makes your chest ache.

“tell me to go,” he murmurs. “i will.”

your breath catches, throat tight, because he says it like he means it. like he’ll actually leave if you tell him to.

but that’s the problem, isn’t it? you don’t want him to.

you should. god, you should.

but instead, your fingers tighten in the front of his hoodie, tugging just slightly, and that’s all it takes.

he exhales shakily, barely a breath before his lips finally, finally press to yours.

and it’s everything you remember. warm, familiar, intoxicating in the way that makes your head spin. his hands slide up, fingertips pressing just hard enough to remind you that he’s here, that you’re letting him do this, that you should stop before it goes too far.

but you don’t.

because the second his tongue brushes against your lower lip, you part for him, and then you’re really kissing him — deep and slow and desperate, like trying to erase the last few months .

jeonghan groans softly into your mouth, his hands sliding lower, gripping your hips like he needs you closer, like he’s scared you’ll slip through his fingers if he doesn’t hold tight enough. and maybe that should scare you, how easily you let him in, how easily you forget why you told yourself this would never happen again.

but then he’s walking you backward, guiding you towards your bedroom, and the second the door clicks shut behind him, it doesn’t matter anymore.

your back meets the bedroom wall with a quiet thud, and jeonghan takes the chance to press closer, caging you in. his hands are everywhere — sliding up your sides, skimming over your ribs, gripping just hard enough to make your breath hitch.

his lips don’t leave yours, moving slow, deep, like he’s savoring this, like he’s making sure you feel every second of it.

and you do.

your fingers twist in the fabric of his hoodie, pulling him closer, because no matter how much you hate this, hate him for still having this hold on you, it’s been months. months of pretending, months of acting like you don’t still crave him in the worst way.

his hands slide lower, palms hot against your bare skin as they dip under your shirt, and you shiver, arching into him before you can stop yourself. his lips curl against yours, and you hate the way he knows exactly what that means.

“still so sensitive,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down to your jaw, then lower, lips ghosting over the column of your throat.

you swallow hard, tilting your head back against the wall, fingers curling against his chest. “shut up.”

he huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, but he doesn’t push — doesn’t gloat like you expect him to. instead, his hands skim up your sides again, slow, careful, like he’s feeling his way through this.

like he knows he doesn’t get to fuck this up a second time.

you should tell him to stop. should shove him back and remind him that this means nothing.

but when his teeth scrape against your pulse point, your breath stutters, and your nails press into his shoulders.

this is a mistake.

then he’s tugging your shirt higher, fingertips ghosting over your ribs, and your body betrays you all over again, pressing into him, wanting more.

jeonghan hums low in his throat, dragging his lips back up to yours.

“tell me to stop.” he murmurs, just before he goes in to kiss you again. “last chance to tell me to leave.”

and you don’t.

he guides you back to your bed, and it’s exactly as you remember. the soft creak of the mattress, the familiar scent of your sheets that’s somehow now mixed with his cologne. just the sight of him, standing over you, has that fluttering feeling in your stomach making its way up to your chest, catching your breath in a way you cant stop, no matter how much you try.

he leans over you, his lips brushing against your ear, murmuring, “let me make it up to you.” the words stir something deep inside, the kind of longing that you’ve tried so hard to bury.

you want to say no, so badly, the urge to push him off you, slam the door in his face, tell him to fuck off and never come back. but you don’t.

you can’t.

he’s too close. too fucking close. the warmth of his body next to yours makes it impossible to push him away.

and when his lips press against your neck, hot and soft, like a promise he doesn’t plan on keeping, you know that you should say something — anything — but you don’t.

you feel his fingers slip under the waistband of your shorts, pulling them down with practiced ease, and you don’t even have the energy to stop him. your hands curl into the sheets, your heart hammering in your chest. the last shred of resistance you had crumbles, and you’re left breathless beneath him.

he’s looking at you now, his gaze intense, searching your eyes like he’s trying to find something.

“focus,” he whispers, his voice low and coaxing, the softest it’s been in months. “are you sure? i don’t want you regretting anything like me.”

you try to summon some strength, to find some piece of you that remembers why this is such a terrible idea. you should push him away. you should stand your ground, tell him you’re not doing this.

but his voice — god, his voice, so quiet, so sincere — washes over you like a wave, and you feel yourself starting to slip. you exhale a shaky breath, your fingers clutching at the sheets like it might anchor you, but it doesn’t.

you tilt your head back against the pillow, closing your eyes, feeling the heat rise in your body.

“i’m sure,” you whisper, the words almost foreign on your tongue.

the moment you say it, you feel his mouth on you, his lips pressing softly at first, but then growing urgent, demanding as his hands slide down, holding your hips, guiding you towards him.

you lose track of everything — of the time, of the reason you told yourself you’d never go down this road with him again. his mouth is on your neck, then your chest, trailing down, his fingers already tracing the lines of your skin, the pads of them brushing so delicately against your stomach that your breath hitches.

you don’t know when your legs part, but they do, instinctively, welcoming him closer. his tongue dips between your legs, the warmth of it sending a jolt straight through you, and you can’t stop the gasp that escapes your lips.

your hands fly to his hair without thought, pulling him closer, urging him on, as his mouth works its way down, slow and deliberate, as if he’s savoring every inch of you. your breath comes faster, your heart pounding, and for a moment, everything else fades away.

all of it blurs until there’s nothing but him, the way he’s touching you, the way he knows exactly what to do.

his tongue flicks against your clit and swirls in slow, deliberate motions that make your legs twitch. the sensation has your body reacting before your mind can catch up, every nerve burning with heat. you can feel the coil tightening in your stomach, like it’s pulling you closer to the edge, and you curse yourself for getting so close so fast.

it’s embarrassing how easily he gets under your skin, how quickly he makes you lose control. the soft pressure of his mouth makes it impossible to think straight, to remember why you shouldn’t let this happen. every time he moves, his tongue tracing circles, flicking faster, slower, it makes your breath catch.

you want to say something — anything — to make him stop, but you dont find it in you to do so. it’s like he’s always known exactly what you need, and even if you try to push him away, he only pulls you deeper into this mess.

you hate to admit it, but you’ve missed him. you’ve missed this fucking idiot yoon jeonghan. missed his voice, his face, his scent, how he feels against you.

but you let go of the emotional shit for now just as his tongue prods at your entrance. his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you even closer. you can’t stop yourself from giving in.

“hannie—” you gasp, your voice weak, barely a whisper, and you let the nickname slip before you can stop yourself. he lifts his head up, his chin and mouth covered in your juices just as a low groan escapes from deep in his chest.

and just like that, you’re lost. you lose control. everything you thought you knew about what you wanted, what you needed, disappears in the rush of his touch, in the pull of his body, in the way he makes you forget how wrong this is.

and when he continues, each slow stroke of his tongue, each press of his mouth, you let yourself slip, even if you know its not a good idea.

the coil snaps.

your legs snap shut, pleasure coursing through your body. you can’t contain it, can’t hold back the wave crashing over you. every muscle in your body tightens, and your grip on jeonghan’s hair tightens along with them, pulling him even closer.

you come undone all over his face, trembling as you ride out your high. it feels like too much, like it’s going to swallow you whole, and yet, it’s exactly what you need. you don’t want to stop, don’t want this moment to end, even as the aftershocks make your body twitch with sensitivity.

he runs his hands over your hips, your thighs, your stomach, soothing you.

you’re left panting, flushed, and all you can focus on is him — how he’s holding you, how his mouth still lingers on your skin even after you’ve come undone.

“hmm, seems like my way of making it up to you is enough already, angel.”

[totallyxtaurus]

Depollute me, gentle angel pt.2

Summary: Sylus is away on a business trip while you sink deeper into your depressive episode. Pairing: Sylus x gn reader Genre: Angst, some fluff (maybe, hopefully!) Trigger Warnings: depression, mental health struggles, anxiety, self-neglect, and hints of suicide. A/N: I hope this doesn't feel too rushed! I'm still trying to figure out a good pacing of how I should break these up without them being too long or too short. Posted too quickly or not quick enough, so any advice would be very welcomed and appreciated! I hope I did Sylus justice with his responses, I just took what I would want to hear essentially. But, Hozier's Wasteland, Baby! album is so Sylus coded. I got so many ideas for other fics, so stay tuned! And again, please please please take sweet care of yourselves! 💗

Prev

The chime echoes through the apartment, and for a moment there’s nothing. No footsteps, no shuffle of movement inside. Sylus exhales, fingers softly tapping on the doorframe while he waits. He already knows. He had known the moment communication stopped, when his calls went to voicemail, when even the short, tired texts faded into silence. At first, he assumed you were just busy, needing space. But the longer he waited, the clearer it became—if it were up to you, you wouldn’t come back at all. He began doing his own investigation, looking up the traits you portrayed usually compared to these moments of time and he found his answer. So, he started paying attention. Comparing your usual habits to these stretches of absence. Watching for the patterns. Having Mephisto follow you to your therapist’s office had only confirmed what he already suspected.

As advised, he gave you time—three days, exactly. Then the calls began, gentle and steady, each one a quiet pull back to him. Each time, he waited for you to let him in, to say something. But instead, he got excuses. Busy with work. Out with friends. His personal favorite: just sleeping. It’s almost amusing, how you seem to forget he has your location. He always knows where you are. 

Sylus toys with the key in his hand, should he, or shouldn’t he? Would this cross a line? You had given this to him for an emergency, wouldn’t this be considered one? It has been a full week without hearing from you. He never lets it go this long but work held him up so he couldn’t do his usual routine. He continued to ponder the ethics of his decision until he heard it, movement. A sign of life behind the door that still won’t open up for him. That’s it, he decides and inserts the key. 

As the door swings open, a gust of stale air hits him, thick with stillness. His eyes immediately scan the space, searching for the life he just heard. But as he steps inside, it’s clear- the main rooms haven’t been touched in days, especially the kitchen. He moves toward the bedroom when the bathroom door suddenly swings open. 

Both of you freeze, staring at one another in shock. 

For a moment, he just looks at you. Taking in the hollowed eyes, the tangled hair, the way your clothes sit wrong on you—looser in some places, clinging in others— like they were meant to fit differently but now just hang, like an afterthought. His chest tightens—not in disgust, never that— but in a quiet, constrained ache. He swallows it down, he knows letting you see that pain won’t help. Instead, he inhales, careful, and controlled. Just as he opens his mouth to speak, he hears it. 

Get out 

The words reach him, but his mind trips over them, grasping for meaning. 

For a second, all Sylus processes is the sound of your voice—hoarse, unsteady, faint, as if it took all your energy to speak at all. His mind is still trying to catch up, to piece everything together. But that’s when he really sees you. The way you stand there stiffly, eyes shining with unshed tears, flickering to anything that isn't him. As if meeting his gaze would break your resolve. The tension in your jaw, arms crossed tightly over your chest, shoulders hunched forward, as if you’re shielding yourself from him. And then he sees it—fear. Shame. They were there all along, laced with the exhaustion and neglect. Deeply settled, lingering long before he walked in the door. He had been so focused on finding you, making sure you were safe, that he hadn’t realized—you didn’t want to be found. Not like this. 

The tightness in his chest twisting further, a quiet reminder of his mistake. Instead, he exhales in that same rehearsed way.

"Sweetie," he tries again. His voice was low, full of gentleness. Less of a greeting, more of a reassurance. He’s not going anywhere. 

You just shake your head, a silent refusal, as if willing for him to disappear. Your stance is firm, guarded. But Sylus isn't someone who retreats at the first sign of a challenge. Especially not when it's you. 

"I know kitten, I know you don't want me to see you like this. And I know you think that pushing me away will make everything easier for you, for me. But it won't, it hasn't. You don't have to do this alone." 

He sees the tears start to fall, a quiet surrender that he takes as a response. Without hesitation, he continues, his voice softer but unwavering.

Taking a small step forward, slow yet deliberate as he speaks, "Just focus on me for a second, okay? Forget about everything else, it's just us. Can you breathe with me, my love?" As he demonstrates with measured, even breaths. Never forcing, just offering, hoping it will bring your attention back to the present instead of whatever thoughts you're trapped in.

He notices the way your hunched shoulders drop, relaxing slightly, and how your clenched arms finally loosen their grip on your body. He continues to encourage you, taking slow, careful steps closer. 

"You don’t have to do anything big. I’m not here with any expectations. Why don’t we just sit down? We don’t have to talk, I’ll just sit with you, if that’s okay." His voice is soft, low, coaxing. 

Sylus notices the immediate shift in your demeanor as you register his close proximity-the shield coming back as your body goes rigid once again. You close back in on yourself and take a step back. 

You should go. I stink and I'm sure I look horrific; you mutter as your hand comes up to your face to shield it. His heart pangs, but he doesn't let his expression falter. He can't afford to let you see how much it hurts him that you're hiding from him like this. He takes another small step closer, never pushing, just allowing the space between the both of you to remain as it is. He doesn't want to make you feel trapped, but he wants to show you, prove to you, that he's not leaving.

"Kitten," his voice steady and carrying a weight of reassurance deeper than words can convey. "I'm not leaving. If I wanted to, I would. You know I don't do things I don't want to. But I'm here, for however long you want me around. I'm yours." 

You scoff, shaking your head, still refusing to meet his gaze. "Why?" you ask, voice cracking. "Look at me, smell me, Sylus. Jesus Christ I'm disgusting. Why would you want to stay? Are you nuts?" 

"It's been suggested," he cuts in, his tone remaining gentle yet firm. Finally, you look up at him, and the anger in your gaze takes him by surprise but he holds his ground. 

"You just don't get it," you emphasize, your words sharp and full of frustration. "What's there to get?" he wonders but doesn't dare to speak it. "Sweetie," he says tenderly, "if this is you at your worst, then I've suffered far worse than this. You think I haven't smelled, or hit rock bottom before? When I did-or if I do sometime in the future, would you leave me? Would you push me away" 

"Don't be ridiculous," you say, your voice tinged with exasperation. His lips quirk into a soft smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.  

"Can I hold your hand?" he whispers, watching you closely, waiting for your response. You hesitate, then barely nod, just enough for him to catch it. He takes your hand in his, lifting it gently to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back of it.  

Out of the corner of his eye, he catches the way your face scrunches up, a grimace of discomfort, but the smile on his lips remains warm and unwavering. 

"How about this," he continues, his voice calm and coaxing, "I'll make you something small to eat. You don't have to finish it. Just one bite. No pressure."  

You pause, your mind working through his offer. Until, after a moment, your shoulders sag in defeat, and with a sigh, you agree. Your hand still secured in his, he leads you to the kitchen, placing another kiss on the top of your head before turning to the fridge to pull out what little food there is. 

"After we eat, can you shower with me?" The words barely escape your lips, so faint that for a moment he's unsure he heard them. He looks at you, hoping his love for you radiates in his gaze.

"Of course," he replies, his voice steady and sure. "Whatever you want, my dove." He watches as the faintest of smiles flicker across your face, the kind of smile he's willing to wait for, no matter how long it takes. 

Tag list: @withering-dream @madam8 @t4naiis @sunhooniez

[suzukiblu]

. . . so like, no PROMISES for doing the whole month, buuuuut . . . day one of “Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it” behind the cut. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Oh, should I? In all the spare space I’ve got in here?” Tim asks, still sounding wry. 

“Buy a bigger boat, babe, I don’t know what to tell you,” Bernard says reasonably. “How’re we gonna keep a kept boy without a bigger boat, huh? You want a big pet around, you gotta have a big space for him. Let him really stretch his legs, you know? Or spread ‘em, whichever.’ 

Kon buries another laugh in his arms and Tim rolls his eyes, smiling fondly. Jokes aside, they really are crammed in pretty tight on the bed–it is just not that big a bed to be fitting three people in–but Kon minds literally nothing about that. Not even a little bit does he mind that, in fact.

He likes it, more like. Likes being all up in someone else’s space even without anyone actually fucking each other or even making out or like–just, anything, he guesses. He doesn’t get to do that often enough, it always feels like. Everybody’s always–busy, or moving, or . . . 

He just wants to, like . . . get to do this kind of thing more often, he guesses. 

Doesn’t hurt that it’s Tim whose space he’s currently all up in, either. Like–he has definitely not gotten to be all up in Tim’s space too many times that weren’t directly related to one of them saving each other’s ass in a crisis situation. Or, like, occasionally being transportation to a crisis situation; that has also been a thing more than once. 

. . . actually, fuck, thinking too much about being Tim’s usual designated transportation or just being all shoved up in each other’s space while the world was trying to end while he’s gay is not something he’s gonna be able to be normal about, huh. 

Like . . . wow, yeah. Not even a little bit normal. 

Jesus. 

“Oh, I see, so this is just another excuse to try and get me to trade in my perfectly sound and perfectly outfitted boat,” Tim says, which sort of distracts Kon from his own personal Chernobyl: Horny Edition. Like, kind of, anyway. “Is there literally anything that we have not managed to do in this bed? Genuinely, please tell me what position you have in mind, I’m honestly curious.” 

“Well, what about letting your boy sleep at the foot of the bed?” Bernard asks even more reasonably, which actually just made Chernobyl: Horny Edition like, twelve billion times worse, probably. Just–Jesus, again. “You think you’ve got the real estate for that on this mattress? No you do not, because you’ve failed to plan ahead and you should be ashamed.” 

“Yeah, Rob, shouldn’t you have a Bat-contingency plan for that?” Kon teases past more laughter, and Tim sighs. 

“You know, I did worry if you’d get along with each other or not, but I think it’s worse that you do get along with each other,” he muses, picking a peach slice up off the plate in his lap and eyeing it assessingly, because Tim is literally incapable of not assessing things, apparently, boyfriend-delivered breakfast or otherwise. “Actually, no, it’s worse that you encourage each other.” 

“I’m a very encouraging person, man, what can I say?” Kon says, flashing him a sharp grin. Tim rolls his eyes again, but with that little fond smile again, and Kon feels warm and heady and a little bit desperate to get his mouth on his cock again or, like–get kissed again, maybe. 

It’s maybe a little stupid, how he can’t really tell the difference between those things. Like–which one he really wants, he means. But like, in his defense, he is still experiencing his own personal Chernobyl right now and he’s just doing his best with the resources he’s got available, okay? 

“Oh absolutely, yes, I’m always so encouraged in your presence,” Tim says wryly. Kon grins at him, then sticks his tongue out at him instead. Tim drops the peach slice on his tongue like a weirdo, and Kon represses another laugh and pulls it into his mouth. What, it tastes good. And it’s not any weirder than getting hand-fed a protein bar was, either way. 

Well–maybe still a little weird, but whatever. 

Tim picks up a piece of waffle–Bernard cut them up in quarters, Kon guesses–and holds that out to him, and that . . . Kon hesitates a bit over that, because . . . 

“Sorry,” Tim says. “Don’t want it to get cold.” 

“That’s, like–your plate, man,” Kon says, his face feeling a little hot as he flicks his eyes up from the offered waffle chunk to glance at Tim’s face, because for some ridiculous reason his brain’s gotten stuck on that over a waffle, even after not really thinking of it with just the peach. Though that seemed . . . less deliberate, maybe, so . . . 

“No it’s not,” Bernard replies matter-of-factly, shaking his head as he picks up a banana slice off his own plate and pops it into his mouth. “Tim’s plate has way fewer waffles on it and blueberries instead of peaches. Also oh my god, Tim, don’t feed your boy dry-ass waffle with nothing on it. There’s whipped cream and caramel sauce over here, you want any, Kon? Also butter, if you’re feeling basic. I won’t judge, sometimes the vibe is just butter.” 

Kon takes a long moment to process the fact that Bernard put the plate he made for him on Tim’s lap, and also that Bernard went to the effort to make his plate different, for like . . . whatever reason. 

“. . . um. Caramel, if that’s cool,” he answers, a little belated, and wondering if Tim, like–told Bernard he likes peaches, or . . . well, he’s pretty sure peaches and caramel sauce are not standard waffle toppings, or at least not standard in most people’s usual breakfast setups, so like . . . “Uh–thanks.” 

“Gotcha, man,” Bernard says easily, reaching over to the tray and coming back with, weirdly, like a little, like–carafe, or whatever? pitcher? like the kind of thing people put coffee creamer in, except just full of caramel instead–and passing it to Tim. 

Which . . . okay, low-key weird that Bernard felt the need to pour out the sauce bottle into a fancy little pitcher, but Kon isn’t gonna lie, he’s a little charmed by it. Like, it’s just a funny little quirk, but . . . 

“You’re so fucking cute, man,” he says, laughing again and then grinning at Bernard in amusement. “Like, A+ hosting, don’t get me wrong, totally killer hospitality, but I wasn’t gonna knock down Tim’s Yelp rating if the bottle was sticky or whatever.” 

“Huh?” Bernard asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression, then seems to realize something and clarifies–“Oh, no, Tim only has the shitty cheap syrup that makes a shell when you put it on ice cream or whatever, I wasn’t gonna put that on waffles, I just made my own.” 

“You made it?” Kon says in bemusement, a little startled by the idea. That’s like–a thing? “Like–what, from scratch?” 

“Yeah, Tim said you liked caramel but again, the only caramel he had on deck was shitty cheap stuff,” Bernard replies with a shrug as Tim pours some sauce onto–Kon’s plate, apparently–and swipes the waffle quarter he’s holding through it. “Personally I’m more the whipped cream type but like, caramel is way less annoying to make from scratch when you don’t have a stand mixer, which your bestie continues to refuse to invest in because of some nonsense about ‘limited counter space’. So like, normally he whips the cream, because it’s his fault I gotta do it by hand anyway and also, you know, he’s got all those sexy, cream-whipping vigilante muscles that I was pretending not to notice but was not above taking advantage of. But we didn’t want you to come up without somebody around, so today my arm is sore, fuck you, babe, buy at least a hand mixer already.” 

Kon . . . blinks, once or twice, and feels–weird, maybe, because that rattled-off chatter makes it sound like . . . like Bernard made that sauce, like–specifically for him? Like . . . just because of him? 

Did he? 

[talenlee]

Life With Generative Tools

In 2023, back when my posts were still being shared to Twitter because the API wasn’t paid-only, I wrote an article about the potential ramifications of generative art media going forward. My concern in the immediate was that the tools weren’t going to go away, but also the potential harm to artists was as much about general economic precarity and not people using fanart to make their D&D characters. I further added to this with a consideration of how I wanted to avoid using generative art in my game development because I didn’t want what people would say about it. That is, a social pressure about the art is what keeps me from using it, not a personal philosophical disposition. I’m an artist who already works with collage and constraints, this feels like a handy way to have something I can play with.

Well, it’s been a year and change and a sort of AI Art Apocalypse has happened, and if you’re not aware of it, it’s because you’re someone who avoids all of the pools that have been so thoroughly pissed in that they are now just piss. If you’re at all related to any part of the internet where people share a bunch of images – which is to say a lot of social media – then you’re already dealing with the place crawling with generative images. Whether it’s a fanart booru, or big sites like facebook and twitter, or god help you deviantart, there is a pretty clear sign that anywhere that opened the door to generative art became a space overwhelmingly for generative art.

I teach about this subject now and I have had some time with it in a situation away from the internet, and I’d like to give you some insights into what this stuff is for, what it does, why you shouldn’t use it, and ways it can be useful.

Content Warning: I’m going to be talking about these tools as tools that exist and leaving the philosophical/ethical arguments about ‘art theft’ and their genesis aside. I’m not including any examples. No shrimp jesus jumpscare.

You might notice I’m saying ‘generative art’ and not ‘AI art.’ Part of this is because I don’t want to buy into the idea that these tools are ‘artificial intelligence.’ Ironically, ‘AI art’ now has less of an implication of being ‘Artificial Intelligence’ and is much more of an implication of ‘it’s ugly shiny art of shrimp jesus with badly spelled signs.’

I want to focus for this conversation on generative graphical tools, and I want to do that because I don’t have much experience with the other types. The textual generators offer me something I don’t really need? I already make a ton of words of dubious quality. Those are actually the things that concern me because their natural aesthetic is authoritive and comprehensive and that’s why it’s a problem that they’re being used to present any old nonsense that may just be straight up wrong. I don’t use those tools and I avoid the platforms that use them so I’m not familiar with them.

Things Generative Art Is Good For

I already use art I don’t own, a lot, for playing. Every day for the past three years I’ve shared a custom Magic: The Gathering playing card, a game I don’t own the rights to, using a card face I don’t own the rights to, and artwork from an artist on Artstation whose artwork I did not pay for or even ask for. This is generally seen as a totally reasonable and acceptable form of playful, transformative media generation and I at no point pretend I have any rights to the material. If I take a picture of someone famous and put a speech bubble over their mouth saying ‘I drink farts,’ if I, as tumblr says, play with jpgs like dolls, that is by no means being done with rights and permission.

Which means we’re already aware that there’s a way of playing with images that both violates copyright but is generally okay to do.

The metric I use for this is if the thing you’re using generative art for doesn’t matter, then it doesn’t matter. If you’re not going to try and claim money, if you’re not going to put it on a marketplace, if you aren’t going to try and claim ownership and profit off generative material, I think you’re probably fine. I mean probably, if you’re using it to say, generate revenge porn of a classmate that’s an asshole move, but the thing is that’s a bad thing regardless of the tool you’re using. If you’re using it to bulk flood a space, like how Deviantart is full of accounts with tens of thousands of pictures made in a week, then that’s an asshole move because, again, it’s an asshole move regardless of the tool.

If you’re a roleplayer and you want a picture of your Dragonborn dude with glasses and a mohawk? That’s fine, you’re using it to give your imagination a pump, you’re using it to help your friends visualise what matters to you about your stuff. That’s fine! It’s not like you’re not making artistic choices when you do this, cycling through choices and seeing the one that works best for you. That’s not an action deprived of artistic choice!

There are also some things that are being labelled as ‘AI’ which seem to be more like something else to me. Particularly, there are software packages that resize images now, which are often calling it ‘AI upscaling,’ which it may be using some variety of these Midjourney style models to work, but which serves a purpose similar to sequences of resizes and selective blurs. There are also tools that can do things like remove people from the background of images, which is… good? It should be good and easy to get people out of pictures they didn’t consent to be in.

Things Generative Art Is Bad For

Did you know you don’t own copyright on generated art? This is pretty well established. If you generated the image, it’s not yours, because you didn’t make it. It was made by an algorithm, and algorithms aren’t people. This isn’t a complicated issue, this just means that straight up, any art you make at work that’s meant to be used for work, shouldn’t be used because people can just straight up use it. Logo design, branding, all that stuff is just immediately open for bootlegging or worse, impersonation.

Now you might think that’s a bit of a strange thing to bring up but remember, I’m dealing with students a lot. Students who want to position themselves as future prompt engineers or social media managers need to understand full well that whatever they make with these tools are not things that will have an enduring useful application. Maybe you can use it for a meme you post on an account, but it’s not something you can build branding off, because you don’t own it. Everyone owns it.

From that we get a secondary problem, because if you didn’t own it, its only use is what people say or think when they look at it, and thing is, people are already sick and tired of the aesthetics of generated art. You’re going to get people who don’t care glossing over it, and people who do care hating it. Generative art as a way of presenting your business or foregrounding your ‘vibes’ are going to think that your work is, primarily, ‘more AI art’ and not about what it’s trying to communicate. When the internet is already full of Slop, if you use these tools to represent your work, you are going to be turning your own work and media presence into slop.

What’s more, you need to be good at seeing mistakes if you’re using these tools. If you put some art out there that’s got an extra thumb or someone’s not holding a sword right, people will notice. That means you need to start developing the toolset above for fine-tuning and redrawing sections of artwork. Now, that’s not a bad thing! That’s a skill you can develop! But it means that the primary draw of these tools is going to be something that you then have to do your own original work over the top of.

The biggest reason though I recommend students not treat this work like it’s a simple tool for universal application is that it devalues you as a worker. If you’re trying to get hired for a job at a company and you can show them a bunch of generative art you’ve made to convince them that you’re available, all you are really telling them is that you can be replaced by a small script that someone else can make. Your prompts are not unique enough, your use of the tool not refined enough that you can’t just be replaced by anyone else who gets paid less. You are trying to sell yourself as a product to employers, and generative art replaces what you bring with what everyone brings.

They make you lazy! People include typos in the generative media because they’re not even looking at them or caring about what they say! And that brings me to the next point that there are just things these tools don’t do a good job doing, and that’s stuff I want to address next in…

Things That Are Interesting

Because the tools of generative art create a very impressive-seeming artistic output, they are doing it in a way that people want to accept. They want to accept them and that means accepting the problems, or finding a way to be okay with those problems. People who don’t care that much about typos and weird fingers and so on, because you know, it gets me a lot of what I want, but it doesn’t get me everything, and I don’t know how to get the everything.

If you generate an image and want to move something in it a little bit, your best way to do that is to edit the image directly. Telling the software to do that, again, but change this bit, this much, is in fact really hard because it doesn’t know what those parts are. It doesn’t have an idea of where they are, it’s all running on an alien understanding of nightmare horror imagery.

What that means is that people start to negotiate with themselves about what they want, getting to ‘good enough’ and learning how to negotiate with the software. My experiments with these tools led to me making a spreadsheet so I could isolate the terms I use that cause problems, and sometimes those results are very, very funny. In this, the tool teaches you how to use it (which most tools do), but the teaching results in a use that is wildly inappropriate to what the tool promises it’s for.

One of my earliest experiments was to take four passages from One Stone that described a character and just put that text straight into midjourney to see what it generated based on that plain text description. Turns out? Nothing like what I wanted. But when I treated it like say, I was searching for a set of tags on a booru system like danbooru or safebooru… then it was pretty good at that. Which is what brings me to the next stage of things, which is like…

These things were trained on porn sites right?

Like, you can take some very specific tags from some of the larger boorus and type them into these prompt sites and get a very reasonable representation of what it is you asked for, even if that term is a part of an idiolect, a term that’s specific to that one person in one space that’s become a repeated form of tag. Just type in an artist name and see if it can replicate their style and then check to see what kind of art that artist makes a lot of. This is why you can get a thing that can give you police batons and mirrored sunglasses just fine but if you ask for ‘police uniform’ you get some truly Tom of Finland kind of bulging stuff.

Conclusion

Nobody who dislikes generative art is wrong. I think there are definitely uses of it that are flat out bad, and I think it’s totally okay and even good to say so. Make fun of people who are using it, mock the shrimp jesuses, make it very clear you’re aware of what’s going on and why. There’s nothing wrong with that.

I do think that these tools are useful as toys, and I think that examining the art that they produce, and the art that the community around them are exalting and venerating tells us stuff. Of course, what they tell us is that there are a lot of people out there who really want porn, and there are just as many people who want the legitimisation of impressive seeming images that they don’t care about what those images are doing or what they’re for.

Now part of this defensiveness is also the risk of me being bitten. If I buy stock art that isn’t correctly disclosed as being generative art, then I might make and sell something using generative art and now I look like an asshole for not being properly good at detecting and hating ‘AI art,’ and when I’ve say, made a game using generative art that then is integrated into things like worldbuilding and the card faces, then it gets a lot harder to tear it out at the roots and render myself properly morally clean. I’m sure a bunch of the stock art I used before 2020 was made algorithmically, just pumped out slop that was reprocessing other formula or technical objects to fill up a free stock art site like Freepik.

Which is full of generative art now.

You won’t hurt yourself by understanding these things, and people who are using them for fun or to learn or explore are by no means doing something morally ill. There are every good reason to keep these things separated from anything that involves presenting yourself seriously, or using them to make money, though. If nothing else, people will look at you and go ‘oh, you’re one of those shrimp jesus assholes.’

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

[solarmorrigan]

11 & 17 Robin and Steve? Maybe something where one of them thinks they're back under Starcourt for a second 😈

Ask and ye shall receive (like, eventually. this is so late, I'm sorry)

11. Disoriented + 17. Delirious - Robin & Steve

-

Robin pulls her hand back from Steve’s forehead with a hiss. He’s burning up.

She knew this would happen. She knew it.

She should have argued harder to get Steve to go to the hospital. She should have taken one look at him rebandaging his bat bites, which were still bleeding (“Relax,” Steve had said. “They only bleed when I move around too much.”), and called in reinforcements. She shouldn’t have taken no for an answer.

Instead, she’d caved under Steve’s stubborn refusals, under his pleading stare, under his insistence that he’d always taken care of himself and that he would be fine. And now–

“Steve?” Robin tries, patting his cheek.

Steve mumbles something, brows furrowing, but he doesn’t open his eyes. His cheeks are pink, the rest of his face pale, his bangs sticking up at odd angles after being plastered to his forehead with sweat before Robin had pushed them back – he looks fucking awful.

He mumbles again when Robin swears and pulls the sheets down around his hips so she can get at his bandages. They look clean, but when she presses a hand to his side, she can feel the heat radiating from the wounds beneath.

“Shit,” Robin swears again. “Steve. I need you to wake up.”

If he doesn’t wake, if he can’t open his eyes, Robin is going to call Nancy to help haul his ass to the hospital, no matter what Steve wants. He'd been a little feverish last night when Robin had left (her parents are being a little lenient, having heard about Steve’s injuries from the “earthquake,” but she does have to go home sometime), but she’d hoped that if he kept taking Tylenol and drinking water, his temperature would start to go down. Clearly, that hadn’t happened.

Finally, though, he does open his eyes. They’re glassy, fever-bright, and a little unfocused, but they’re open.

“Robin?” Steve rasps, blinking at her in confusion.

“Oh, thank god,” Robin breathes, reaching for Steve’s hand. “Steve, I think your bites are infected. We need to get you to the hospital.”

Steve blinks at her again, before he glances around the room. He doesn’t look like he’s really listening to her – he doesn’t even look aware of what’s going on.

“Steve?”

Slowly, he shakes his head. “No,” he whispers.

Robin bites back a frustrated noise. “You can’t argue with me on this. You need a doctor, Steve,” she says firmly.

Her stern and urgent tone doesn’t seem to be doing anything to calm Steve down, however. In fact, he only seems more agitated, managing to prop himself up on one arm as he looks wildly around the room.

“No, no, no–”

He jerks himself fully upright, trying to scramble off the mattress, entirely heedless of his injuries, and Robin lunges to support him.

“Shit, Steve, be careful–”

But Steve isn’t listening. The moment he’s off the bed, he’s turning to Robin and shoving her towards a corner of the room with a strength Robin wouldn’t have imagined he could muster in his state. She’s so surprised that he manages to get her all the way into the corner, practically mashing her up against the wall, before he turns and places himself in front of her, body held tense and ready.

“Steve, what the hell–” Robin tries, before Steve cuts her off.

“Shh,” he hisses, arms held out like he’s trying to block something. “’m not gonna let them get you.”

Robin’s heart stutters in her chest, a reflexive anxiety rippling out across her body until she can feel it tingling in her fingers and toes.

“Let who get me?” she asks, glancing around the room now, too. “What’s going on?”

“Fucking– fucking Russians,” Steve says, voice low. “Not gonna let them take you.”

Oh.

Oh, shit.

Okay, Robin thinks. Okay. She can handle this.

“Steve,” she says, reaching out and placing a gentle hand on his arm, careful to avoid the scrapes along the back of it, “we’re not in the bunker. We made it out, we’re home.”

Steve shakes his head, muscles still tense, almost shaking beneath Robin’s palm. “They’re coming,” he says hoarsely. “They’re– they’re gonna– I won’t let them.”

“No. Look around, see where we are. Look at your weird, plaid wallpaper. Look at all the pictures you have pinned up now. Look at that fucking bowling pin you keep on your desk and you won’t ever tell me why.” Robin squeezes his arm. “You’re home. We’re safe.”

Steve shakes his head again, but he seems to be flagging. “’m not gonna… gonna let them hurt you.”

The raw determination, the desperation in his voice makes Robin’s chest ache. “You didn’t. They didn’t lay a hand on me, I’m fine,” she promises (not strictly true, but now isn’t the time to get into that).

Slowly, ever so fucking slowly, Steve’s shoulders start to droop. He relaxes from his stance, swaying a little bit on his feet, and looks around the room again before looking over his shoulder.

“Robin?” he manages, his voice small, a little faint.

“Yeah, Steve, I’m right here,” Robin says, squeezing his arm again.

Steve nods. “Okay,” he murmurs.

He takes two faltering steps forward, lists to one side, and then falls to his knees so quickly that Robin barely has time to catch him.

“God damn it,” Robin hisses, doing her best to keep his uncooperative ass upright. “Steve!”

“’m fine,” Steve mumbles, but says nothing more. His eyes have fallen shut again.

“God damn it,” Robin mutters again.

She does her best to lower him gently to the floor; she isn’t strong enough to haul him back onto the bed on her own, but she at least grabs one of the pillows and puts it under his head before she reaches for the phone—she’s always teased Steve about being spoiled for having his own phone in his room, but she’s grateful for it now—and dials the number she’d forced herself to memorize days ago.

It rings, and rings, but finally someone picks up.

“Nancy,” Robin rushes out, before the other girl has even finished with her ‘Hello?’ “I need a ride, and I need it now.”

[steddieas-shegoes]

a ride he does survive

for @steddiemicrofic prompt ‘ride’

rated e | 453 words | cw: public sex (they’re not caught, seen, or heard) | tags: Eddie has a crush on Steve, modern era, scoops ahoy, getting together, anal sex

🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦🍦

“He’s a ride I wouldn’t survive.”

Jeff smacks his shoulder, groaning. “Dude, don’t say shit like that out loud.”

“Oh, so you’re homophobic now?” Eddie smirks, knows Jeff is the farthest thing from homophobic. He just isn’t a fan of Steve, or Eddie’s crush on Steve.

“Shut up,” he laughs. “Why don’t you go talk to him for once? Or am I gonna have to listen to you every day until one of you inevitably leaves this shithole town?”

“There’s no way he’d be interested in me. I’m a triple senior, dude.”

“Hey guys, we’re closing up. Do you need anything else?” The man in question smiles down at them, towel thrown over his shoulder and broom in hand.

“Sorry, nope!” Eddie squeaks out.

Jeff rolls his eyes as he stands. “Actually, Eddie here is looking for a summer job.”

Steve grins. “I need someone to close with! Robin’s mom is, like, so strict. She won’t even let her stay out past curfew for work.”

Eddie feels like he’s out of his body. “Oh. Yeah. Sure.”

Steve hands him the towel. It smells like bleach and chocolate.

“If you can help me close, I’ll put in the good word with the boss.”

Jeff laughs his way out of Scoops Ahoy while Eddie wipes tables, muttering to himself about doing stupid things for stupid boys. He’s nearly done when Steve turns off the lights.

“Sorry, we have a security light usually, but it’s not working.”

Eddie nods. Right. They’ll just finish in the dark.

“If you log the time you helped today, it can get added to your paycheck,” Steve explains.

He guides him to the back where there’s a book of names, mostly Robin, and clock in times. Eddie adds his.

“You like ice cream a lot?” Steve asks.

“Uh, I’m lactose intolerant?” Eddie replies.

Steve nods. “So you come to the ice cream shop because…”

“Because you look really good in that outfit.”

It’s out before he can stop it. Steve’s lips are on his before Eddie can understand what’s happening. Their hands are everywhere, covering skin that shouldn’t be exposed back here. They’re both hard, both leaking.

“Can I fuck you?” Steve asks.

“Here?”

“Please.”

He sounds so good begging like this, Eddie can’t say no.

There’s no lube to be found, but they make it work with Vaseline from the employee locker. Eddie’s stretched open quickly, just a hint of pain with the pleasure, the way he likes it.

Steve sits in the rolling chair and this is a bad idea. Eddie loves bad ideas.

He straddles Steve, rides him until the chair is wobbling and squeaking, ready to break.

“Tomorrow, you can fuck me,” Steve offers as he comes.