#i was listening to it while i was making it and it wasn't until i finished with the crab and took the photo that i was like

[jadegrey711]

Please I love your Wally smut

What about like giving Wally head for the first time as he watched you already before you died

And either a first time blow job or Wally fingering you for the first time (ifykyk) whatever you feel like writing moreee

Thank you for the compliment Dear Anon. Enjoy. You can check you my other Wally Clark x Reader fics on my masterlist on @jadegreywriting

As always 18+ ONLY

*Not my GIF*

Wally had watched you for the longest time. He'd love watching your meets as you would dive gracefully into the pool. As an athlete himself he was in awe of how fast you were once you hit the water. He didn't know if the Olympics were your dream but he knew you could make it if you wanted too. But that wasn't in the cards for you, instead it was a drunk driver, who pulled out of the school too fast and didn't see you as you were walking out to your car after a game.

You couldn't understand what was happening as you watched the ambulance pull away from the school, kids huddled together and crying.

Wally watched as you tried to get anyones attention. But no one could hear or see you. He was nervous as he first approached you, putting his hands up like you were a wild animal and he was trying to keep you calm.

At first you were relieved someone was talking to you, but then he broke the news. You had been hit and you were already dead when the ambulance pulled away from the school.

You were in denial for a long while, and Wally watched as you would just sit on the curb for hours, watching as everyone pulled away from the parking lot. Watching as the flowers that were laid down on your school parking spot, slowly rotted and blew away.

Wally would spend those days, sitting right next to you, and he waited. Waited until you were ready to talk, and when you finally did, you felt the damn break loose. You told Wally everything you were feeling, how sad you were, how angry you were at how unfair this all was. You told him about your life that he didn't get to see outside of school. How much you loved to read, how going to the lake every summer felt like a recharge for the rest of the year, when you first knew you loved swimming.

And in kind Wally told you about his life, what kind of music he listened to, how he wanted to travel when he got out of highschool and that he wasn't a big reader when he was alive; which made you chuckle.

After that day, you and Wally felt inseparable, being with him felt like the sun. Warm and comforting, he always made you laugh and you did the same to him; surprising him with how funny you were, he didn't know that about you.

You still like going to Group; Mr. Martin was a bit creepy and you always had issues with authority figures. But Wally liked coming to the group so you sat there and participated here and there. You never shared anything personal with the group, well anything that was real. You saved that for your time with Wally.

Which often felt like this one, where you would go into the pool and do laps, or float on the surface of the water, while Wally watched on the edge of the pool. He loved watching you do flip turns, amazed at how fast you were, how fast you could cut through the water.

You came up from under the water and smiled at Wally, who was floating in the pool next to you, watching as you would flip and do handstands in the shallow end of the water. When you came up again, you saw Wally had made his way over to the steps of the pool, he sat there and watched you. His smile was contagious as he watched you.

"What are you looking at, Clark?" You asked, flicking water towards him.

"I think it's some kind of pool nymph." He teased.

"A pool nymph?" You chuckled.

"Yeah, and she's mesmerizing."

"Mesmerizing huh?" You asked, as you swam closer to him.

"Oh yeah. Just one of the many adjectives I'd use to describe her."

"Oh? And what are these other adjectives that you'd use? I know you're not a big reader, so this will be fun to see how many you actually know."

"Hey! I think my vocabulary has increased immensely since I met you."

"Thank goodness for that! I don't think I could handle you saying "Rad" for the rest of eternity."

"As if, "Cool beans" is any better!" He huffed before flicking his fingers in the water, splashing you in the face. 

"Hey!" You scowled, grabbing his bare thighs and bringing your face close to his, but stopped inches in front of his face.

Wally tilted his head, his brown eyes holding yours. "Hey what?" He smiled. His eyes moved to your lips.

"I-" You stuttered, feeling your cheeks heat as you remembered where your hands were. “I don’t actually remember what I was going to say.” You chuckled, before leaning in and gave Wally a quick kiss on the lips, intending to give him a quick kiss and then swim away. But Wally had other ideas on the matter, before you could turn your body away he grabbed your hips and placed you so you were sitting on his lap. His large hands wrapped themselves around your waist bringing you back in for another kiss. 

“I wasn’t done telling you about the beautiful pool nymph I saw.” He smiled against your lips.

This wasn’t the first time you and Wally kissed, not by a long shot, there were so many times where the two of you would sneak off when Wally was supposed to be in Group, kissing in the locker room. Sometimes you two would get really hot and heavy, but before anything could happen there was always something that had you two breaking apart. Whether it was Charley or Rhonda catching you two in the heat of the moment or someone else barging in, sometimes it was really hard to get a moment alone with your hot boyfriend in your own afterlife. 

But, you had a feeling that this time would be different. 

You let out a small little moan as you felt Wally’s tongue dance with yours. His large hands roaming down to your backside and giving you a little squeeze. You pulled away from the kiss, earning a groan from Wally. “You didn’t finish describing this pool nymph to me.” You grinned. 

“Well I told you that she was mesmerizing and beautiful. I would dare say graceful as well.” 

“Graceful huh?” You smiled leaning in to brush a kiss to the edge of Wally’s soft lips, before pressing another one to his jawline earning a low moan from him. You made sure to pocket that reaction for that spot in particular for later. 

“Y-Yeah graceful.”

“What else Wally?” You teased, sucking on that spot at his jawline, before moving down to his neck, placing a soft kiss to his carotid, before sucking on the spot where his pulse point would be. You chuckled as you heard Wally stutter, losing his words and losing them fast as you sucked and kissed your way down his neck. 

“Breathtaking.” He moaned out.

As you kissed Wally, making sure to pay attention to the other side of his neck like you did the first, you could feel him grow hard underneath you. ���What else Wally?”

“Baby. Please.” 

“Please what Wally?”

“Stop torturing me.” 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’m just listening to all the ways that you’re describing this beautiful pool nymph.” you mumbled against his skin, taking your tongue and dipping it into his collarbone, before taking that golden chain necklace into your mouth and sucking on the pendant there. 

You looked up at Wally’s face and smiled. He looked so tense, his hands were gripping noticeably harder on your ass as he looked down at you. 

“Unless you want me to stop?” You asked, placing a quick kiss to the center of his chest. “Do you want me to stop Wally?” You asked and placed another kiss on his chest. 

“No.” He ground out. 

You gave him a wolfish smile. “I didn’t think so.” You purred, leaning your head back down so you can trace your tongue around his nipples. Wally leaned back, letting out a low groan. 

“You’re so sweet to me Wally.” You said softly against his skin as you traced your tongue down his stomach, and dipped in his belly button, earning another deep moan from Wally. You looked back up to him, your body now on the step just below him, your hands poised on top of the waistband of his boxers. “Can I be sweet to you?” You asked him innocently. 

Wally’s eyes went wide. “Baby.” He said his voice came out breathy before he let out a small cough to clear his throat. “Baby, are you sure?” He asked his hand coming out to brush a small piece of hair out of your face. 

“Yes Wally. I want to do this for you.” 

Wally let out a breath that seemed to be a mix of desperation and relief. His hands were reaching for the waistband of his boxers and you took that as your sign that he wanted this as bad as you did. You helped him pull his boxers off and let them float off in the pool, before leaning back down to Wally. Running your tongue down the soft “V” on each side of his hips, earning a low whimper from Wally. 

You looked up at Wally, as you ran your hands up and down his thighs, while taking in how hard he was for you and you smiled up at him. “All this for me?” you teased. 

“Yeah baby.” He said breathily. “Only for you.” 

You were in control in this situation but you grew wet at Wally’s words, surprising yourself at how just those simple words of admiration had you growing slick in between your legs. “Only for me huh?” You said reaching for him, giving his cock a slow pump with your hand, earning a stuttering lift of Wally’s hips for you. 

You smirked, biting your lip. “So sensitive.” Leaning down to run your tongue around the head of his cock. Wally let out a low moan, as you took him deeper into your mouth letting your tongue trace around the head of his cock, and relaxing as he slid deeper for a moment before having your hand join the efforts of your mouth. 

“I love it when you make those little moans, Wally.” You whispered, before continuing to pump his cock with your hand as you took him back into your mouth. 

You didn’t have a lot of experience doing this, but you were an avid reader and Wally seemed to love it when your tongue did this particular motion. You smiled to yourself as you felt Wally’s hands find their way into your wet hair, gathering the wet strands in a messy clump and fisting it in his hand. You felt Wally’s hips jerk every now and again as he fought the urge to pump his hips and thrust his cock deeper into your hot little mouth. 

You hummed in satisfaction against his cock, and that seemed to have Wally taking a ragged breath. 

“Baby.” He breathed. “I’m really trying here.” 

You hummed again, the vibrations seeming to send Wally closer to the edge. You popped your mouth off of his cock and looked up at him, taking in the tensed way he pulled his eyebrows together and how he bit down on his bottom lip, making it a darker pink. 

“Trying to do what?” You asked innocently, as you rested your head against his strong thigh, your hand still pumping his cock. 

“Trying to not, fuck your mouth.” He breathed out. “I know you haven’t really done this before and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You hummed again, he really was the sweetest boy you’d ever met. You’d never thought you actually like sucking dick, but with Wally, as he whined and moaned above you, letting you bring him closer and closer to orgasm. You didn’t think you could actually get enough of this, of him being this vulnerable for you, you felt drunk off of the way his puppy eyes looked down at you, awestruck. 

“Wally.” You said breathily. “I have your cock in my mouth and I am so fucking wet for you right now. And if I’m uncomfortable, I’ll just give you a little nip.” You chuckled and leaned back down and licked up the shaft of his cock before taking his head back into your mouth. 

His hands, delved deeper into your hair, and his hold felt a little tighter, as he bucked his hips to your mouth still holding back, but not as much as he was before. 

“Oh baby.” He moaned. “God you look so pretty like this. Your pretty mouth wrapped around my cock. I wish I could take a picture of you right now.” 

You moaned, at his words, feeling yourself grow wetter between your legs, and started to pump him faster, your mouth and hand working in time together to bring Wally closer to release. 

“God damn it, baby.” Wally groaned, his hips increasing their speed, just enough that you started to feel water in your eyes, but you didn’t want to stop not when Wally was so close. 

“Fuck, baby. I’m not going to last much longer if you keep that up.” 

That was your cue, you squeezed Wally’s cock harder with your hand before sucking him down again and felt him come inside your mouth. You pulled away, unable to fully swallow Wally’s release, and continued to pump him through his orgasm. You watched his hips shake as he finished coming, Wally’s moans were audible enough for anyone who was walking past the double doors of the indoor pool could definitely hear him. 

You dropped your hand away from him and looked up at the totally ruined expression on Wally’s face. His hair that was usually so well kept, was sticking up in places he ran his hands through and some of it still stuck to his forehead from when he was swimming with you. 

“Such a good and sweet boy.” You smiled, pulling yourself up by his thighs and giving him a kiss. Wally seemed to preen at the compliment and deepened the kiss; tasting himself on your lips, earning a low satisfied moan from the both of you. 

[melishade]

What if there's a timeline where Terminus was in AOP. All Survey corp (including Optimus prime) would be confused of who this Cybertronian is. But when when Megatron sees him...bro, Megatron would be shocked to see him. And when terminus sees Megatron, Calling his name (who he still call him d-16). I think would Megatron would have a mental breakdown. Like kid who see his dad again (idk if Megatron would straight up hug him or make distance away from him) And the Survey corp (including Optimus) notice Megatron breakdown.

Terminus: ....D-16.....what...happened to you..?

Megatron having a Mental Breakdown.

Optimus: ....Megatron-

The rest of the survey corp: who tf is D-16?!

In the words of @justawannabearchaeologist: this is if Season 4 Eren saw his mom after everything that happened.

Like this would seriously mess Megatron up in such a profound way that he wouldn't be able to properly function for weeks. Finding out that your mentor/father figure survived after all this time, but having to explain how you're not the same person and that you've done cruel and unfathomable things worse than what the caste system did.

But if I were to somehow make this life altering situation happen, I want to do it when Megatron is at his most vulnerable. AKA: Around the Monster chapter and the Regrets and Amends chapter. Maybe a little after that so Armin and Mikasa have an idea of who D-16 before the ball drops.

But lets try to set a scene:

So the idea for me when it came to Terminus was that he's killed by a guard in the mines, forcing Megatron into a fight response and he kills the guard that kills Terminus. Megatron, D-16 then, tries to run away, but gets captured and is thrown in the the gladiator pits as punishment.

But lets just say that one of the guards that survived the chaos saw that Terminus was still barely alive and decides to imprison him as punishment for causing so much trouble. Terminus wakes up on a prison ship far from home, having been in stasis for a really long time, missing the start of the war and Cybertron dying, and tries to muster the strength to escape the guards and turn the ship back around to Cybertron. One thing led to another, the ship is damaged, and the vessel crash lands into the volcano where Wheeljack find the ship in the Heal chapter.

Listen I am going through hoops to make this scenario work for a character that doesn't even exist in TFP! OKAY?!

But long story short, Terminus is stranded on the AOT world. Terminus wakes up again from stasis to see his situation. The ship is damaged, and even if the ship wasn't damaged, he wouldn't know how to fly it because he's a miner. He doesn't have that type of education and he has to figure out how to survive on his own. He has to mine for energon. Thankfully the volcano he's on does have an energon stockpile that lasts him a while. He has to find ways to repair himself and poorly. Somethings don't heal properly and he ends up having a limp.

But the thing he's most worried about is D-16. That poor innocent child facing the cruelty of the world. He had seen in his weakened state that he had killed a guard before running. Was D-16 able to escape? Was he killed? Was he going through something worse? The two had kept each other alive ever since Terminus had taken pity on D-16 after he suffered a beating. They kept each other safe. But Terminus miscalculated and now....

Terminus had the sinking feeling that he was going to die on this organic world. That he was going to slowly rot. But...if there was a small chance that D-16 was still alive, then he was going to keep himself alive until he saw him again. Hope, no matter how small, was the only thing that had kept him going all this time.

Terminus stayed on the AOT world, and he stayed for 2,000+ years. He turned on the beacon in the hopes that someone finds him. He had witnessed moments of the cruelty of the Eldian Empire, but he's always done his best to avoid the humans, keep his head low, keep himself alive. But he does admire humanity, despite the many faults that he's witnessed over the past 2,000 years. He's seen the cruelty of mankind, especially with the power of the titans, but he's seen their bravery and ingenuity. He start's picking up hobbies from them. How to grow plants, how to keep warm during the winter. He's learned about the world's history, collecting knowledge that would have been lost over time or burned due to the changing world. He's just trying to keep his own sanity during these 2,000 years. He wants to live, not just survive. He experiences rain, sunlight, snowstorms, nothing he would have ever experienced while he was in the mines. He sees animals and people, sorrow and joy, festivals and funerals. Wars and celebrations. He watched it all from the shadows. He hoped, if D-16 was still alive, he would get to show him these things someday.

But, would D-16 remember him even after all this time? He was getting older, his metal was rusted from poor treatment. It's a miracle he survived this long. Thankfully, technological advancements came at a good time, so he was able to steal metals to try and fix his own parts. He did take from the dead Cybertronians from the ship, using them as spare donors. He just...he prayed to Primus. Hoping he would listen. Hoping that...he could see D-16 again.

But then a miracle came, in the form of Wheeljack.

See Wheeljack decided to keep searching for energon after the whole blow up between Arcee and Megatron and Megatron having his meltdown. When he does, he finds the volcano a lot sooner than anticipated because Terminus had the signal on. So Wheeljack arrives and as he steps off the Jackhammer, he nearly gets his helm blown off by Terminus shooting a rifle at him. Terminus demands to know who he is, and Wheeljack is thinking this guy is a refugee from the war and he says that he's an Autobot. Terminus spits out that he doesn't know what that is. He demands to know if he's with the guard to come and collect him.

Wheeljack being of a lower middle class in the caste system, puts two and two together and realizes this old geezer was from the caste system and he managed to somehow dodge the whole fragging war. Wheeljack slowly explains who he is, and is able to talk Terminus down, convincing the miner that he was safe. Terminus is finally convinced and collapses in Wheeljack's arms. Wheeljack contacts the island and tells them he's bringing someone over, and he states that he's factionless, taking Arcee and Optimus by surprise.

The Survey Corps can't help but ask, and Optimus has to explain that there were a few during the war that refused to take a side, designating themselves as neutrals or factionless. Autobots and/or Decepticons that deserted and refused to join another side were simply called rogues. But to find someone who was factionless that survived the war was unheard of. Majority of them were killed off or forced to join a side. Optimus informs Megatron of the situation and Megatron is forced to come back.

Wheeljack arrives back on the island and helps Terminus off of the ship, and the Survey Corps are stunned to see that Terminus looks physically old. Sure, he was worn down from a lack of repair, but there was just something that screamed old age to them.

Terminus can't help but feel nervous as he has made an effort to avoid the humans, but Wheeljack reassures him that they're safe. Wheeljack sets him down on the berth to help and try to repair some of his other wounds to ease his pain. Optimus introduces himself, and Terminus is immediately put on edge, stating he's not exactly trusting of Primes. Arcee demands to know if he's a Decepticon then, but Terminus asks what the frag is a Decepticon, and Wheeljack explains that he's from the caste system and he somehow managed to dodge the whole war. Everyone in the room is completely shocked at this information. How did he manage to dodge the war?!

Terminus explains his story and how he was taken by the guards before being locked in stasis. When he woke up, he ended up crashing the ship into the volcano and he's been staying on the AOT world for years. Hanji realizes that meant that Terminus had knowledge from eons ago! He's a walking library! Optimus states that Terminus needs his rest and that he needed to give his consent before participating in anything.

Terminus: Awfully kind of you, Prime.

Optimus: I can assure you; I am not Sentinel.

Terminus: So you say.

The Survey Corps hate that they are missing some context.

But...Terminus knows it's a long shot, but he has to try anyway. He turns his attention to Wheeljack, thinking that he would be the one who would have some idea about it, and asks Wheeljack if he knew a miner under the name of D-16. Before Wheeljack could even respond, they hear a startled gasp, and everyone turns their attention to Armin and Mikasa. Mikasa was covering her mouth while Armin stared in shock.

Terminus is surprised by this and kneels down to them, persisting, asking if they knew who he was talking about. And where he might possibly be. Armin stumbles, and confesses that Terminus wasn't going to be ready for the answer. But before Terminus can prod some more-!

Everyone jolted when they heard something hit the floor. They turn their gaze to see Megatron standing at the doorway. His servo and claws trembled and his optics were wide. By his pedes was the busted cube of liquified energon.

Terminus stared at the newcomer in confusion, but his optics widened with recognition. His frame was different, his optics were different, but he'd recognized that face from anywhere. "D...D-16?"

Terminus got his confirmation when he saw Megatron flinch at the name. "It's you." A smile formed on Terminus' lips and lubricant was beginning to form. "By the Allspark, it is you!"

"What the hell?" Connie swore.

"I don't know," Sasha admitted in a panic.

Levi didn't like how Megatron was reacting to the sight of this new Cybertronian. He wasn't moving. Wasn't saying anything. And his eyes....looked so panicked. Like he was seeing a ghost from the past. "Oh no."

"You survived!" Terminus continued as he stood up, "I thought you had perished! I-I thought the guard had killed you!"

"Sir, I do not think it is wise to approach," Optimus warned, noticing the way that Megatron's servos were twitching erratically.

"Look at you." Terminus extended a servo out, "You've gotten so-!"

Terminus didn't have time to react as Megatron grabbed the sword on his side and swung at him, causing everyone to panic.

"NO!" Armin screamed.

"Megatron, stop!" Optimus ordered.

Terminus didn't move as the blade stopped mere centimeters away from his neck cables. Terminus' gaze fell to the blade, and he could see glimmers of his reflection inside of it. He turned his gaze back to Megatron, and he finally registered...just how different he was. He was taller. Taller than him. His armor was modified, more monstrous, more intimidating. His optics were no longer that sullen blue, but a guarded and panicked red. He held a weapon in his servo, a sword. And his name...the Prime had called him Megatron.

"16...what..." Terminus began as he slowly reached his servo out. Megatron's breathing grew more ragged, taking two steps back to try and get away from him. Megatron's whole body froze when Terminus' digits graze his servo that was holding the sword.

"What in the Allspark happened to you?" Terminus asked.

Everyone watched in disbelief as Megatron's sword fell from his grasp and clattered against the ground. Megatron didn't say anything. He didn't utter a single word. Megatron simply turned and bolted down the halls of the ship.

"D-16, wait!" Terminus called out for him, but he didn't turn around to come back. The former warlord just kept running until he got out of the neutral ship. He transformed before taking off to god knows where, refusing to look back.

"What the hell was that?" Eren demanded.

"Terminus-!"

"What happened?" Terminus spoke in a low voice. The miner snapped his helm to Optimus, and everyone could see a flurry of emotions in his optics. Fear, anger, sorrow,...and heartbreak.

"What in the Allspark happened to D-16?" Terminus demanded.

Sooooo....notes!

-Optimus has to be the one to explain what happened to Megatron to Terminus. No one else can really do it. That also means discussing a bunch of Megatron's war crimes. Levi tried to do it once and failed miserably.

Levi: It’s like telling my mom about the fucked up shit I’ve done in the past.

-The Survey Corps are hounding Armin and Mikasa on how they knew that Megatron's previous name was D-16 and the two have to spill that they've been talking to Megatron in private. This...definitely doesn't make Eren feel good.

-Once Terminus learns of Megatron's war crimes, he is depressed. His pseudo son did all of these terrible and unforgivable things! Worse than the guards and the caste system has ever done! He knows why Megatron did what he did. He was a product of every cruel thing that the system enacted. He understands, but he can't help but blame himself. Maybe if he had been there, things would have been different.

-Terminus is really talking to Wheeljack the most because of Wheeljack's previous standing in the system. Optimus is a Prime and Arcee seems to be trusting of the Prime.

-Terminus is curious about the humans, specifically Armin and Mikasa. They seemed to be the closest to Megatron and he wants to know how he's been. Megatron's refusing to talk to him. Terminus still hasn't heard his voice.

-Speaking of Megatron, Megatron's been avoiding Terminus like the plague, he cannot FACE HIM! Not for his war crimes, what he's become, and the fact that he held Terminus at knife point! Optimus is the one that tries to convince him to talk to him! This is a golden opportunity he wishes he could have with Alpha Trion! But Megatron refuses. Hanji decides to distract him by telling him to focus on the mission at hand, which does do the job. But when Hanji tries to bring up Terminus, he cuts the line.

-Terminus actually does direct Wheeljack and Co to the energon deposits that he's found over the years, and he lets Wheeljack use parts of his ship to contact Cybertron like in the original AOP timeline. But everyone is surprised at how productive Terminus had been over the past 2,000 years. He created a whole ecosystem in the extinct volcano and collected knowledge from cultures lost to time.

-Terminus keeps calling Megatron D-16 out of habit.

That's all I have for now. I don't really know what to call this bonkers timeline.

[onyourj-uls]

˚｡⋆୨୧ i wish ⋆ sungchan, anton.

pairing: anton x fem!reader x sungchan

genre: angst, slight fluff, past romance, emotional tension

warnings: slightly suggestive themes, unspoken feelings, heartbreak, smut (just a little bit).

wc: 2.8k~

note: it had been a long time since i listened to "i wish" by 1D and yesterday it played by itself and omg, suddenly an idea came to me hahaha, i suffered a bit writing this because i'm so in love with all rii7e members😭😭 also, i have an intense love for sungchan since nct 2020, so i decided he would be perfect for this.

the first time sungchan saw you, he thought you were grumpy or difficult to approach because of your expression. you always walked alone through the school hallways, headphones in your ears, eyes steady, giving no impression that you wanted company. it wasn’t that you were rude, you just seemed to live in your own world, as if you didn’t need anyone else.

but everything changed when you were put on the same team for a project with shotaro. that’s when sungchan realized how wrong his first impressions had been. not only were you not grumpy, but you were also funny, passionate about what interested you, and had a sense of humor that made him laugh more than once.

from then on, you, shotaro, and sungchan became inseparable. if anyone saw you together, they knew you were up to something whether it was a prank or just a spontaneous hangout after class.

over time, there were days when shotaro couldn't go out, leaving just the two of you. at first, your outings were normal, just two friends spending time together. but little by little, you both started to notice it:

the accidental brushes of your hands when walking side by side.

the lingering eye contact that lasted longer than usual.

the hugs that became longer and warmer.

until one afternoon, on an ordinary day, you were lying on the grass, and he absentmindedly ran his fingers through your hair while you slowly traced your fingers over his face, admiring his pretty features. no words were needed, the tension in the air spoke for you.

and then, it happened.

a kiss. one that shouldn't have happened, yet felt as natural as breathing. it wasn't planned, it wasn't premeditated, it just happened.

from that day on, things changed.

sometimes, you'd go out and hold hands in the darkness of the movie theater.

other times, you'd find yourselves alone, and your lips would seek each other out, like magnets drawn together.

but you never talked about what you were, because deep down, you both knew you couldn't be.

sungchan was older than you, and even though his heart wanted to try, he knew it wasn’t right, he was already an adult, and you weren’t. you understood, even though it hurt.

so, you made a pact: no one would know about this.

except Shotaro, who accidentally caught you kissing near the school lab one day and had to promise to keep it a secret.

Eecept for you and a trusted friend.

no one else.

until one night, after spending the whole day together as usual, sungchan was walking you home to make sure you arrived safely.

the difference that night was that you invited him in, and he agreed, something he never did. you sat on the couch, snuggled in his arms. you loved feeling his warmth, his scent, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat...

without thinking too much, you lifted your face, and he looked into your eyes. you knew what he wanted—you knew him well. he wanted to kiss you, so you leaned in, pressing your lips against his in a tender, innocent kiss that quickly grew in intensity.

you climbed onto his lap, as you often did.

sungchan’s hands moved up and down your waist, slowly pressing against your hips.

as he often did.

until you felt the urge to try something new, not because what you did before wasn't enough, but because your body was asking for more. for the first time, a sensation spread through you, making you want more and more. You needed more of sungchan at that moment.

you slid your hands under his shirt and kissed your way down his neck, making him release small sounds, sounds you had never heard before, but you loved them.

you kept going, and so did he. one of his hands slipped inside your shirt and under your bra, playing with your hardened nipple. a gasp of pure pleasure escaped your lips, it was the first time you had felt anything like this, and you couldn’t think about anything else.

not knowing what else to do, sungchan started moving you, guiding you to grind against his lap. he positioned you directly over his hardness. you were surprised to feel him like that, but without thinking too much, you did what he wanted.

without warning, sungchan’s hand slipped down to your heat, still covered by your pants, and he started rubbing your sensitive spot quickly. you were completely lost in the overwhelming and new sensations flooding your body.

until your hand moved down to his hard length, ready to pull it out from his boxers.

but before you could, he suddenly lifted you off his lap, covered his face with both hands, and whispered:

"i'm sorry, i got carried away… but i can't do this."

and he left, leaving you confused and drowning in a sea of emotions.

you thought that, in a few days, he’d come back to invite you for ice cream or a baseball game.

but he didn’t.

two weeks passed without hearing from him.

then, he reached out to talk. he said it was best to keep some distance for a while, and he was clear about it:

"if we’re meant to be, we’ll find our way back to each other someday."

you knew it was the right decision, but it still hurt.

that night, you called shotaro. he took you for a walk in the park, listening as you poured your heart out. he hugged you and comforted you, whispering:

"everything will be okay, just give it time."

months passed. time moved forward. and then, the others arrived.

shotaro and sungchan joined the music club, where they met riize. you weren’t in the club, but you visited them sometimes.

and it was on one of those days that anton saw you for the first time.

from that moment on, you were the only person he could think about.

the day anton first saw you in the music club, sungchan noticed his reaction immediately.

it was subtle, but sungchan knew him well enough, even after such a short time, to catch it:

the way anton looked at you a little longer than necessary.

the way he smiled just from hearing your voice.

the way he got nervous when you talked to him.

the way he found excuses to include you in the conversation, despite his shyness.

sungchan wasn’t the only one who noticed.

"he likes her," shotaro whispered to sungchan one afternoon, when anton was staring at you while you laughed with the others.

sungchan didn’t reply. he just watched anton, wondering if it was really true.

over time, his suspicions were confirmed.

anton always found an excuse to ask sungchan things about you.

he wanted to know what you liked, how you were when you weren’t around them.

he made sure you were invited to every plan.

until one day, it was sungchan who encouraged him to talk to you, since he was sure he no longer had any feelings for you and thought that by doing so, he could confirm that his chapter with you was completely closed.

"she's a good girl," he told him. "take your time to get to know her."

he was sincere. he truly believed anton was a good guy. and almost two years had passed since everything happened.

but now, seeing anton getting closer to you, there was something inside him that refused to accept that someone else would take his place.

the first few times you went out with anton, sungchan tried to convince himself that he didn’t care.

but he did. a lot.

especially when he saw you with him.

when he really saw how anton looked at you, how he cared for you, how you also started opening your heart to him… that was when he realized that what he felt for you had never fully died.

of course, he couldn’t say anything, it wouldn’t be fair to anyone. he had let his moment pass; he had made the decision to walk away, to do the right thing.

but he couldn’t say anything.

so, he masked it with jokes, sarcastic comments, playful shoves, light punches, a passive-aggressive kind of affection.

"where are you going all dressed up?" he teased when you ignored him to talk to anton.

"do you not have time for us mere mortals anymore?"

and you answered just the same:

"oh, don’t be so dramatic, Sungchan."

to everyone else, it seemed like you two were always bickering. but in reality, only the two of you knew that those "fights" were just a way to disguise something that shouldn’t still exist, but had never really gone away.

only shotaro knew.

he saw what others didn’t.

he saw how sometimes, when you thought no one was watching, sungchan would stare at you in silence.

he saw how, when anton held your hand, sungchan looked away, as if it hurt.

until that party came.

it was anton’s birthday. everyone was having a good time, he was busy tending to the guests, and you and sungchan were in a corner, your little nostalgia-filled nook, with a few too many drinks.

both of you had a little alcohol in your system, but not enough to lose control, but enough for the barrier of "what ifs" to crack a little. His eyes shone with something more than just the dim lights of the place. A conversation that starts like any other, a sarcastic joke, laughter, until nostalgia sneaks in between.

under the table, almost without you noticing, his hand searches for yours, like in those days when you couldn’t hold hands in public. but this time, it’s different. it’s no longer a secret, it’s a goodbye disguised as a touch.

"you know… i don’t think u ever said it properly, but i really liked you." a small silence, his thumb brushes lightly over the back of your hand.

"but not your age." he lets out a short, somewhat bitter laugh, as if mocking himself.

"so, i did the right thing, even though…" he looks you straight in the eyes, a hint of sadness masked as maturity. "even though sometimes i wonder what it would’ve been like if…"

his voice fades, as if he doesn’t want to finish the sentence, because it no longer matters.

and there you are, feeling a whirlwind of emotions inside you. It’s not that you want to go back. it’s not that you doubt what you have with anton. but those words awaken something within you, a memory, an echo, a possibility that will never be.

before you can say anything, sungchan slowly releases your hand and lets out a sigh with a small smile.

"but i’m happy that you’re happy."

and with that, he lifts his glass, toasts to you in silence. both of you knew there was no point in saying anything more.

so, you just gave him a sad smile and let go of his hand.

and when anton returned to your side, sungchan just stared at his glass, trying to ignore the emptiness in his chest.

now, with anton in your life, that past with sungchan is a secret you prefer not to mention. not because it’s something bad, but because there’s no point in bringing it up. anton doesn’t suspect a thing, because sungchan and you never let it seem like anything more.

because that’s how it is, some stories end before they even begin, but they always leave a mark.

well hahah, as you can see, i have a lot of ideas all of a sudden! i was going to start writing it last night but i fell asleep (sorry) but here it is:) i have to bring out my masochistic and dramatic side as a good pisces 😼 i'll do part 2? idk, i love you guys 🩵

[drhannahasher]

@hopefulprotect

I loved you too, Will. You're right though about the timing. I should have listened to Dr. Charles and waited until I was clean, healthy, and strong enough to handle a relationship. Instead, when things got tough, I relapsed and ruined our relationship all in one fell swoop. For that, I am sorry... {Wanting Will to know that in spite of the poor timing though, my love for him was genuine and sincere} I just want to be clear though... I wasn't trying to trade drugs for you. My love for you was real. Very real. Again, just bad timing. {I added with a smile as I took another sip of my water. Listening with a lingering smile as I heard Will placing our food order for us. He was always good at this sort of thing... He had a great eye and amazing taste when it came to food, so there wasn't a doubt in my mind that this time would be any different} I am trusting your gut. You haven't let me down with your menu selections before so the pressure is officially on. {I gently teased while a soft, playful grin lingered across my lips. All joking aside though, I wasn't picky when it came to food, so I knew I'd like it either way. Still, no harm in a little light and harmless teasing in the meantime though, right? I thought with an amused grin resting softly on my lips. Before long Will finished order and the waiter left our table to put our order in for us} I'm glad we decided to do this tonight. I am, however, a little surprised you didn't make me eat deep dish pizza in hopes of luring me back to Chicago. {I joked lightly as another soft chuckle left my lips}

continued

@drhannahasher

It was a big ask; a beg even for Hannah to overcome her struggles to come into Med to help me. And honestly thinking back to the call I had the low expectations she’d answer or yet come for my benefit. Hannah made it clear over a year ago when she left Chicago she left us, left me behind. It took the hold of constant rejected calls and unanswered messages to understand to see the bigger picture. She wanted nothing to do with me; she had tossed me aside when she had her relapse. And it stung; I cared I wanted to help her. I believed in her when she thought the worse version of herself. I saw the good in her; and yeah I wanted to keep her off the wagon, I knew what I was getting myself into when I fell for her. I knew she past; the struggles, but I also saw how strong she was. 

Hannah wasn’t how everyone perceived her after the accident; after being seen as a drug addict, after she left town. I believed she’d find what she was searching for. Even if it never included me. I had Jay on my back teasing about the pinning love I lost, as if he had something to say, given the fact he was not so subtle pinning for his partner might I add. Let’s just say our nights of going out for a drink had become quite frequent. But today wasn’t about my feelings, or my lack of covering what i felt for the blonde. It was about Alyssa a friend who I cared for. And her unborn child; her husband was on another table; one Ethan was working to fix, but my priority was in Hannah’s gallery because even if she didn’t want my support in the OR I was going to be in the gallery to oversea the process, I would never forgive myself if I never showed up. I was scared for Alyssa my childhood friend, but I knew the consequences if Hannah had messed up; not that I believed she would. 

Because I knew the female; she had skill, she worked with grace, which was only confirmed as I stood in the gallery. I glanced to the prying eyes of the residents; of interns who only knew of Hannah Asher through the whispers. But I saw Hannah first hand and I wanted to be proud of her. But her last comment stood in my head. “ Reunite you with Alyssa and the baby.” What does that mean? I had rack my mind on it. I was probably coming off as dumb now, but right now I was confused. Did Hannah think Alyssa and I were..? Did she believe I was the dad because of how far I fought for Alyssa? The questions kept looping around in my mind. And honestly I wouldn’t blame the blonde if she assumed. I did fight for Alyssa, I fought to get her the best care. The only OB I trusted to care for her. She was a friend someone I’d always go to bat for. But did I want to be with Alyssa? No of course not. Once a crush but now I was happy with being a doctor, of being the caring surgeon; the one that oversteps on almost every occasion. 

Hand rested on the wall; eyes glued to the scene. Hannah was working against her own OR, she was preparing to close up when it happened. She lost the stats, the baby was at risk, and Alyssa the blood flow was subsiding, I felt the lump that formed in my throat, and I knew the way her own staff spoke to her. No belief at all. I felt the rage, the anger coursing through my body. She was alone; and man it took every fiber in my body not to run down there; not to intervene, because I knew Hannah she was strong and brave, but she also felt the way people saw her. An addict. She probably wanted to run and never turn back. My heart ached for her, but I wanted to respect her boundaries which was me staying far from the OR. So I stayed in the gallery; I held my breath waiting; but by the end of the surgery I felt pride, I let out the exhale of relief i had been holding. She did it; the baby was okay, and Alyssa she was stable, I felt like I might cry over how phenomenal she was. I was proud of her; and that’s why I released my hold of the wall and I turned to leave the gallery. 

Each step I went with ease, as he walked the stairs, until I reached the ground floor. Will had made his way to the scrub room; where he knew he’d find her; as he pushed through the door he paused wanting to admire her handy work, the surgeon she was. 

“ I knew I put my faith in the right person, You did good. I don’t care what any one in that OR says, you showed what you are capable of.” And Will meant each word; as if it was close to his chest.

[welcometogrouchland]

I just think Hunter was obsessed with Willow and didn't even know it during the period from any sport in a storm to labyrinth runners. They maybe don't talk as often as they could, they're both busy and have conflicting schedules, so when they do talk, Hunter absorbs everything she says.

After roughly 3 weeks of texting (hexting? I feel like the kids would call it hexting), He knows that her favorite colour is orange, she likes her tea with extra milk and a bit of honey during winter, she likes working out to the noisiest angriest music in her playlist, her dad Gilbert is a construction witch who specialises in pottery, she used to listen to breakup songs and think about her childhood best friend (Hunter doesn't know it's Amity) and she actually has a mild pollen allergy despite being a plant witch and has to take potions for it.

He casually drops all this info piece by piece during their stay in the human realm and willows like. Well I can't not marry him. It'll have to be a winter or fall wedding to account for her allergies </3

[dedalvs]

The problem with art is that it's a subjective medium that, through its very nature, invites comparison. You listen to one song and think it's pretty good then listen to another and like that one even better. Then you find someone who thinks the opposite. Then you find someone who thinks both songs are trash. All the while the ones who wrote those songs may never have even heard of each other—may never have even been alive at the same time. Neither would have ever imagined they'd be in competition, yet, years later, there they are, as a result of conversation between people they've never met.

As subjective as art is, consider J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis—specifically, The Lord of the Rings and The Chronicles of Narnia. If one of these is better, it's going to be The Lord of the Rings. Lewis would've said so—even Tolkien, if pressed. Lewis and Tolkien were friends, they encouraged each other as writers, they shared ideas, their works have similar themes—you can see the influence in both works—but if you had to choose one, it's The Lord of the Rings, hands down.

But does that mean The Chronicles of Narnia is worthless?

There are tons of people who've read and enjoyed the Narnia books over the years, and I'd say a sizeable portion (myself included) who never knew until much, much later that Tolkien and Lewis knew each other—that the two series had anything to do with one another. Something which seems terribly relevant at one time may be all but forgotten at a later date. (For example, did you know the Beatles and the Beach Boys had an intense rivalry in the 60s? I didn't. I'd heard about the Beatles and the Rolling Stones, but the Beatles and the Beach Boys...? I doubt if I ever realized they'd even heard of each other.)

It's a difficult thing to do, I know, but if you have an idea—a drive that pushes you toward some artistic goal—you have to follow it while you feel it and then evaluate/revise/edit it later. You have to let the thing be what it's going to be. When something is new, the unfamiliar are going to see it as strange, and may offer you suggestions on how to make it look more like something they're familiar with. That may, indeed, help it be more recognizable and more acceptable to a current audience, but it may be robbing the work of an opportunity to be unique and original.

Going back to Narnia, consider the world building in the first book examined through the lens of Tolkien. My, but it looks sloppy! I mean, there's a random ass lamppost in a fantasy world? Fauns are there, as well as talking animals, and then…Santa Claus?! Santa Claus?! And the Tolkienite is asking how all these things tie together, what exactly the nature of magic is, what land Santa Claus hails from, how he interacts with the "real" world, etc. From the perspective of hard world building, you can imagine someone saying to Lewis, "Hey, maybe consider pruning literal Santa Claus from the book. It doesn't make sense." And if he didn't hold fast to his vision, maybe he does that. Maybe he also tightens up some of the other looser aspects of the world building. And maybe the end result is something a little more Tolkienesque—and, essentially, not at all The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe.

I took a course on Samuel Beckett (author of the play Waiting for Godot) and we read almost all of his work. He started with novels. He actually served as transcriptionist for James Joyce's Finnegans Wake when Joyce lost his sight. His first novel, Murphy, reads like someone who's trying to sound like James Joyce. There's definitely Beckett in there, but it's like he's trying to take his vision and push it through a Joycean mold. Now, there's nothing wrong with James Joyce, of course—he's one of the greats—but he's not Samuel Beckett. And it wasn't until Beckett loosed himself from these shackles that we saw what it was he could do. And, truly, he went on to produce some stuff that no one else could ever have produced (cf. Worstward Ho!). It's not necessarily better than Joyce, but also, Joyce isn't necessarily better than Beckett. Truly, it does not matter. Each of them produced something truly unique—true to themselves—and the world is better off for it, whether you like one or the other better, both, or neither. (Incidentally, this is another of those pairings that may surprise. Did you know Samuel Beckett literally transcribed Finnegans Wake for Joyce late in Joyce's life? I didn't, until that class I took.)

Back to the point of the post, there are two things I'd say:

Yes, your work may not be as good as someone else's. Chances are your work now isn't as good as your work five years from now. So? If you don't do what you're doing now your work five years from now won't be better. You can look at my early language work. It's not as good as what I do now. If I didn't do it, though, I wouldn't be where am I now. Oh, and you know what? At the time, I thought my work was fucking incredible. I was wrong, but sometimes if you don't have fans, you have to be your own fan to get you to where you need to be.

Yes, your work may not be as good as someone else's, but that doesn't mean it doesn't have value—and not because you're going to get better later because of it. There's someone out there that may like the work you're producing right this second just because. They may love the sound of it. They may love your unique twist on a case system. You may look back on the work you're doing now ten years from now and say that it is objectively shit, but then ten years after that someone on the internet will find it and say they love it, despite what you think. That's art. That's audience.

Most importantly, you can't let the voice inside you cut you down before you've had a chance to do what you're doing or else you'll do nothing. When negative thoughts come, you acknowledge that they're there, and then you tell yourself that it's just talk. Don't ignore the negative thoughts: shine a spotlight on them. Recognize that they are thoughts, and as thoughts, they can be pushed aside by something as insignificant as a damn commercial jingle you can't get out of your head. Some of the vilest thoughts I've ever had—crippling self-doubt, negative self-talk—can't even go ten seconds in the ring against the fucking "You won't get a lemon at Toyota of Orange" jingle that's come back to me at odd moments every day since I first heard it in 1987. Some musical hack that I hope to beat to death one day created a five second jingle that has spent more time in my brain than some actual humans I love and adore, and, believe you me, that stupid jingle is way more powerful than any voice in my head that says, "You're worthless trash"—and if that's true, how pathetic is that negative self-talk? What power does it really have over you?

Sometimes comparison helps. Sometimes it helps you grow; sometimes it gives you new ideas. But it has its time and place, and that time and place is not amidst creation. That time is your time, and I'd encourage you to let it be just that: your time to create.

Do you ever get nervous bc your conlang isn't as naturalistic or as well-thought-out as those of the literal masters of the craft and so that must mean it's Literally Garbage

[seventh-district]

7am, eating cold leftover teriyaki stir-fry for breakfast and crying over blorbos

[pumpkinrootbeer]

ogfoofodoxx thinking about how the most defining character trait of haymitch is how protective he is. not in the sense it's the most obvious, but how all of his actions are fueled by this desire to protect. how hard he works at keeping katniss alive in the first games, him fighting to keep them from augmenting katniss's body, him yelling at plutarch to keep finnick from having to share his trauma, him being so involved in peeta's recovery and being the one to bring katniss home. him holding mayslee's hand as she died, fighting for plutarch to stay and rescue peeta, being the one to find katniss and finnick when johanna had an episode, begging coin to believe peeta's warning. it being heavily implied or either outright stated that he was one of the people who fought to protect effie.

makes me physically ill because no one does that for him. everyone who would of, died.

[o-wyrmlight]

Guess who unintentionally boiled some crab before sitting down and listening to an analysis of Donald Trump's indictment charges like I'm fucking royalty and didn't even connect the dots until after the crab was already cooked

That's right. It's your buddy Wyrm. Eating like royalty at 4-5am today

[wekillitwithfire]

graphic design is my passion except i'm 100% serious

[your-internet-bf]

We hadn't always gotten along. When our parents got married, we could barely stand each other. How could we get along with some brat we barely knew? Luckily, I had an idea. I bought a clicker - you know, the one they use to train dogs? - and got to work.

I started with "thank you". Every time you said it, maybe at dinner, in the car, at a restaurant, I pressed the clicker. You couldn't tell where the sound was coming from, and nobody else seemed to know what you were talking about. But soon, I started helping you with chores around the house and when we finished, *click*. And without really thinking about it, you'd say "thank you."

A few months passed, and you'd started to notice things about me. I took care of myself. I was clean, and I exercised regularly. You'd hang around when you knew I'd be back from the gym just to catch a whiff of the sweat and metal on me when I returned - our eyes caught once when you got a little too close, and for the first time you saw something primal, a little dark, in my gaze. But it passed in an instant.

We started getting along better, now. So one day, when you were lying on the couch with a snack bowl, I snatched it up and motioned to throw it into your mouth. Well, innocent enough, right? And it wasn't like I was eating much, so it's fine, right? Every time you open your mouth to catch, *click*, *click*, *click*.

Then, I invited you to come work out with me. Every time you did a squat, *click*. I told you it was a metronome to keep your intensity up, but you noticed the bulge in my sweatpants was bigger than usual. Wait, when did you start noticing my bulge, especially enough to know that...?

Finally, it was time. I'd been listening outside your bedroom door for weeks now, and I knew when you'd be asleep. I quietly opened your door and stepped into your room, locking it behind me. You stirred at the sound of the lock clicking, but I wasn't afraid.

I gingerly pulled down the covers and just... stared for a while. I'd never taken the time to really look at how beautiful you are, how gorgeous those curves were. I could hardly stand it. As you lay on your side, I took out the clicker, and *click* it once. Laying on your side, like you were on the couch with the snacks, you obediently open your mouth.

I pull down my pants, my long, thick cock swinging between my thighs. I brush the back of my hand over your cheek, then set it firmly against the back of your head, and push into your mouth.

You wake up almost immediately, but my hand stops you from pulling back as I force inch after throbbing inch down your throat. The more you struggle, the tighter you feel, the harder I push, until you felt your nose press into my hips. You push as hard as you can against me, but I'm so much bigger and stronger than you it doesn't do anything. I don't even budge.

I start to grind into your skull, making you swallow the thick, heavy head of my cock again and again, as I groan in pleasure. I start thrusting harder and harder, making your eyes water as I slam my hips into your face again and again, until finally, mercifully, I release inside you, deep inside your throat. You feel me pulse with your whole mouth, and you struggle to swallow each load of thick, hot, sticky cum while I'm still inside you.

With a shuddering breath, I pull out, letting you breathe properly for the first time in minutes. I watch while you cough and catch your breath, and then I ask, "what do you say?"

You breathe in intending to scream, but then you hear it, just one soft *click*, and all you can say is "thank you".

You stare at me, confused. I wipe my cum off your chin with my thumb, and *click* again. "Thank you", you say.

"I knew it. You're such a good girl, aren't you? Now," I push you onto your back, "spread for me."

*click*

You raise your legs to either side, exactly like you're doing a squat.

"I don't - I don't understand," you whimper, legs still in the air.

"You don't have to," I reply, reaching one hand between your legs to feel how wet you are.

"You're soaking, little girl," as I bring my hand up for you to see... Then make you taste it. I reach back down and slip in two of my thick, strong fingers, and cover your mouth with my other hand as you moan. I press up in just the right spot, rubbing in tight, quick circles so deliciously that you can't help but arch your back and grind into me. You feel the pleasure build and all thought leaves your mind; the only thing that matters is my fingers inside you, the scent of my hand over your mouth, and the lingering taste of me.

But before you can finish I pull my fingers out, pressing up and out, leaving you twitching and gasping. "Not yet," I mutter, and I move myself down between your legs. I line up my cock, slapping it down on your tummy first. It reaches your navel, and you feel a wave of fear that only makes you wetter. I pull back, then start pushing in.

It's thick, thick, thick, and heavy. I stretch you out wider than you thought possible, pressuring you in every direction, spreading your aching cunt and making you feel full inside for the first time in your life. Long, deep strokes, moving your whole body with every thrust, reaching inside you, my breath coming fast and hard.

And you hear it again.

*click*

"Thank you," you choke out between sobs.

*click*

"Thank you," you moan.

*click*

"Thank you," you plead, tears in your eyes.

My strokes come faster now, slamming inside you like an animal as you continue to thank me for raping you. Finally, finally, finally, you feel me tense up and slam deep, deep, deep inside you, pressing your whole body into the bed, as I cum again. Huge, hot, sticky white loads of my cum shoot inside you, filling you, as my breath comes in gasps, and as I do you feel it too, now, the wave of pleasure cresting, and you cum, your legs squeezing together, your face screwed tight, moaning with the release of months of tension. And as you cum, you hear a new sound, a familiar sound, but it's deeper than the others...

*click*

And you cum harder, knowing I'm training you like a bitch in heat.

I climb up next to you, and just gaze into your eyes for a moment. Then I smile. "Let's go again."

*click*

[simonbrain]

it doesn't matter how quietly you attempt to get off at night; your lieutenant is always listening, always grumpy about the pretty sounds disturbing his slumber.

you were embarrassed when he brought it up to you (keep it down, can't fuckin' sleep with oll tha' racket), so you opted to not use your vibrator the next night, instead using your fingers like some lady from the 1800's. it wasn't as efficient, but it did the job, and you were knocked out after a few orgasms.

you think you're doing good, as he doesn't confront you about your nightly activities for a few days after that. not until one morning when he pulls you over to an obscured area outside, not paying any mind to your stumbling and hissing.

even with the mask on, you can tell he's scowling. "how many times do i 'ave to tell you to keep it down?" he grumbles, peering down at you through golden eyelashes. his head tilts as he speaks, and you have to force yourself to not squeeze your thighs together in front of your superior officer. "i can hear tha' wet cunt through the walls every night—are you tha' thirsty for it, pet?" a finger clips onto your belt loop, and you're being tugged closer, a chuckle rumbling from him when he takes notice of how flustered you're getting.

you've never wanted to explode into tiny pieces more in your life than this moment. your cheeks feel hot, and you can only stare up at him and watch as his gaze roams down your body. heated. predatory.

"i— i don't want—" you try to deny what you know is inevitable because ghost always gets his way, but it's thrilling to watch how he pushes his body against yours, the smell of him overpowering your rational thoughts. he only peels the mask high enough to free his mouth before he's shoving his tongue down your throat, a gloved hand finding its way to the front of your pants.

that night, when you crawl into bed with a fully charged vibrator, warmth already swirling in your belly, you think about how ghost's hands felt on your body. how he so meanly nudged the fat head of his cock in until he was fully sheathed, stretching you so thin you swear he was going to split you apart.

("there we go," he coos—or rather snarls at you, thick fingers filling up your mouth because you were whining too loud for his liking. "knew you wanted this fuckin' cunt stuffed full o'me," he groans while pawing at your chest, harsh pants hitting your ear. "tha's why you're so loud, innit? nasty fuckin' thing.")

how he kissed you like he was trying to consume you, licking into your mouth with such fervour, you were surprised he hadn't already burst into flames. he resembles a brick more than an actual human sometimes, but patience has always been his strongest quality.

you really shouldn't be surprised when ghost pours into your room while you're making yourself dizzy with thoughts of him, your brain liquifying on the pillow from the constant delicious vibrations against your throbbing clit. the sound of the door being kicked shut behind him startles you as he stalks over to your bed.

"i'm starting to think you like pissing me off." he growls softly, the bed squeaking underneath his weight. the vibrator is still buzzing against you, and you swallow when his eyes drop down to the soft, wet mess between your legs. "get on your fuckin' knees, girl."

[dollfacefantasy]

clark kent x fem!reader cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, car sex, mating press a/n: ummm yeah i need him so bad it makes me ill <3

for as long as you'd known clark, you'd never known him to lose his temper. he was forever-patient, your boyfriend. understanding to almost a frustrating degree. especially with you, his little love.

he was already pretty easy to get along with, but on the rare occasion you did have issues, clark seemed to have a natural instinct for deescalating you. he never raised his voice, never spoke an unkind word about you, never gave you a look harsher than what could be described as stern.

all it took to calm you down was a glimpse of his natural puppy-dog eyes and pretty plush lips. his thick arms would circle around you and hold you to his chest. he'd sway back and forth with you a little, a small smile on his face as you melted into the embrace. whatever semblance of tension or irritation that had been bubbling up easily dissolved into a puddle between the two of your bodies.

so, all that to say, you didn't really believe clark possessed any kind of rough edge or combative instinct. despite his large stature, you couldn't really picture him ever being rough.

that was until tonight.

you and clark had planned to drop by some event at the talon, but your sweet boyfriend had warned you earlier that he found out there'd probably be some trouble there later. some potentially dangerous situation that he wanted you avoiding at all costs. it was for your safety. he just wanted you to stay home where he wouldn't be worried while him and chloe investigated.

but did you listen to him? of course not. you went anyways, not in the mood to listen to his vague explanations as to how he even discovered this information in the first place. you put on a cute little dress with some new shoes you bought specifically for the night and took off.

unfortunately for you, clark had turned out to be right. not even thirty minutes after you arrived, chaos broke out. people flew through walls and glass shattered everywhere, all because of some guy who looked like his body could stretch and bend like a rubberband. it totally sucked. but none of that was even the worst part. you survived the craziness of whatever that person's problem was. the real danger came when the dust settled and you saw clark across the room staring at you.

he looked pissed.

he was at your side in an instant, but closing the distance didn't soften him any. it kind of did the opposite since up close he could see a bloody scrape stretching across your cheekbone.

you could see he was worried first and foremost, but behind that concerned top coat a fire burned. as soon as your small wound had been tended to, his long fingers clasped around your bicep. he pulled you to your feet and all but dragged you out of the coffee shop.

"clark i-" you started in an attempt to explain yourself.

"save it," he said, voice as cold as you'd ever heard it, "i asked you for one thing. that's it. stay home for your own good. don't come out here and pointlessly risk your life."

"it wasn't that bad," you defend weakly.

"but why even take the chance?" he asked with true exasperation, "i shouldn't need to convince you that your safety is more important than whatever they had going on tonight."

he didn't continue the lecture beyond that. just walked with a clenched jaw and motivated stare in the direction of his truck. like always, he opened the door for you when you got there. though this time, he practically scooped you up and dumped you into the car.

he was silent as he drove, fingers tight around the steering wheel. you could practically feel the frustration rolling off of him. the urge to lash out for once was near spilling over. he pulled the car over, and you figured you were really in for it. in a way you were right, just not how you thought.

clark didn't bother yelling, didn't try to start a fight. he glared at you for a few silent seconds before leaning across the seats and crashing his lips against yours. he kissed you like he wanted to steal the breath from your lungs.

after a blur of clothing being shifted around and positioning body parts awkwardly in the confined space, you found yourself in the meanest mating press of your life.

you were folded in half beneath all of clark's weight. the points of your new heels scraped up the truck's ceiling while your knees squished against your chest. little squeaks and whines slipped their way out of you as his tip battered against your cervix. he was so deep you swore you could feel your insides rearranging to make room for him.

"clarkkkk," you mewled before biting your lip, desperately searching for some way to ground yourself. one set of your fingers gripped strands of his dark hair while the other held a fist of his flannel.

"what, baby?" he panted. for once, clark wasn't fawning over you between thrusts. he wasn't cooing or praising you for taking him so well. instead, he had his face against your neck and his hands wrapped around your waist, bucking into your dripping heat with enough force to rock the car.

you tried to force out words to convey what you were thinking. too big. too much. so deep. harder. faster. none of those made it though. only choked moans and then a sharp squeal when he rolled his hips and struck that extra-sensitive sweet spot inside you.

"someone's gonna see if they drive by," you whimpered, squirming underneath him.

"maybe you should hold still then and let me finish, huh?" he grunted, "no one's gonna see. everyone's in town dealing with the mess from tonight. the one i told you was gonna happen."

"i didn't think-"

"i know you didn't," he interrupted, "didn't use that pretty little head at all, did you?"

words of defense eluded you right now, his nonstop thrusts keeping your mind cloudy. instead you chose to whine, your lip quivering he rolled his hips deeper yet again.

"oh yeah?" he asked, as if you'd said something coherent.

you opened your mouth again to speak, to really argue back this time, but you were cut off by your own desperate cry when his hands tugged you closer and speared you even further on his cock. you could feel him grinning against your neck at the noise.

"i know, baby. i know you're sorry. you don't have to explain. thinking's too hard for you right now, yeah?" he cooed, his tone bordering on mocking.

your pout got more severe but so did the needy sounds escaping your mouth. you felt those long fangs of his scrape against your throat. his tongue then glided across the area, making you shudder.

"clark-" you tried to say something else, but he cut you off. he raised his head up and kissed you deep again, swallowing the words right from your mouth. when he pulled back for air, he rested his sweaty forehead against yours.

"you can be such a brat," he breathed, "so much whining even though i know you love this."

the truck creaked as his movements continued to jostle it. you felt his breath fanning across your face and watched as his eyes fluttered shut. you knew he was getting close, but so were you. your cunt squeezed around him rhythmically, coaxing him too the edge along with you.

"you gonna cum, baby?" he finally muttered against your lips.

you nodded eagerly, more than ready to release. it only took a few more hard thrusts to get you there, and clark followed along no problem. in the afterglow, he laid on top of you for a minute or so, trapping you in a cage of searing body heat.

when he finally did sit up, the two of you fixed your clothes and stretched your limbs. he looked over at you with more tenderness. your boyfriend's gentle temperament had seemingly returned with the relief his peak brought.

he cupped your jaw with his fingers, looking over that cut on your face. leaning in, he gave it a small kiss before starting up the car again.

"i'm just trying to look out for you, you know? just... please listen next time. i don't know what i'd do if you got hurt. you had me worried sick."

"i will. i'm sorry i scared you," you replied softly. your eyes studied the loving look in his eyes and the way his features seemed so at peace now that all his adrenaline was out of his system.

you grabbed his hand across the seats and traced little patterns on his knuckles for the drive home. he let you play with his fingers but shot you a glance.

"i'm serious. next time you get involved with something like that i won't let you off so easy," he teased.

you smiled and nodded, wanting to put his mind at ease. though in the back of your mind, a small part of you considered trying again some time, just to see what "not so easy" looked like to him.

[ghostsprincess]

I can't stop thinking about Ghost being a better boyfriend than your ex, even without establishing that title....

This is a continuation of part one.

warning: mention domestic abuse

💀

Simon was there every night you worked. You never gave him your schedule, but he'd show up and settle onto one of the stools like clockwork. Soap often joined him, and while they carried on like always, you knew Simon's gaze lingered on your body. You could practically feel the weight as you took drink orders and pulled pints. It wasn't unwelcome. In fact, it made everything easier knowing you weren't alone if your ex dared show his face.

When your shifts ended, Simon would walk you back to your new place. The one time you insisted he didn't need to do that, he grunted and said, "What if I want to?"

You didn't mention it again. Instead you got into a routine of giving him a fifteen minute warning when your shift was going to end, and you'd head out into the cold night with him at your side. He was mostly quiet while you chatted about whatever was on your mind. When you'd ask him about himself, he'd reroute the conversation back to you. Then he would wait while you unlocked your door and stepped inside.

You always had the urge to invite him in, but you were taking up so much of his time already. And what would you do with him anyway? This hulking military man with kind eyes? 

You thanked him and gave him a little wave before ducking inside, and you knew he always waited until he heard the sound of your door locking before he left. 

"Y' alright, love?" he asked one night when you were starting to feel particularly good about yourself again. Your split lip had healed which required less makeup. You felt stronger for having left your ex in the dust. You were wearing a new top that made you feel sexy.

"Yeah. I'm alright, Simon. I feel really good, actually."

You served him a drink and refused to let him pay. You really ought to make him stop tipping you at this rate. He was doing so much for you and getting nothing in return. He was doing all of the boyfriend duties just as he had promised, but he never so much as touched you other than the occasional hand hold.

What if you wanted more?

He broke into your thoughts as he said, "I can tell. Ya' been smiling more. Almost ready to go?"

Tonight you felt like you were floating along the dirty sidewalk with your hand tucked in Simon's massive paw. He was keeping you warm without doing anything, and he listened to your nervous rambling as you tried your best to work up your courage. But the two of you reached your front door all too quickly.

"Get inside," he said, voice deep and tender in spite of the command. "An' lock up."

When he started to pull his hand away, you didn't let him. And you didn't budge when one of his eyebrows inched higher. "Not quite yet," you whispered, toe tapping the cement step you were standing on which put you slightly closer to him in height. "I have to tell you something."

Simon's lips pressed together in a tight line, and his chin dipped in a slight nod. "I need to tell ya' something, too. Just don't want to."

"What?" you asked immediately, the lightness you'd been feeling instantly replaced with a lead brick inside you.

"I'm leaving. Late tomorrow night. Not until after I make sure ya' get home from the pub."

"Leaving?" you whispered, heart pounding faster. He was in the military. Some sort of special mission involvement. You knew that much. And you could read between the lines to know that someone who looked and behaved like he did was probably about to risk his life, not for the first time. "Simon, where are you going?" you asked with tears in your eyes even though you figured he wouldn't be able to tell you.

Simon shook his head, his lips curling into a soft smile. It was a rare sight, and it made you dizzy. "Pretty little thing like you shouldn't be worried 'bout me." You wanted to tell him you would be. You'd worry nonstop until you saw him again. You'd come to rely on him, but mostly you liked how you felt when he was around. "There'll be someone to walk ya' home from work every night. I can promise that."

You wanted to lean in and kiss him, but instead you threw your arms around his neck. He was so solid and warm, and the scrape of his facial hair on your cheek was somehow comforting. "But I'll see you tomorrow, right?" you asked, voice breaking on a sob.

"I'll see ya' tomorrow, love."

He didn't move an inch as you extracted yourself, and the sound of his receding footsteps could only be heard once you'd locked yourself inside.

💀

Part three

[pomefioredove]

can I request house wardens + leech twins with a reader who doesn't eat enough bc Crowley doesn't give them enough for food, and they end up really ill and collapsing or something. I'm cravin some fluffy comfort rn, pls and thank you 🙏

I got you🫡🫡 as someone who's been through an eerily similar situation, I really liked this request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ another crowley moment™️

type of post: headcanons characters: riddle, leona, azul, floyd, jade, kalim, vil, idia, malleus additional info: romantic or platonic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu, mentions of food and not eating

Riddle wouldn't even have to like you to rush to your side. but he does like you, which makes it all the worse

after checking your vitals, you're in the infirmary. he's got doctors for parents, after all, and he knows that malnutrition is bad

he should have seen the signs...

with exams coming, he's been so busy, and he assumed that you were just tired from studying

but he can feel guilty later. right now, he needs to focus on you getting well again, and not killing Crowley

(then, of course, he'll look for some legal statute or clause that he can threaten Crowley with so you're fed properly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Leona noticed you'd been acting a little weird lately, but watching you collapse still puts him in shock

luckily, Ruggie and Jack are nearby to help you to the infirmary, so Leona can focus on hunting Crowley down like an animal

there are very few times where Leona is particularly grateful for his status, but this is one of them. just one word on how his family will be hearing about Crowley's neglect, and the old bastard is begging him for forgiveness

even after that, Leona still sends Ruggie with snacks and drinks to Ramshackle

and if you ever scare him like that again, you'll regret it (lovingly)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

the news of you collapsing during flight lessons reaches Octavinelle rather fast. no one is particularly surprised, since Floyd had mentioned how easily you'd been bruising lately just the night before, but everyone is certainly worried

Azul is the first at your side, asking you all sorts of questions, worried sick. Jade has to remind him to give you space to rest, since you look exhausted (had you always had those dark circles? how could Azul have not noticed?)

now, Azul and the tweels could easily find a way to pressure Crowley, but they know better than to trust him

from now on, you'll be eating in the Mostro Lounge, free of charge

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

perhaps Kalim was just oblivious, because he really didn't think anything was wrong until you were suddenly on the floor in front of him

sure, you'd been a little moody lately, but he figured it was just a thing you were going through. and besides, you know that you can talk to him about anything... right?

Jamil hurries to check your pulse, and shouts for him to get the school nurse- which is jarring, because Jamil never shouts

when you explain everything to Kalim later, he feels... terrible. he should've known- no, he should've asked

Kalim insists you stay at Scarabia while you're recovering, and makes sure you have the most enriching, delicious meals money can buy

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

Vil knew it was bad, but not this bad. if he had known you were on the verge of collapsing, he would've taken a firmer approach to getting you to eat

you're going to worry him to death someday, you know that?

after he's done verbally eviscerating Crowley, he'll insist on joining you at every meal. he'll eat at Ramshackle, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, if that's what it takes

he's subtle about it, at least

if he notices that your plate feels empty, he'll just take some food from his and put it on yours. gracefully, elegantly, without a word

you'll come home one day to see your kitchen stocked with vitamins, supplements, and apples (courtesy of Epel)

<3 and a note that says he'll treat you to dinner whenever you want

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

never scare Idia like that ever again. he wasn't even with you when you collapsed, and he STILL nearly had a heart attack

listen, he knows he's not a great role model when it comes to nutritional eating, but you have got to tell him these things. he would've had Ortho go get takeout! or something!

typical Crowley behavior, SMH. what does he think you are? a rabbit? even the school horses get treated better...

no way that Idia is going to even bother with that old fart, anyway. you want something? he'll get it for you. you don't even have to ask, he'll just send food to your place (and have Ortho check your vitals more often but shhh)

*ੈ✩‧₊˚

I would not want to be in the room when Malleus finds out about this

not even the building. you know what? I'd steer clear of the whole island, because it will not be pretty

when you collapse in front of him, it feels like he's dying, too. the panic sets in, and he sends Lilia to look after you, and Silver and Sebek to escort you to the infirmary, and then he casually threatens to smite Crowley. obviously

if the students and staff of NRC thought Malleus was scary just being Malleus, he's terrifying when he's mad

(rest assured that you will be getting ten times the amount of food from now on)

it's thunderstorms for days after, but he never leaves your side

[poguehearted77]

Tap Out

Just thinking about Rafe's super gorgeous, beautifully breathtaking girlfriend who is notorious for giving people a hard time. Especially him.

She got that million dollar Million dollar oow, oow And all I want to do is touch it Make her tapout, tapout, tapout, tapout,

Rafe stands tall and brooding in front of the bed where you sat while he hits replay on the overbearing series of voicemails you'd left him while he was out.

"Hi Rafe, I know you said you and Barry had to go take care of whatever it was that you said—I don't know; I wasn't really listening, but I just saw this new coach bag online, and I need you to send me a picture of your credit card front and back so I can get it. Thanks in advance baby."

You stay silent and unbothered by the replay.

He plays the next one, "It's almost midnight, Rafe. When are you coming home? I miss you. The bed is so big and empty without you in it. You remember that night we came back from the Blue Diamond charity gala and we barely made it up the stairs? The way you fucked me so good, left me aching for you for days--mmmm, wanna feel you like that again, come home Rafeyy."

Your boyfriend huffs as he moves to play the last one except this one is silent for the first few moments until some lewd sounds can be picked up. It's wet and sticky. It sounds like Thanksgiving mac and cheese being stirred in the pot. Soon, the faintest string of moans can be heard.

Most wouldn't be able to pick up on it, but not Rafe. His ears are trained to the sound of your voice. He's accustomed to every pitch, tone and frequency your pleasure can take on.

You stand, ready to plead your case, "You were gone for hours, what was I supposed to do?" Your arms cross defensively and they suddenly drop when Rafe's big hand is holding you by the throat, squeezing tight enough to have you gasping.

"You think this shit is funny?" His voice is strict, unwavering and serious. "What if Barry heard this? Huh?" Your eyes roll, defences refusing to crumble even with a limited supply of air, "It's Barry, he'd probably thank me-"

You need to learn when to shut up at the end of a rhetorical question because now Rafe had you bent up like a pretzel. One hand is still around your neck while the other holds you at the waist.

Your legs are shaking as he brings you to what you thought was your third orgasm but is actually the fourth (you'd blacked out during the second one). "Rafe- no- s'too much," You murmur, voice broken and weak from all your screams.

"Nothin's too much for you." He groans, punctuating his sentences with a sharp snap of his hips. It sends you reeling and your eyes roll back as you feel that familiar heat begin to unfurl in your core.

You shake your head repeatedly, "I can't--Rafe! Please." You beg, so incredibly turned on by the sight of your hot boyfriend who looked down to where your bodies connected. The way your slick covered his cock down to his balls. It pulls a groan out of him from his core.

You admired the sweat that gathered over the thin hairs on his chest and that piercing blue gaze that would glance up at you from time to time to taunt you like now. "You know what to do if you can't take it sweet thing." You do know what to do, but you refuse to back down, you're so close.

"O-oh shit I'm-" The words escape and your climax is stolen from you when Rafe stops completely and pulls out, his hands move down to your hips, shamelessly displaying his physical dominance over you and flipping you onto your stomach effortlessly.

He grips the flesh of your waist and manhandles you until you're being pulled back against him, the beautiful sight of your plump and juicy ass in his hands is enough to send him to the heavens above or maybe the firey pits below.

You're already too weak to hold yourself up on your arms, so you let yourself fall into the sheets. Your cries muffled into the pillows as Rafe slowly presses back into you, stretching you back open. His rhythm picks up with nothing but urgency and mercilessness.

Your back arches, and you cry out his name when you're blinded by your own orgasm. Coming undone once more and he comes soon after with a breathy chuckle. His hips are still rolling into yours lethargicly when he whispers, "You got one more in you, baby?"

"Fuck no. I'm done." You whine, your fists tapping out on the pillow and his pace slows until he finally stops, slowly pulling out.

"That'll teach you to fuck with my voicemails when I'm not here." He lays himself down beside you, carefully moving the stray strands of hair out of your face to admire you.

Your lips were swollen from all the sucking and biting he'd done to them earlier, your cheeks flushed and your body is spent. You grin, "You know you liked it, especially that last one." Rafe exhaled, even in your drained state you can still find time to be bratty.

"I did, I did. You sounded so fucking pretty playing with that perfect pussy of yours. Had to go rub one out in Barry's bathroom because of you." You smile a little bigger at that. "Good." Is all you say and Rafe can only roll his eyes as he moves to hold you in his arms.

You both lay there, enjoying the warmth of each other's bodies until Rafe speaks up softly, "Tuesday." He says, and your head looks up at him with a confused tilt. Without having to ask him, he explains, "The purse you want. I ordered it. It'll be here on Tuesday."

Just when your smile couldn't get any bigger, it does, and Rafe can't help but to be in awe because god you're so fucking gorgeous but you're such a pain in the ass.

His prettiest headache.