#it’s an AU of my own AU if that makes sense

[elssero]

pros and cons of my faves being your roommate!

includes- bakugo, kirishima, denki, sero, shinso, izuku, shigaraki and monoma ! (college au makes most sense)

-inspired by @tokeposts post about shinso being a bad roommate ily toke.

bakugo is very clean, he tidies up after himself very well, as in you’ll hardly find even a trace of him living in your shared areas. he’s also an amazing cook, and while he won’t make meals specifically for you in the beginning, if he has leftovers i’d imagine he may leave tupperware with the note ‘leftovers, help yourself.’

however, i think he’s loud. and in the most inconvenient times. its 8am and he’s blasting music while he works out and ur suffering from a horribleee hangover, he does not care.

i would imagine it takes him awhile to open up to you, but when he eventually does he would much rather cook or go to the gym with you compared to watching a movie on the couch. overall a 8/10 roommate because i cannot forgive the early morning wake ups.

kirishima is an absolute sweetheart, introduces himself straight away and attempts to spend time with you immediately. he’s a great conversationalist and i think he would be amazing at making you feel safe and comfortable.

however, i think he’s clumsy. like your replacing your plates once a month type clumsy. he doesn’t mean it! and he always (tries) to clean up after himself! maybe it’s also that he doesn’t quite know his own strength, shattering glass that takes 20 minutes to clean up with just his grip.

he opens up immediately though, offers to walk you to class (even when he doesn’t have one himself sometimes, but you don’t need to know that.) i think he would also introduce you to his friends too, but he always asks very politely before he invited anyone over!

denki is a horrible roommate. he’s messy and forgetful and he can’t cook and god forbid you ask him to do some laundry for you, he’s completely and utterly hopeless.

it’s a shame that he’s so funny. like an absolute joy to be around. he’s interested in you immediately (in more ways than one) and he takes every opportunity to be around you. hes also super good at finding cheep local places for food and drinks etc, always begging to take you to this new restaurant he’s been dying to try.

‘hey so i burnt our dinner, how about i order us takeout and we watch a movie instead?’ -and so becomes your little thursday night tradition of trying all the takeout places that’ll deliver to your place and watching cringy movies to go along with it. it’s adorable really. he SHOULD be like a 2/10 but he’s so charming it makes it hard.

sero is the chillest guy ever, i believe he was brung up with proper manners and he knows how to take care of himself, it’s a very favour for favour situation. he cooks and you do dishes, you do laundry and he takes out the trash, it’s very domestic from the get go.

however, i think he has a problem with just inviting people over. getting home from a longgg lecture and suddenly there’s three boys in your house that you’ve never met and your subjected to a round of questioning when all you want to do is go to bed. sometimes it feels as though he always has company.

he’d realise pretty fast that it was irritating you though, suddenly your getting messages ‘when will you be home so i can kick denki out so we can hang out.’ it’s sweet. i believe he would be more of a series guy than the movie type. don’t you dare watch an episode without him.

shinso is respectful, he never touches any of your stuff, never gets in your way or makes you uncomfortable, you can just go about your life while having him as your roommate.

but you never see him. you hear him, sometimes at all hours of the night when he’s up finishing a project or showering at 4am when you have a lecture at 8. i think he’s also a procrastinator, you ask him to take out the trash at 7.30 before you leave and you get back at 3 and the trash still isn’t taken out.

sometimes you wake up to a delivery from your favorite breakfast spot on the counter though, so that makes up for it.

izuku is so kind, while he’s a little hopeless at first, he’s very eager to learn. you do have to teach him how to do the laundry and how to use the stove, but he gets it after a few tries. once you begin splitting up the household tasks, things get alot easier. especially when you keep finding your favourite snacks in the fridge.

he can sometimes be overbearing, he won’t go as far as to sneak into your room to try and see what type of stuff your into but he might sneak a peak when you leave ur room.

hugeeee on studying together! brings home ur favorite coffee during finals season and you guys spend hours at the table working at your respective subjects, it’s a fun time.

shigaraki is quiet, most of the time, minus the rare scream at his pc. he doesn’t cook- and he sure as hell doesn’t clean, but he also doesn’t really make any mess, barely leaves his room and orders take out for every meal so he’s not really causing much harm.

it’s definitely you that has to make the move to get to know him. he could go months without speaking to you and everything would be fine for him, until you have enough of course.

once he realised that your okay to hang around with you guys start gaming together, he introduces you to his friends over vc and he gets teased relentlessly for taking forever to become your friend. he starts ordering take out for two.

monoma is the fucking worst, absolutely helpless, huge rich kid energy, i’d even go as far to say he genuinely offers to pay you to do his half of the household chores. if you refuse he’ll probably mope around for a few days before he begrudgingly asks you how to use the washing machine, it’s a grilling few weeks, but you guys get over it.

he’s a hugeee gossiper, knows everything about everyone, you find out things about people that you don’t even know, he can piont to have the people on your walk to campus and tell you a story about them. absolute shit stirrer.

offers to take you to this super nice restaurant free of charge… makes up for the weeks you spend literally teaching him to be an adult… no other reason… it’s literally only to make things even… definitely not a date….

[kikidoul]

── BITE ME.

໒꒰ྀི ^ ⸝⸝ ^ ꒱ྀིა 西村 力 x fem! reader content established+secret non-idol au riki is a vampire here ᥫ᭡ warning explicit sexual content submissive! riki cock sucking pussy fingering come eating belly bulge praise kink usage of petnames unprotected sex (wrap it up pls) riki being whiny and cute . . . !? 1402— mlist. | req

note. this was really fun to write tbh… to the anon who requested this, i hope it’s readable for you <3 taglist. @tfwbluu

Everytime Riki closes his eyes, he can imagine sinking his fangs into your neck. He could even taste your sweet, intoxicating blood, feeling it flow through his veins as he took his fill. He doesn’t know how much longer he could restrain himself. The desperation of drinking your blood grows with every second passing. One glance thrown in the clock’s direction tells him it was close to seven in the evening. If he wasn’t wrong, you should be reaching home anytime soon—

“I’m home!” 

Riki didn’t even bother walking from where he sat. He appeared before you, startling the lights out of you as you were in the midst of removing your shoes. He grabbed your things, still sane enough to put them on the dining table. You blinked, bemused when your boyfriend grabbed your wrist, dragging you towards the couch and he made you straddled his lap. 

“Riki, are you alright?” You asked, shivering when he slid his large hands underneath your blouse. 

And that was when you felt it—something poking your thigh from below. Riki buried his face in the crook of your neck, greedily inhaling your scent. His shoulders sagged with relief as your scent overwhelms his senses, calming him down. At the same time, it was driving him insane. He whined, lazily rutting his hips against yours. Your breath hitched in your throat, clenching down on nothing at the delirious friction of his clothed cock rubbing against your clit.

“Riki, wa-wait,” you protested but you couldn’t find it in yourself to stop him, not when he was practically rocking his hips against yours, chasing after his pleasure. 

“Pl-Please, need you,” he mewled, words borderline slurring, sending heat straight down to your throbbing clit. 

You decide to take things into your own hands, considering how your boyfriend was long gone. You reached out, tilting his chin up with your index finger and you cooed at how his lips curled downwards in a cute pout with teary eyes. There was nothing but pure desire written all over his face, the desire to taste your blood and consume you whole. 

“Aw, my poor baby, do you need my help?” You cooed and he eagerly nodded his head, eyes trailing down until they landed on your neck. Riki leaned in but you stopped him, leaning back and he made a noise of protest. 

You clicked your tongue in disapproval. “Ah ah, use your words, baby. Do you need my help?” 

He sniffled, nodding. “Y-Yes, need it. Need your blood,” he mewled and you smiled, tapping his cheek with your fingers. 

“Good boy, go ahead. You can drink,” you replied, tilting your head to the side. 

Riki’s eyes lit up and he leaned forward, hands firmly holding you down by your hips to prevent you from falling off his lap. You involuntarily shivered when he kissed your neck, trailing kisses down until he reached a certain spot—the same spot where he always fed from. You rested your hands on his shoulders, instinctively gripping onto them when you felt him licked your unblemished skin, followed by his fangs piercing through your skin. 

You could never get used to the feeling. There was no pain but instead, it was replaced by pleasure. Your eyelids fluttered shut, letting out a blissed sigh as you felt the familiar feeling of something coursing through your veins. Riki moaned, drunk on your heavenly taste. He couldn’t get enough, never wanting this to be over. With one hand by your hips, his free hand moved to pull your pants and panties down, as much as he could without making you stand. 

A moan was torn from the depths of your throat when you felt his long, calloused fingers rubbing the bud peeking out from your lips. Strength was gradually leaving your body as you grew pliant in his arms but you knew Riki wouldn’t dare to hurt you and you trust him. You groaned as he pushed his fingers in until he was knuckles deep, spreading you open. 

“Fuck, you’re doing so well for me,” you breathed out, hearing the muffled whimper from the other. 

Riki detached his fangs once he had enough, licking the spot to stop the bleeding. At the same time, he pulled his fingers out slowly, not wanting to hurt you. 

“Did I do good?” He asks, looking at you with hopeful eyes. 

You smiled, nodding in agreement. “Yes, baby, you did a great job. Do you want your reward?” 

His face brightened up at your words. “Yes, please.” 

Humming, you moved to get off his lap, chuckling at his sound of protest. You gestured for him to lift his hips so you could unbuckle and remove his pants and underwear, revealing his poor hardened, neglected cock that stood upright. The tip had turned an embarrassing shade of red due to the lack of attention. Tucking a few strands of hair behind your left ear, you leaned forward, glancing up to see Riki’s eyes focused on you. You giggled when his cock subtly twitched as you moved closer and closer, close enough for your lips to graze against the tip. 

“Baby, please,” he whimpered, jerking his hips forward—attempting to slide his cock into your mouth but you merely leaned back, chuckling at the disappointed sound of protest he made. 

“Please what? You need to speak your mind or I won’t know what you want,” you replied, wrapping your fingers around his cock, pumping it at a slow, lazy pace. 

Riki threw his head back, mind blanking out at the delirious sensation of you stroking him. Breathless whimpers and moans spilled from his swollen lips. He jerked his hips forward, his cock moving back and forth within the ring your hand created. His muscles tightened, feeling a rubber band about to snap—

Only for you to pull away. 

“Wha—why!?” He whined, lips curling down to display his evident displeasure that you had denied his orgasm. 

You chuckled, rising to your feet to press a chaste kiss on his lips. “Because I’d rather have you cum in me. Unless, you don’t want to.” 

The vampire shook his head at lightning speed. He raised his hands, awkwardly hanging them by your side—unsure if he could hold you. “No, no! Wanna cum in you, please, please.” 

“Since you asked so nicely, who am I to deny you?” 

Resting one hand on his left shoulder to brace yourself while Riki took it upon himself to place his hands on your hips, you reached down to grab his cock and positioned yourself. He watched with bated breath as his cock slowly disappeared, inch by inch as he sunk into your warm, tight cunt. He eventually bottomed out and you moaned, your head spinning at how you were practically split apart on his cock. Riki rubbed circles on your bare skin, unable to tear his eyes away from the faint bulge on your stomach—right where his cock was. 

“Look, you’re so deep,” you breathed out, grabbing his hand to place it over the bulge as you slowly grind your hips against his. 

Riki visibly gulped as he gently pressed down, eliciting a whimper from you. He leans forward, brushing his nose against your neck. You knew what he wanted without him asking, which was why you tilted your head to the side—granting him permission. Your boyfriend wasted no time in digging in, sinking his fangs into your skin. At the same time, you increased your pace, bouncing on his cock. 

“Ngh—Riki, you’re doing so—hah—good for me. Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You moaned, hearing the muffled sound he made at your praise. Your eyes flutter shut when Riki begin thrusted up, pushing the both of you to your climax. 

You shuddered as he spilled inside you, followed by some of his cum slowly rolling down your legs, only to stain the floor. None of you moved for a while, remaining in the same position as you catch your breath. Riki leaned back, cupping your face with his hands and you leaned into his touch—like a touch-starved kitten. 

“Are you alright? Do you feel dizzy?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed with concern written all over his face. 

“I’m fine, don’t worry. What about you?” You shook your head. 

Riki flashed you a boyish smile. “I’m feeling better now, thanks to you.” 

You laughed, pressing a kiss on his nose. “You’re welcome, by the way.” 

[fangbanger3000]

we need to talk about The Silence and The Song

as per my last post, i have received a lot of encouragement to go public with this, and the more disappointed people i have in my dms, the angrier i get. so i will.

the silence and the song is an ancient arlathan au DA fic on ao3 by luxannaslut, and it is partly, if not entirely, written by an ai. i have no wish to be involved in any kind of fandom drama or witch hunting or bullying, but as a writer myself there are few things that piss me off more than watching people steal the work of others because they can't be fucked to write. it's disrespectful to your fellow writers, it's disrespectful to your readers, and it's disrespectful to the authors of the works the ai is stealing from.

ai is a plague that has no business being in creative spaces and you must do better.

the writing pattern

there was something very odd and monotone about the sentence structure of tsats that i couldn't quite place, so i fed chatgpt a prompt along the lines of "two people in a fantasy novel hate each other, but they secretly desire one another, and they kiss", and the screenshots above are the results. the third one is an excerpt from chapter 40 of tsats. the writing pattern is identical and it doesn't seem like the "writer" has even bothered to pretend they wrote it. if you're going to use ai, at least be sneaky about it. you know, paraphrase a little.

nonsense descriptions

"her nimble fingers worked with quiet precision" (ct. 1), "his grip firm but tender" (ct. 33), "her gown pooling around her like embers" (ct. 1).

fingers don't make sound, so what does quiet precision mean? as opposed to what? her joints cracking with every movement? how is a grip firm but tender? what does that mean? since when do embers pool?

the entire fic is littered with these adjectives that contradict each other or just straight up do not make sense, because all an ai does is generate descriptive language with no understanding of what the words it's spitting out actually mean. i could spend hours picking out examples from the seven billion pages worth of text, but i quite frankly have better things to do and would simply challenge you to try getting through a chapter or two without noticing the pattern.

repetition at structure-level

all the scenes in this fic are described in pretty much the same way. they open with purple prose vomit of the surroundings; solas is standing somewhere looking "unreadable as ever"; ellana's fiery golden molten fire copper ember ginger red hair is flowing this and that way; there's some dialogue with whoever is present and it leaves ellana feeling different variations of "something she couldn't name". this is, once again, a blatantly obvious sign of ai. below is the result of me feeding chatgpt the line "write me a scene from a fantasy novel where a woman with red hair is sitting on the ground in a magical garden at night", and side by side with that is the opening scene of the fic. make your own judgement.

repetition at word-level

this one speaks for itself. we fucking get it. her dress is orange, her hair is red, mythal's presence is heavy in the room, solas looks unreadable, compassion is sitting on her head like a crown, solas' ears are betraying him and ellana's move with every thought she thinks. we get it. the issue here is that an ai remembers the info you feed it, but not necessarily the info it shits out. if it's being told to write scene after scene of an elven woman with a gown that looks like fire doing xyz, it's going to do so with no regard for how many times the reader has already been informed of these details.

lastly: the breakneck speed

359,6k words in four weeks by a person who allegedly is employed and married and hasn't pre-written anything? no. any writer will tell you that this simply isn't possible. it absolutely infuriates me to see how much praise this "writer" gets for posting up to three full chapters in a day without anyone calling bullshit. i am pulling out my hair, you guys.

why i'm not going to live and let live this one

perhaps i would be less angry if the fic was some silly bullshit court intrigue Y/A stuff, but this is a text that handles very heavy and triggering topics such as SA, coercion, domestic abuse, and other things of the same vein. to sit back and put your feet up while having a robot write these extremely sensitive and very real human experiences with words it has stolen from texts written by actual persons is fucking heinous. the "writer" should be deeply ashamed of themselves and i'm sick and tired of watching people eat up their bs.

and on that note: the amount of people in my dm's telling me that they feel stupid and naive for not clocking this has infuriated me more than anything else. you're not foolish for this. being fed ai-generated bullshit is not what is supposed to happen on any creative platform and much less a fandom-centred one, so of course no one approaches a fic through that lens. fandom and fic writing is supposed to be about passion and the only person in this situation who needs to do better and change their behaviour is luxannaslut. polluting our creative spaces, wasting the time of your readers, and minimising the effort of actual writers who are working hard to provide content for us all to share and enjoy is vile and so, so lazy. i beg of you: do better.

[artuurle]

I think I might have missed a post or something so sorry if like a billion people asked this before but what happened to Thespius? Did he just up and leave or did the grief eat him up?

I tag all of my posts on LaL au under the tag (#ggg Love and loss au), so if you worry you may have missed something you can always check with that tag on my blog! Though in this case you haven't missed anything! I purposefully kept it vague On exactly what happened with Thespius since in the Au nobody really knows what happened to him. The gods stopped seeing him right after Cliff's death because he shut himself inside his own realm and refused anyone entry; and Cliff never went to investigate where Thespius went when he disappeared because he assumed he upset the god. Only a week after Cliff last saw him is when Huzzle is finally able to enter Thespius's realm to investigate, finding the revived human.

Though I'll let you in on a secret. He never left.

Grief and guilt didn't just eat him up. It swallowed him whole.

[bee-the-loser-recs]

~☼ My Bang Chan One-shot Fic Recs ☼~~

𖤓 More than just friends By @kwanisms 7.4k, supernatural/fantasy au, werewolf Chan, friends to lovers, they're roommates, smut, slight fluff, alcohol consumption

𖤓 Pieces of you By @astraystayyh 8.7k, single dad Chan, neighbours au, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining, Chan comes over asking for flour, first meetings, cute

𖤓 The couple's quiz By @enluv 3.3k, Idol au, established relationship, discussing their relationship, youtube video style, fluff, discussing memories, cute

𖤓 Chan & y/n giving each other the silent treatment, skz take matters into their own hands By @wooyukh SMAU, established relationship, meddling friends, petty arguments, Skz gets involved, missing one another, fluff, friends being silly

𖤓 Skz try exposing y/n’s ‘crush’ on chan in the groupchat By @wooyukh SMAU, established relationship, secret relationship, meddling friends, trying to expose a crush, bets with money involved, jokes, fluff, humour

𖤓 Chan accidentally confesses his feelings for you By @adelusionforyourthoughts SMAU, Idol Chan, accidental confessions, fluff, cute romance, lots of anxiety from both sides, hyperventilating, pining, oblivious idiots in love

𖤓 Sigma kappa zeta’s howlin’ holiday hunks: annual male calendar! By @cbini 14k, college au, frat Stray Kids, holiday calendars, photographer reader, established relationship between Chan & reader, smut, suggestive content, polyamorous in a sense, Stray kids x reader

𖤓 If I was your boyfriend c.bc By @yangkitties SMAU, established relationship, getting sent photos of Chan from the other members, fluff, reader is called mom once by I.N., so cute

𖤓 The Roster [part 1] & [part 2] By @sluttywonwoo 4.4k & 2.8k, Bangchan|Sangyeon|Seungcheol x reader, established hook up partners/fwbs, jealousy, the guys discover about the others, foursome, smut, slight poly situation

𖤓 Full moon By @lilacmingi 5k, werewolf Chan, vampire reader, fluff, established relationship, hidden identities, discovering their identities, really cute 𖤓 Slowly falling in love with Bangchan By @viasdreams SMAU, barista Chan, customer reader, getting to know one another, implied reader like Hyunjin at one point, fluff, cute

𖤓 Giving Han and Bangchan your number By @viasdreams SMAU, barista reader, polyamory, getting to know one another, flirting, going on dates with them both, fluff

𖤓 Random texts you get while dating minchan !! By @viasdreams SMAU, established relationship, polyamory, ganging up at one point on their partner, fluff, humour, slight crack, flirting, suggestive comments

𖤓 Bite me By @hanniebaeee Established relationship, kissing, reader has a thing for lightly biting him, fluff, really cute

𖤓 Texting bang chan happy father’s day (best dad of 7 kids fr) @scoupsofjisung SMAU, established relationship, calling Chan a father to the other stray kids, mentions implied pregnancy, humour, fluff,

𖤓 Probably up By @loveliestfelix 1.9k, friends to lovers? au, reader goes out clubbing alone, realising feelings, fluff, so adorable, inner thoughts, mentions of alcohol

𖤓 Jealousy By @svngcore 1.3k, established relationship, jealousy, someone flirting with Chan, smut, pinch of angst, nicknames, possessiveness, mentions of crying

𖤓 Enjoy the party! By @loveliestfelix 0.8k, established relationship, a staff member is flirting with Chan, chatting with friend Changbin, jealousy, fluff, tiny bit of angst

𖤓 Night again By @chahnniesroom 6.4k, Idol Chan, worker reader, miscommunication, angst, hurt/comfort, reader's health suffers, "clingy reader", insecurities, reader not eating due to stress

𖤓 For richer, for poorer [plus Minho's reaction] By @chahnniesroom 3.4k, established relationship, Idol Chan, poorer/working reader, gift giving, reader makes different crafts, insecurity, anxiety attacks, being worried about gifts, hurt/comfort

𖤓 Let me in your ocean, swim By @skzms 9.9k, Idol Chan, producer reader, self-conscious and clueless Chan, fluff, smut, Stray kids are encouraging them to get together

𖤓 More than just friends By @skzms 7.4k, werewolf Chan, best friends to lovers, roommates au, supernatural au, alcohol consumption, being in heat, smut, fluff

𖤓 Dimple By @forlix 2.8k, college au, frat president Chan, fuckboy Chan, hurt/comfort, fluff, humour, nobody believes your dating trope, character development

𖤓 Cockwarming drabble By @planet-dusk Drabble, established relationship, smut, pet names, reader is called angel and baby, slight fluff

𖤓 Bang Chan finds out you fainted By @finnbbl SMAU, established relationship, reader faints, angst/comfort, mentions of not eating, passing out, swearing, reader hides this from Chan at first

𖤓 Bf!Chan x fem!reader: encouraging you to spend his money By @chlix SMAU, established relationship, fluff, reader gets her nails done, princess treatment, Chan lets reader use his card

𖤓 "Tell me all about it" By @chnsbm 1.2k, established relationship, reader is being contacted about work too late at night, fluffy smut

𖤓 Heimat By @flurrys-creativity 9.8k, Chan x reader x Felix, Studio Gibli au, My Neighbour Totoro, Chan as Totoro, returning to their childhood home, Felix has a childhood friends to lovers arc, reader is terminally ill, illuding to reader's death, angst, fluff

𖤓 Sweet mornings By @moonchild9350 1.4k, established relationship, idol Chan, Chan has just returned home after being away on tour, morning sex, smut, fluff, kissing

[arbitrarykiwi]

Third Times a Charm: Bodytalk 3/3

Nam-Gyu (Player 124) x AFAB Reader smut series

Summary: you ran into him three separate times. First was at a house party, second time was at a club. And like his favorite drugs, he was addicted. The third time? Well he wasn’t going to let you get away so easy. Third times a charm and he was going to get his fix. ((Non-squid game au))

Warnings: smut (18+), LONG (guys..I thought 6k for the last one was bad….this is 11k words...I couldn't help myself), drug usage (only weed this time lol), smoking weed, sex while high, stalker! Namgyu themes, fem centered pet names, divider added were smut starts for convenience, he calls the reader a bitch once, he’s fucking nasty, this is straight porn- v little plot, i feel like i need to go to confession, p in v sex, oral ( f receiving ), fingering, squirting, dirty talk (he really can’t keep his mouth shut), choking, spitting, multiple orgasms, creampie (have safe sex), there's probably more- read at your own risk, was proof read but I am dyslexic.

Previous chapters: Taste Test: 1/3 , Oral Fixation: 2/3

The third time you met him- he came to your place.

You were doing chores around your place- candles were lit, Spotify was playing loudly on the large living room TV rotating through your favorite songs, and even cookies were baking in the oven!

It was two days after your run in with Nam-Gyu at the club. All you could think about was him. The new energy that his interactions gave you was a welcomed motivation. However, to say you were a little nervous he wouldn’t text you was an understatement, you were terrified.

You eased your worries about his absence when you thought about how the last time he was with you- he had to leave with a drug deal gone awry- and you’re familiar enough with the scene to know how time consuming and stressful dealing with that could be.

Still, the absence of him hit you more than you thought it would. He truly had you wrapped around his finger.

To rid yourself of the thoughts, you continued to busy yourself with cleaning your apartment. Soon the oven chimed off a ‘ding’ letting you know the cookies were done. You clapped to yourself, walking to the oven, grabbing the pot holders and pulling the tray out of the oven.

While they cooled you poured yourself a drink, leaning on the counter and looking at your clean place with a sense of accomplishment. You took a sip from the cup and began to think of what else needed to be done.

You pushed yourself back off from the counter, figuring you could get some laundry done. Before you could take a step your phone pinged. Figuring it was just an app notification or one of your friends, you make your way over to your phone with no abnormal excitement.

But when grabbed your phone of the kitchen island and the screen turned on, your heart caught in your throat

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’

The text came from an unknown number. It blared on your locked home screen as you reread it over and over, your heart rate spiking- you could feel your heart beat in your chest.

‘How’s my pretty girl doing?’ It was like he already claimed you as his, whether you liked it or not.

You unlocked your phone with shaky, excited hands, opening the message, thumbs hovering over the keyboard as you try to think about what to say.

You begin to type when three floating dots pop up, signaling he’s typing again.

‘I’m sorry for not texting you sooner. You really were all I was thinking about. Texted you as soon as I could.’

‘Let me make it up to you? I want to see you’

The texts come in one after the other, in rapid succession. It was if he knew you had your phone open to his messages- just watching his texts come through.

‘You gonna roll for me? Make it worth my time?’ You text back with a small laugh to yourself. You know he’s worth your time- well worth it. But you gotta give him some hell for making you wait so long to hear from him! You see the three dots pop up on your phone screen, you bite your lip as you watch him begin to type.

‘Of course, what kind of man would I be if I didn’t? I even got some new shit I can bring, all for you.’

You smile at your phone, leaning on your kitchen counter and re-reading his message over and over. You finally begin typing to respond, ‘Now you’re speaking my language, come over at 7?’ , you hit send.

‘Sounds like a plan, I’ll be there.’

You don’t even bother texting him your address, remembering at the club how he told you he already found your address. The idea of him seemingly stalking you should have set you off, but here you are inviting that same handsome stalker over- and doing it excitedly.

You returned to your room to get more presentable. Fixing your hair, putting on the cute new lounge set you just got, and spraying some perfume- you excitedly got ready.

You walked back to the living room, settling in on the couch and turning on some random show to try and settle your excited nerves.

A couple hours passed and before you knew it, a knock resounded at your front door

You quickly stood up from the couch walking to the front door. Your heart was in your chest. This was the first time you and him would be alone. It was about time. The thought of it made your head spin.

You reached the door, hand moving to unlock the silver dead bold. With a resounding ‘click’ your hand grips the door knob and pulls the door open.

He stood there with a grin, one of his hands in the pocket of his jeans, the other holding a small bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Your breath catches in your throat- you mind reeling. The gesture, the flowers alone, was sweet. Already a large contrast to your flings with him. Hell, he fingered you in someone’s house and face fucked you in his office at a club- you guys weren’t exactly the most romantic pair.

But the fact they were your favorite? That can’t be a coincidence. His smile widens when he sees your expression. “You post an awful lot about your favorite flowers. Your friends get you some every year for your birthday, hard to miss in most pictures on your page.” He quips, stepping forward and running his fingers around your waist and wrapping his arm around your back.

His head tilts to the side as he looks you over. Yet again, he was taking it into his own hands to get to know you- stalking your socials to get to know little details about you. It was endearing in a way. You take the flowers with a wide smile. “You’re such a creep. Thank you.” You say with a giggle, standing up a bit taller to lean in and place a small kiss on his jaw.

You hear him take in a large breath, his hand pulling you into him and gripping your waist just the slightest bit harder when your lips touch his skin. It’s like he’s trying to restrain himself.

“Callin’ me a creep, yet you still let me cum down your throat. What’s that say about you, hm?” He says, dropping his head to begin pressing kisses down your neck and over your shoulder.

You laugh, his lips tickling you as you stumble back. You try to pull away, well ‘try’ is an overstatement. You feebly writhe against him, a joke of an attempt to get away from him to try and close your apartment door.

He laughs against your neck, his lips continuing to trace along your neck. His leg kicks behind him, shutting your door for you, his arm that’s not around your waist reaches behind him to lock the door.

He pulls away finally, his head tilting back upright to look at you. His hand reaches up to cup your cheek, his thumb rubbing along your bottom lip. “‘M sorry for keeping you waiting.” He says in a low voice, nearly a whisper as he looks you over.

You hum, smiling and lifting a hand up to hold his cheek, thumb rubbing a circle along his skin as you tilt your head like you’re thinking. “I suppose I can forgive you…” you say with a pout that immediately turns into a laugh.

He watches as you laugh and he thinks you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and your laugh is the most enchanting sound he’d ever hear. He can’t help but to pull you closer to him by your waist, your chest pressing against his as he catches your lips in a kiss.

It catches you by surprise, a sound like a small squeak comes out into the kiss. But when the feeling of his lips is finally on yours once again, you simply melt into him. Your legs feel like you go limp, his arm around your back only thing keeping you up as your lips move against his. The kiss is surprisingly soft and meticulous like he’s been without the feeling of your lips for too long. And to him he has.

As he pulls away, his hand dances along your spine.

You guys stand there for a moment, just staring at each other. You break the silence, realizing the hand that holds the large bouquet of your favorite flowers is causing your hand to ache as it’s held up in the air. “I gotta find a vase for these.” You say, nodding your head over to the flowers in your hand. He nods, “I suppose you’re right.” He says with a chuckle, placing another quick kiss against your lips before releasing you.

You walk over into your kitchen, leaning on the counter and reaching up to pull open a cabinet. Grabbing a vase and turning around to the kitchen island where the sink was beginning to fill the vase up with water.

He leans over the opposite side of the kitchen island just watching your every move. As you begin to unwrap the flowers he got you, grabbing a pair of scissors to cut the stems, you look up at him. “So did you bring your ‘new shit’?” You tease, referring to his texts.

He laughs nodding and reaching one hand back into his back pocket, pulling out a heady bag of weed and placing it on the counter and shrugging. “Your offering ma’am.” He says with a wink. It has you giggling. You continue to cut the stems, squinting your eyes and looking at the bag skeptically with a smile “hmm…I’ll allow it.” You say in a fake prissy tone that has him laughing along with you.

You finish cutting the flowers, tossing the cut stems in the trash nearby and gathering the gorgeous blooms. you place the flowers in the vase. You step back and just stare at them, they’re your favorite yes- but it looks like each flower is pristine, in full bloom and the most vibrant it can be, like the hand picked each one out to create the best bouquet.

“Thank you again, they’re gorgeous…” You say with a smile, looking back over to him. You find him staring at you with his chin resting against his palm, elbow resting on the countertop. He’s looking at you with such a genuine, enamored gaze. “Of course, sweetheart. Someone like you deserves only the best.” He says with a wink.

You move around the counter next to him, mirroring how he leans over the counter. Your hands reach to the bag of weed on the counter and drag it towards you. You twirl it in your hands then turn to him. “So you gonna make good of your other promise and roll f’me?” You say, leaning closer to him, your noses practically touching. “You got it princess.” He mumbles, placing slow kiss on your lips. “Lead the way.” He says pulling away, a hand reaching back to slap your ass.

You giggle, spinning around to begin to lead him down the hall to your bedroom.

So there you found yourselves, in your room, laid out on your bed. He’s behind you, legs spread open leaving a perfect space for you to be. You’re leaned back between his legs, back against his chest, your legs crossed- holding up the rolling tray that’s covered in broken down weed.

His arms are around you, chin resting on your shoulder. His hands work to fill in the wrap with the weed. His fingers working a practice that has you mesmerized. The silver rings adorning his fingers reflect the distorted colors of the TV show you guys had playing. The veins of his hand pop out and you watch the way they move and flex with every movement he does.

From out of the corner of his eyes he sees you’re no longer watching the show, your eyes are locked on his hands as he begins to roll up the blunt.

You feel him chuckle, bringing you out of your trance. “You’re not even paying attention to the show.” He says before placing a quick kiss on your jaw. You giggle turning your head to place a proper kiss on his lips with a smile.

“‘M sorry, you have nice hands and they look really good rolling.” You say pulling away and looking down to watch him begin to roll up the blunt. He laughs, following your gaze.

He holds it up to you, the small section of the wrap not rolled sticks up out of the blunt. “Do the honors..” he says, nodding to the blunt. You look to him and smile, knowing exactly what he wants you to do. Your tongue darts out of your lips to run against the expanse of the wrap that was sticking up, wetting it.

As you do it you can feel his eyes on you, watching your mouth and tongue closely. He hums in approval as you finish, folding the flap over and sealing the blunt.

He takes the lighter from off of the rolling tray, flicking it and dragging the tip of the flame over the blunt, drying the part you licked and sealing it.

He transfers the blunt to one hand, the other wraps itself around you, caging you into him. He adjusts himself, leaning back more, guiding you with him to lay back on his chest. As he does it you can feel his cock drag against your back. You feel filthy about it, you can tell he’s not even hard, and all you’re thinking about is his dick against your back.

Your thoughts are cut short when you slowly start to feel the swelling of the start of an erection in his jeans. You sigh with a soft laugh thankful you’re not the only one who’s so worked up.

He nuzzles his cheek against your hair as his leans his arms forward more, lighting the blunt. You relax into him, he’s so warm, you think. Your eyes flick back to the TV, watching whatever was going on in the show as he takes the first hit.

The blunt is soon put infront of your lips, all you have to do is pick your head up the slightest bit. You wrap your lips around the blunt and inhale, leaning back on his chest as you blow the smoke upwards.

His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt moves under your shirt, his fingertips dancing along your the skin of your stomach in light motions.

He passes it back to you again, you repeat the same motions and take a slow inhale, exhaling the smoke in a slow plume of smoke. You can feel your body becoming lighter, a warmth rushing over your insides as your eyelids become heavy. “You really did bring the good shit.” You say with a laugh, your eyes rolling back to look at him behind you.

“I don’t lie about my product.” He says taking a hit himself, his hand traveling farther up your shirt and resting just under your bra, his thumb rubbing circles on the center of your sternum. You nod, can’t argue with that. “Glad you like it.” He adds, blowing out the smoke then placing a kiss on the top of your head.

His hips cant upwards, dragging his hardening cock along your back, you can’t help but to whine and try to grind your hips back onto him. His hand resting under your bra moves down your stomach and down your pubic bone. His fingers dance along your inner thighs as he places the blunt back in front of your face.

You take your hit, holding it in for a bit before releasing your breath. His hands inch inwards, his fingers dancing along your clothed cunt, ghosting over you in feather light touches that begins to make a bubbling warmth in your build in your lower stomach.

You bite your lip, holding in a moan as you jerk your hips into his touch. His palm rests on your pubic bone as his fingers rub up and down your pussy over the fabric of your clothes.

“Take your pants off, pretty.” He hums, hitting the blunt, watching as you quickly grip the waist band of your pants, lift your hips and pull them down and off your legs, throwing them to the side. You go to do the same thing with your panties when he stops you. “I didn’t say take those off.” He scolds. You whimper and nod, your bottom lip catching in your teeth as you settle back down.

His eyes train onto your panties. They’re lace with a cute little bow on the front. Similar to the ones you had on when he first met you. He smiles fondly at the memory, his hand returning to your lower stomach. His fingers dance along the lace top of your panties, gripping at the fabric and pulling up. It creates a delicious drag along your clit that has your head falling back against his chest.

He repeats the motion a couple times before letting the fabric go, his fingers moving further downwards to dance along your clit over your panties. He lets out a low laugh, feeling how wet your panties have already gotten, your arousal beginning to leak through the fabric. “Already so excited to see me…” he says.

You shiver, the way he says it you can tell he’s not talking to you- he’s talking to your pussy.

It has you whining and gyrating your hips against his hand. He slaps his hand against your cunt, each time his hand connects you jump.

You can’t take it, you quickly sit up, turning around on your knees to face fim, grabbing his shirt and pulling him into a kiss. It’s a mess of tongue and teeth as he kisses you back, his tongue exploring your mouth with a determination that has you spinning.

As the kiss continues to get more heated you feel him guide you backwards by your hips, the lit blunt hanging loosely between the fingers of his left hand. He guides you up, allowing both of you to sit up on your knees. He still towers over you, having to bend his back to lean and continue the kiss. His hands are all over you in a frenzy, yours soon following.

As your mouths move together, your hands run up his shirt, lightly scratching at his abdomen. He sighs into the kiss you can feel his stomach tense under your touch. When you move your back down his stomach and to the hem of his shirt, tugging at it, he pulls back- placing the blunt in his mouth and tilting it down. His hands grip the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side of your room. He removes the blunt from his mouth and attaches his lips right back on yours

Your hands move along his bare chest and stomach, feeling all of him. The heat of his bare skin under your palms has you whining into the kiss. Soon he’s mimicking your motion, free hand crawling up your shirt to grope at your breasts over your bra.

This time you pull away, pulling your shirt over your head and reaching back to unhook your bra- attaching your lips right back on his in a rush. You can feel him chuckle into your mouth at your equal enthusiasm.

His hand returns to your chest, his hand splaying over the plush of your breast before kneading it. His fingers pinch at your nipple, pulling at it as he breaks away from the kiss. As he releases your nipple, he watches as your breast jiggles when it drops back into place.

His chest is heaving, his tongue wetting his lips as he looks you over. “You had no idea how bad I missed your lips…missed you.” He mumbles, his free hand not holding the still smoking blunt runs up your waist. It makes you shiver. “You could have come by sooner…” you pout.

He laughs, his hand coming up to cup your face “I know, I would if I could have. But I’m here now and you’re not getting rid of me.” You smile and lean into his hand, turning your face to kiss his palm.

As he watches you nuzzle into his palm, he lifts his other hand holding the blunt to his mouth and takes a long inhale. His hand on your face moves to the back of your neck, pulling you forward into an open mouth kiss, letting the smoke rain into your mouth. You inhale and melt into him, your hands finding purchase on his abdomen.

He pulls back from the kiss, smoke still swirling between your mouths when he feels your hands trail down his stomach and begin to work at the button of his pants. His hand that doesn’t hold the blunt catches your wrists. The size difference has you whimpering. His one hand is large enough to encase both your wrists, stopping you from getting what you wanted.

“As much as I love the way your mouth feels around my cock, tonight’s all about you sweet girl.” He hums, pushing you by the wrists so you sit back up on your knees, giving him enough space to mirror your position.

He raises from his sitting position on the bed to sitting on his knees, pulling you back forward by your wrists. Your breasts press against his chest, his hand still holding your wrists together and down in between the two of you. He brings his other hand up to his mouth, taking a long drag from the blunt.

In the low light of your room the cherry of the blunt burns a vibrant red-orange hue, lighting up his face in an upward light. He’s so handsome it’s downright sickening. You can’t help but stare. His eyes never stray from yours as he moves his hand back down to his side. He blows the smoke out. His eyes are hooded, tinged red and hazy.

He guides your hands up in front of his face, still held by his one hand. He places a gentle kiss on each of your palms before releasing your hands hand passing the blunt back to you.

You take the blunt- frozen. Your mouth hung open. “Hit it.” He says nodding to the blunt. When you don’t move he returns his hand to your one wrist and guides your own hand to your mouth. You finally hit the blunt, inhaling. “There you go…” he hums with a grin.

When you begin to blow out the smoke his hands grab your waist and spin you around, throwing you down onto your bed- head sinking into the plush pillows. You let out a squeak of surprise, your hand that holds the blunt lying limply out to your side, wrist quirked up so the lit end wouldn’t touch any of the fabric on your bed. He’s hovering over you, between your legs with a smirk.

He pulls back, sitting back on his heels, removing a black hair tie that’s around his wrist. In a quick moment, in motions that are practiced, his hair is put up in a small pony tail. It’s half up and half down, small hairs falling out around his face that refused to stay up in the elastic.

It was so fucking hot.

You must have been staring, mouth agape, because he laughs. He leans back down, hand cupping your face, holding your cheek to make you look at him. “That hot to you?” He says with a grin. You don’t answer, just looking at him with a doe eyed look that has his cock growing even more.

His hand taps your cheek a couple times, bringing you back out of your daze. “C’mon you’re a big girl, use your words.” He taunts, but you know it’s also an order as he returns his hand to cup your face and give your face a harsh squeeze.

“F-fuck yes it is…” you say with a smile, a breathless laugh and a nod, reaching up to his face and pulling him down to you. You kiss him with a fury, one that takes him off guard for a split second before he’s kissing you back with just as much fever. His teeth nip at your bottom lip, your mouth falling open in response. He sucks on your tongue in a dexterous manner. It has you whining into his mouth and arching your back off the bed, pressing your chest into him.

He laughs into the kiss, pulling away to begin leaving opened mouth kisses along your neck. His teeth leaving marks that blossom along your skin in his wake. He kisses down your chest, his mouth sucking purple bruises on the swell of one of your breasts while his hand reaches up to envelope the other one in his girl.

You’re helpless under him, a panting mess the feeling of his tongue along your skin only leaves your panties to become even wetter, beginning to stick to your cunt, the fabric several shades darker that what it’s supposed to be.

His warm mouth engulfs your nipple, tongue circling around it in a methodical pattern, teeth grazing over it every so often. When he feels your hips begin to thrust into the air, a desperate attempt for your cunt to get any sort of simulation, his own hips thrust into the mattress of your bed, rubbing his stiff, clothed cock against the plush bedding.

His teeth pull your nipple, letting it go with a ‘pop’ as he begins to kiss down your stomach. He stops when he gets to the top of your panties, pulling away to sit up and look at you.

He takes all of you in, his eyes moving over you slowly, looking over each one of the red bite marks and blooming purple bruises that litter your skin. His hands run up your waist, growling at how small you look under his grasp. His hands squeeze your waist as he speaks, “I’ve been thinking about the taste of your pussy since that time at the house party….” He says, his eyes still tracing over your body.

You can’t help but bite your lip at his words, your chest heaving with a large breath. “You know how fucking hard I had to beat my dick after I cleaned your cum off my fingers just to think straight again?” He admits through a hissing tone, his hands squeezing your waist hard enough to make you whine before letting up.

You look up at him with pleading eyes, your cunt practically making a pool on the sheets below you, coating your inner thighs in a shining mess. You open your mouth to respond but he cuts you off, “and I just know…” he drawls on, his hands returning down to your hips, gripping your panties, pulling the fabric away from your flesh, “that a cute thing like you has a perfect pussy to match.” He finishes, snapping the elastic back against your skin. It makes you jump and arch into him.

He laughs at your reaction, running his hands over the stinging skin to soothe it before he grips the fabric once again. This time, he pulls it down, you lift your hips off the bed to help him pull the lace down and over your ass. He laughs, watching as strings of your arousal that are connecting your cunt to your panties eventually snap.

When he pulls the cloth fully off of you he slides his hands up your thighs, slowly pushing them open, putting you on display for him.

He sucks in a breath and lets out a low, feral sounding growl, as he looks at your bare cunt for the first time. “Ohhh….” He coos, his hands massaging your thighs, “and I was right…look at you…” he hums, his eyes flicking up to look at your face. When he sees you’re not looking at him, but instead bashfully looking to the side, he leans forward, bringing one of his hands from your thigh up to face, “Look at me.” He demands, turning your head forward so you were forced to look at him, “There you are sweet girl…” he says when you meet his eyes. “Want you to watch.” He adds leaning in and placing a slow kiss on your lips.

You obey, watching him sink down and begin trailing soft kisses from your navel, down your stomach, down your pubic bone then placing one last kiss on your clit.

When his hands adjusted to wrap around your thighs and he licked his lips, getting his first taste of you tonight, he was in heaven. He’s on your pussy immediately, his tongue working over the expanse of your pussy with no real set motion- he was just tasting you.

He was eating you like a man starved, like the arousal you secreted was the water he needed to live. Like a man drunk on the finest, most expensive liquor, he was slurping you into his mouth with a newfound desire.

When his tongue enveloped your clit in a long flat stripe, you cry out for him, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on your sheets. He begins to suck your clit in and out of his mouth, any time it passes the soft, plushness of his lips, his tongue was on it in languid flicks. It’s all so much, it has your body twitching with pleasure, your body trying to move back on the bed, like you’re trying to run from the pleasure he’s giving you.

“None of that.” He growls, pulling you back to him by your hips. “No running away.” He says, emphasizing his words by licking a wide stripe up your pussy. “I’ve waited too long to taste your fucking cunt, and I’m going to take my time with you.” He says, looking up at you from between your thighs. His eyes are shadowed by his lashes but the hungry glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. His large hands trail upward to the crease of your thighs, pushing them open.

He dives back in, like a man starved. His tongue circles your clit in slow movements. The slurping sounds he’s making is straight up pornographic. He’s dragging it out in an almost sadistic slowness, twisting his tongue in skilled figure eight motions along your clit. He pulls back, sucking your clit into his mouth before releasing it with an obscene ‘pop’ of his mouth. The motion has your back arching up like a cat, your hips desperately chasing his mouth.

He pushes you back down, his hands gripping at your thighs, leaving crescent shaped imprints where his fingernails dug into your flesh. “You’re wasting the blunt.” He says, a wicked grin on his face. You don’t even register what he’s saying, your eyes closed and your head thrown back. But the feeling of his heavenly tongue does not return, he’s not resuming.

You open your eyes and look down at him. He’s looking up at you like a snake ready to have its meal. “The blunt. You’re wasting it.” He repeats, nodding over to the blunt that hangs limply in your hand.

Oh the blunt. You completely forgot about it with the way his tongue was working against you. “I-“ your voice cracks, it’s shameful and you can do nothing to hide it. “I-It’s a little hard to hit it…” you manage to get out. He shrugs, resting his chin on your tummy. “And you’re wasting it.” He says simply, his grin widening.

You suck in a shuddering breath, bending your arm and bringing the blunt to your lips. He nods slowly. You wrap your lips around the blunt and begin to inhale.

His hands move under your legs, lifting your hips the slightest bit so he can wrap his hands around the tops of your plush thighs, yanking you down the bed and back onto his mouth. He resumes, his mouth enveloping your pussy in a shameless manner. You whine around the blunt, it’s a muffled sound that has him chuckling against you. The vibrations of his laugh only add to the sensations causing you to grind your hips onto his tongue.

He hums against you, watching you carefully as you exhale the smoke, your head falling backwards against the pillows. Your moans ring out through your bedroom, only making him more excited.

Your moans to him are like an instant drug rush, like a violent high that crashes into him- causing him to pull you into his tongue. And when his tongue pushes its way into your velvety walls, you cry out a wanton sound that has him humping your mattress.

You knew the drill- not wanting him to stop you bring your shakey hand to your mouth and take another drag of the blunt. The weed only causing the feeling of his tongue to become even more formidable.

Humming around your clit in approval, his tongue worked around you, lowering itself to your entrance and twisting around it teasingly. He tried to restrain himself, he really did, but the way you squeezed around the tip of his tongue had him diving straight into your cunt. You tasted like the sweetest honey- squeezing around his tongue in pulsing movements, dripping more and more of your essence onto his wet muscle. He moans into your pussy. His eyes rolling back into his head as he swears your cunt is sucking his tongue in, never wanting to let go.

You whine as he pulls away. Your pussy exposed to the cold air of the room. He stares down at your cunt, his mouth and chin glistening with your arousal.

His hands release his grip on your thighs, pulling themselves from under you and splaying themselves on your inner thighs. One of his hands removes itself from your thigh, rubbing along the entirety of your cunt. He’s truly just playing with you, watching as sticky webs of your wetness cling to his fingers and the lips of your pussy. Every movement making a raunchy squelching sound. And all you can do is just moan and writhe under him.

And his eyes are still trained on your cunt. His head turning and lowering, resting his cheek on your thigh, hot breath fanning against your pussy as he simply admires how wet you are. “Such a pretty pussy…” he mumbles, more to himself than you.

His thumbs rub along your labia, spreading the mess of your own arousal and his spit. You moan out suddenly when his thumbs spread you open. It’s shameful, and debauched. “So wet f’me, huh?” He says his eyes flicking back up to you. His hand lifting from you and spreading his ringed fingers, showing how your wetness webs between his fingers. You nod frantically, your hips bucking up into the air desperate for more simulation.

His eyes flick back down to your cunt, hands retuning to their spot, spreading you wide open for him. Watching as your pussy helplessly clenches around nothing, pupils dilating even more when he watches a thick trail of your wetness drip out of you. Thumbs still keeping your thighs back and cunt spread open, he dives back in, his tongue collecting the creamy bead of arousal on his tongue before licking up to your clit with a loud slurp. You cry out, your moans like a song to him.

He pulls back, making a show of swallowing. You’re embarrassed, being so spread out like this. His thumbs are massaging in and out of your opening, spreading you even more before removing themselves, repeating the motion over and over. Your thighs fight against his hands. He immediately lifts himself up more, pushing your legs back down in a harsh movement.

“You better fuckin’ keep your legs open.” He warns. You bite your lip and nod, your body twitching under his hold, but you keep your legs open. His hand slide back to your inner thighs, thumbs resuming their prior placement of spreading your cunt wide open for him. Your dripping hole and puffy clit on full display.

You watch as he sucks his teeth, purses his lips and spits directly on your cunt. You can’t help but let out an obscene whine, eyes rolling in to the back of your head. He’s back on your pussy in an instant, tongue moving around the entrance of your cunt before pushing back into your gummy walls.

You scream out in pleasure, your hands reaching down to grip at his scalp. When your fingernails scratch at his skin, pulling at his hair he moans into you, moving with more vigor.

He settles back intro the bed, arms going back under your thighs and wrapping his hands around them, pulling you impossibly closer to his mouth. He shakes his head in your cunt pulling back with his tongue lolled out of his mouth for breath. “Taste so fucking good…” he murmurs against your pussy, licking a stripe up the entirety of you for emphasis, pulling back again “Could eat you all fuckin’ day…”, he says his fingers reaching across your pubic bone and circling his fingers against your clit.

You cry out and twitch against his hand, you wanted to…no, needed to cum. You pull at his hair, trying to bring his mouth back onto your pussy but he resists. His eyes move from watching your pussy drip for him to watching your flushed face. “You know better than that…” he says in a low warning, the look on his face alone is enough to remind you of his earlier remarks.

Use your words

“Please N-Nam-Gyu”, you stutter out, “I need to cum. Please, your m-mouth, your f-fingers, any-Oh! Fuck!”you’re cut of when he replaces his still fingers with his mouth, his lips wrapping around your clit, tongue flicking at the sensitive bud in soft, fast motions. Your head falls back onto the pillows, your chest heaving with heavy, panting breaths.

The hand that was just playing with your clit slides off your thigh, his leaving a wet trail of your arousal around the flesh as he pulls his hand back. His fingers circle your entrance, two digits slip in easily. He moans against your clit as he feels the sweet, warm, grip of your cunt around his fingers. “So tight…” He murmurs against your clit.

His fingers work expertly, thrusting into you and curling up, the motion making lewd squelching sounds every time he was knuckles deep inside of you. His tongue never let up, switching between licking at your clit and sucking it into his mouth. “Squeezing’ my fingers so hard…” he words muffled by your cunt, “You gonna even be able to take my cock?” He mocks, scissoring his fingers inside you for emphasis. It has you moaning in pitch and tone that you didn’t even think you were capable of emitting.

His fingers switch back to the repetitive curling motion that has you seeing stars. When his fingers curl up in just the right way, you keen over, curling up and pressing his face into your cunt with a loud squeal “oh fuck! Right there!” You cry out, flopping back down onto the bed breathlessly.

He hums into your pussy, fingers never moving from where you needed them most. With every stroke of that soft spongy spot inside of you, you’re coming closer to your orgasm.

You feel like you can’t even think straight, your vision is hazy. All you can do is grind down onto his fingers and tongue. “You gonna cum on my tongue?” He says, looking up at you, his lips brushing against your clit as he speaks. “I can feel your squeezing my fingers. Gonna make a mess f’me?” He speaks against your cunt. You nod frantically, hips jerking violently against his tongue. “S-shit…” you cry through clenched teeth, it felt so fucking good, you bite your lip and manage to moan out a “Uh-huh,” as you feel yourself about to cum.

His pace speeds up, it’s a violent onslaught of pleasure that has you orgasm wracking through your body violently. You can hear your cum gush out of you, a pornographic, sloshing sound. He chuckles against you, quickly removing his fingers and replacing them with his mouth, his tongue working you through your orgasm, drinking up every last drop of your cum that gushes out of you.

You writhe against his face, twitching against the bed, your breath coming out in choked gasps. You have pull his head away by his hair to get him to stop. When you look down you whine, the view just has you ready to cum again right then.

His head is held up by your hands entangled in his dark hair, the ponytail he put his hair in was disheveled, his tongue was lolled out of his mouth, like he was trying to return to begging tongue deep in your pussy, his saliva and your cum dripping off the tip of his tongue and pooling in a sinful puddle on your pubic bone. He grins, his eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“You still with me, sweetheart?” He coos, his breath tickling your pussy causing you to twitch again. You nod, brushing his hair that has fallen out of the elastic tie, out of his face. “Mhm…felt so fuckin’ good.” You praise him. He smiles, his lips, chin, nose, and even his neck are coated in your cum.

He sits up, walking his hands up the bed on each side of you until he’s hovering over your face. “Want you to taste yourself.” He says as he lowers his face, kissing you without giving you time to respond. You moan into the kiss, tasting yourself own cum on his lips. Your hands come to cradle each side of his face, pulling I’m impossibly closer to you, your mouth opening to accept his tongue excitedly.

He adjusts himself so he’s back on his knees, his hands pulling your hips up onto his. Your back is lifted partially off the bed. He’s hunched over to continue kissing you, his jean clad erection beginning to grind into your pussy.

He continues his movements, moaning into your mouth. In his head he scolds himself, it’s shameful how much dry humping is effecting him. He swears he could cum in his pants then and there as he can feel the wetness of your pussy soak not only through his jeans but his boxers the longer he continues the slow grind of his hips into you.

He has to pull away, pulling away from you to stand up off the bed and rid himself of his pants and boxers. He’s back on the bed in an instant, slotting himself exactly where he just was. He pushes your thighs back, putting you on perfect display for him.

His cock rests heavy against your cunt. He draws his hips back, his hand holding the base of his dick as he slaps it once, twice, three times against your pussy. Each time you jump, your bottom lip becoming caught between your teeth as you whine, wanting more of him.

He’s doesn’t grant you that solace though instead he runs his cock through your folds, his fat cock-head bumping against your puffy clit. “You were squeezing the life out of my two fingers…” he muses, watching the way his cock splits your pussy lips open everytime he thrusts his hips forward. “It will be a miracle if my cock can fit inside you..” he hums with a condescending tone, the head of his dick just barely pressing into you before pulling back and resuming to rub against you.

You let out a soft moan , not being able to hold it in any more. “Hmm…” he moans “You sound so cute.” He praises, his eyes never straining from where you to meet. “I can take it. I will.” You say desperate, sitting up to look down to see his view. And when you do, you let out a wanton moan that has cock jumping.

“Yeah you will..” He lets out in a low rasp as he begins to push his cock into you. It’s a stretch that has you arching your back off the bed like a cat. When the fat head of his cock sinks all the way into you, you both let out a loud, blissful sigh.

Not even half way in and your pussy is milking his dick for all it’s worth. He shudders, beginning to think he might not even fit inside you if you’re squeezing him this hard. “Sweetheart…” he slurs, his eyes closed and eyebrows screwed together in concentration. “Ya’ gotta relax…you’re choking my dick.” He says in a strangled voice, sinking in just a bit more.

His eyes open to look down at where he’s sinking into your weeping pussy. His hand splaying on top of your pubic bone, his thumb reaching down to rub circles on your clit. A moan is forced out of you at the sensation, your cunt relaxing, causing him to slip in half way. Your moans come out and echo each other. Feeling half his cock being surrounded by your spasming tightness has him letting out a choked wine and falling over you, his hand catching himself, falling next to his head.

“You are so fucking tight.” He hisses, dropping down onto his elbow so he can lower his head to the crook of your neck. You can hear his labored breath tenfold now, his nose right under your ear. He draws his hips back, letting out a low moan as he feels how you squeeze around him- like your cunt is trying to suck him back in. He thrusts his hips back forward, sinking further into you.

You writhe against him, whining a pathetic mix of his name and pleading for him to just fuck you. When your hands remove themselves from gripping the sheets and reach up to wrap around his back, nails digging into his shoulders and your legs wrap around him, heels digging into his lower back- he drives his hips back once more, roughly thrusting his hips forward and finally bullying his cock balls deep into your cunt.

You let out a choked moan of his nails dragging down his back. You can hear him moan a low “Fuuuuckkk.” Before grinding his pelvis into your ass, basking in the feeling of being fully inside you.

You can’t help but pant out sharp rapid breaths, you feel so full. “Oh my god…” you whine out, eyes rolling to the back of your skull when he continues the slow grind of his hips. “Y-you’re s-so fucking b-big.” You sob out. He kisses your neck a few times before sitting back up. He watches how your lips are parted, eyes rolled back in your head, your chest heaving like it’s too much- but you still take it.

“I know, princess…I know..” he says with almost a chuckle at how you struggle to take him but you’re so set on doing so. He leans down to kiss you, you feebly kiss back as best you can even when you can’t stop moaning. He breaks the kiss, his forehead resting on yours as he draws his hips back and begins to set a brutal pace of hammering his cock into your cunt.

He keeps his forehead against yours, wanting to feel the way your breath jumps with each thrust. His bottom lip catches between his teeth when he feels your nails continue to rake down his back.

You manage to open your eyes for a brief second, the view above you is absolutely sinful. His hair has long since fallen out of the ponytail, the strands falling and framing his face and covering you in a shadow. The silver chain that hung around his neck dangled over you, swaying with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes dart to either side of you- to his arms that are planted on either side of your head. His biceps are large the muscles flexing. Tattoos litter his forearms and upper arms. You try to make a mental note to look at them later in more detail because you can hardly keep your eyes open- eventually losing the fight. Your eyes roll back as a loud moan falls from your lips as his cock continues to ruin your pussy.

He pushes himself up once more, leaning back to look down at your cunt. He growls under his breath when he sees the white ring of your arousal that is collecting at the base of his dick. He watches as he spears his thick dick into you. He thinks then that the sight of your cunt stretched open obscenely wide around his cock will forever be one of his favorite views.

His hands grip your hips, pulling you to meet every one of his harsh thrusts. It’s a force that has your bed creaking. You feel the warmth building in your lower abdomen, a white hot feeling expanding in the deepest parts of your cunt. Your moans only get louder and higher pitched, your hands reaching up to grope at your own tits.

When he sees this, his eyes “Nasty fuckin’ bitch…you’re close huh?” He says with a sadistic lilt to his voice. Hits one that has your eyebrows upturning into a desperate state, your head nodding, “Y-yes, fuck yes.” You whine out, your hips beginning to gyrate as he thrusts into you, never letting up.

He increases his pace. It’s a hot, sticky mess. You can hear it each time his balls slap against your ass. One hand removes itself from your hip, his fingers coming to play with your clit as he continues his brutal pace. He moans, his head thrown back in ecstasy as he feels you clench even harder around him.

“You gonna make a mess on my cock?” He asks, turning his head back down to look at you and your frantic nod. He watches as you try to speak but are cut off pathetically by your whines. “Do it, come on, pretty girl. Wanna feel you cum.” He says, his fingers working faster on your clit.

It doesn’t take long before you snap, letting out a high pitched, choked scream. You cum, and you cum hard. “Fuck! M’cumming….holy fuck!” You nearly screech, your back arching high off the bed, hips pushing down into him like you could never have him deep enough. He lets out a strangled moan as he feels you spasm around him, rocking his cock into you to allow you to ride out your orgasm.

When you come back to earth, he’s kissing around your face. “You okay? Did I break you?” He says, kissing the corner of your mouth. You giggle and reach up to hold his face, turning him to kiss you properly. “M’okay…was s’good.” You slur against his lips, still in the blissful aftermath of your orgasm.

He laughs “Well that’s good…” he says, it sounds like he’s going to say more but he doesn’t. He hums, pulling his still hard cock out of you. You shut your eyes and wince as he does, the emptiness feeling odd. When you open your eyes he’s sitting back on his heels, looking at his cock that was covered in your cum. You let out a soft whimper when you watch him begin to fist his dick, his wrist twisting up and down- using your cum and lube. “….because we’re not done.” He says, his eyes darting back to you, finally finishing his sentence.

Your eyes widen and you have no time to register before he’s manhandling you onto your hands and knees. His hand pressing your back into an arch.

He kneels behind you, his hands massaging the globes of your ass as he admires your position. One of his thumbs trail inwards, rubbing a light circle on your clit, it has you whining, jerking away from his touch. “‘M sensitive.” You plead, looking back at him over your shoulder.

“Oh I know..” he murmurs, his thumb repeating the motion, but this time you arch into his touch. He laughs, “but look, you’re still so needy…” he says tilting his head mockingly. He fists the base of his cock, rubbing it between your folds.

“All that time you spend dancing on me…grinding your ass back on me….” He lists, dragging his dick up and down, up and down, collecting your cum and arousal on the tip of his dick, “…what I was really thinking about was bending your over and fucking you from behind like the whore you are for me.” He growls, canting his hips forward in a brutal motions, sinking all the way into you.

You moan out into the pillow, eyes rolling back into your head. hands fisting the soft fabric, bunching it into your grip as if it will ground you.

His hips slam into you at a brutal pace, the backs of your thighs and his pelvis coated with your arousal. Every thrust makes a sticky sound and as he pulls back it connects your skin to his in white strings. You cry into the pillow, his cock stretching your pussy in ways you didn’t think was possible. “So fuckin messy..” he hisses, pulling you back on his cock to meet his thrusts.

He’s so deep you swear you can feel him in your stomach “F-fuck…o-oh my god…” you whine out, hands reaching back, trying to push on his stomach, it was so much. He scoffs at your weak attempt, the scoff turning into a groan as he feels your nails rake down his stomach. Even though you try to push him away, your cunt pulls him back in a vice like grip.

You moan into the pillow, arching your back further as incoherent babbles of ‘more’ and ‘please’ fall from your lips, your hands still pushing him away in a conflicting battle. He was really fucking you stupid.

He grips both your wrists, crossing your arms behind your back and keeping them pinned there with one hand. He pulls you up, your shoulder blades touching his bare chest. His other hand comes up to grip your throat.

As he hooks his chin over your shoulder, he thrusts once more into your cunt, balls slapping against the plush of your ass before he stills, beginning to roll his hips in a slow, a deep grind. Your breath hitches, truly feeling all of him inside you.

“Look at that…..” He says his breath tickling your ear. “Taking all of me so well…” He says, squeezing your throat just a bit harder. “Every. Fuckin. Inch.” He growls out, punctuating every word with a thrust of his hips, bullying his cock even deeper into you.

“N-Nam-Gyu…h-holy shit.” You cry out, grinding your hips back into him, wanting more. He laughs at your desperation. “You have no idea how badly I wanted to fuck you….” He rasps. “Be inside this tight cunt..” He tightens his grip on your throat, just enough to cut off a bit of air.

You clench around him, the feeling cutting off his words. He falters, pulling you into him with a whine of his own. “Fucking Christ, you’re gonna kill me pretty girl…” he says, his lips attacking your neck, his hips resuming their movement.

He fucks up into you, your cunt making wet squelching sounds with each thrust. You can feel him moan and pant against your neck as his lips kiss along your jugular. His hand releases your neck and the other one, your wrists. His hands come up under your arms to run up your stomach and to your breasts.

His nose runs along your neck as he continues to fuck you. Every breath he takes, every groan that falls from his lips is right next to your ear. His hair that falls from the small ponytail tickles your shoulders. “I can feel you creamin’ all over me….so fucking wet.” He growls, his hands gripping at your tits, massaging the flesh as he continues to ruin your cunt.

It was all so, so, so much. It felt overwhelmingly good and his filthy praises only helped to make it so much better. Choked out whines and moans fall from your lips, you’re sure you’re drooling too. “All f’me huh?” He asks. You can’t even respond as his cock keeps hitting the soft spongy spot inside of your cunt that has you seeing stars.

He laughs at the lack of your response, his hands dropping your breasts and pushing you back down into the pillows by your waist. One of his hands immediately finds itself running up the back of your neck and entangling itself into a tight fist in your hair- shoving your face into the pillows as he slams his cock into you. “Awh c‘mon now…” he mocks, “I’ve hardly started and you’re already fucked stupid.” He says, his eyes trained on the way you throw your ass back to his pelvis in time with his thrusts.

He suddenly pulls out, one hand still in your hair- holding to cheek to the pillow, the other massaging the flesh of your ass. You whine at the loss of feeling, your cunt spasming around nothing desperately. “W-what…p-please!” You cry out, trying your best to turn to look at him.

He pouts, but it just as quickly turns into a wicked grin. “Thought I broke ya sweetheart. You couldn’t even answer me…not sure you can take it…” He teased, it’s evil, downright sadistic.

He removes his hand from your hair, sitting back on his heels. Both his hands are on your ass, squeezing and releasing the plush flesh before spreading you open to get a perfect view of your cunt. Red, puffy, and messy with arousal it’s a sight that makes his cock twitch.

“N-no! I can take it I swear!” You plead looking over your shoulder. You watch as he licks his lips while looking at your pussy then divert his gaze up to your face. “Then answer me.” He says demanding his answer.

Your lips part to answer but you’re cut off by his thumbs rubbing over the sides of your pussy, stopping at your clit to rub small circles, a moan coming out in place of an answer. “I guess I have to repeat myself…” he muses with a chuckle, “You’re this wet all for me, hm?” He repeats.

“Yes! All for you! F-fuck, s’all for you.” You whine, your hips pushing back into his hands. He laughs to himself, spreading your cunt wider, muttering an “I know.”, his smirk audible, before dipping his head lower and attaching his mouth to your cunt, tongue diving into your warm walls before removing itself to play with your clit.

Before you can even push your hips back he sits up, running one of his hands up the curve of your ass before resting on your hip. The other holds the base of his cock, running his weeping head along your pussy.

You arch your back further, trying to push yourself back into him. He sinks into you , but only a few inches before pulling out, repeating the motion a couple times as he watches your cunt hold the shape of his cock, stretched open, before clenching around nothing. “You want it so bad, huh?” He pouts in a condescending tone and you nod your head, whining each time his tip enters you, stretching you before pulling out.

“Please! Please! Oh my god, I need it.” You plead as he slowly sinks even more of his cock into you. It’s a slow pace, one that has you convulsing and mewling.

“I’ve dreamt of being in this sweet fucking cunt since I saw you….I’m going to make sure you feel every inch…” he says sinking into your weeping pussy just a bit more, “every vein,” he says pushing in even deeper, “going to ruin your cunt for anyone else who even thinks to try and get with you.” He growls out, sinking balls deep into you finally.

You grip the pillows, you’re sure you probably ripped the fabric. You cry out a wanton moan feeling so entirely full. His thrusts are brutal and he’s relentless.

When his hand reaches around and begins to play with your clit you can’t help but to desperately throw your hips back in time with his thrust. His other hand removes itself from your hip. “Go on now…” he urges, watching how you keep up the movements he ceased, fucking yourself back on to him “That’s it….fuck!” He growls out, watching each time your ass connects with his pelvis.

You can feel yourself getting closer to your third orgasm of the night and the feeling is overwhelming. You keep crying out, your hips moving back on his in sloppy, jittery movements. You wanted to cum again so bad but you just couldn’t without him brutally thrusting into your cunt.

He seems to realize this and he chuckles darkly, he replaces his one hand on your hip, the other dancing along your clit in patterns that have your body jerking against him. “Wanna cum so bad don’t you…” he coos, leaning over you, his hips beginning to rock softly into you.

You cry out, nodding into the pillows. “Poor thing….”, he chides, “can’t do it without me helping you, huh?” He says, his breath fanning over the back of your neck, lips dancing along the shell of your ear.

“P-please.” You whimpered out, trying to turn your neck to look at him. He smiles, your begging only spurring him on to increase the force of his thrusts. They become hard and slow, dragging the length of his cock slowly out of your cunt with a moan of his own. “F-fuck…please! N-nam-Guy, p-please!” You cry out.

That seems to do the trick. The wanton plan of your name has him groaning and sitting back up from hovering over you. His hips drive into you at a force that has you surging forward and your eyes rolling back.

You can hear the filthy squelching sound of your pussy each time he bullies his cock into your tight entrance. His fingers that were on your clit messily dragging your arousal around. “Come on princess. I can feel you squeezing me, need to feel you cum again.” He growls through gritted teeth.

All you can do is nod and cry, your orgasm creeping up over you in a large tidal wave that you have no hope of fighting off. When his cock starts to hammer the spot inside you that has you choking out a cry of his name, his fingers rapidly drawing circles on your clit, you break.

You cum with a loud moan of his name, your cunt spasming around him so tightly that he is hurled towards his own orgasm without warning. He lets out a gasping moan of your name, driving his hips into yours with one final thrust and cumming deep inside you.

The force of your own orgasm has you shaking around him, clear liquid evidence of your orgasm is forced out of you, coating his cock and pelvis with your cum.

He lets our strangled breaths as you milk his cock for everything he had, his hips rolling into yours softly as you both ride out your highs.

You feel so good but so weak, you’re sure you would have collapsed onto the bed in a boneless heap if it wasn’t for his arm around your midsection keeping you up.

You sigh as you feel him lean down and place kisses up your spine and up the back of your neck. “Did so good f’me.” He mumbles breathlessly against the back of your ear. “Mhm..” you whine in response, shivering against him.

He slowly pulls out of you, his arm staying wrapped under you to keep upright. You nearly sob at the feeling of his cock pulling out of your pussy and his cum that drips out of your red and puffy cunt.

You hear him hiss, watching it. He’s addicted. His fingers lift up, catching the trail of his cum drilling out of your cunt that threatens to drop to your sheets. Smearing it around your pussy, his fingers dipping in to your entrance to fuck the rest of it back into you with a few slow pumps.

You whine, so utterly overstimulated. He shushes you, “I know, sweet thing..”, he says pulling his fingers from you and leaning into place a kiss on your clit. “Couldn’t let you be so wasteful…” he murmurs against your pussy before pulling back.

He sits back up, leaning over you. “I’m gonna help you turn around okay?” He says softly, you nod weakly in response. He carefully pulls you onto your back and laying you down on the bed. You don’t even realize he departed from the bed and went to the bathroom for a towel before he’s wiping you both down, discarding the towel and returning back to the bed near to you.

“I really did a number on ya, huh?” He says, his elbow propped up on the pillow and his chin on his palm. You’re lying on your back, still haven’t moved from where he left you. You narrow your eyebrows and pout, a fake scowl. He laughs at your pathetic attempt at seeming mad, your laugh soon echoing his and it has his chest swelling with an electric warmth.

“Yeah ya did.” You admit shamelessly, turning on your side towards him looking up at him. He laughs, “Oh, I know.” He says proudly, making you laugh again. He throws an arm over your shoulder, pulling you next to him.

He kisses your forehead, the arm around your shoulder pulling you closer. “I waited way too long for that.” You say, your head moving to rest on his chest. You can hear his heartbeat. It’s cute the way you hear it speed up when you nuzzle your head on his chest and begin to draw light patterns on his stomach.

He chuckles in response, “Well I suppose third times a charm.” He says, reaching down to pull the blankets that were piled up on the edge of your bed over the two of you- no way we’re both of yall getting up to get under the sheets and comforter.

You look up at him from your spot on his chest, a smile on your face. “And you’re staying the night? Oh what a gentleman.” You joke, cuddling closer into him. “Uh yeah…duh.” He says in a teasing tone, squeezing you into him, “and tomorrow, if you let me, I’d like to take you out to breakfast….or lunch…whenever we get up.” He says, with a small laugh, his arm now beginning to trace light shapes on your arm.

“Y-yeah I’d like that.” You say, you can’t even hide the smile in your words. “Good, now get some sleep. You’ll need it you’ll be sore in the morning.” You hit his chest at his words and he laughs, wrapping his other arm around you to cage you into him. He begins to pepper kisses along the top of your head and down to your face causing you to giggle. And he swears that’s your laugh is a sound he will never get tired of hearing.

Needless to say, you went to bed excited to see where you two went for food and what the future held for this odd partnership that was, very thankfully, catapulted into your life.

Thank you guys for all the support during this series. It is unbelievable how much love this got! I'm so excited to continue writing! I have a lot of ideas and things in the works and am so so so excited to share them with you all!!! my inbox is open for requests for one-shots or drabbles! much love <3 kiwi

Tag List: @heyitsayjayy , @chxrrybomb22 , @ziallgff , @ametheslime , @hornyfordaryldixon , @risingofjupiter , @h3artz4soph , @godly-sinsx , @gurofushi , @shad0wcast , @thearsonistrat , @sollum , @onmycloudyet , @matthewpatel4life , @tashiagalinda , @knxfesup , @skibidirizzzlerrr

[junhoswifey]

kang dae-ho / player 388 bf head canons pt. 2 ˙ . ꒷ 🍰 . 𖦹˙—

check out pt 1. here if you want!!

pairing(s): kang dae-ho x female!reader

warnings: language, modern day au, femme reader, nsfw, kissing, mentions of sex, fluff

-princess treatment <3

-will literally buy everything for you — if he sees you pulling out your wallet he’s immediately shutting it down and pulling out his own

-his sisters def taught him how to do simple hairstyles so whenever you need help with your hair he is quick to do it for you

-loves to look after you when you’re sick (he doesn’t care how sick you are he will still be clingy af)

-brings you anything you need/cooks for you when you’re on your period

-lets you try out new makeup or hairstyles on him for fun

-his favorite thing ever is when you play with his hair and there’s been multiple occasions where it’s made him fall asleep

-always feels so comfortable around you and isn’t afraid to tell you anything

-not the jealous type usually but if he sees someones trying to touch you it’s on sight

-loves taking you on dates at least once a week

-loves being little spoon

-has the best sense of humor and doesn’t even realize it

-always listening to you super intently and makes sure to ask little questions when you’re telling him something so you know he cares

nsfw warning!!! (18+)

-every time you’re around he always has to be touching you in some way

-loves when you pull his hair

-rarely leaves big marks when kissing you bc he doesn’t want to feel rough

-loves to kiss all over your body and whisper compliments as he does so

-always checks on you to make sure he isn’t being too rough bc he would never want to hurt his girl

-this man is a god at aftercare — he’s immediately cuddling you not letting you get up and cracks jokes to make you laugh

-def prefers to be submissive bc he is so used to others telling him what to do

-veryyyyy loud and loves to whimper in your ear

-loves to have you on his lap when the two of you are making out

-eye contact during sex goes crazy — he just can’t seem to ever keep his eyes off of you

⇾ be sure to checkout my masterlist if you enjoyed! any type of interaction is appreciated :’)

⇾ i love him sm!!! lmk if y’all want another part to this i forgot how fun making hcs is lol!! i will start posting actual fics for him soon <3 thank you for reading! i love you all 💋

[cawslew]

[Tumblr ate my quality... give it back :(]

Ada's dorm assignments and Explanation's and a bit of Headcanon's under ⤵️

HEARTSLABYUL

Atsushi: I was struggling with choosing between Heartslabyul and Savannaclaw for him. I think Savannaclaw would fit better (the tenacity part, and the tiger thing), but in the end, I chose Heartslabyul because he values justice, responsibility, and doing what’s right, which fits well with the rule-oriented nature of Heartslabyul.

Kenji: I chose Heartslabyul mostly based on vibes. Kenji is a cheerful and easygoing person, but also has his own unique logic that feels like the chaotic side of Heartslabyul.

OCTAVINELLE

Dazai: I don't think much needs to be said… His charisma? Cunning personality? Talent for manipulation? Straight-up Octavinelle student, no question asked. Especially with how easily he reads people, charms them, and manages to make people do what he wants by smooth-talking.

Haruno: This was a bit of a challenge to choose for her. At first, I thought about Pomefiore, but we already had so many characters in there, so I decided against it. I also considered Savannaclaw and Scarabia, but they didn't quite fit. In the end, I stuck with Octavinelle purely because of Haruno's intellect. It also felt right to make her a vice housewarden in her dorm.

POMEFIORE

Kunikida: This choice was easy, just like Dazai's. The drive for perfectionism, discipline, and ideals—he’s the literal embodiment of Pomefiore. It felt perfect for a dorm that’s known for its image-conscious students. It also made sense to make him Housewarden (and a little poke at the fact that, in canon, he’s supposed to take over as head of the ADA).

Junichirou: I was heavily influenced by his gentle yet thoughtful demeanor and the protectiveness he shows (not only his obsessive care for Naomi, but also his willingness to stand up for others). Despite being a bit of a wimp, he’s protective and supportive. He’s also a vice housewarden to Kunikida.

Naomi: To be fair, I had a hard time choosing for her. At first, I thought maybe Heartslabyul would be good for her affectionate yet mischievous personality. Then I considered Octavinelle for her cunning and strategic side. In the end, I went with Pomefiore, blending her elegant and calculating nature. She’s charming, and her subtle manipulation would suit the dorm well. It also helps that Junichirou is here, as where he is, Naomi is likely to follow. But I do think she was probably in Octavinelle first and switched to Pomefiore less than a month later.

IGNIHYDE

Rampo: Another easy choice. He’s intelligent and prefers solitude, plus his amazing problem-solving fits Ignihyde perfectly. He’s brilliant and often dismissive of what he considers unnecessary social interactions, so this is 100% the right dorm for him.

DIASOMNIA

Yosano: Diasomnia is a very fierce dorm, often associated with strength, authority, and a commanding atmosphere, which perfectly suits Yosano. Not only is she fierce and strong, but her role as a housewarden also fits well with the dorm's atmosphere.

Kyouka: She’s resilient and carries strength with her despite her tragic past. As previously mentioned, Diasomnia is focused on power and overcoming inner turmoil (especially considering the storyline of Book 7), so it’s a great fit for Kyouka.

Diasomnia overall is just a perfect choice in that regard for both Yosano and Kyouka.

I might also do other organization's in this AU if I feel like it, haha Or maybe I should do it the other way around? TWST in BSD universe???

[a-scary-lack-of-common-sense]

i am having. Many Thoughts. about my HWINEBHABWNAJCAHOWEEATOWEUB AU Ford, so here are some unfiltered rambles about him <3

The entire premise of this AU is that it goes exactly the same as canon right up until Bill betrays Ford steals Fiddleford's eyes, and then Ford kills Bill in retaliation. Everything just sorta snowballs into a huge mess from there, with this sad fuck of a man SMACK BAM in the middle of it all.

I like to explore my Ford in the way he reacts to things. It's interesting to see how far I can really take it until it becomes borderline OOC, especially when he kills Bill. He didn't actually fully mean to kill him, but at the same time that was exactly his intention, if that makes any sense?

Although Bill stealing Fiddleford's sight privileges instead of Ford's was one of the main reasons that triggered Stanford's decision to murder him, I'd like to compare his act more as a frantic, desperate grasp to survive, rather than a calculated, cold revenge being enacted. I think that he was just trying to live, in that primal, undeniable fear of death that can consume anyone, even Gods. Especially Gods.

I think that, as much as Bill's murder was a moment of power reversal, in which the victim got a taste of the power their abuser had over them, it was also a moment when Gods and mortals alike became so very aware of their own helplessness in the face of sheer and blind will to just survive. I don't think that Ford felt like a God when he killed Bill. I think that Bill wasn't facing wrathful being in that moment, he was facing a mere man who was so afraid to die he was willing to do anything. But you can't blame him for that, right? You can't blame him for wanting to live? For fearing death? He's only human.

"They say that when saving a drowning person, you have to be careful to not be pulled under the water by their flailing hands, because in their haste to survive, they might not even notice they are inadvertedly killing you."

[scary-grace]

PARIAH (part 2) - a Shigaraki x f!Reader fic

Shigaraki Tomura was buried three days ago, struck down at last by the affliction that’s haunted him all his life. Now, with muffled screams emanating from the graveyard and the same affliction striking down villagers left and right, the priest has ordered Shigaraki raised from the grave and put to death properly this time. It falls to Spinner, wracked with guilt over his best friend’s fate, to seek help from a monstrosity equal to the one that haunts Shigaraki — the witch who dwells in the darkest part of the forest. In other words, you.

Nosferatu AU, multi-POV, 10k+ words. Vampires, wolves, and witches, oh my! All the typical warnings one might expect for a fic about vampires. If you like Gran Torino this is not the fic for you.

part i

part ii

Shigaraki has been carried like this only twice in living memory. Once by his caretaker, when he fell asleep while hiding under the table in the vast, unused dining room at Sensei’s estate, and once by Sensei, when he – Shigaraki cringes from the memory, his skin crawling, and although the motion should destabilize your grip on him and send you both sprawling, you simply adjust your hold and keep walking. There’s nothing for Shigaraki to do but settle back into your arms and try to keep still.

It’s not difficult. He’s drained in more ways than one, his mind as exhausted as his body is depleted, and somewhere in the recesses of his consciousness, he’s seething over the simple fact of his own continued existence. It is as the priest said: He fears death. But there is a possibility, once remote but growing stronger by the day, that he would rather die than continue to breathe in the miasma of revulsion and terror that’s surrounded him for as long as he can remember.

You claimed you could heal him. Shigaraki would laugh if his vocal cords weren’t frayed into near-nothingness. But your capability in that regard matters much less than your ability to take him away from the village, even for a night. The priest was correct about something else, amidst all his other ravings: Shigaraki did bring the affliction. It followed him here, and if it does not find him in the village, it will seek him elsewhere. If it should find him with you, then only one person will die rather than dozens. Shigaraki should warn you of what you’ve done.

Shigaraki will. Before the sun goes down. Shigaraki tilts his head against your shoulder and shuts his eyes.

Your stride hasn’t broken since you lifted Shigaraki from the coffin, but in the center of the bridge, you come to a sudden halt. You flinch as though you’ve taken a blow, exhale sharply as though the breath’s been driven from your lungs, and a split second later, you’re on your knees, still cradling Shigaraki in your arms.

He expected your strength to give out, but not so suddenly as this. He swallows a few times, his mouth as dry as a withered corpse, and speaks. “Set me down.”

“I’ll only have to pick you up again.”

“You have exhausted yourself,” Shigaraki says, and you manage a strained sound that might be a scoff. “Set me down. I’ll walk.”

“If I set you down, you could barely stand. I fear your heart could not handle the strain. And I promised your friends you would be healthy enough for visitors by morning.” Your breathing is shallow as you force yourself back to your feet. “It will pass.”

You cross the bridge without stumbling again, your steps quick and short. It makes for a bumpy ride, but not a dangerous one. Shigaraki’s senses are well-attuned to danger. He senses no danger from you.

None from you, but as you step past the edge of the woods and the shadows fall over Shigaraki’s face, he realizes there is danger aplenty. He forces his eyes open and sees the dark shapes moving within the trees, hears them snarl and whine, and worse, he smells them, the dank, overpowering scent of raw meat and wet fur. “Wolves,” he says in a voice that shakes humiliatingly, and he tries to squirm free of you. “They belong to him –”

“Nothing of his dwells here,” you say. “These are wolf-dogs and dire-wolves, the former beneath his notice and the latter above his will. They are free.”

“You are not their master?”

“I am master over nothing,” you say. Your voice carries no hint of Sensei’s commands, and still you broke the priest’s control over the crowd. Still you command a pack of wolves, all of whom are now milling around you, prodding Shigaraki with their snouts. “If they frighten you too greatly, they will depart. If not, we’ll reach my home more quickly if you ride.”

“Ride what?”

No sooner have the words left Shigaraki’s mouth than the answer slips from between the trees – a dire-wolf, larger than any beast Sensei ever summoned. You speak softly to it, in a language unlike any that ever issued from Sensei’s jagged mouth, and the wolf lies down before you. In a single moment, Shigaraki’s boosted onto its back, and the wolf lopes off into the trees, the pack of wolf-dogs following and you running easily at its side. What are you? As his fevered mind struggles with the question, he slips into a daze.

When Shigaraki’s awareness returns, you’re carrying him again, through a garden and into a small house with flowers climbing the walls. White flowers. Roses, like the crown you placed on Shigaraki’s head. A large table sits in the center of the room, more akin to an altar than anything else. The only reason Shigaraki doesn’t recoil from it is that it’s quite obviously used for other purposes. You take your meals there, and attend to your sewing. Scrolls are scattered here and there, some still bound and some unrolled, and a few books sit open, pages marked with ribbons.

You set Shigaraki at the edge of the table while you sweep it clear with one arm, and Shigaraki keeps his head up long enough to see that your strange pallor has been replaced by an awkward flush. “I expected visitors today. Not a houseguest.”

Shigaraki lies back on the table, his head coming to rest against a pillow you’ve placed there. Now that none of his remaining shreds of strength are devoted to keeping himself upright, he can think a little more clearly. “What led you to expect visitors?”

“I heard the bells ringing, and the air smells of decay. When the Church cannot adequately explain the villagers’ suffering, they come to me.”

The house is lit by an odd pink glow. Shigaraki looks around for the source and finds dozens of rough pink stones, hollowed out to accommodate a candle within them. A memory flickers through his head – Sensei’s study, candles melted into sulfur ingots, the smoke, the smell. “Your lights. What are they?”

“Salt,” you say. Shigaraki blinks. “A form of rock salt, found in the highest mountains in the world.”

Salt. Shigaraki remembers scattering it across the threshold to his room, along the windowsill, in a ring around his bed. “It won’t keep him out.”

“No, but it will slow him down,” you say. Shigaraki knows that. Sensei was never more displeased than when he had to navigate Shigaraki’s feeble attempts to keep him out. “If he wishes to enter here, he will pay for every step.”

So you aren’t unaware of what sheltering Shigaraki will mean for you. “He’ll come for me. You know that.”

“He will come for you no matter how far you run.” Your voice is matter-of-fact, empty of fear or doubt. “Do you know why?”

“Does he need a reason?” Shigaraki closes his eyes. “He is nothing but an appetite. An emptiness. A – a lust.”

“He does not need a reason, but he has one,” you say. Shigaraki waits for you to answer, his skin already beginning to crawl with humiliation. “I asked your friend, but it occurred to me that she might not know. Are the six bites she described the only ones you suffered?”

The humiliation grows worse. Shigaraki raises one leaden hand with an effort and scratches at the unbitten side of his neck, but nothing can relieve the discomfort. “What makes you think there is a seventh?”

“Because it would explain why he pursues you so relentlessly,” you say. “You need not show me. Just tell me where it is.”

Shigaraki has to show you. If he has to force the words out of his mouth, his tongue will rot from beneath them. He turns his head away, as if that will help, and lowers his hand to his thigh. To indicate the correct spot, he must part his legs, and his body revolts. His mind flatly refuses to address the memory. It remains locked away, along with so much else, but his body will never forget what it survived.

“I see,” you say, and Shigaraki yanks his hand away. “He has greater plans for you than just as his victim. He intends you to be his successor.”

A jagged laugh claws its way out of Tomura’s throat. “You are mistaken.”

“I spoke incorrectly. You are meant to be his host,” you say, and even Tomura’s humorless laughter fades. “Vampires who are not slain die when their bodies rot away to expose their spirits, but the Old Ones may escape that fate – so long as they can transfer their spirits into a new form. The number of bites, and their precise placement, are ritualistic. They tell me that he intends your body to be his spirit’s new home.”

Sensei always told Tomura that he was special, that he was unique, that he was important. Like a fool, Tomura believed him. Even as Sensei’s instruction grew more invasive, more unsettling, Tomura clung to those words – important, unique, special, words no one had ever used to describe him before. In his father’s house, before Sensei found him, Tomura was an embarrassment. He wanted to be special, to be unique. He would have settled for important.

It took confronting the hollowness of Sensei’s words for Tomura to break free, to confide in others, to escape. But he knows that Sensei doesn’t lie, and that’s how he knows you’re right. Tomura is unique, is special, is important. So important that Sensei plans to claim him completely, leaving him nowhere – not his own body, not his own mind – to escape.

Tomura’s silence reveals too much. “If that was his purpose, why afflict me so?”

“The others rot from the wounds he inflicts. He consumes their bodies, but takes only your blood,” you say. Tomura forces his eyes open and sees you with your back turned, mixing something together in a cup. It’s a fool’s errand on your part; he can neither eat nor drink. “In order to claim a new body with ease, that body must be empty – of hope, of anger, of any will to fight back. What he does is cruelty in its purest form, but he does not act only for cruelty’s sake. He would rather break your spirit ahead of time than face it when he claims your body.”

Your voice softens. “I imagine he has been greatly vexed by you.”

Tomura laughs, and it tastes bitter on his tongue. “He finds my resistance amusing.”

“Once, perhaps,” you say. Tomura sees a flash of silver – a knife-blade, raised high for a split second before you draw it across your forearm. “No more.”

You shift, shielding Tomura from the sight of blood oozing from your arm, but it’s never been the sight of blood that torments him. It’s always the smell, and he can picture all too easily what you’re doing. “I won’t drink that.”

“There is no harm my blood can do that has not already been done,” you say. Your voice is remarkably steady for someone who just took a knife to her arm. “It is likely that your body will reject anything else, and it’s important that you swallow the medicine.”

“Medicine for what?” Tomura asks warily.

“I said I could cure your affliction. What else?”

You turn to face Tomura, the wound on your forearm bandaged and a cup balanced in your hand. Tomura hesitates. You’ve given him little reason to distrust you thus far. You seem to grasp the situation Tomura and his friends are in. But Tomura has made the mistake of trusting blindly before. He lets you help him to a seated position and lift the crown of flowers off his head. Then you offer the cup.

“No,” Tomura says. “If I am to drink your blood, I want to know what you are.”

If Tomura were not half out of his mind from three days in an iron coffin, he would be able to figure it out for himself. You know a great deal about vampires, and you have knowledge of Sensei’s plans beyond what even Tomura possessed. You commune with wolf-dogs and dire-wolves, but not the true wolves that Sensei controls. You have no trouble walking in sunlight, no trouble with the weapons often wielded against vampires, but you have strength and speed disproportionate to your size. You carried Tomura with ease. The only time you stumbled was when –

The thought pierces through the fog in Tomura’s mind. Running water. Vampires cannot cross running water, and you stumbled on the bridge.

Tomura tears the cup from your hand and seizes your hand itself. He’s still wearing your silver, but when he looks at your hand, he sees that your hand is adorned with angry red scratches. Around your wrist and middle fingers, connected to one another by jagged lines across the back of your hand. Silver may not burn you as it does Sensei, but it wounds you all the same. You wore a veil in the sunlight. You struggled to cross the water. Tomura’s grip on your hand tightens convulsively. “What are you?”

“A mistake the Old One made,” you say. “With luck, a fatal one. Drink.”

Tomura studies the cup. What was it you said? It will do no harm that has not already been done. You are something like a vampire, but you are not Sensei, and your feelings about Sensei seem to match Tomura’s own. Besides — Tomura’s hand shakes, and the liquid inside the cup splashes back and forth. It’s been so long since he had a drink.

He raises the cup to his lips and drains it in a few swallows, inordinately relieved at the way it slides down his throat rather than pooling on the back of his tongue. It’s survivable so long as Tomura doesn’t consider the taste. He looks down into the empty cup and feels a surge of discomfort when he realizes he wants more.

“I’ll give you something to drink in a few minutes,” you say. You lift the cup from Tomura’s hand and replace it with a silver bowl in his lap. “Hold this for me.”

“Why?” Tomura asks, suspicious, and then his stomach revolts.

You start to explain, but Tomura no longer needs an answer. The bowl is pointless. All he’s going to bring up with dry-heaving and retching is the blood he just drank, because he hasn’t eaten in two weeks. What are you trying to do to him? You touch Tomura’s shoulders and he shrugs off your hands, but by the time you gather up his hair to hold back from his face, he’s too far gone to protest. It hurts. Every muscle in Tomura’s body feels as though it’s being twisted and torn, and worse, his chest is tight and full, as if something jagged is caught between his throat and his lungs. He gags, his eyes streaming, his body straining to expel whatever’s left within him. If his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied, he’d be screaming in agony.

The blockage is in his throat now. He can barely breathe. Saliva drips from the corners of his mouth, pooling pink-tinged in the bowl he’s somehow still holding onto, and as his body’s efforts to expel the blockage force it further upwards, Tomura’s certain it will rip him apart. Why did you bring him here? If you wanted him dead, you should have let the priest do it. It would have been faster than this.

Tomura’s body expends one last, massive effort, and something slithers onto the back of his tongue. It feels hideous, and the surge of instinctual disgust finishes the job. Tomura hunches forward, mouth open as wide as it will go, and spews a glob of black, congealed blood into the bowl.

It takes him a few moments of sucking down air to speak. “What is that?”

“Vampire blood,” you say, your expression grim. “Do you recall consuming the Old One’s blood?”

“Do you think I’m a fool?” Tomura coughs. “I would never –”

Yes, he would. He did. Tomura abhors the memory, but it sinks its teeth into him anyway, and he’s powerless to escape. Just like always.

He had thought it was a nightmare. Tomura has so many nightmares that they’ve become almost routine, and his friends have grown used to shaking him awake when his raving disturbs them. In that dream, he was walking, somewhere distant from the village, barefoot and still dressed in his sleeping clothes. It was night, and he was alone, and when Sensei appeared, fear like Tomura had never known arrowed through him. It’s useless to run, Sensei said. Tomura ran anyway.

Tomura knows better than anyone that there can be no escape, that Sensei will have what he wants in the end, but he fought in spite of that, as Sensei’s teeth sunk into the familiar wounds through his clothes. Tomura could see lights nearby, a village or a town, but no matter how he kicked and screamed for help, no one came. Sensei must have known they wouldn’t. He didn’t bother to cover Tomura’s mouth.

By the time he was through with Tomura, Tomura felt hollow. I have missed you, Sensei said. And I have taken much. Let me offer you something in return.

Tomura remembers the tearing sound as Sensei rent his own dry, desiccated flesh, remembers the feeling of Sensei’s wrist held down over his mouth and nose, his rotting blood spilling down Tomura’s face. Tomura couldn’t breathe without taking it in, and although he would rather have suffocated then and there, his body would not allow him to do anything but survive. He opened his mouth, desperate for air, and Sensei’s blood poured in.

Tomura woke still coughing and struggling for air, but there was no blood on his face or on his clothes, and the bite marks stung no worse than they always did. It was a nightmare. Only a nightmare. How –

“The Old One has power over the mind,” you say, and Tomura realizes he spoke aloud. “If he was familiar enough with your nightmares, he could mimic one, and if he cleaned up after himself, you would have no way of knowing.”

“I would rather he had drowned me.” Tomura’s voice is a horror, one no amount of coughing could scare away. “Even my thoughts are not safe.”

“With every night he does not feed from you, his ability to manipulate you will decrease,” you say. “And without his blood choking the life from you, you can begin to regain your strength.”

What strength? Tomura’s been Sensei’s plaything since he was a child. Among his friends he’s the weakest, the one whose mistakes endanger the others, the one who never should have drawn the others into Sensei’s dark orbit. He cares nothing for the villagers, but some untold number of them would not be rotting alive if he had never set foot in their village. And now you’ve involved yourself, whatever you are. Sensei’s mistake, hopefully fatal. What does that mean?

Tomura intends to ask, but you bring him a cup filled with water, and all his attention diverts to consuming it as quickly as possible and then getting more. He drinks enough to make himself nauseous, and while he’s funneling water down his throat, you take the silver bowl away and dispose of the clot of Sensei’s blood. Then you return with healer’s supplies. “For your fingers, and the bites,” you explain. “The Old One’s essence is gone, but I cannot claim to have healed you if I leave the rest unaddressed.”

It’s innocuous enough. Everything about you is innocuous enough, but you’re concealing something beneath it. You have yet to answer Tomura’s original question, but when he opens his mouth, he asks another. “What’s in this for you?” You glance at him, then look away. “Answer me. You said yourself that he will never stop hunting me. By sheltering me, you place yourself in his path. Why would you take such a risk? Why would anyone –”

“Your friends took that risk,” you say. “They confronted the priest. Spinner dared to enter the woods and seek me out. And I very much doubt that they have allowed you to face the Old One alone.”

No, and they’ve paid for it. Tomura always knows when one of his friends has had a run-in with Sensei or his servants — they come back hurt or haunted or both. To bend Tomura to his will, Sensei made them suffer, and it was the knowledge that his friends were suffering for him that led Tomura to plan their escape. Their escape had casualties. Tomura doesn’t mourn for them, for the entire city that burned as he fled Sensei’s reach. If any of them had reached out a hand to him when it counted, he would never have fallen into Sensei’s clutches to begin with.

No, he doesn’t mourn for the city. He mourns for Twice, who they sometimes find sitting still and staring at nothing, seeing whatever he saw when he unlocked the asylum to free Toga over and over again. He mourns for Toga, who was locked away on suspicion of witchcraft for three days before they could rescue her — and three days was too long. He mourns Dabi, who locked himself in a cellar with Sensei and set the house ablaze, who survived at a hellish price. He mourns for Spinner endlessly, Spinner who became his friend before the rest, who will pay for that mistake for the rest of his life.

Tomura mourns, and brings mourning in turn, to his friends who are foolish or unfortunate enough to love him. “My friends have suffered because of me,” he says. “You know nothing of me. Do you wish to do the same?”

“I have no choice in the matter,” you say. “But if I did, I would choose this. Now, are you going to let me treat your wounds, or will I have to explain to your friends why they were left open overnight?”

Tomura’s torn-apart fingertips hurt, and his bite marks are raw and itching. No poultice Toga has concocted can soothe them for longer than a few minutes, but perhaps you — something like a vampire, possibly a witch — know a little more. He nods and lies back against the altar, and you draw up a chair and sit down beside him.

You stay seated for only a moment. Then you’re on your feet once more, a roll of bandages in one hand and a pile of folded cloths in the other. You work quickly, dipping the cloth in warm water and folding it to a compress before wrapping around Tomura’s wrist, over the bites. “This is temporary,” you explain. “I’m more concerned with your fingers, but these must be covered.”

The water stings where it touches the bites. “Salt water?”

“Yes.”

“You keep salt water on hand.”

“I do,” you say without missing a beat. “I can make it myself, but water from the ocean is best.”

“Because it runs.”

“Indeed.” You move on to Tomura’s ankle, pausing to gesture at a barrel against the wall. “There is a sea, far from here, where the water is so laden with salt that a person cannot sink within it. I must dilute the water somewhat, but there’s little better when it comes to the wounds caused by vampires.”

“You’ve been there,” Tomura says, grimacing as you apply another bandage. “This sea.”

“Once. Before I came here.”

“When was that?” Tomura expects your silence. Sensei avoided questions and told the truth to Tomura in equal measure, but there was one question he never answered. “It matters not. Immortals always lie about their age.”

“I’m not immortal,” you say. Tomura manages a scoff — then a hiss, as another cloth soaked in salt-ridden water drops over a set of bites. “Before I came here. That could mean anything.”

“The brats in the village say the witch was here before the village was.”

“I’m not a witch.”

“Then what are you?” Tomura sees you prepare the next bandage and hesitate, and it takes him a few moments to realize what’s stopped you. “Leave that one. It’s covered, isn’t it?”

You nod and move on to his other wrist. To access this one, you must remove the silver jewelry you slid onto Tomura’s hand, and you’re oddly careful, just as you were when you put it on. “They’re right,” you say. “The children in the village. I was here before the church’s cornerstone was laid.”

“Why?”

“Why did you come to a village at the edge of the world?” You help Tomura sit up and secure the bandage around his chest. The salt water there stings worst of all. “I was not meant to be found.”

Tomura hisses as you apply the last bandage to the bites on his neck. “Found by whom?”

You sit back down without answering, lift Tomura’s hand again, and begin to clean the ruined tips of his fingers. Something about the way you handle him makes him uneasy. It feels — different than the way the others touch him, on one of the humiliatingly myriad occasions that they’ve tended to him. Different, too, than anything Sensei ever did. There is no threat in anything you’re doing, and Tomura still feels as though some part of him is in danger. Tomura once fought back at any hint of danger. Now he is aware that some dangers cannot be fled from. And in surviving others, all that can be done is to hold still and go beneath its notice.

Tomura is lying down, but as you trade from tending to his right hand to addressing his left, he begins to feel dizzy. Dizziness is familiar, as familiar as itching and nausea, but Tomura associates these things with Sensei, and you have not touched a drop of his blood. Did he damage something within while fighting to expel Sensei’s essence? He opens his mouth to ask you — it was your idea, after all — but a surge of nausea overwhelms him and he clenches his jaw shut.

His vision telescopes, the way it always does when Sensei goes too far, and the agonized sound that forces its way through his clenched teeth alerts you that something’s wrong. “What is it?” you ask, and lift Tomura’s wrist to take his pulse. His vision is blurred, but even he can see that your fingers are stained red.

“No,” you say, and Tomura hears an unfamiliar note in your voice. You curse. “I was a fool –”

“What?” Tomura manages. “It won’t stop?”

“I broke his hold on you. His hold kept your bites sealed, and now –” You curse again, cast about, and worse, you let Tomura’s hand fall. He seizes your wrist with weak, shaking fingers. “I have no time. I need to seal your wounds, and –”

“Do it like he used to,” Tomura says, and you flinch. Under other circumstances, Tomura would flinch to hear himself ask such a thing. He would never have asked it of Sensei; nor would he have said this: “Please.”

You look sickened, but you don’t deny that you can do as he’s asked. Tomura sees your eyes dart to all corners of the room, seeking answers that aren’t present, help that won’t come. Then you unwrap the bandage around his wrist, raise it to your mouth, and draw your tongue over the oozing marks on Tomura’s wrist.

Tomura learned much about vampires from Sensei, much of it unwillingly. The first thing Sensei taught him was that vampires never kill a victim unless they mean to. He showed Tomura how a single swipe of his tongue could seal the bites, so that Tomura would not bleed unless Sensei wished it. Tomura hated how Sensei did this. Sensei did it slowly. But you’re quick, efficient, moving with haste to the marks on his ankles, then to his other wrist. Sensei always savored the remnants of blood drying on Tomura’s skin. You seem as though you wish to avoid tasting it at all.

The bite marks on his thigh stymie you temporarily, and Tomura, too. The idea of spreading his legs and allowing access to it is so disgusting that Tomura rejects it out of hand — only for his mind to blur along with his vision, reminding him that his life is at risk. What is he doing? What dignity or virtue is left to him? “Bend your knee,” you order, and when Tomura’s control over his leg fails halfway through the motion, you help him do it. “Here –”

There’s a knife in your hand, the same silver knife as before. You cut away the blood-soaked fabric to expose the bite, and Tomura sees blood, so much blood, in the split second before you lower your mouth to it. Your tongue draws lightly over Tomura’s skin, then once more, with more pressure, and Tomura jerks, shudders. Your mouth is covered in his blood when you draw away, and although Sensei always licked his lips clean, you wipe Tomura’s blood away on the back of your hand.

You don’t want it. The thought is a single pinpoint of clarity in Tomura’s increasingly muddled thoughts, and it holds true as you seal the bites over his heart, then move to his throat. Tomura expends the last of his strength to turn his head, exposing the bites. As you lean over him, his vision goes dark for a moment. All he feels is the soft huff of your breath against his skin before you lick the wound, sealing it, too.

Tomura’s vision comes back for a split second as you pull away, long enough to see the way you’re looking at him. He never saw Sensei look at him that way, without hunger, with something else. His vision blurs, then fades, and Tomura gives up the fight to stay conscious. He’s certain of only two things: First, that if he must die, this is preferable to either of the fates he avoided today, and second, that if he dies today, it won’t be because of you.

<- part i

[llithiaskyla]

okay guys.. hear me out here... siren CHARLES... and mermaid ERIK...

now I don't usually participate in these AU's, but I think they're interesting and I always see siren Erik and the occasional mermaid Charles which makes sense I suppose and everyone is entitled to their own opinion but this post is about why Charles would be a siren and Erik would be a mermaid welcome to my ted talk 🤗

now. before you immediately go 'big scary Erik' and 'soft cute charles,' I raise you potentially manipulative Charles, he could make you do whatever you wanted with his ~~telepathy~~ siren voice but actively chooses not to use it unless he needs to, and elemental powers Erik, he uses the scrap metals in the ocean from pollution and wrecks

[scoobydoodean]

Hi, scoobydoodean! Are you of the opinion that Cas' confession parallels John's private speech to Dean before he went to take Azazel's deal which killed him. Like, they're both deals to save Dean. And they only decided to say things left unsaid about how much they loved Dean and were proud of who he was, right before they knew they were going to die. I don't know if that's a stretch, and if it's not, what does it say about Cas and Dean if it does parallel John? I don't know.

You know—I could have sworn I've mentioned that very thing before, but probably just in passing, because I can't find it in my archive. Cas and John have some interesting parallels, and I don't doubt Dean notices (and occasionally chafes) at their similarities (because their similarities tend to dig into some of Dean's biggest issues with his dad). It isn't just that Cas and John both sacrifice themselves for Dean, giving him a deathbed speech about what a good person he is (one that is touching and heartfelt but still comes with painful consequences for Dean that they don't foresee).

John and Cas have also both been known to do the following:

Ignore phone calls for weeks at a time.

Disappear without anyone knowing where they are for long periods, leaving their loved ones worrying.

Try to handle The Mission alone and ice others out of it to "protect" them.

Die leaving Dean to care for, protect, and then (if necessary) kill their sons—sons who are being pursued by powerful forces who want to manipulate and use them—sons who are not actually children.

Trade out a car for a truck, funnily enough.

John and Cas are also both soldiers, and Cas understands the soldier's mentality: The Mission comes before everything (this is what Sam and Dean ultimately clash with John over at the end of season 1). Cas has admired John's handwriting (8.08), and I think is probably a little interested in John as a model of the failed protector, though he knows Dean considers John a deadbeat (5.17). Cas has his own issues with his own father to contend with, and I think because Chuck is the absent father but not the protector father (except very specifically with Cas in a few early moments—bringing him back to life 2-3 times)... Maybe one could argue that Cas wishes god was more like John—that his absences weren't always for lack of love but were somehow mission-oriented. Chuck bringing Cas back a few times gives Cas hope that maybe his father is out there watching and caring about him and ready to help him despite his absence and silence. Even as late as season 14, Cas goes off alone to find a way to reach out to his father for help with Jack. Perhaps we shouldn't lose sight of the fact that Cas going off alone in search of help from an absent father instead of communicating with his family is part of what leads into Dean and Cas's "divorce arc". Perhaps we should consider more carefully if something underlying Dean and Cas's conflicts is how they perceive their fathers.

Maybe to an extent, quite unconsciously, Cas wants to prove that he can be absent from his family and still love and protect them from a distance... because if Cas can do that successfully, it means maybe god loves him from a distance too? Maybe he thinks it can make sense of Chuck's behavior—bringing Cas back several times but still so silent. It isn't until AU Michael tells Cas that Chuck is a writer looking at failed drafts that Cas starts to catch on—and he doesn't want to catch on, is the thing. He wants to reject Michael's narrative. Having Michael in particular (in Dean's body) tell Cas this also pits Cas and Dean's perspectives on fathers against one another—Cas's hopeful belief vs. Dean's nihilism. When Dean pleads with god on behalf of his family, he does it faithlessly because he already knows you can never count on your father to help you no matter how hard you plead and cry (1.09, 5.14, 13.01).

As for what this means for Dean and Cas? Well—I've said it before and I'll say it again—fandom could stand to calm down about the "implications" of John parallels. It's often treated like some sort of condemnation to be "paralleled" with John, but... it isn't? Sam, Dean, and Cas all have parallels with John at various points, and it doesn't make any of them bad people. It makes them messy and interesting and (for lack of a better word) human. I think Cas and Dean could have some fascinating fights along this subject and I want to see more of them. Sorry but I love it when they fight it entertains me greatly.

[jaggedamethyst]

circuit breaker 🔬🌌 (part five)

tutor!jayce talis x reader, ekko x reader college au

content: after what happened, jayce is committed to helping you learn the physics material. even if it means daily sessions and spreading himself extremely thin.

harsh language (cursing, off-hand kms jokes), jayce mom angst, actual physics but I hope it makes sense…I swear I chose relatively simple concepts!! (If you need more context for the graph Jayce made, legit just google physics electron progression 1s 1p and a chart with arrows should come up on google) 

notes: might fuck around and post the next part asap because its that good

word count: 1.9k

series master list

。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆　　 。·:*:·ﾟ★,。·:*:·ﾟ☆

Somehow the next week was even more stressful than the last few. With the looming stress of this week’s quiz and the strenuous schedule Jayce had you on—you were beginning to wonder if these study sessions were even going to pay off. 

He agreed to meet at your place. He’d show up every day, on the dot, supplies in hand. The happy expression on his face made you feel optimistic at first. You were ready to take on physics with a new level of confidence.

That was Monday.

By Wednesday, Jayce’s upbeat mood and cheery outlook just drained you even more. When Thursday came around, one day before the quiz, you were sure you were at your limit. 

“Hi, Jayce.” You spoke in monotone, opening the door before he could even knock. You turned away from him, allowing him to step into your apartment and close the door himself. 

He poked at your disinterested tone. “Someone’s in a good mood.”

“Yes, well I think that I’ve consumed enough physics this week that I might be reincarnated as Bohr…but that’s fine.” You stalked to your room, “That’s assuming my brain cells aren’t stuck in their own orbits or whatever the fuck.”

“Wait,” he paused in the middle of the hall leading to your room. 

“What?” 

“You…just made a physics joke.” He pointed to you, his tone increasing in amazement. “And it actually made sense-“ 

“It should.” You turned away from him, continuing into your room. “If I have to hear about atomic structure, valence electrons, or nucleus-es any more I might kill myself.” 

“Nuclei.” 

“Huh?” You pulled out the chair at your desk, allowing space for him to sit at the chair next to yours. 

He sat beside you, grabbing your notebook. He flipped to a fresh page as he spoke, “Nuclei is the plural…for when you mean more than one nucleus.” 

“Not to be that person but I think we may have bigger fish to fry than my grammar, Jayce.” 

“You’re right.” He rubbed his hands together, “Where should we start?” 

“Well we left off with electron configuration. I understand the concept…kind of…but I can’t remember all of these damn numbers. The pattern is weird.” 

Jayce reached toward the floor, seeing some of the papers from the previous day still thrown about. He grabbed one with the electron chart—clearly marked with notes and color coordinated to help you remember. 

“I think its best we start with this…if you’re trying to remember and do the problem at the same time you won’t understand it.” He slid the paper in front of you, setting it aside from the book. He then reached for another paper he’d bought—a worksheet. “Here’s some more examples for you to work on. Why don’t you try the first one like we practiced?”

You whined a bit, “Do I have to?” 

“Do you want to get a good grade?” 

You paused, snatching the pencil from the table. “Just because you have a good point doesn’t mean I like it.” 

He remained silent, stifling a laugh. He looked over your shoulder, watching you work out the questions. Somehow you’d made an already long question exponentially longer—working through a method that seemed to work for you. It of course tacked on extra minutes to each problem, though.

“How’s this?” You looked to Jayce for approval. 

“This is…” His eyes scanned your writing. Among the many cross outs and faint eraser marks was not a correct answer, but one extremely close. “This is almost right. You just messed up at the end here.” 

“What? No way-“ You looked at his finger pointing between the chart and your work, spotting the error. “Oh…I see what I did wrong.” 

“Good…wanna try and fix it?” 

You didn’t make direct eye contact, but honed in on the paper—encouraged to get the correct answer. He lingered over your movements with a watchful eye until you were done. 

“Okay…how about now?” You held the book out to Jayce.

“Amazing.” 

“But you didn’t check-“ 

“I did—watched you do the whole thing.” 

You turned to Jayce, “Sure you did.” 

“No, really.” He pushed the notebook back to you. “In fact, I think you’re ready to do three of these.” 

“You sure?” 

He nodded, pushing the materials back in a group for you to work on. “You got this.” 

Jayce sat silently again, catching the way you’d twisted your lips in concentration. Your grip on the pencil was harsh, the wood pressing into your skin in a way he was sure should hurt. Even so, you didn’t give up. The process became longer than he expected. His vision started to blur, his focus becoming less sharp, but he stayed watching. 

Eventually, you turned to him, several minutes having passed. To both of your surprise, you did rather well. Jayce traced over your handwriting, noting the simple mistakes you needed to keep an eye out for. You nodded alongside him, physically writing down the notes he gave you. Before you continued, you decided on a quick break. 

“I’m gonna go grab something to drink, do you want anything?” 

“No,” Jayce yawned suddenly, “I’m good.” He moved to rub his eyes, sorting through some of the papers that had found their way to the floor. He turned a bit, watching you leave the room. 

You rounded the corner, beelining for the refrigerator and cabinets for a snack—you needed fuel immediately.

With an inhale, you leaned back into the kitchen countertop. Truthfully, you were feeling a bit more confident now, but if you were feeling drained you could only imagine Jayce. You made quick work of grabbing a few more snacks for him and a bottle of water before heading back to the room. 

Before crossing the threshold, you froze—the sound of light snores filled the room. 

Jayce had fallen asleep. 

A crooked smile found a way to your lips, the sight of him admittedly being very cute. Despite him being asleep, his lashes fluttered a bit. His lips parted and let out the sound of his breath. In an occurrence that should provide him comfort, intensity still lingered in his brows; they were pinched together in worry. You didn’t miss the way his lip would occasionally twitch—fighting off the pain that lived in him. 

With a quick motion, you quietly set the things you’d grabbed to the side. Making sure you stepped lightly—you swung open the closet and grabbed a blanket to lay over him. You gulped at the action, not even giving it a second thought. The thought left you just as quickly as it had appeared, your feet moving you back toward your desk and open notebook. 

Your eyes scanned over your work and the example problems pensively—immediately feeling an overwhelming sensation fill you. Your palms began to sweat, fingers and hands shaking in front of you. A slow blink and deep breath allowed you to calm yourself, enough to grab your pencil and start in on the example problems. Jayce turned then, still sleeping but fidgeting a bit. You had to try to do this—on your own. 

For a while, you worked on the problems only, afraid to crosscheck for the answers. Eventually, you’d grown confidence to check. There were a few you’d gotten wrong, circling back to check what you did incorrectly with a motivated scribble. Others, you’d gotten right, though. A warm feeling sat inside you, a pride over finally understanding the material. 

Beside you, Jayce started to stir before quickly sitting up in panic. “Fuck, when did I fall asleep?” 

You looked to your left, the clock hanging above. “Like an hour ago.” 

“Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m supposed to be helping you.” He moved to stand, folding the blanket you’d placed over him. 

“Figured you could use the down time.” 

He moved closer to the chair, watching you lean your head up to look at him. His shoulders slumped at the optimism in your gaze. “I feel like I’m fucking this up.” He drew in a dramatic breath, “Am I a bad tutor?” 

You pushed the chair back a bit, letting him look at your self-graded work. “You tell me.” 

His eyes raked over the paper, bending over the blanket in his grasp. He took his time surveying all the written out problems. His nostrils flared when he would let out an amused chuckle at the ones you went back to fix. He leaned away, “You’re pretty smart, huh?” 

“Well,” You stood, grabbing the blanket from him. “I have a not so bad tutor.” 

Jayce folded his arms, “Right.” 

You turned to put the blanket away. When you got back to your desk, you gestured for Jayce to find his seat next to yours again. As the two of you were finally sat, Jayce spoke up. 

“So,” he cleared his throat, “How are you feeling? I mean, like mental health wise. I know it’s been a lot.” 

“I think…I’m working on it.” You nodded, “As best as I can.” 

“That’s good. You should be proud.” 

“Thank you, I try to be.” You swallowed, seeming to look off into the distance. The quietness of the room made you want to speak to fill it. “How’s your mom?” 

Jayce watched you grimace at the abrupt question, but felt grateful you asked. “She’s okay. I spend a lot of time with her—helping and doing whatever she needs to feel comfortable.” He looks down at his hands in his lap. “Think it’s just a hard time for her, feeling herself be weak in a way she’s never been before.” 

You nodded then, looking at his downturned gaze. “I get that.” 

“I’m trying really hard to be what she needs me to be, whatever that looks like.” He readjusted, “Sometimes I think that’s a good student…to keep my grades up. Other times I think it’s to just be a good son…show up every day after class. It’s exhausting trying to figure it out.” 

“I can only imagine.” 

“It’s different with you though.” He jumped a bit at the way your head snapped to him. He spoke quickly, “I just mean that…I know what my purpose is. I can physically see you improving.” He rubbed his neck, “I’m not making sense am I?” 

You shook your head, “I’m attempting to follow-“ 

“I guess I should just thank you, then.” 

“Thank me? For what?” 

“For letting me help you. For letting me have a purpose outside of just student, son, friend, whatever.” He placed a hand on the desk in front of you, closing the gap between you. He finally let his eyes meet your again, a sincere look on his face. “Thank you.” 

A tight feeling ran through you, pushing from your chest outward. You didn’t break the eye contact, though. “I think you’re giving me too much credit, Jayce.” 

“I don’t think I give you enough.” 

A breath caught in your throat, suddenly overwhelmed by the lingering look Jayce had on you. The both of you stayed there, looking between one another’s eyes. Jayce’s movement forward was almost imperceptible; you wouldn’t have noticed had you not been studying every feature on him.

His phone dinged—piercing through the palpable tension in your room. He looked away, a reluctance in his motion. You looked toward the door in a huff, pushing away the feeling that had creeped up on you so quickly. 

“Sorry, it’s Mel.” 

“Oh,” you turned to him expectantly, “Do you need to go?” 

Without missing a beat he turned his phone face down and folded his hands in front of you. “Nope…I’m good here.” 

“Okay, then.” 

He slid the book from in front of you, splitting the distance. “Let’s get a better look at this amazing work you did.” 

Your tongue pushed on the inside of your cheek, the skin puffing out and heating at the praise. 

“Alright, then.” 

taglist

@juskonutoh @sseleniaa @aerina127 @sleepysoldier @angelicmisty @1800latenitecreep @venus-in-roses @myxticmoon @rando-no-5

[in1-nutshell]

And oh god the reveal.  Maybe Magneto finally got his dates and order and realized “oh shit, that's my kid”.  Maybe Ultra magnus sent a email which sent the entire us government into a panic because how the fuck did this escape notice.  What if when Magneto figured it out he tried to talk to them.  He calls them by their birth name, not the name the government gave them to protect them, or the name their robot family gave them, the name he gave them.  “I go by Fearless now, Eric” (man imagine getting disowned by your own kid).  As far as the X-men are concerned, their favorite telenovela just got better.  As for the lost light, oh boy get ready for headcanons.  Running on the idea that Cybertronians are an asexual species, their whole family units are created through adoption.  To create that bond with someone is a very important and almost sacred choice.  To abandon a child you chose to take in for a selfish reason is borderline unheard of.  Even with IDW Ophelia, Megs left her behind originally to protect her, shitty yes, but still an action born out of the desire to keep her safe, still lining up with the importance of these bonds to cybertronians.  Needless to say, the general opinion of magento went from “eh, whatever, we have megatron on board.” to “fuck this one guy in particular”

Once I get enough energy and patience, I will write a longer piece on this AU.

Hope you enjoy!

AU: Magneto is Fearless's Dad (part 2)

SFW, Angst, Familial, Platonic, Mention of X Men 97, Human reader

MTMTE/ XMEN 97

It had been a couple of days since Fearless’s failed assassination attempt and there were still no leads.

A couple of villains were called into question, even some government officials, but nothing solid.

But that wasn’t the most important thing.

The Fearless and Magneto beef was still raging on strong.

Finally at 1 in the morning, Magneto realizes why Fearless looked so familiar.

He had known their mother… they looked like…

…

Like the child he left behind all those years ago...

…

…

…Oh, this made too much sense it hurt.

The Brick of Parenthood had finally found its target.

He always thought that they would have led a normal life on Earth, not galivanting through space with giant alien robots, one which was a genocidal ex warlord.

Take it for his kid to do something strange and reckless.

Seeing the little kid he knew now all grown up sent a pang of guilt through his chest.

Then came a thought... arguably a terrible idea.

Talking to them.

There was without a doubt in Magneto’s mind that they knew who he was, it explained in the pained look they gave him at times.

He needed to talk to them, now.

Fearless was happily talking with Morph when he came, asking to talk to them in private.

They don’t like the look the older man is giving them.

It looked like pity and… pain?

They warily agree.

The pair makes their way into a room in the mansion. Fearless crosses their arms. Fearless: “So, what did you want to talk about?” Magneto: “… It has been a long time since we last saw each other, hasn’t it?” Fearless stiffened. Fearless: “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Magento: “I did not raise a liar.” Fearless’s eyes widened and unconsciously takes a step back. Magneto: “My little Lionheart… it has been a long time.” The name brought flashbacks of a little kid reaching out for a hug to their tall father. They shake their head. Fearless: “I go by Fearless, Eric. That is the name I go by now, the one MY Family gave me. I expect you to at least have the decency to respect that.” Magneto: “… Fine then… Fearless.” Fearless huffs as they tighten their arms around themselves. Fearless: “Was this what you wanted to talk about? Because if it is your wasting your time and mine.” They turn to open the door behind them, but the metal locks lock themselves. Fearless: “…Unlock the doors Magneto.” Magneto: “Not until we talk.” Fearless: “What is there to talk about?” Fearless tries opening the door with no luck. Magneto: “It has been years since I’ve last seen you child.” Fearless: “And who’s fault was that, Eric. Now if you can be so kind as to open the door—” Magneto: “You didn’t have the X gene Fearless. Your birth stood against so many things I stood against at the time. I had to leave you. You must understand that.” Fearless: “I don’t have to understand Jack Magneto! Now let me out!” Fearless tries furiously to open the doors now, only for some metal sheets to block the door. Fearless: “Eric! Open the doors now!” Magneto steps forward as Fearless tries prying the metal themselves. Magneto: “You are going to hurt yourself like that.” Fearless continues to trying to pry the metal with their bare hands. Magneto: “You have to understand that when I left you—” Fearless: “UNDERSTAND WHAT!? That I wasn’t the perfect baby you wanted! That I didn’t fit in your ideal world?! Save me the speech Eric I know! I’VE KNOWN THAT SINCE THE DAY I FOUND OUT WHO EXACTLY MY FATHER WAS!” Tears were streaming down their face, but they stood tall with their fist clenched. A heavy silence filled the room. Fearless: “If you have any ounce of any respect or basic decency… let me go.” Magneto wordlessly let the metal sheets fall to the ground. Fearless wastes no time in bursting out of the room. Magneto sighs sadly from inside the room. Meanwhile in the room next door. Logan and Morph were trying to watch a movie when they overheard the conversation through the wall. Logan and Morph: “…” Morph: “…That was unexpected.” Logan: “…You owe me a 12 pack and 20 buck’s bub.” Morph: “Oh C’mon!”

And apparently those two weren’t the only ones who overheard.

Jean had seen a distraught Fearless running outside and decided to gently look inside their mind to see what could have possibly upset them.

…

It did not take long there after for the rest of the X men to find out about the new family drama.

There was a lot of talk between the team about Fearless and Magneto, but they never guessed something like this.

So many questions yet to be answered!

The drama!

The Angst!

Some members are kind of glad a plot twist happened in their new telenovela, but at the same time are sympathetic to the whole ‘messed up family bloodlines thing’.

Fearless was walking around having calmed down. They spot Magneto exiting the room and walking to their direction. This was at the same time Kurt and Rouge just so happen to be walking by. The pair walked a bit faster to get to Fearless’s side. Kurt: “Fearlezz!” Fearless jumped at the sudden noise but calmed down seeing the blue mutant. Fearless: “Primus Kurt, don’t scare me like that.” Kurt: “Zorry!” Rouge gently placed a hand on their back, guiding them to another direction. Rouge: “There’s a cool thing the boys wanted ta show ya.” Fearless: “Now? I mean sure! Cool, cool, cool.”

The real question now about the bots.

Did THEY know about this?

Only one way to find out!

Morph is sitting by Whirl in his holoform. Morph: “Has Fearless every talked about their family, like before going to space?” Whirl: “Not really. They don’t talk too much on all the Earthy stuff.” He raises an eyebrow. Whirl: “Why you want some information on them?” Morph: “Well, its more like we’ve just gotten some new information on them.” Whirl: “Like what?” Morph: “… Logan won the bet.” Whirl: “Which ones Logan again? Wait is he the gruffy one with the claws that thinks I know some guy name Deadpool?” Morph: “That’s him.” Whirl: “Oh okay then. Wait what did he bet on again? Hang on a second.” Whirl pulls out a list of the bets and goes down before stopping at Logan’s bet. Whirl slowly looks at Morph. Morph: “Turns out Fearless’s dad is Magento.” Whirl: “… Excuse me but WHAT THE—” Magnus, in his holoform, comes in. Magnus: “Whirl! What have we talked about that language!” Whirl: “MAGNETO IS FEARLESS’S EARTH DAD!” Magnus: “WHAT!?” Morph: “I feel like I made a mistake…”

News about Magento being Fearless’s biological father spreads amongst the bots like wildfire.

They go to the X men about more details about this.

They would have asked Fearless… but these past few days the resident human looked ready to drop dead and sob on the spot.

The Lost Light crew is absolutely furious hearing the implication of Magneto Abandoning Fearless at a young age.

It is explained to the mutants about the significant values chosen family had amongst Cybertronian’s.

To abandon one’s sparkling/ youngling/ or mentee at such a tender age was simply unheard of.

The bots and X men hear some yelling from a far. It was Fearless yelling at Magneto to leave them alone. Megatron is the first to move. The Earth shakes as the Ex Warlord now looms over Fearless, casting a long shadow over Magneto. Fearless looks surprised to see the mech. Fearless: “Megatron? What are you doing here in bot mode? Did something happen with your holoform—EEP!” Megatron scoops Fearless up with one servo and holds them firmly to his chassis. He sported a harsh glare at the man on the ground. Megatron: “When my child says to leave them alone. You. Leave. Them. Alone.” Cue gasps from X men in the background. The twists keep getting better and better. Fearless is still very confused. Magneto: “Your child?” Rodimus: “That’s right! His kid. A member of our crew and family.” The other bots soon start lining behind or beside Megatron. Megatron: “Do not let me catch you disrespecting their space again.” With that the bots turn to go to their ship. Megatron looks down to see Fearless trying to stifle a sob. He gently rubs a digit up and down their back. They began to shake like a leaf and curled even smaller against his servo. Megatron: “There, there… I’ve got you… I’ve got you… Your safe now Fearless… Your safe…”

The bots and Fearless were going to need a day to process this before returning back to the big problems at hand.

Especially Fearless…

[therocketeer0501]

Emptiness Machine

Starscream X Reader (mech pilot AU)

Warnings/TW: blood, weapons, mention of torture, robot gore, human experimentation (shockwave is shockwave), language, and peril. (I’ll add more as I post)

(Author note: Before I get started I wanted to get a few things out of the way. This is my own AU and doesn’t really lend itself to much existing media. Gonna mash a few continuities together. This is in no way a professional writing by any means. I am not running it past a beta or anything so it’s going to be rough. I wanted to write this for myself and share it with y’all! This is my silly nonsense. That being said if I don’t clarify something or if something doesn’t make sense please submit an ask and I will promptly explain! Now without further ado. Here is the anticipated first chapter of Emptiness machine! Thank you all for waiting.)

Read first

Data log entry #857

Date: 003029 Time: 0700

Time since first contact: 2 years, 4 months, 7 days

What began as a national defense strategy became one of the most complex military operations in the history of the world. Project Archangel, founded by Dr. Zinovy Antonov, began under the pretense of creating the world’s first mechanized army. He started his research long before we found out we weren’t alone out here among the stars. With the arrival of the Cybertronian visitors came the fear that humanity was not only vastly outgunned, but also grossly unprepared to deal with any threat from deep space. Dr. Antonov pleaded with the government to allow him near the deactivated body of one of the Cybertronians, who was discovered after a battle had broken out between factions.

He studied their biology and created what he dubbed the perfect exoskeleton. Fueled by chemical X, also known as Energon, and operated by none other than the human soul itself. There weren’t many volunteers to undergo the rigorous training and testing that these pilots had to go through. But with the help of Cybertronian Autobot scientists, Project Archangel was finally given the green light to move forward. Only three pilots made it through the initial testing.

Pilot: Seraphim, Pilot: Uriel, and Pilot: Michael.

With their functioning mecha, these pilots were meant to assist the Autobot Cybertronians in keeping earth from being terraformed by the opposing Cybertronian facton, the Decepticons.

Which brings us to the present. We have had zero contact with the other faction known as the Decepticons until two months ago. The Autobots insisted we keep our distance and only deploy Project Archangel as a last resort. Keeping the humans out of the conflict was essential if they wanted to stay neutral in the eyes of the Decepticons. As far as we know, no Decepticon has ventured down to the planet’s surface from their airship Nemesis to interact with the population. Only sending drones to wreak havoc on areas rich in Chemical X.

However, in recent months, there have been sightings of Decepticon officers and scientists (identified by Autobot command) on the planet’s surface. It was decided that we bring Project Archangel out of the shadows and deploy them on a scouting mission alongside several Autobots. We only hope that we haven’t made a grave mistake.

Chapter 1

You let yourself be pulled through the spiral of light emanating from the ground bridge. Traveling via the alien tech was a feeling that no one could describe. The closest thing to it was like having a magnet in your chest be pulled faster than your brain could register before spitting you back out on the other side. It had taken many practice runs for you to not throw off your stabilizers and stick the landing. Though it still made you dizzy and a bit sick.

After landing behind Bee in a heavily wooded area, you quickly scan the trees for energy signatures. Your scanners were only programmed to detect the Decepticon drones and of course the energy signatures of your comrades. Bumblebee signaled for you to fall in behind him and you promptly obeyed. You could feel the way your heart pounded against your ribcage where your body rested snug inside the metal chest of your mech. Your consciousness flawlessly divided between the two bodies. One living metal, and one flesh. Energon flowed steady through your lines as you tried to calm the slight tremor of your hand that came with the rush of adrenaline.

Ahead you could see the energon mine in the waning light. A clearing with a large metal structure in the center. The two huge metal doors at the entrance had been blown wide open to reveal the tunnel that went deep inside the earth to extract the precious ore. The human sentries, once posted outside, were nowhere to be found. Vehicles were overturned and some still smoldered where they had been hit with plasma bolts. You switch to internal comms so you can communicate with Bee without anyone on the outside hearing.

“Second wave in twenty. Nineteen….”

You slowly count down the seconds until the others arrive so you can rush the structure together. Adjusting your grip on your rifle you study entrance trying to imagine just what awaited you inside. Clearly a monster. Looking to your left you see Bumblebee gripping his null ray, an uncharacteristically stoic look on his face. You had some form of friendship with all the autobots, but you were closest to the little yellow scout. Perhaps it was shared interest or the fact that he seemed more your age. Whatever the case, you had shared so many things with each other over the two ish years that you had been a part of Project Archangel. Only once did you ask him about his home.

He looked saddened at the question and at first you thought he wouldn’t answer you. But he did. You spent the better part of a day listening to how he didn’t know Cybertron before it had been nearly obliterated by the war. It had been a planet filled with culture, music, and arts. No factions to speak of. A united Cybertron. But then came the slow divide of the classes. The divide grew until there were only the obscenely wealthy, and those who had nothing. That’s when, from the pits of Kaon, came the leader of the Decepticon faction.

Megatron.

Bumblebee described him as charismatic and well spoken. Someone bots wanted to rally behind. Many of the Autobots started out as Decepticons in the early days of the war. Taking down the government brick by brick until nothing remained. When it came time to build a new government, Megatron wasn’t satisfied. He wanted all the bots and their families who dared oppress him gone. Obliterated until nothing was left. He ended up doing exactly that. This cost him many followers and eventually after many thousands of years, his home. He didn’t stop. Blaming the Autobots for the lack of energon and destruction on Cybertron.

With a dead world and nowhere to go, the Autobots turned to the libraries in what was left of Iacon. There they found records of worlds seeded with energon by the 13 original Primes. A failsafe in case something were to happen to Cybertron. Optimus Prime lead the remaining Autobots off world to look for a suitable new home. Of course Megatron followed. They tore their way through 11 uninhabited worlds while trying to find one that suited them best. Stripping the worlds of their energon before moving on to the next. Earth was the first seeded world to have intelligent life. Optimus made it his sole mission to keep that intelligent life from having to endure the horrors of the war they brought with them.

It was nearly impossible due to the ever present evil that lurked in the sky. The Nemesis, like a dark cloud, hung overhead when you looked up. What kind of monsters would tear apart their home just to make a point? You were about to find out. A ground bridge portal appeared nearly blinding her as she adjusted her optics to its harsh blue light. Four bots landed and immediately began sprinting towards the entrance. Your peds began to automatically move. The yellow scout close on your heels as the two of you followed your comrades inside. Drones swarmed around you the instant you broke the entrance. Inside you could see Cliffjumper, Sideswipe, Sunstreaker, and one of your brothers in arms Michael. His mech was a heavy class. Not very good at maneuvering but excellent at breaking things. Throwing a drone into a wall with the butt of your rifle, you turn to Bee and chuckle over comms.

“I was expecting more of a fight. This is a fairly average number of drones.”

He didn’t reply right away as he tried to pull a drone off of one of the lambo twins. You couldn’t tell which one because of the sheer number of bodies trying to suffocate the bot. Using your jump jets you propel yourself forward and into the pile sending a good number of the drones flying. They broke easily, not filled with much energon either. It made you wonder just how the Decepticons managed to manufacture so many drones while the Autobots controlled the energon. With the last of the drones dispatched, you look around and regroup with the others. Slowly you start moving further into the mine. Eventually it would open up into a huge cavern. It would be beautiful if not for the dread that had settled over the group like a thick fog. Suddenly your comm crackled to life as Sideswipe replied to your earlier comment in Bumblebee’s stead.

“We’ll get a good fight eventually. These tin cans are just the appetizer for the main course. It’s confirmed, Shockwave is here. I’ve been itching to dig my fist into that lone optic of his.”

He emphasized his excitement by sending his fist into the shoulder of his brother. The golden bot gave him a sour look but didn’t retort like he normally would have. The energy of the Autobots had been stoic ever since it was confirmed that the first Decepticon on scene was Shockwave. You had no idea what to expect. You knew Shockwave was a scientist and known for his cruel and unusual experiments during the war on Cybertron. He created the most horrific weapons used in the Great War, so he must be someone to fear at the very least.

As you make your way down, you begin to hear a long drawn out noise. Almost like a squeaky door hinge but amplified, bouncing off the walls of the mine shaft. Then there was the screaming. You had wondered what happened to the sentries who were stationed outside. Now you knew. A deep voice rumbled from up ahead. It was cold, unfeeling, and filled you with dread.

“Test 8 unsuccessful. Most illogical. Send another.”

There was that horrible sound like metal rending and then another shriek cut short. Before a sigh of resignation came from nearby. It wasn’t Shockwave who made the noise of dissatisfaction. Another Decepticon. Your heart pounded as you look over at your fellow bots to see if they heard the same thing you did. If their wide optics were any indication, they had. Two Decepticons. Not just one. You listened closely as the other bot seemed to pace back and forth in front of the opening to the cavern. You and your companions were split on either side of the entrance, listening but not yet entering the space.

The other Decepticon doesn’t speak and suddenly he goes eerily silent. It made your hair stand on end and you almost felt like you were being watched. Could Decepticons see through reinforced steel? You shook your helm at the thought. No way. But after a heartbeat he said something that had your heart in your throat.

“Shockwave wrap it up. We aren’t alone.”

Cliffjumper growled into his comm in recognition of the voice.

“Spinster. He’s going to be trouble.”

[gingerteawrites]

teehee are u able to write a fic about geto and y/n baking together and having a movie night in? yes im delusional LMAO

A/N: Omg my very first Anon request?? Girl if you're delusional, I'm the president of the club! I'm so happy you asked for this, and hope you enjoy this little thing. Unfortunately I am still busy as a bee, so expect slower updates on this account for at least a couple of weeks😔🤚🏾

Content: Geto x female reader, fluff, established relationship, non-sorcerer AU

Some days, life pressed heavy upon your shoulders, a weight borne in weary steps and silent sighs. Obligations clung like shadows-- engagements to honor, duties to mend, and the world, ever unkind, offering only the worst of itself.

It came to a point that most interactions began to feel like a chore. The mere presence of others acting like a draining force on your already dwindling energy.

But when the *ding* sound of a notification on your phone pulls your attention to the device, you feel part of the exhaustion melt away as your lover's name pops up on the dim screen.

[Hey there pretty girl, are you still up for movie night?] The text from Suguru immediately brings a smile to your face, and your fingers are quick to type a reply.

[Yes! Your place at 8, right?]

[Yup, I'll come pick you up. See you later, love]

The anticipation for the evening gives you the strength to push through the mountain of work you have to do. And as soon as you register the roaring of Geto's bike outside your building, you are quick to grab your things and rush to the door, leaving behind the chaos of your own world.

You unlock your door, breathing in relief as fresh air filled your lungs.

"Hey," you smile, letting him engulf you into a warm hug. You smell the sandalwood of his cologne, closing your eyes.

"Hey," he replies, rubbing your back gently. He pulls away to let you close your door, and then interlaces your fingers as he leads you over to his bike.

You slip on your helmet with ease and climb on the vehicle, wrapping your arms securely around his torso. A routine that your mind welcomed, slowly silencing your spiraling thoughts from the day's events.

As if sensing your fatigue, Suguru rides a bit slower than usual. The quiet rumble of the bike's engine fill the silence. And his hands, rubbing your thighs occasionally when stopped at red lights fill you with peace. His own little way of saying he was there, that he cared.

When you finally walk into his apartment he strides into the kitchen, tying a dark apron around his waist.

"You can just relax and pick a movie, baby," he speaks from behind the counter, while you're still putting your stuff down. Incense sticks fill the room with a soothing smell, and like everything about Suguru, the apartment's ambiance makes your body relax further. But you perk up at his words.

"But we were supposed to bake together," you walk over to him, a slight frown over your features.

His expression softens even further, reaching out to hold your cheek. A large hand settles on your face and you feel his warmth seeping into your skin. "You look exhausted," he sighs, watching you nuzzle into his touch. "You could have canceled for tonight, you know?" He would never want for you to feel forced to be around him. He wanted to be your peace after all, and never a source of weariness.

You look up at him, stepping closer. "I'm glad you're trying to be considerate, but I really want to do this with you,"

His other hand finds your waist, rubbing soothingly along it. The movement sends pleasant shivers down your spine, and you relax further against him. Suguru smiles, placing a soft kiss on your cheek, "Alright then pretty," he pulls back. "Cookies it is?"

"Cookies it is." You confirm.

Suguru wraps his spare apron—unofficially yours—around your waist and queues up a bossa nova playlist before you both get to work. A relaxed ambiance settles over the room, the sweet aroma of batter curling through the air.

At last, you slide the cookies into the oven, turning just as you close the warm furnace. Before you can step away, Suguru pulls you close, his arm slipping around your waist.

There were birds in the sky But I never saw them winging No, I never saw them at all 'Til there was you~

You giggled lightly as he swayed with you around the small kitchen, humming along to the lyrics. The deep rumble of his voice reverberated through his chest and to yours, making your own body thrum with the rhythm of love.

"You're such a romantic," you whispered when the flute outro drew to a silence, your body still firmly planted against his.

"Only because I love you so much," he replied with that same easy smile. As if the depth of his affection did not rock you entirely. "Do you still want to watch [comfort movie]?"

You smiled, "Of course! Unless you want to watch something else," you secure your arms around his neck, enjoying the proximity as you still gently swayed to the instrumental suite that began to play in the background.

He shakes his head, drawing closer to give you a quick kiss on the lips, sweet and soft, almost too fleeting. "Your pick tonight."

No time passes until you're curled up together on the couch, the movie score ringing melodiously in the background.

But your attention is not on the screen, you could recite the whole movie without watching anyway. All that mattered was Suguru's arms around you, his chest pressed against your back, his hair tickling your cheek as it fell away from his face, the feel of his hands absently caressing you. The way he quietly hummed along to whatever tune that he recognized from the movie. Him, with you.

In his arms you felt safe, warm and loved. You could forget the weight of obligations, even if for a moment. And that was something the chaos of the world could not take away from you.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please feel free to request anything else :))

comments and reblogs are much appreciated (❁´◡`❁)