#maybe ill post the things ive written for it at some point?

[kirstenonic05]

So @nibwhipdragon asked to hear about my AU, Song of Shooting Stars! I'm not sure how to explain it since woo, is there a LOT of lore, but I'll give the basic description of the AU!

~

There are tales of different universes, meeting when the world is at stake. Not many records appear in worlds, but books tell of their existence. An intrauniversal bond.

Sonic hears legends all the time. Some of them he believes, like the legend of the water god Chaos, others he pushes away. When he begins dreaming of a human boy, one with a similar fate to him, he pays no mind to it. Until the fight with Finalhazard leaves him without Shadow.

Joseph doesn't believe in legends. Even though he fights the supernatural on a daily basis, he doesn't just believe in everything. When he begins dreaming of a shooting star, one that guides him through the sky, he pays no mind. Until disaster strikes and the world takes Caesar away.

Two heroes, in two different dimensions. The hedgehog, and the human. The fate of two worlds tied to the stars on their hands. When they both fail to save the one that means the most to them, the world gives them a second chance. In the wrong body.

~

I'll put the info and drawings under the cut!

There are two stories: Mark of the Joestar, told from Joseph's perspective, and Star of Chaos, told from Sonic's perspective.

Mark of the Joestar:

Two months has passed since Joseph saved the world. Suzi Q was the one to save his life, looking after him before his body healed. But despite it all Joseph refused to fall into a relationship and instead attempted to live life as normal with the sudden appearance of his mother. Until, one night, he sees the shooting star that was guiding him through his entire adventure. Even though his heart had healed from the loss of Caesar, he reaches out for it, the star on his back throbbing.

He finds himself back on Air Supplena, locked into battle with Caesar. Surprised, he keeps up the fight, throwing his all in the spar. As he charges his hamon, a shooting star falls above him, and he passes out.

When he awakens, he find himself in the company of an anthromorphic fox. And things get worse when he finds out he's meant to save the world. Hey, at least he has super speed!

Star of Chaos:

Years have passed since Sonic's fight against the Ark. Shadow came back to life, albeit without his memories, but at least they were getting along. Very well. Peace was established for a little while before Eggman's next plan. And this time, Eggman has a surefire plan to take over the world. When the whole world starts to fall apart, Sonic is captured. With only the expanse of space as his company, he sees a shooting star break away into a million pieces. His mind goes to the shattered star, falling within his dreams.

And suddenly he's back before it all happened. Right after he escaped from jail and found out Shadow was a friend. Caught in the battle with Shadow, Sonic charges up his Chaos energy to show exactly what he's made of. The falling star shatters overhead, and the next thing he knows he's passed out.

When he opens his eyes he's woken up by a loud voice. Training? Why did he have to do training? Then he realizes he's in a bed. And there's a human at the door.

~

What the-? Why was he so freakishly huge?! He towered over everything!

Basically, Sonic is sent to mid Battle Tendency while Joseph is sent to mid Sonic Adventure 2. Everyone around them slowly figures out that their friend is not acting as they usually do, and things get chaotic. So, some new friendships are made, and, eventually, they learn how to swap bodies willingly!

This is what they look like when body swapped! (With an extra Shadow and Caesar)

Every night they can contact each other through dreams, and, since body swapping grants them different abilities, sometimes they have to co-ordinate what they're doing. Which is easier said than done with these two. Overtime they make new friendships with all kinds of people! :D

Sonic is known as the Shooting Star, while Joseph is known as the Shattered Star. Sonic's main colour is white, while Joseph's is black, with a matching star of their respective colour on their palms!

At the end of this story is Sonic Forces, where Sonic is captured on thr Death Egg but ends up witnessing a meteorite hit Mobius. One that suspiciously looks a lot like a certain Ultimate Thing...

And this is their outfits by the end of the series. (Their outfit change is gradual.)

And at the end of THAT story is Sonic Frontiers. Both are stories for another day.

That's a basic rundown of the AU! There's a bit more lore, but we don't want an essay now, don't we?

[itsalwaysdark]

i think itis funny in the past when i would list my interests as if i post abt them i donot post abt the shit im into rly Mainly bc im not rly Into Into anything anymore i occasionally watch or read or play something but i dont do fandom stuff rly much.... just sometimes i get brainworms

[britneyshakespeare]

can’t stop intellectualizing about barbie

[velvetwyrme]

oouuouua please make a follow up on the superhero pap x reader theyre one of my favorites also im excited to see tf fic from yuo

im glad you enjoyed it!!! i got a comment on it recently while i was thinking abt how to continue it and that seemed to click my brain into action LMAO

EHEHEHE hopefully! soon!! ive got a few things in mind but im also waffling over Really Starting because i have so many things ongoing but... auauugh the IDEAS plague me!!!!

also heres a sneak peek into my brain because im in the mood to chatter, but feel free to skip it if you so desire:

for Origin Story im LOOSELY planning any continuation/s to be kinda standalone stories all centered around a superhero trope (like the Origin Story ;]) because i think that could be fun to work with. i enjoyed writing some of the larger Undertale cast, something that i WOULD have liked to do in FF, except Edge and the MC in that are both pretty reclusive socially abfjfbdjdghkf,, oh well.

anyway. i have tons of ideas for the various tropes, so its really a matter of picking a place and Writing. i really want to feature more of Alphys in this because i love her dearly <3

as for TF fic... most of them are reader inserts unsurprisingly lmaooo but ive got a few non-reader inserts floating around there too. im kinda just throwin stuff at the walls of my mind to see what sticks, but heres a few of my draft titles for your perusing pleasure:

into the fire: noble-ish au with a human reader who is supposed to be gifted to one of the members of the household. reader makes a failed escape attempt torn bedsheet style and is saved :] inspired loosely by the visual novels i used to read/play back in high school LMAO. skeletiano, i will forever be sad i could not romance you.

between you, me and soundwave: reader writes rpf abt mechs on earth LMAO. i see people mention humans writing fanfic about Cybertronians in passing but i think itd be funny to put that at the forefront. extremely silly and low stakes fic. probably.

drift compatibility: mecha! pilot! au!! exists purely because i read 1 (one) fic about plugsuits and just went "hmnngh... mecha pilots are fun to imagine interacting with Cybertronians... also there's DRIFT compatibility... i can totally do some fucked up shit with that" and now it's spiralled wildly out of control because at some point i started thinking about Governments and Social Structures and got distracted with worldbuilding lol. i have many many many ideas and i can only hope i can string some of them together so I can EXPLODE it out of my brain either through writing or art. also theres smut that happens wayyyy down the line which ill probably end up writing first and posting separately LMAO

penance is a prison: my take on Titan AU but as a fic because my brain is so so full of thoughts abt this au. i'll probably just end up drawing a lot of these scenes instead but like. its there! partially written!! im emotions abt it!!!

self explanatory long title: human/borrower au constructicons/jazz/prowl poly. i love rare not-so-pairs a lot and im particularly fond of this set. also i just like thinking abt either jazz and prowl getting menaced by a bunch of tiny guys OR the opposite where a group of construction workers have two borrower roommates. this one is more just random idea dumps instead of a fic but still fun to think about LMAO

ALSO! MINI REC. while you wait for me to (eventually maybe) write TF fic, you should check out boostergoldishh's works on ao3 for some tasty tasty TF reader insert fics. im still planning on making a rec list but they updated today and im filled w/ much love for good writing.

and as a bonus if you got this far (thank you!!): the super secret draft chapter title for the next NEXT FF chapter because its pretty silly

if my cowriter sees this hi. ill share the doc soon but its pretty much empty, its just there to remind me whats coming next LMAO 👍

[someonexsomeone]

Death is Easy, Afterlife is Harder

Title: Death is Easy, Afterlife is Harder, Chapter 1: Esme's New House is Haunted

Author: SomeonexSomeone

Word Count: 4.5k

Pairing: Edward Cullen x Ghost!OC

Summary: Edward was starting to give up on the idea of love. Well, maybe not the idea itself, since he was surrounded by it all the time, but maybe more the idea that it would ever happen to him. He was still working through some complicated vampire feelings, his family was trying to get things back in order after a vampire mishap, not to mention they had to start all over in a new town again. So, when Esme rounds up the family to try and renovate a new house over the summer, what could he do other than go along with it? It was better than rotting away in his sea of lonely thoughts.

But, when his seemingly boring summer gets turned on his head, and he has the closest thing he can have to a human heart attack while meeting this strange new woman, he starts to realize maybe the world isn't as black and white as he thought.

Or; who better for a vampire to fall in love with than an undying ghost?

Warnings: Discussion of depression + death + legacy, downplaying murder

Authors Note: hello hello!! i'm sorry ive been away for so long, but I've actually been uploading this story over on AO3 for the past couple months and totally forgot to post it here. i'm really debating whether ill post all chapters here, since as far as ive planned this will be 50-60 chapters, so we'll see! otherwise you can always find it on AO3 or FF.NET. thank you for reading!

It was a privilege to live a whole life, Edward mused, gently folding another starch-stiff shirt, the cloth miraculously clean despite its many years being hidden away in this dusty attic. 

To be born, to grow, to run freely, to be burdened, to fall in love, to die. It was a privilege to have and lose and find and long and all things that make the soul feel like a tangible thing rather than a concept, some far-off idea that has been written and studied for years but has no real definition. It’s something that’s easy to forget. Those integral parts of life that make it worth living, or even just existing, blend into the everyday. To have a body and be in the world and struggle to understand it; those are what constitute a life.

Some humans believe that their life is composed of the various parts that make up the whole, parts that feel so vastly different that it’s almost like they were a completely different person. And who says they weren’t? A parent was once a child, a worker once carefree, a body once a cell. All are composed as a whole, but unique on their own. The thoughts that once consumed your entire life suddenly mean nothing at all. A person, once your entire life, becomes nothing but a memory. A decision made 10 years apart is filled with the knowledge and wisdom collected in between that didn’t exist before, so the outcome will always be different. 

To a vampire, one moment changed everything. Unlike the common human experience, the change blends so seamlessly into every single moment, every day, every year, every decision that it goes unnoticed until one trigger that causes a moment of reflection. To a vampire, that change is a blip in its life, but the difference is night and day. To go from one day being so afraid of death it drives you every decision, to all at once becoming death itself…

It feels unexplainable, no matter how many words you learn.

That struggle of how many different lives a human leads, those multiple that make up the whole, suddenly takes on new meaning. You were not what you once were, and yet, you will always be the same. To live so many years, to know that eternity is waiting, to not have the innate fear of living that most people do. What is the point of working to get better at something if there is no pressure to get it done? What is the point of surviving if the days endlessly bleed into each other until it feels like one never-ending film, an onlooker to your own life that should fill you with all of those wonderful mishmash emotions that somehow make meaning that only end up feeling forced or faked? Life is a constant existence of opposition.

At least, that was the only way Edward was able to think about it,

It was easy to fill those endless days at the beginning. At first, it was learning to control his most basic instincts, feeling more animal than human by knowing nothing but hunger and how to satiate it. While difficult, it was easier with the help of a devoted Father, something he only remembers vaguely craving in his past life, but Carlisle was a kind and patient teacher. It took many years, but slowly he was able to trade his nightly forest walks for afternoon city strolls, basking in the pockets of silence between crowds. An introduction of Mother returned him to his early years, craving her endless attention and spending as much time with her as possible, practically glued to her hip. Both son and teacher, Edward remembers fondly the first time they were able to sit at the park, hiding under the shade of the tree to lounge like the normal families around them. Esme had never looked happier. 

A “teenage crisis”, as his Mother calls it, a dark period of his life, that changed the course of his existence into a neverending spiral of self-loathing. It was easy to ride the wave of dulled distance that his vampire life brought him, to hide behind those emotions to justify his own actions, despite their now glaringly obvious atrocities. Sometimes he wishes he had those feelings again, just for a little while, just to break up the new dull that replaced the old.

 Anything, he sometimes thought, anything was better than apathy. 

It was now in that aftermath that he lived his timeless life. Try as he might to fill his life with something other than dullness, it never lasted long. 

He had to admit to loving the opportunities presented to him with these new hours. He was able to go back to school, relearn the things that slowly disappeared from his memory, and feel the joy of learning something new. He was able to rejoin Carlisle at the hospital again, just like old times, and actually do something to help people. He got to learn new skills and try new hobbies. He even got to lay in the sun for a whole day and not worry about dehydrating or starving or having to get up to use the bathroom to distract from the quiet serenity of nature. 

He loved the new family that found him. Esme and Carlisle guided him with a gentle hand and endless love. Two new women in his life, opposite in every way, Alice and Rosalie were like the sisters he never had, always keeping him on his toes, and annoyed him to no end. His newest brother, Jasper, grounded him while Emmett, his not-so-newest brother, pulled the rug out from under his feet, and both laughed when he made a fool out of himself. He loved them more than life itself. They gave him those precious fleeting moments of happiness, of distraction that kept him out of his own mind. Jasper placed a book in his hand, one selected from Carlisle’s suggestion, while Esme sat beside him, Alice humming quietly across the room as she worked, Emmett obnoxiously whittling next to her, while Rosalie indulged him in a boisterous argument about the newest passage he read. The family he didn’t feel he deserved, so he held onto it with all his might. 

He would do anything for his family. Anything.

Which, unfortunately, led him to help Esme with her latest project, the only one to really be doing any work at the moment. 

She was a kind Mother, probably kinder than she ought to be, what with 5 inhuman young adults running around the house. She let them have minimal chores during the school year so they could focus on school despite everyone’s insistence that they didn’t need the extra time, in exchange for every couple summers being asked to help sort out the house she was working on. It was surprising that she was keeping the tradition going, what with the abrupt change they had to do earlier this year that brought them back to a place they had stayed in less than 100 years ago. Not completely out of the ordinary, but Emmett needed time to heal, and the house was the closest that was ready to live in.

“We need some normality,” Esme mused as she planned the trip. “Well, as normal as a family like ours can. And this place was too beautiful to pass up!”

This year’s project was the furthest from their settlement yet, all the way in this sleepy town on the East Coast. Despite their return to Forks for the school year on the year prior, and the trend they’ve had for staying on the West Coast, there was something about this house that called out to Esme, so here they all were for the next week. The downstairs needed the most work, with crumbling walls and ivy growing out of every nook and cranny. Originally, there was no indicator that there was an attic, not until Emmett got a little too rough and accidentally uncovered the furniture-covered door. Straight out of an old novel, the wardrobe would have been too heavy for any normal human to move without help. The door was completely hidden behind the massive wooden case, not a hint that it was there, with a dented doorknob that suggested whoever placed the wardrobe all those years ago couldn’t care less about the state of the place. 

Esme had stepped out to grab some more spackle from the store, Alice accompanying her (claiming it was so that Esme would know exactly what brand would yield the best results even though this wasn’t the first home Esme restored and she already had a list of products she trusted). Rosalie had respectfully declined this trip, instead going to the vintage car show with Carlisle for their yearly father-daughter trip. That only left the three boys to make decisions while the usual leaders of the house were gone. 

It was moments like these that Edward really got to muse about the hilarity of his family's hierarchy. The three looked at each other, each gesturing for the other to walk up first, to make the first decision in a place none of them felt comfortable in. People? Leave that to Edward. Planning? Leave that to Jasper. Attacking? All Emmett. But knowing whether to go up a dilapidated flight of stairs into a very old-smelling attic in a home that was being restored? Well, that was out of any of their depths. 

“Are you getting any feelings?” Emmet whispered conspiratorily, his burnt orange eyes wide with the closest a vampire could have to fear. Jasper and Edward gave him a funny look. “What?! It’s a justified question.”

“I’m an empath, not an Anthropomorphist.” Emmet furrowed his brows.

“A what-?”

“It’s someone who attributes human traits, emotions, or intentions to non-human entities,” Edward replied.

“Okay, Mr.Dictionary.” Edward rolled his eyes and Emmet turned back to the blonde. “We’re vampires. You have powers. Can’t you get a feeling if it’s dangerous or not?”

“That’s just instincts. You have those.” Emmet sighed at his brother’s response.

“Not what I meant and you know it. This is a secret door, behind an old wardrobe, in an abandoned house.” He gestured wildly up the dark steps. “Use your freaky feelings tingle and tell me if it’s haunted up there or not.” Jasper and Edward shared a glance, exchanging a small smile. Edward was happy to see his brother was feeling a bit better, enough to have some of that ridiculous superstition return to his regular vocabulary. He was sure Jasper was going to include this little conversation in his text to Rosalie later, one of the many update texts she asked him to send as she spent time away from her husband when he was still recovering.

Jasper was the first to move, carefully positioning himself in front of the other two to walk up first. He bickered quietly with Emmet that there was no way for him to tell if a house was haunted on ‘feelings alone’, and that if he could he would have felt it long ago. A simple platitude, if nothing else. There was no doubt in any of their minds that there was no person upstairs, they would have heard or smelt them long ago, but even Edward could admit there was something off about this attic. Caution was always better than carelessness. Edward had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at Emmett’s internal monologue about ghosts and ghouls that resided in old houses, stepping behind Jasper, readying himself should anything strange occur, just in case.

Once upstairs, it was easy enough to see the real price of hiding away from the outside world. The downstairs was filled with evidence of squatters over the years, rotting food, and left-over knick-knacks here and there that didn’t match the time period of the peeling wallpaper, but up here, despite the heavy layer of dust, everything looked frozen in time. Mannequins with dresses still draped with pins, a rack of winter coats that were drooping on their rusted hangers, an opulent mirror with a hairline fracture in it, hidden behind a lace sheet. There were chests and boxes filled to the brim with jewelry, decor, and housewares. Furniture, both big and small, were stacked neatly on the far wall, plush chairs that had sunk into one another after being stacked for so long. There was only one window high up on the wall, no doubt the one Edward saw as he approached the house earlier that day, too far to do much more than cast colorful shapes on the floor from the stained glass. There was a familiarity in the items around the room, clothing pieces he vaguely remembered as a human, though only the oldest women in his social group still wore them. 

“You lived through this era, little bro!” Emmett cried, immediately blowing past both people in front of him to beeline to the rack of clothes. Edward wasn’t allowed a correction before Emmett’s newly returned childlike control grabbed a corset by its hook, snapping the fragile bonning of the piece into brittle sections. His sheepish look made the other two roll their eyes, though Edward did notice the wince on Jasper’s face from destroying precious history. “Uh…oops?”

“It’s like a time capsule,” Jasper commented, mimicking Emmett’s movements, though with much more care, and gently pulling a dress from the rack. The lace and beading made it look far too heavy to do any dancing in, though Edward knew from the bodice that a young woman, probably around his age, would have worn it for a ball or social gathering to impress the gentlemen in the room. Jasper’s thoughts mimicked the look of familiarity in his thoughts. “How long do you think this had been hidden away?”

“I think we’re the first creatures up here in decades,” Edward replied, following their lead to carefully open one of the many chests to reveal a stack of papers. “Take a look at this.”

The papers, though nearly crumbling apart at the edges from age, were legible enough to read. Letters, most of them, all addressed to the same man, one Mr. Dorsey Carnall. The top of the pile all seem to be from the same woman, one Mrs. Theodora Whitney, who frequently wrote about the elder man’s will, the last one being dated 1887. Both Edward and Jasper exchanged glances at the crass way the woman spoke about the man’s diseased family, demanding his will all be given to her and not some other gentleman, no other identifier other than his name, ‘Tommy’. The more they moved into the pile, the more the letters mixed with other lost names, most wondering about the man’s health and lamenting the loss of his direct family. 

“Letters that catalog this man’s last years alive, and they’re all about his sadness and his money. What a lonely life.” Jasper patted Edward’s shoulder comfortingly. Try as he might, he couldn’t stop the barrage of their thoughts from entering his mind, both equally concerned that his mood dropped so quickly.

“You know better than anyone that this box wasn’t everything.” He lived a whole life outside of these letters.

“Yeah!” Emmett, as always, was just a touch too loud for the enclosed space, echoing words around them. Come on, Eddy, don’t depress yourself. “Maybe whoever cleaned after he died just chucked everything into a box. I bet if you look around some more, you’ll find this guy lived a sweet life up until his death. No need to get all depressed for a guy you haven’t met.” Edward ignored the heavy elbow Jasper dug into his brother’s side at the comment, choosing to glare despite the relief he felt at Emmett’s continuous ability to say whatever he was thinking out loud. Makes it much easier on Edward, who spends most of his time trying to differentiate the difference between thoughts and spoken words.

“Emmett.” You’re an idiot. Edward didn’t need his mindreading to know the unspoken language of Jasper’s tone. “Didn’t Esme want you to take apart those cabinets downstairs? What are you still doing here?”

“Oh sh-” Emmett turned, nearly crashing into the door in his haste to get back downstairs. Although Esme was always a saint of patience, Emmett had already filled his quota of mess-ups for the day. If Esme returned before he managed to clear the kitchen, he knew there would be her patient little sigh of disapproval, and that hurt more to him than getting his arm ripped off. It was silent only for a moment before the two heard a crash downstairs.

“I’ll go check on him,” Jasper sighed, returning the dress carefully back onto the rack. “Are you coming?”

“If it’s alright with you, I might stay up here. These things’ll have to get organized eventually.” Edward barely spared him a glance. “Don’t think that. I’ll be fine. You’ll know before I do if things get too intense for me.” Jasper gave him a once over, asking one more time in his mind if he would truly be okay alone, before heading downstairs.

It took some effort, but Edward dislodged himself from the letters, conceding that if he continued to read them it would only hinder his mood even more. He instead moved to the other side of the room, boxes seemingly filled with more household items that lost their purpose over the years. He sorted things quietly for several hours, wrapping the precious pieces that could be donated, and setting anything else aside to be thrown away later. Esme checked in on him as soon as she returned, marveling at the pile of things that surrounded him, before leaving him to his own devices (not without a little prodding). Alice also popped by to say hello, but, as a girl who only valued old things as long as Jasper enjoyed them, she didn’t care much for the goblets Edward was sorting through and returned downstairs to help Esme finish peeling up the old wooden floor to reveal the original tile below it. 

He was both relieved and lonely. There was something peaceful in the work he was doing, taking several extra seconds to gently clean an old vase or reminisce fondly on the ceramic ashtray, but he was also starting to feel extremely isolated from the others the longer he was up there. Edward could hear the pairs as they worked, two doing genuine work while the other two changed from genuine demolition work to a game of karate chopping wall debris. 

It took a long time to get adjusted to the playful side that Emmett brought out in Jasper, but Edward always indulged them when it happened. He noticed the way he became comfier with the Cullens, noticed the way he allowed his gift to guide him more than before. No surprise he liked being around Alice the most, her infectious happy attitude must be a nice change for him, but more often than not Jasper let his leading emotion seek out the others in the house that matched him. Almost a reassurance of his own feelings, Edward mused, a confirmation that what he was feeling was correct. Emmett was open and inviting, even when he didn’t want to be, so it was easy for Jasper to get overtaken by his emotions, which, more often than not, was some form of goofiness. The life that Jasper led, both human and vampire, made plenty of patience for some tomfoolery, a chance to act like the stupid 19-year-old he should have been. And, with the guilt that has been eating Emmett up recently, it was nice to have a break, to feel a little normal, as normal as he could, at least for a little while. 

He let the thoughts of the two on the floor below him play like a song in his head, broken up only by the childlike giggle they would let out when a piece of debris exploded into fine dust. He knew Esme wouldn’t be too upset if he joined them, in fact, she would probably be overjoyed just like she always was when her kids got along. There was so little she asked for, after all. 

But he was far too comfortable to move now, and there was something…therapeutic about sorting the old pieces of jewelry, carefully tucking them into spare pieces of fabric or their appropriate boxes. This one was too rusted, barely hanging together, so he dumped it into the trash, but the one next to it only needed a good wash before it was as good as new. This one had a beautiful gem, so he ripped it out of the crumbling metal to deposit it into a small box he found, before carefully wrapping the intricate necklace that was hidden underneath. The methodic movements had him in a nice rhythm, similar to the trance he entered when he organized his music back at the house or the books in his Father’s library. Pick up, examine, wrap, toss, pack, repeat.

He moved slowly, or as slowly as a vampire did when no one was looking, tracing his hand over each piece with sharp eyes, using the little he knew about history and its many ages to see if anything was worth salvaging. He knew Jasper would throttle him if there was any historical value in any of the pieces that he tossed, so he paid extra attention to those that looked well-loved or unworn. Every new item in his hand gave him a little more space for mindless thinking, a perk of being a vampire if he was being honest, trying hard to ignore the stray thought here and there of the sadness of the old owner’s last few years. 

He stood, reaching for another jewelry box that was shoved just as carelessly as the other things, this one half hanging off an armoire. This box was similar to the others, covered in dust that swept away to reveal the complicated gold flower design. The dark blue outside still held a brilliant shine, the gold siding still looking good despite the time it’s been hiding. The inside was velvet lined, sparse save for a few earrings and a necklace that miraculously looked in good condition despite the relatively cheap material it was made out of. Silver, he knew, would have tarnished left in this musty attic for as long as the other items up there, but this was perfectly new, the pendant in an intricate frame surrounding the painting of a Victorian couple that almost looked freshly done. Edward’s finger hesitated over it, tracing the air around it. For some reason, this piece in particular caused him pause, some strange feeling surrounding it, almost like it was thrumming with life. The design was similar to something he recalled seeing only a moment ago…

His eyes raised sharply, suddenly, scanning across the room towards the painting propped up on the far wall. Though draped with a piece of velvet, a curtain of some kind, it was tossed haphazardly enough that he could make out the bottom half of a portrait. A woman, though he couldn’t tell the age from there, poised and delicate in her stiff posture. Her dress was beautiful, no doubt even more so in real life, deep blue and covered in layers of ruffles and lace. The large sleeves hung low on her shoulders, exposing her collar bones and the beautiful, ornate necklace hung around her neck. Near identical to the one that he had in his hand, but this painted woman wore it attached to a velvet collar, glimmering gold instead of the dull silver in his hand. 

A replica? He thought to himself. But why make a replica out of different materials?

His eyes slowly drifted back over to the stack of letters across the room. Though he didn’t have a single letter from the man himself, no doubt lost to time and recycled a hundred times into modern things, there were very clear indicators of the life he led, both in the words of others and the items around him. A loving wife, though not a hint of her things despite the portrait and a replica necklace, a daughter he adored more than life itself, an accident or accidents that took them both away from him. The countless different acquaintances and friends that wrote to him in his time of grief and well after. Edward tried to wrack his mind for notable events of the time, things that maybe could be the reason for those who obviously loved the man to be so far away in his time of need, and felt the hole in his being ache in sympathy. 

All alone for the last years of his life without anyone to mourn with him, to take care of him. No one to take care of his things after he passed, beyond shoving all of his possessions into the attic, never to be seen again.

He couldn’t help his eyes from focusing, eyeing the writing on pile of papers he barely made halfway through, his keen vision drifted over the words he could see. 

“Condolences…our hearts…happier place…” he murmured to himself, feeling both annoyed and emotional. He knew logically that the people in the letter were just trying to offer some comfort, a scrap of empathy for a man who presumably lost everything dear to him, but just as he felt, the words read as nothing short of empty. He knew from experience that human families were greedy (so far he had been very lucky in his second existence that his family wasn’t), he’s faux inherited to himself more than once with complications from long-distance relatives trying to get a scrap of the fortune he possessed, so the flutter of kinship deep within him wasn’t surprising to feel. He barely registered the brush of cool metal under his hand as he thought through the various ways he could organize the delicate letters to unravel the man’s life. A week they had been there, a week pulling apart the floorboards of a place this man may have been born and died in with no regard at all for who he was. And now, presented with the opportunity to learn, how could he pass that up? It was the closest thing to getting to know the man outside of a supernatural force, and as far as he was aware, there was no such thing as-

“--despite the many chances you’ve had, you continue to drift away! How is your hand close and yet so far from its surface? Lower your finger a touch and…”

There was so little that could startle a creature like him. 

Children of the Moon? Sure. Shapeshifters? Probably, but he’d never openly admit it. He hadn’t had any experiences with witches or spellcasters, though Carlisle insists they’re out there somewhere. Honestly, it was hard for even another vampire to surprise them, let alone anything remotely close to human. But here he was, startled in a way he had never experienced before, the closest he could fathom a human heart attack would feel like.

With a yelp, he stumbled back from the voice. If he were any less a creature, he would have been on the floor in shock, tripping over the mess under him in a humiliating manner.

“Oh!” His head whipped up at the delicate voice. And, there, before him, was a ghost.

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read more chapters on ao3! l masterlist  l twilight one shots

[kindred-spirit-93]

*succinct & eloquent opening line. maybe a clever joke or quote* :D

do you ever sit there and contemplate your life choices after like a certain experience or a talk with a loved one?

do you ever come across a quote or a piece that seems like it was written for you in this particular moment in time? an anecdote that mirrors your current situation perhaps?

well im currently going through it & after a double whammy of mama lore TM during some resurfacing anxious & assorted crises, i dont even know what im going through anymore. but we shared a really sweet heart to heart and reminisced over good and less good times aw!

i am reminded that there is still much to life, light to be sought and found, good times yet to be had. its bittersweet. its mature. its scary? its like coming to terms with your mortality but on a smaller scale. or bigger whos to say...

i wont be venting anything, i think for now at least im content to vague post lmao. also my dad bought me some stress eating treats so i might need to go wallow in my feels for a bit

after i jinxed myself by saying im going on hiatus but failing to stay off the website lol (i had moot withdrawl symptoms sue me), i wont be repeating the same mistake, but with context clues i trust u can see where im going with this

it might sound presumptious to state so confidently that this next month of my life will be the hardest in my career, especially since im not even half way there yet, but the truth of the matter is that it is.

ive been struggling for well over a year now (mostly academically) and im both succeeding in places i didnt before (alhamdulillah!) but failing in the exact same places elsewhere. guys i may have anxiety lol

self fulfilling prophecies, nocebo effect, whatever it is & regardless of what you want to call it, its rough. its hard. im tired. theres still so much left and im tired. i shouldnt be this tired. or this empty. or careless. what have i let myself become? why am i punishing myself still?

this coming month will dictate the rest of my future and ill have no one to blame but myself if i let the opportunity slip through my fingers. but if all goes well inshallah i can put this all behind me and start anew so theres that silver lining :D

i kinda lost direction of this post about half an hour ago lol. my point is im going to try harder at balancing several life aspects bc i really cant put it off any more. i need to establish balance because ive been out of the loop for too long now. *shudders in python*

anyways there are plenty of things i have to work on, both in my studies and life, so i have that going for me *party kazoo noises*

id love to grace you all with some wise words or a life lesson or something but i dont have a neat one liner to sum up anything. despite that im writing this because sometimes letting thoughts float in my head isnt enough, i need to articulate and write it out because to let them roam in the vast expanses of my mind under the pretense that i achieved something is frankly silly as it is counterproductive.

a n y w a y , to anyone and everyone reading take care of yourselves and your loved ones. i wish everyone the best in life and in their endeavours. i will probably pop back in every now and again to catch up on messages and make sure everyone is alive and nothing burned down. i will however attempt to exert self control. (key word: attempt)

aight imma head out before i get too emotional or combust with the need to say something stupid like i love you be more unserious XD

[shutupheathersorryheatherr]

"Secrets in everything: Letters, neighbors, and things only walls will tell you"

Hello everyone! I'm so sorry that i haven't posted a fic in a while! it seems like i only post one every two to four weeks at this point ughhhh anyways ive written this fic for a friend but also for yall as well so i hope yall like it! after this fic im gonna work on an ask then so ill hopefully have that up soon for the person who sent it in! A little picture collage will be coming VERY soon lmao i didn't have time to make one yet. This fic all started when i was having some Minghao brain rot and stumbled upon this prompt about wifi names: "apt 203 is loud as fuck" "apt ??? say it to my face bitch" strangers to lovers and shit ya know? i cannot express how sorry i am that this is late! I put it in my que and since it didn't post when i wanted it to, i tried posting it on my own and it wouldn't let me. in summery: never using que again

anyways here are the warnings/info: cursing, smut, Very heavy on the smut, speaking of sex like it's something you need and not just want if you squint, slightly hinted at romance between hao and reader i guess idk, but you could just as easily read it as friendly affection, Minghao gets drunk and is a wee bit stupid, reader is on top, reader is referred to using they/them pns but has a vagina and tits, and a very nice ass that minghao likes to grab throughout this fic lmao, Minghao is thirsty for reader, reader is thirty for Minghao, Minghao keeps how he made the wifi name a secret from reader but it eventually comes out at the end, mutual masterbation.... through a wall if that makes sense, oral sex (f. receiving) hand job, protected sex (be safe, ya'll), shitty ending lol, friends to friends with benefits, writing out sex dreams? Minghao says something while drunk and can’t undo it although he wants to

~this is simply a piece of fiction. My imagination onto “paper”. This is in no way is meant to be taken as an actual and real representation of anyone~

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thoughts lead to desires, desires lead to actions. Thats what kept replaying itself in Minghaos head the second he hit enter on his phone to change his wifi name. He'd heard it when he was a kid. Somewhere he couldn't quite remember. But now, suddenly, it was burning so fresh in his mind he couldn't get it out. He sighed to himself as he put down his cup. Looking down at his phone screen with and various other wifi names popping up bellow the words he cannot believe he just wrote. "apt303isloudasfuck"

He really shouldn't be doing this. This is why he shouldn't drink, he thinks to himself. Especially since whenever he saw you rushing out to work or school, or wherever you carried yourself to each morning. He swears his heart does a flipping routine.

And this? If you found out it was him telling everyone in the radius of your apartments that you're loud? It could ruin whatever you two don't already have. He thinks that maybe he'll just try his best not to be seen by you. Like, ever again. The problem with that though is how you both need to leave at about the same time to get to wherever you're going. And besides, maybe he did kinda want to mess around with you a little bit. Maybe that'll teach you to keep it down. If it wasn't loud music then it was some... other noises. Sounds of you, moaning and groaning. Making a mess of yourself behind his wall. Or, maybe somebody was the one making your words incorrect and moans fall from your lips.

or maybe the latter was your roommate. Cause as much as he didn't want to admit it, he didn't want to believe it was you who was getting pleasured by other people. Cause damn, he really wanted to be the one making you moan like that. He didn't even know you, so who's making you cum shouldn't be any of his concern. And it wasn't! Much. He wants to be the one making you feel good, bringing you to orgasm with his tongue. And he didn't like to think about the fact that other men were making you feel the way he wanted to.

But, none the less, whenever he did hear you, with only the thin sheetrock wall between each of your headboard. Thin enough to where he could hear you so clearly as if you were right there in front of him. He sure did enjoy the verbal show you put him through; fisting his cock until his tears made him bleary eyed and he couldn't take it anymore- his hand drenched with own cum from orgasming a million times along with you but still never feeling relived. So he always kept going until the pain of overstimulation was too much to bare. For you, all for you.

That was when one night he realized he didn't hear anyone else moaning along side you. Come to think of it he never really did. Sure, sometimes but not every night. that meant you were pleasuring yourself? The sounds started so suddenly he didn't have time to react. The thought of your fingers pleasuring yourself, pumping them in and out of you, covered with your slick and rubbing your clit? It drove him crazy, It was music to his ears. He could listen to your beautiful sounds forever.

He didn't even have the time to pause the show he was watching on his phone, taking his other headphone out of his ear so quickly that it landed off the surface of the bed. Where his headphones ended up wasn't really a concern for him. Cause in that moment all he could think about was you. He could always rewind it later. That is, if he ever could stop pleasuring himself to the echoes of your voice, even after you stopped. Cause for him, once he started he could never stop with you. You were too addictive for him. The way to talked, the way you'd always leave a little note with the bundle of mail you'd drop off at his door when ya'lls would get mixed up. Whenever he'd come home to see it he couldn’t have been more glad for apartment numbers to get mixed up and a mail person who did their job a little too quickly at your building sometimes. Albeit he was a little sad he didn't catch you; but he liked the look of your handwriting-- it was cute, he thought.

but fast forward a little later and he’s starting to write back. And not just when you mail gets mixed up, either. Just little sticky notes he taps on your door ending with smiley faces and exclamation points. You start writing him back, too. And before you two know it you’re sharing notes ripped out of full notebooks with arrows pointing to the back because you still have more to say but never enough room. He seems so easy and just oh so caring through this words the more you two find yourselves awaiting the pages you’d put in the others mail boxes. Finding yourselves excited more and more for the familiar hand writing inked on clean white paper. You two talk about anything and everything. But don’t be fooled, cause minghao spends the better half of his dinner time making sure each and every letter in his letters to you are legible. He feels like a little schoolboy trying to impress you with his neat handwritten and well detailed sentences. But he can’t help it; he just wants you to think he’s somebody. Somebody worth spending your time with and talking to. He doesn’t know why but he feels like, especially with the more he’s talking to you, he wants you to view him as someone cool. Great, he thinks. Now he definitely sounds like a little kid.

would you mind? He asks himself. Would you mind that he’s a little desperate for you? So desperate that he lays in bed and stays awake a little longer now because he wants to hear your sweet voice react as you pleasure yourself again for the hundredth time? He hopes not. But, just like that new Wi-Fi name he’s chosen for his router, that’ll stay between him and his apartment’s ceiling. The thing he looks up at in both instances. Sometimes when he gets reminded of what you’d think of him if you if it ever got out that he wrote the “apt303isloudasfuck” and how he doesn’t understand why he still has it up. And the other time he looks up at the ceiling is with his mouth agape, his lips wet from his tongue running over them with each torturing stroke of his hand over his bulge in his pants. The fabric constricting him to were it was painful every time. But not wanting to stop touching himself for long enough to slip down his pants. (The response on the Wi-Fi thing only comes after they talk o each other face to face. “…and when he checked his phone again, looking down at the bright alumina red screen with tires eyes, there was another name quite similar to the one he put down as his one. ‘Apt???sayittomyfacebitch’

he slammed down his phone onto the nearest surface (which just happened to be his lap. Yeah… not the best idea) but believe it or not he wasn’t really thinking about that right now. You responded?? Well, he doesn’t know who would call “apt???sayittomyfacebitch” a real response like oh, I don’t know, “yeah, my day’s going great.” But you noticed? Well then again it would be pretty hard to disregard when your apartment is getting dragged through the mud with a wifi name. But this made him even more worried. This means you’ve definitely seen it. And based on what you said…. You were probably looking for the person who wrote that. What if you found out it was him? Is this why you were taking an interest in him all of a sudden? No, he believed in his ability to conceal it from you enough to know you’d never find out. That’s when, with this new information clouding his good judgment he just had to grab the neatly folded paper from his bedroom desk and walk out his door. A little potted plant was the only thing separating yours and his places of residence from each other. One put up and watered every Saturday morning. He patted down the backside of his hair as he made sure not to ruin the paper he so neatly folded for you. Realizing he forgot tape to stick it to your door, he was About to go and get some when he heard movement behind the heavy door that lead into your apartment. rustling of footsteps and cloths. And before he knew it your face had appeared in front of him, door swung into your foyer. He couldn’t just leave now. You had seen him. So he tried his best to put on a not awkward smile as your eyes lit up the dim outside hallway he was standing in. Your presence seemed to replace the light bulb that had been missing the fast few days in the overhead lights. “Hey, Minghao. Nice to see you.”

you remembered his name?? His name? The person who let everyone know how loud your apt was? Of course you did. What else? You’d started off almost each and every letter to him with his name in one way or another. Oh great, now he was thinking about all of your letters to him. Everything you had shared with each other from the depths of both of your hearts. How the fucking hell was he supposed to look you in the eyes when you knew how, when he was in high school, he had fallen on his actual face trying to reach his pencil when it had fallen underneath his desk. Leaned too far out of his chair and then boom! Face planted. How was any human being supposed to look someone they considered a friend in the eye when all you two did was trade letters to each other because of your busy schedules? Not to mention how he’d been stupid enough to let it slip that he can barely open a bag of chips without it busting out the bottom too. But, he remembers, it did make you laugh. So maybe he could do this. He’d made you laugh and carried quite deep and just plain old nice conversations with you over letters for months. What was so hard about doing them with you face to face?

He gave you a smile as you slid to the side. “Hi. I was just dropping your note off.” He says. How could you be so cool calm and collected, he wondered. Meanwhile, you were asking yourself the same thing about your neighbor. The neighbor you couldn’t stop thinking about. The way he talked to freely with you, how you two just seemed to click after the first note; bouncing off of each others jokes and becoming friends. You’d considered giving him your number but you kind of liked getting to know him off paper through his best hand writing. You’d never tell him, but you secretly had a pile of folded papers in the top drawer of your desk you’d written out of him. Never sent. And probably, considering the contents of those letters, never will be. He shows you the folded note, this time on different paper, you notice. You take it out of his hands as you gesture for him to come inside. “Are you sure?” He gulps. You looked at him like he was crazy, shrinking back a little. “Dude, get inside.” You chuckled. He wasn’t usually like this. You think back to all the letters he’s sent you. And come up with not much to make you think he’d be like this around you. You certainly didn’t want him to be like that. after all you’ve talked about with each other you’ve come to know someone, even if it is only over paper… someone who you consider a friend. That’s another reason why you could never send him those letters. They had… things in there that two friends wouldn’t never think of the other. Or at least admit them out loud to them. But, with the way he handled himself now, which wasn’t that much different from his letters. But more uptight now that was standing by your coat hangers by the door and bending down to take off his shoes. You didn’t know what, but something was off with him. He was jittery, lol he had just snorted a two cups of sugar on the way out his door. His eyes darted around like he was in an awkward setting. So, you tried you best to make him as comfortable as possible.

you lead him through your apartment and into the living room. He took a deep breath. He wants to tell you that he’s not always like how he is now: palms sweating, and unable to talk much. You just overwhelm him to the point where his mind is clouded and his actions seem off. It shouldn’t be a problem for him though, you talk to each other multiple times a day. Like, full on conversations. But now it all feels just a little too real with you hovering over him as he sits down on your sofa, trying to remember that you’re both friends. He comes back to earth with you weave you hand in his face. You laugh nervously at his distraction. “You didn’t hear a thing I just said, did you?” Shit shit shit. This really isn’t a good look for him. “No,” he hangs his head low for a second, “im sorry I didn’t.” You lean back and seem to relax a little bit. It almost looks like you’re just as in need to relax as he is.

Just didn’t have have the horrible talent of not being able to hide it well. It wasn’t his fault. He was already trying his best not to get hard. Having to not act nervous and flustered over seeing your pretty faces too? That was a lot to ask of Minghao. That’s why he sat down. And why he was crossing his legs in hopes of trying to distract himself from the yearning for you inside him. For him to have all of you. For him to make you sound just like you do when he hears you in your room. God, all he ever dreamed of now was you writhing is pleasure above him as he tongued your clit. Or you wrapped some tightly around his cock he felt like you were trying to choke him and make him cum. “I said my roommate isn’t home.” Oh, so you did have one, “and asked if you wanted something to drink.” It made him feel strangely comforted though, that you also were feeling the same as him.

He agreed readily. Finding it easy to make room to spend more time with you. You came back not a couple minutes later and ploped down next to him, your chin in your palm. You didn’t want to admit it, but fuck he looked so beautiful in person. It made you wanna curl up on your sofa and immerse yourself in him all day. You’d be content with just staying here and doing just that, making up for All the missed times where you could’ve been already. But no, you kept yourselves mostly behind the pen and paper. Scribbles and commas became your only form of sight into what the other looked like. You didn’t even realize how long you’d been carrying out your plan to stare at him until he shifted a little farther back into the cushion. “Is it just me or is that way more awkward than it should be?” He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. And then getting a sickly little whispering reminder of how he was now: drink in hand, phone in reach— was not that unlike the situation where the secret he has to keep from you now came about. But no, he can’t think of that right now. He’s trying to keep his mind free of anything that could jeopardize your friendship. And thinking of the one thing he’ll never be able to tell you might do the trick if he doesn’t stop. But strangely, the idea of you finding out— the idea of you strongly telling him to take the fucking thing down doesn’t do anything but make him want you more inside. You telling him-- no, ordering him to take it down.He didn't know what or why, but it made him reach all new kinds of levals of excitement. Anticipation of what you could do to him. How you’d moan for him and writhe under his touch. The possibility we’re endless and he couldn’t stop thinking up new ones.

There’s an un spoken rule between the two of you… both of you made noise. Noise that neither of you really minded because it brought you so much pleasure. But in all your writings to each other, you’d never talk about it. That was the rule: don’t bring up what happens at night. A Thought Leeds to a desire, and a desire Leeds to an action. So you tried not to talk about it, no you even theirs noting to think about it, was there?

All you needed to do was get through this night. As... friends. Because that was what you two were-- friends. Noting more, noting less. Didn't matter than you imagined him every night you were alone and needed relief. Him and that cute smile of his. Him reaching up to fix the light in your little corner of hallway on your floor of your apartment. The way his shirt rode up, exposing his waist. God, you'd do just about anything to have his skin under your fingers. Feeling the softness of his tummy.

"So you said there's some shows you never got to watch because you dont have the streaming service?" You shook your mind out of its dangerous thoughts. providing an easier environment not to pounce on him; less... tempting when you were thinking of watching tv with him and not being on top of him. His shirt on the floor. He nods, leaning impossibly closer to your already heavy breathing form. Didn't he realize the effect he had on you? You gulped, hopefully not loud enough to hear. You didn't need this to go anywhere that wasn't what normal friends do. "My roommate pays for one of the places that show you were talking about plays on." You look him dead in the eyes as you reach for the remote.

You had planned on just doing so as a question to him weather he wanted to watch anything. But it turned into the most arousing staring contest youd ever been a part of. You looked into his eyes, forgetting to blink. You felt that if you did you might miss commenting about the way they flickered and shone. There was something else in them, though. His pupils were blown wide. somehow making his eyes even darker. You wondered what he could be thinking about. But that didn't really matter, did it? Because what you should've been focusing on was how to move away from him

You were so close you could feel his body heat like a radiator. How was he not sweating? You felt like the sun was right in front of you. Meanwhile, Minghao was wondering the same thing. The ac kicked on at just the right time because he didn't know how much longer he could keep himself from visibly overheating. That was the last thing he needed right now. You got up on your knees to reach for your glass. Why did you have to do things that drove him wild? Did you know deep down that you were torturing him with every move? It was stupid and desperate for him to have to control himself so much after the little you were giving him. It wasn't much, but it was teasing him. It all made him crave more. It was childish and desperate of him to be like this with you. But he didn't really care anymore. After knowing you-- even if it was only from swapping letters, he couldn't get enough of you. If you ever stopped taping letters to his door then he'd beg on his knees for you to continue. He didn't care that it seemed desperate because it was. He was. Desperate for more of you. Just like he was now. So much so that when you leaned forward again to pick up the remote to turn the volume up of a show that he'd been wanting to watch for months, but somehow with you it sounded like background noise. He couldn't pay full attention to it for the life of him because You were Right There. Next to him. Smiling and chuckling and genuinely enjoying what you were watching with him. The smile he hoped beyond compare that youd have when reading his letters. He'd only seen it a few times in person, but, a feeling bubbled up into his chest. The same one he feels every time reading your writings to him.

He felt and aching in his groin. If his eyes weren't as wide as saucers before, then they definitely were now. He didn't even need to look down. More afraid to than anything. If he took his eyes of either you or the tv-- things that he wanted to be real, things that were real... Well, he doesn't know what that'll do but he doesn't want to acknowledge it thats for sure. He really doesn't want it to be real. This cannot be happening. Not here, not right now. but How could he not be half hard when you could lean over and kiss him right now if you wanted and hed let you? How could he not be half hard right now with you looking so god damn otherworldly? When all these plush sofa cushions made him want to do was to bring you on top of him and rub you on his thighs and cock until you made a mess on his sweats? It was impossible. He searched whatever space was left in his near thought cleared, empty and short circuiting brain, using what he thought where his last few brain cells that weren't occupied with you to think of what to do about his problem. His eyes landed on a pillow on the back of your sofa, likely moved out of the way for more room. Quickly as to avoid suspicion, he glided it down from its perch and on top of his growing erection.

Little did he know that you had turned the tv up to drown out your own thoughts. Thoughts you didn't need of him. Never doing you any good other than frustrating you further. Making you desire him more. Nearly an hour later and you two had sunken further into the sofa... and each other. Thoughts lead to desire, and desires lead to action. That was what you had to keep repeating to yourself over and over until youd hopefully get the point to stop thinking of those beautiful, soft looking lips. Didn't help that his tongue was fucking darting out to wet them every two seconds. You couldn't help but stare at them. It wouldn't hurt if you just leaned a little closer, would it? Friends cuddle on their sofas while watching the tv all the time.

And your ac was running a little high. But instead of getting up to turn it down like you usually would have to, I don't know, not waste your money. You stayed just like how you were, grateful for the excuse you could readily have available to you if he asked. But to your surprise he didn't. Although he did press the pillow more firmly into his lap. If you didn't know better you would've thought the pillow was made of gold or something. Like it was his teddy bear or something. You couldn't even think of anything else besides how badly you wanted to push both the pillow and preferably also his shirt off of him and shove him down into the sofa.

This was pathetic, you thought. A new low for you, even. This was your first time spending more than a couple minutes with the guy face to face and... not like it was awkward. No, not at all. You had been friends for six months or so over letters. But being with him. No, being so fucking close to him on this damn sofa was making you desire him even more.

That was it, now! Great, you'd already crossed one line of thinking about what youd like to do to him. Now you were starting to desire it, too. Not much longer and you feared you'd take action on those thoughts and desires. You really needed to make your self think of anything anything that would save you from this self induced peril.

"Did you see that weird ass wifi name?" Your words almost made minghao jump out of his seat. Steadying his pillow over his lap (his stupid fucking boner still hadn't gone away) And clearing his throat, he finally responded. "Oh? That? No, I haven't. What is it?" He tried sounding airy, nonchalant, free as a bird. "You know, that wifi name that had popped up what, about six months ago?" You seemed to ask yourself the question, pausing for a minute before continuing, "Around the same time you and I started talking. It says-- actually, lemme pull it up right now. Its fuckin hilarious." You whip out your phone before he could say another word and before he could even take another calming deep breath you were reaching over him, check pressed up against his upper arm, showing him the wifi name he made but couldn't tell you about. Why does he keep it on there anyways? He doesn't really want to even admit the only to reason he's come up with to himself. One was that yeah, your apartment was loud and it felt nice to have this. Even if you could one day find out and ruin whatever this thing he had with you was. Number two was that maybe it did make him painfully hard to think about what youd do to him if you found out. Use his cock for your own pleasure for hours until he was crying from overstimulation? Tell him not to cum until you tell him to, touching him in ways that'll make him let out embarrassingly loud noises for you, telling him that if he came without permission youd punish him cause he was a bad boy? Everything that could happen? He couldn't get them out of his head

"That's weird." He chuckled, scratching behind his neck, "Never saw it." He seemed nervous. But you were kind of liking his blushing face and puppy dog eyes. But Really? You thought. For some reason, your shitty building interfered with even the best of wifi providers. So most people had to reconnect their devices to their wifis every once and a while. Maybe he was on a part of the building where it wasn't as bad? Or maybe he paid extra for better wifi? It didn't really matter.

A little later at you had gotten up to refill both of your drinks. Little did you know Minghao had followed right behind you. He didn't really know what that said about him, all he knew was that he didn't want to be separated from you just yet. Even if it only was for a few minutes. He hadn't had his fill of you. Though, he doesn't think he ever will. You could feel him behind you. His presence, just like every other time he talked to you, was heavy as lead in the air. You could smell his cologne, too. And you didn't mind that the smell would linger in your apartment and stick to your sofa for longer than he'd be here.

You didn't, however, really pay much mind to how close he was. Nor did he, honestly. Neither of you really could care or complain, though. As when you turned around you came face to face oh so closely with your houseguest. The gap between you was small enough to where the cups in your hands pressed neatly against his chest, making your knuckles dig into his skin enough to feel his body heat. Also close enough were you could feel how much he really enjoyed being so close to you. You backs away, not nearly as fast as someone caught in this situation would usually be like.

Although missing your presence so close to him, he knows he needs to pull away from you. You were probably grossed out because of him now. And yes, maybe one day he would've told you how he feels, this was not the way he wanted it to go at all! He can't believe he just did this-- not remember the thing he's been trying so hard to hide? He wishes he could go back in time and slap himself in the face for even thinking that getting up without something to cover his crotch was a good idea. To his surprise though, you smile at him knowingly. And before either of you has a chance to think about what you're doing, you pull him closer to you. Just like you had been before. Expect now theres no barriers of fear between the two of you.

His hands fall limp at his sides. Yours slide up his torso. Both of you wanted this; to move closer. But it seemed like just as before, neither were going to make the first move. But you liked him this close. And even if noting was going to come of what you had just done besides nervous laughs and turning heads in the future, you would be glad to have his body this close to yours in your memory. His hands ghost your hips. A shiver runs its way up your spine at the phantom touch. "Was that a good sigh?" He asks. Lost in the throw of everything about him, you hadn't even realized you had let one out. "Of course it is." You say, trying to bring him even closer. You see him swallow hard before bringing his lips closer to yours.

It takes all of your willpower-- a source that was already dramatically dwindling once he got here. To not yank him in and smash you lips to his. Something you've been wanting to do for a while. But with his hands planted so wonderfully on your hips: firm but still delicate enough to never crush a flower. You're not sure how much longer you can hold out. He takes the next step: leaning a little closer to you. By now your faces are mere inches apart. "This is bad..." He whispers, his fingers now hooked in your belt loops. Because, he knows that if he gives in now, he'll neve able able to stop. Wrapped around your finger. "Maybe," you whisper, tongue darting out to lick your lips, an act his eyes followed with concentration. You loved the look-- wide eyed and begging, it looked beautiful on him. You wanted more. "But this is the good kind of bad, hm?" You suggest. He nods slightly, still focused on your lips. Not like you aren't with his. As you close whatever gap was remaining between the two of you. Prohibiting you from being as close to him as you wanted. As you desired.

This felt so good, so natural. A blissful feeling you adored with all your heart. Even only a few seconds in. Minghao really wanted to take this slow, take his time with you. But the aching in his pants were starting to become painful. A glorious moment of feeling his lips on yours later and he's pushing you against your kitchen counter. His kisses becoming as urgent at yours. You never really tried to be gentle. After the first kiss-- the first second or two of him kissing you? You would be dumb to hold back.

He pressed himself into you even more. His knee slotting between your legs. His mouth was hot. Same as the growing feeling in the pit of your stomach. He parts his pretty lips-- the same ones youve had dream after dream of wrapped around your clit. You moaned into his mouth when he stopped gasping your belt loops like they were life support and griped your hips with newfound vigor. You deepen the kiss even more, something you weren't sure was possible.

His weight on top of you was driving you crazy. He pulled away from air, breathing heavy into your mouth. Your name on the tip of his lips. You couldn't stand not having them on you again. You felt his body tense when you pull him back to you. But this time your lips only ghosted his, fluttering over them. Only making him want you more. Before moving to the soft skin of his neck, leaving a trail of kisses there that made his body go slack against yours.

Your fingers prickled and tingled as you slid your hands up his bare back, his shirt already halfway untucked. His tongue explored your mouth with vigor. At a time like this you were grateful for the counter to support your weakening legs. Not like you were really thinking of that anyway now, though. All this time you only had one thing in your mind: to make him want you, to be on top of him making him moan for you without let up. But now you weren't too sure if you were going to be the only one doing so. You couldn't hold back anymore. You needed to feel some sort of friction. By now your underwear was soaked ; you could feel the fabric cling to your wet pussy. All you wanted was for him to take them off of you. Pulling them to the side to finger would be just as good. You didn't care, you just need something form him. Anything.

"Fuck--" You inhaled sharply, grinding your hips against his thigh. Your apartment was getting colder no doubt . But even with his back exposed neither of you were shivering. Both too lost in how you made each other feel. You couldn't seem to get enough of him. Even if you've been reading his letters every day. Your fingers made their way to his beautiful, soft hair-- hair only and angel would have. So pretty and otherworldly it seemed unreal under your fingertips. As he moved down to your next. Though his lips never seemed to want to leave yours. He spent a while on your jawline, kissing in the spot where your neck met your face until it was beautifully numb. The good kind of numb that made your eyes roll into the back of your head. The spot would no doubt the tinder later on in the day. But you felt oddly pleased to have a reminder of him on your skin for as long as you could. Even after going a little further down to lick and gently press his pretty lips to the front of your throat, he still chased your lips like a man deprived of your kisses as if he didn't have them a moment ago. But once he fully focusses on his task he is unstoppable.

Every drag of his tongue on your felt like a delicious mix between torture and heaven. The feeling he was making erupt inside you was like no other you'd ever felt. And you never wanted him to stop. Of course, with the first coherent though in your brain for him to never stop, he did. This time his eyes finding yours, having a question in them. You nod. and with that he goes even lower. Your color bone becoming wet and sticky with his saliva. You pull his hair down to keep him there. You're still moving on his thigh. But it isn't enough. Not like it ever was. God, what you'd do in that moment to have his mouth on your pussy. He emerged back up to your face, looking at your with needy eyes. A second later and his lips are on yours. He melts into you, begging looks never forgotten as you flip him around so that now he was flush with the counter. He makes a sound of agreement as you start working on his neck desperately, just like he had done with you. With the thought of his fingers, his thigh was long forgotten by the both of you. Now you didn't think that it could ever do justice when all you could think about is his slender fingers and how they were gliding up your sides right now.

He tilts his neck back to give your more access as he bucks his hips into you. Both things you wish you had thought of sooner. "I-I-" He mumbles, not really knowing what he was going to say anyways. Even with just your lips on his neck, words dying in his mouth, all he can think about is them as you make your way up and down his skin there. All he can think about is ho soft they are. All he can think about is how they'd feel wrapped around his aching cock that was now pressed up against you. And now that all hes thinking about is having more of you he can't help put let out a strangled moan, as it rips from his throat he realizes that it's probably too loud for something as little as you sucking on his neck. But at this point he doesn't really care. He just wants to you to know how good you're already making him feel.

As soon as you pull his shirt over his head was as soon as his expression changed. His eyes seem to focus on reality now, breathing starting to steady. The look of need and pure fucking lust for you stays the same though. You plan on making it stay that way again and again. Even if you don't get to do anything more than kissing with grinded with him. Just to see the look in your eyes would be enough to bring you to your high on your own. "I dont wanna do this here. bed?" he asks with puppy dog eyes. How could you refuse him?

he grips your ass and kneads it-- strong grip, but with a kind of softness you can't deny, as you lead him to your bedroom. More like stumble into it, your lips never leaving each other. Locked with the key thrown away. To involved in the kiss he nearly bumps into the door frame of your bedroom. You jerk him away, finding it endearing when he chases the plush of your pretty lips. He realizes the you’d just saved him a bump on the head. “Well, guess that’s on walking backwards. Maybe—“ no time to think. You grab his hands with a primal, animalistic strangled sound. You needed him. Now. You grind into his lap, trying to find some sort of relief in the fabric of his pants and the flesh of his thigh. “Ah— don’t stop” he whines out, head thrown back like this was the best thing in the world he’s ever felt. At your hands. you almost stop in surprise. But his words have such an effect on you that you don’t think you can. Now you have to keep feeling him.

He doesn't know why or what came over him, but in a flash his hand his wrapped around your wrist and bringing it to his crotch, helping you feel how hard he is through his pants. "Shit— baby. See what you do to me?" Where this sudden courage came from, he doesn't know. But you have to know how crazy he is about you. you have to. He needs you to know. You shiver at the feeling of him beneath your hand. You nod at him, barely trusting your own words. You continued to rock into him, clenching your teeth. He reaches down between the two of you, watching his fingers as they snake right were you need him. Even if still covered in the confines of your pants. (Neither of you thought you could ever hate clothes as much as you did in that moment. They weren't doing you any good.) the wonderful feeling of him on your clothed pussy felt like no other. Now that you had a taste of his fingers, just as before with his thigh and just like a second ago with his hard length, you could never go back to something smaller. It just kept getting better and better. Now that you felt his fingers, noting else could compare. The desire for them was about to lead into action. But you couldn't care less. "I-Is this ok?" He asks. And youre taken aback. Him? Asking if you liked it when you couldn't even think straight enough to keep sucking on his neck like before, resorting to pressing a few kisses there in the meantime.

"You're doing great." You say, trying to keep any shakiness out of your voice. You dont want him to know how much of a n effect he has on you. He searches for your clit in a way that only made you want him more. Was he teasing you or was this real? You couldn't take it anymore: you unbutton your jeans and slide them down a bit, taking his hand and shoving it down to feel your wetness. He audibly gulps. Hard. You doesn't think he could ever move from this position: with his hand warm and damp with your arousal. When he doesn't do anything, his hand just idly underneath you, you say, "What? Nervous baby?" You laugh. Almost condescendingly. He gets the point a second later, shaking himself out of his daze. He wonders what this all says about him-- that he can't function the minute his hand is on your pussy. You grind yourself on his hand, his palm brushing against your clit every time your rock yourself on him. The fucking sounds in the air. Minghao doesn't think he'll be able to last very long with the obscene, almost pornographic squelching and panting he hears ringing in his ears. He finally takes his fingers into your ruined underwear, other hand that was feeling up your ass goes to your face, bringing you in for a hard and passionate kiss when he glides them inside of you.

At this point the kiss doesn't surprise you, you've come to have an inkling that he likes them. Or maybe, he just likes having them with you. It was bad, you knew that, but you didn't really care either way. Too lost in how his fingers curled inside of you just right. You were so warm, so wet and tight. He could just imagine what youd feel like on his cock. Meanwhile you? You didn't think you ever felt something so easily good. Just in an instant, he made you feel like he had everything you wanted and then some. Things you couldn't imagine just beyond your reach. You reel your head back and squeeze your eyes shut tight, trying to focus on not cumming so fast. He bucks his hips up onto your wet heat when he saw your face.

How was he making you feel this good? To the point were you were sighing and groaning and looking so fucking good? If his fingers weren't knuckle deep into your pussy, and his other hand wasn't pressed flat on the skin of your back, he'd pinch himself. Was this real? It sure didn't feel like it. Your hand his still on his wrist, holding him just were you need him. Forcing him to stay there. It wasn't like he'd ever want to leave you thought. He can't think of a single better feeling right now than your warm and tight pussy. He doesn't think the feeling could ever leave his mind if he could ever peel himself away from your bed once this is all said and done. But secretly, there's two things he doesn't know if he should admit yet. One: that he wants you to ask him to stay. He knows its only three in the afternoon... or at least it was when he got here.

(Thats another thing, ever since he go there all sense of time seemed to leave his brain. vanish along with his sanity into thin air.) He doesn't want to have to think about "when this is all said and done" and he has to tredge his way next door to his own bed. His own bed where all he'll have are the memories of you writhing and panting for him. Because of him. The ghost of your around his fingers, dripping onto his palm. And number two: is that your iron grip on his wrist did noting but turn him on more for you. Which, Minghao didn't even think was possible until now. But something about you making him stay right there where you needed him, helping him make you feel good... Something about that made his brain cloud and fog up enough to almost slow his pace inside of you. He guessed he just liked it when you took charge of him. Even in small ways like these. "Mmhm," You sound pleased, your hand never leaving his wrist and the other never leaving his bare torso, almost silently asking him to stay down, "Just like that." And at that moment he doesn't think he could ever feel better than how he does with that look on your face. You needed more. It was stupid, really. To just keep taking and taking and taking. But it looked like he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. "Please--" his beg meets your ears as you look down at him. His smooth skin under your hand, his pretty waist and nipples, everything,

"Eyes open..." For a second he seems lost for words, now desperate in his movements against you "I need to see you." Your lids snap open at his request. You couldn't see any reason to deny him. And it wasn't like you didn't want to take a moment to let his body sink into your mind. You run your hands up and down his torso, feeling every inch of him. Minghao shivers at the contact just like you did him but he doesnt make one move to turn away. How was he so god damn sensitive? And just from you feeling him up, too? But you wanted to remember what he felt like. The dip of his hips to his pronounced collarbone. The way his hair fanned over your pillow like a halo. He really was an angel.

But you felt like he was teasing. Giving your just enough to keep you begging for more. You got the feeling he wasn't doing it intentionally though. No... he seemed too nice for that. But no matter if he wanted to or not it was getting frustrating to have him playing with you like this. No outcome to his torturous actions. "Angel..." You call out to the man with the plush kiss blown lips that made you wanna devour them and then kiss away softly the harshness youve ensued on them. He breathes hard at the nickname, wishing to hear it fall from your lips like a prayer anytime youd have him all to yourself. Just. Like. This. He nods, your eyes never leaving his lips as his tongue darts out the wet them. He's been doing that all day. He had to have known what he was doing. He had confessed in one of his pretty written letters that he always brought chapstick with him. You weren't sure if you were glad he forgot it or mad at him because of how much you wanted to cum. "Don't tease." What was opposed to be heard as a light instruction, came out more like begging. But, to be honest. It wasn't like you were doing anything different in your heart. You wanted noting more than to cum around his fingers. So, just as before, the desires of the heart seep though your carefully tapped up cracks.

Minghao slows his movements, no doubt making you even more mad at him. But whats in his mind now could top anything hes done with you. It's been in his mind for a while now. And, in the end, he was never that strong willed when it came to matters of you. He told your just what he was thinking. though, it terms of trying to keep this friendship a strict friendship he was doing a horrible job at it. But, just as previously stated, a thought becomes a desire, and a desire will soon become an action. But now, he remembers something else from that saying: "it will then become sin." But the thought of you on his face, your thighs suffocating him and nose buried deep in your wetness sounds like heaven to him. The exact opposite. He'd been thinking about it for too long, then for a while he'd been desiring your like that, now he was finally asking. It seemed like it took forever to get out of his mouth. Hopefully like the taste of you on his tongue, refreshing when he licks his teeth. "I need you on my face." His words left you dazed. He finally stops his movements, his fingers still deep inside of you. "Angel, what--" "I need you on my nose." He nods his head once, beckoning you higher up on him. You slide a little further up on him, his fingers coming out of you with a sound he doesn’t think he can ever forget. He doesn't know how much more of this he can take. He fucking needs you on his tongue. Lapping up whatever you give him. Its not like you don't want to. No, it's something you've dreamed about for months. But as you start to get in your head about it, your thoughts turning from excited to worry. A comforting hand runs up your back, effectively letting you know he's right there with you. For you. "We don't have to do anything you don't want to. At all," He assures you. You nod, taking a breath. "Of course i fucking want to." You slide up onto his chest a little more. Shit, he can feel you dripping onto his stomach. How the fuck can he not cum right now? How could anyone not cum when you're on them like this? "Please, I just wanna make you feel good." He whispers.

And how could you ever deny him of his request? With his voice horse like he’d been screaming and his eyes pleading. You bring yourself to his face. His arms hand limp by his sides as if he wasn’t playing with your bra strap two seconds ago. “It’s ok.” You reassure him. He nods. His hands going up to grip your hips, slowly lowering you down onto his face. His tongue already hanging out and read for you. Just like his hard dick still in the painfully tight confines of his pants. He’s so fucking warm and wet. You can barely take the sensation. He starts moving the muscle a second later, giving you no time to adjust for damn great it felt to have him on you. You’ve waited too long for this. Having to control yourself around him and his fucking beautiful face. Him and his stupid body that was so nice all you wanted to do was sit atop it and stay there. His hands and voice that always brought you back to your bed at night. Your roommate was almost never home before you so that gave you the perfect opportunity to get yourself to relax. And also at the same time make him feel just how much of a effect he had on you. You always knew he walks had to have been thin— you could practically hear every other thing the man did on the other side. You always thought that had to be a bad thing. Now you see that it could be just as good.

Even better with how beautifully he responded. Giving you a taste of how he’d sound in person. How he’d be. A melody to your ears and quite the sight to see. In fact, that was exactly what you were thinking as you leaned back, his tongue still working wonders on you just by its slow and steady small mow vents. You could tell Minghao was still just testing the waters. And you’d never dreams of rushing him. No matter how much it felt like he was everywhere you didn’t need him. First on your outer pussy lips. You crying out at his tongue slid up and down your pussy-- rubbing just hard enough in a way he learned that made you clench your fists in pleasure. Then he was dipping the muscle in your needy and clenching hole. You didn’t want to admit it but you didn’t think you ever wanted anything more than to take him in at that moment. You let your hands roam freely on his chest behind your back, stretching your muscles as you felt his soft silky skin run along your finger tips. His tongue runs up and down your folds. It was sloppy, and somehow needy like his kisses. But it still felt like heaven.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head, you can't feel his skin under your palms anymore because of how mind clouding the sensation was. Did he know was he was doing to you? His eyes were watching your face intently, searching for signs you liked whatever he was doing. He grips your hips even harder, but you didn't care about finger nail marks or bruises when he brought you even closer to his face. Now flush against him, his nose bumping your clit in a way that made your head reel. He gets to work on making your cum. It seems as if his only goal he's ever had now is to bring your to your high. It's all he can think about. Sure, his bare torso was shivering under the coolness of your ac but now it was hot as fire under your touch. He dips his tongue into your gaping hole again, liking the reaction your give him more than anything.

"Stick your tongue out?” A mix of a question and a demand, he happily obliges. You rock yourself onto him. His mouth, his lips, and his tongue. Trying to bring yourself to orgasm even faster. Your thighs locking around his head and cutting off most of his hearing. But he didn't mind. Now that he got a taste of you, he'd let you do anything to let him get it again. But why was he thinking of if he'd ever get to have his tongue buried inside your perfect pussy again when he was just getting started? hes going so fast wit you. too fast. he wants to take it slow (as if having oral sex the first time youre together for more than thirty minutes in person is slow) He wants to take it down a notch. So it doesn't end so fast. He needs you so, so fucking much. But he'll be damned if he can't take his sweet time with someone like you.

He takes charge again, running his tongue in circles around your clit. You tug in his hair to bring him closer as his warm palms slide up your back, playing with your bra strap. He brakes concentration on making little kitten licks along your clit for a second. So fucking good but torture still. He takes a brake to look into your eyes. Even fore a second. A frustrated grunt from you is what follows. "What're you doing? Keep going." You pant out. He keeps going, but no faster than before. Kitten licks turn into leisurely tasting your arousal in his mouth. Not stopping until every inch of him is coated in your slick. His lips and chin must be wet by now; he can feel your slick dripping down from his chin to his neck. it might've just been from all the teasing, but you were dripping this much for him? All for him. He thought. Running that sentence in his head no short of a hundred times and almost tasting it in his mouth. Because, wow. he was finally finally here. With you in your bed. Making you moan. He was finally the one who drew those sweet noises out of you. In the same place where he hears you almost every night. But this time it was him making you loose control of yourself and penetrating the walls with your noises. He could finally see you… and hear you in person. He was in heaven. Seeing what your face looked like when you pussy was getting played with.

Another one of your pretty moans spurred him on, quickening his pace because he thinks he'll die if he doesn't get to hear more of you right now. His tongue slides up and down your folds before getting to your clit again, making you let out a sigh of relief when the wet muscle mets your there. He can barely breath with his nose and mouth pressed so tightly up against you like this. But the wet and perfectly soft but stiff enough to make you go crazy. His fingers ghost up your legs, almost tickleing them, making your spread them wider for him. Fuck, he thought, a few mintutes in and he has already in love with your pussy. You scent, your taste. Everything. Not too far off from what he felt around you anwways. Noting new on his part. But this-- him brining you heat closer to his face so he can better lick and suck at you, that was new. But the good kind of new. A type of new that he wanted to always remain. Not something to try out once then never use again. The specail type of new that only makes you burn for more. Thats all he wanted with you-- more more more. Whateve more you were willing to give him he'd happily take.

The tip of his tongue dips inside your hole again, gaining the same reaction as last time he did so: you moaning his name out like a prayer. "Mmh," You pant, "right fucking there" Your hand that was preciously travailing down to undo the buckle on his pants stop abruptly, you, unable to move with his nose rubbing at your clit just right. He licks a long stripe up from your dripping hole, gathering all of your arousal he can on his tongue, to your clit. "You taste--" he bucks his hips up into the air when your warm fingers reach his hips, wanting noting more than to keep going. He knows he looks desperate, but in all truth he is. He really is. He just can't help himself. "Fuck, ah! You're perfect, so fucking perfect baby." He takes a break from eating your pussy so beautifully to look up at you. His dark eyes glossy and hooded, something primal and needy behind them just waiting to burst. And on other times, you would've shoved his face right back into you to get back to work. But this time all you seemed to want to do was to take in his handsome face. Just take a breath and marvel at it for a second or two. He licks his lips. His fucking perfect lips that are wet and messy and blown wider and have plumped up from all the kissing. And from how hard he had bee practically making out with your cunt a second ago.

Your juices are running down his chin but neither of you dare wipe it off. A reminder of how much he wants you, and how much you want him. You wonder how he's this worked up already. You hadn't even touched his dick. But god, did it make you feel powerful. You almost break into a laugh as he pants, one of the things, along with his heartbeat, that are in sync with yours. You don't really remember how it happened, but it did. And you for sure ain't complaining about it. You can almost hear his thoughts asking you what you're laughing about in his eyes. Then, before you can even say another word, he realizes. And in a spur of the moment decision, an act of bravery on his part, he takes your hand that was rubbing comforting circles on the back of your neck into his, making you bring your hand sliding down to his crotch up with it for comfort, he doesn't complain. "You really don't know how fucking good you taste?" He sounds surprised. Nearly addicted.

You've tasted yourself before, everyone has, right? It was definitely a distinct, flavor, but not really anything good or bad. It wasn't disgusting, wasn't delicious. You couldn't really fathom anyone loving it until Minghao. You had an inkling he had a bit of a oral fixation, you'll keep that in mind for next time, you thought. You shook your head no, and without another moments of hesitation, almost as if the world would collapse if he waited another second, he crashes his lips into yours, shoving his tongue in your mouth. He made your taste yourself on him. It still wasn't the best flavor, but something about the whole thing made you wanna cum on the spot. His tongue explored your mouth, coating you with your arousal still on his tongue. He needed you to understand how worked up you got him. How much he loved you taste. He needed it. He brakes the kiss with a whine, leaving you to chase his lips.

But still, more than anything you want him on your heated core. You want to cum. You snake your hands down to the waistband of his pants once more. "God, you're so good." He mumbles against you, the vibrations of his words that really, neither of you really knew what they meant, because, words like that could mean a millions things but also none, but damn did they sound fucking beautiful in his mouth. The vibrations that rattled your core felt so good that your had to stop yourself from sinking into him. You lean forward, your hands now planted where they were on his chest.

Your compose your self, finally, spitting into your palm a couple times. And he’s bucking into noting by the time you slide your hands down the front of his pants. He shivers when you touch his dick. He's so fucking sensitive from behind in the tight confines of his pants he thinks he'll blow any second. You start to pump him, though torturously slow. He groans again, and you pull him deeper into your pussy by his hair. Somehow it looking messed up like this makes him look even more attractive. And at the moment, you're more than done with the notion that you can't think of him like this.

"D-don't tease." He stutters out, barely being able to fucus now that you're touching him like this. He presses out another sound that makes your head reel. How, even though being as distracted as he seems, he's still able to keep a steady pace on licking you to your orgasm you don't know. The feeling of the weight of him in your hands is unmatched by any other you've felt before. By now, no more spit is needed, he's leaking out of the tip of this cock so much (the same one that you're rubbing your thumb over) to the point where he's making his own lubricant. His pre cum seeping in between your fingers and running down your hand as you pump him slowly. You could tell form the beginning that he didn't need much to cum, that he was trying not to for a while now. But you couldn't just have this time with him and not doing something of the sort, right? You'd be a fool not to take the chance and run with it. If Minghao were standing his knees would've already given out a log time ago. A muffled, "don't stop." comes in a plea from his mouth underneath you. "Wouldn't dream of it, angel." You assure him as you pump him faster. He gives a wet kiss to your clit, making your cunt even wetter and messier than before. He rubs his tongue all over your wanting slit.

You grind into his face again, chasing your orgasm. And he whimpers. A sound so delicate you wish you could bottle it up for youserlf and keep it forever. He's leaking like crazy in between your fingers, and groaning into you. His heart is racing like he'd just run for an hour. The sounds that are coming from him tonguing you are driving both of you mad. It's all just so wet and messy. But neither of you would change that for the world, liking it that way. He doesn't care that his pants are sticky and messy and that if he'd pull them back up all he'd be met with is a sopping wet patch on his on the front side of them And you don't care that your sheets are probably going to be ruined after you're done with him. At this moment in time all you two want to focus on is getting the other off. That's it. Plain and simple. His cock twitches in his pants with the next sound of ecstasy you make for him.

And he can't hold it in anymore. He squirms in your grasp, trying to keep himself focused. Senescing he was on the brink of cumming, you pump your palm around him faster, wishing your other hand could help you touch what you could not reach. You're fast and calculated, running your fingers along the length of him just right. The feeling of your hand, smooth as silk on him, is all too much to bare anymore. He shakes and quivers under your touch as he spilled into your hand. Gripping your waist so hard it feels like fire. He's sorry, he really is. Bu the needs something to hold onto while you're making him feel like it was dead and now being brought back to life. He groans into your cunt, never stopping his licking, trying to taste as much of your as he can as he cums. His voice, although muffled, lets out an unmistakable keen. He tries to still himself but the sensation is too much. You squeeze the base of his cock to ease him though his high. And his hands slide up and down your thighs. If he could he'd hold your arm in perfect place where it was. But when you kept it there anyways he felt like he wanted to give you the world. "G-god, thank you baby You're so good." His head can't stop spinning inside him as he spills his seed into your palm. "I-I" He can't speak. It's warm, and messy, and so fucking wet and it's all over your hand and fingers and you're still fucking him with your hand, not bothered by the thick liquid on you. Somehow that only turns him on even more. The wet squelching sounds picked up right back after they started, this time not from him and his desperate tongue.

"Fuck" He pants, his mouth still agape when you roll on him. Much to his dismay. If it were up to him he’d have your perched like royalty on his face for as long as he could. Your pussy blocking off his air supply as before and your thighs locked so fucking right around his head he can’t hear. Just. As. Before. And just as before he’d like to cum along with you in your bed again and again. Your soft sheets already feeling like heavenly clouds to him under his bare back. He's been dreaming of this, writhing in his sleep and waking up annoyed at himself, and at the situation of you not being there when he opens his eyes. He's been dreaming about you touching his cock again and again. Ever since you started letting him hear you at night by yourself, in your bed, fingers doing what you had secretly wanted him to do all this time.

He'd been imagining your moans-- the ones that he'd hear spill from your lips like fine honeyed tea, that he was the one causing you to sound like that and imagining himself just like how he was with you here: you on his face and his sensitive throbbing cock in your palm. He'd imagined himself making you cum and you squeezing the fucking life out of him in return. Making you cum... making your express beautiful sounds because of him and making you feel good. That was another thing on his mind lately. He stopped trying to make it go away, too. Opting to excuse himself from whatever he was doing and running for the nearest bathroom before anyone could see the tent in his pants. Sometimes forgetting to lock the bathroom stall in his rush to relive the tightness in his pants. It's all he can think about. Ever. Your cum on his tongue. What face you'd make. He already heard the sounds. And oh, did he want to hear more of them. The mere thought of it filled him with a sense of renewed vigor.

He spits on your clit, making the whole thing ever slipperier. Allowing him to glide his tongue up and down you even easier. Coaxing another moan out of you. You want to cum right then and there. He's giving you all you need. Everything you ever needed. The extra pressure on you that he's applying makes you wonder if one of those letters you couldnt send got to him about what you liked. he truth was, that, somehow got throughout the haze of pre orgasm bliss you were giving him, each pump of your hand making him more and more hopeful of the pending high that was to come. And sorted through what made you make the most noise. He wants you to feel good. If he just felt that good from just your hand then whatever he's doing must not be enough. He wonders if he's being selfish for a moment, but then you throw head back as your grind into his face, barely any noise of pleasure coming out because of how good it was all feeling. How good he was for you. And he knew he was on the right track.

"Please, I need it." He groans. Sounding more like a beg than he wanted to. "You feel so god." You wonder how he can reduce you to a whisper just from his tongue alone. One things for sure, you didn't wanna stop. "I-" Your shaky voice surprises even you,, "Right there, minghao!" You grip his hair a little tighter. HE can tell that you're close. Though you sounded even better in person when you were about to cum. This time on the flat of his tongue. "Go ahead," You hear from him, "Please baby. Cum on my tongue." Your high comes when your gazes meet-- fiery and sharp with pierced lust, but also wanting and soft enough to look at and just melt. Melt away everything. Strip away anything that was hindering you from feeling this way on him. Because of him. You moan and groan on top of him, not knowing where to look as his tongue works on you still through your orgasm. Never once stopping, wanting noting more than to collect your arousal on his waiting tongue. The pleasure he's still making your feel-- even as the final shock weaves of you still runs through you. Feeling like you body was being pushed and pulled from him and his torturous tongue moving against you. Because of him and what he's done for you.

He finally stops when you literally have no more to give him. But you still feel so fucking wet, dripping, even. Granted, some of the slick was Minghaos saliva coating your folds. But, for once you're spent. Not able to even hold yourself up. You'd talked a big game before this. Before he sunk the first kiss into your neck and ran his tongue up your pussy. You hadn't known how needy you could be until you saw his torso naked and felt the weight of him in your hand. you certainly hadn't expected for him to take so much out of you. But it was a good kind of tired. Not the kind where you wish fore more to be done but you can't give any (though, in all honesty, you wouldn't mind feeling him on you like this a second time.) Not the type of tired where your muscles ached and you felt like collapsing. But all you wanted to do was to fold into him. You felt tired, but no short of satisfied. When it was just you at night. Just you and your fingers and him on the other side of the wall. You could go on for awhile. Wanting, needing him to hear you. You never wanted to stop until you feel asleep. But with him under you like this... you couldn't quite explain it, but you were satisfied with staying close to him for a moment. And you did-- giving you two a minute to recuperate. Somehow it didn't feel forced. Sure, you were at the edge of your seat to continue with him, but you felt nice. Just taking a minute with him.

He guides you down onto his chest, his hand on your back. Warmth fills you like never before. Starting at the middle of your spine where his palm rested like an anchor, and springing forth to your neck and down you legs. Your hand drags itself away from his stomach and glides up his neck to his handsome face. Your head seems to fit perfectly in the crook of his neck. His mind starts to reel with all the possibilities of what could happen next. Who could say something next. What would you say, if anything? Or would you just lead him out your door? What would he say? But most of all, he thought of how it would be if you'd ever do this again. Maybe going further the next time. He'd die a happy man tasting you, but he still yearns to feel you. How he longs to be inside you.

But, for now. He was perfectly happy with just staying like how you two were-- his arms encircling your back and yours flat on his chest. He wants to stay like this. Not just until the both of you have recovered from your orgasms, but he wants to have you like this again and again and make you let out those beautiful noises until your throat is dry and your fingers are sore from gripping onto the sheets and his hair. He sighs contently. "Don't get too sleepy. We're not done yet."

His thoughts of fucking you again had to fall away, along with the taste of you fresh on his tongue. Something he wanted more and more every day, but something he was son beginning to realize he wasn't going to get, having to settle for the memory of it instead, fisting his cock to it-- and the sounds of your fucking moans. Unlike before though, it wasn't just a far away dream that floated to him whenever he heard you on the other side of his wall. IT was something that was a reality for him. Maybe just for a moment. But it was real and it happened. And now that his desire became a reality... all he could think about was how he wanted to feel you on him once more. Now that he got a taste he doesn't know how he survived without you for so long. God, he was so stupid not to have been having you in bed sooner. It was his new favorite thing. never leaving his mind like a good song he'd never get tired of. Now that it was real inside his mind, something that actually happened instead of a hazy image in his mind for him to dream about, he spun constantly with the thought of you. Over and over, never stopping as a thread in his stream of consciousness,. When he goes next door to his apartment later that day, all giddy and closing the door behind him and sliding against it like a person in a romance movie, he thought he'd never experience a better feeling. That was until, even though, just like the sounds you made for each other remained in the others apartment and never talked about, never mentioned until behind separate closed doors, you'd hadnt ended up on top of him or him in your bed like before... that was until you had come over after one of his letters had said something about him going on a date.

He didn't want to, really. But it had been nearly a month and, to his surprise one of his co workers had asked him out and well-- the truth was he did want to turn them down. HE really did. But they were always to nice to him. And besides, you had talked about setting him up with one of your friends. And as both options felt horrible to him, he'd rather not break the news to your own personal friend that he was never going to lust, and find attractive, and want to go out with anyone but you. He'd rather your friend not have to tell you that. He wanted you to be happy with your decision to set him up, and that if you did he wanted it to work out well. And that was why it couldn’t work: even while thinking of being set up with another person he couldn’t dare think of what that person might like about him, hoping they wouldn't be disappointed by him. But he could only think of how you'd feel if something you'd been working hard to set you failed.

This one, (and very much casual sounding by the look of it) date with his co worker didn't have to mean much right? No strings attached, no commitments. He liked the coffee shop they had suggested, and half prince anything sounded good to him. But here you were, in his bedroom. The same place where he had made that dreaded wifi name. The same name that he had tried to change when he go home from your place a couple days ago, and had been trying since. But whatever he did was to to avail. He was glad beyond compare that you hadn't asked for his wifi passcode. At this point he wouldn't even know what to say to cover it up. And it wasn't like this was something containable, either. He'd heard other tenants laugh about the name, agreeing if they were on the same floor or directly bellow you. What he spread about you? He felt like it was wrong more than anything else now. No longer filled with that sense of "what the fuck am i gonna do if they find out?" But now, his worries become background noise as you stand with your back turned to him, rifling through his closet on a mission to find him some "more self respecting clothes than what You described." Or, at least thats, what you told him in the last letter you taped to his door this morning.

He can barely focus when your gorgeous back, the same one he ran his fingers up and down not many nights ago, is turned to him? And how could he focus with well, all of you standing right before him? Trying to help him. Being so lovely and wonderful. True, just like you have always been with him. At least in his eyes. And all for no good reason anyways, because in all honestly he doesn't even like the person much at all. But, given how much time as passed before youve even brough the time you've spent together up. And how the wall is still separating you, maybe this'll help him to stop hanging onto to you. Even if it doesn't go anywhere, because, he's kind of hoping it doesn.t But still, maybe getting a so called taste of someone else to will bring down his want for you. You noticed something is up with your friend when he hasn't responded for a good couple minutes. You wave your hand in front of his face to get his attention. "Hello! Welcome back to the land of the living." You elongate the ends of your first at last words, hoping to make him smile.

For you? Always. Anytime

He rubs a hand over his face then through his hair, messing it up in the process. Did he really not know how much of an effect he was having-- pulling all this shit on you? "I sure don't feel it." He groans. God, it sends a shiver up your back. 95% Percent of it because your friend is sad, the other five percent he well, you hadn't heard his groans in nearly a month and fuck, you wanted to hear them like that again. You shake the memories from you mind as you place another shirt on his dresser into the "yes" pile, coming over to him. He's splayed out on the bed. A sight to see, really. Using his arm as a pillow and a blanket thrown over half of him, at this point mostly just bunching it up and laying on it. "Whats wrong?" you say in a sign songy voice, trying to make light of the situation. He chuckles, thinking you sound way too much like a mother with your eyebrow raised for your own good right now. "Jus' thinking about about why we've already spent thirty minutes on this. I leave in an hour and a half." Because i need more time with you before you go. "NO, really, what's going on in that pretty little head?"

He shrugs, trying to stay nonchalant. It didn't work on you though. He huffs like a child, rolling his eyes like a brat, flopping into his bed. "Just scared about the date." He says, keeping it simple. And yes, he wasn't lying at all. But he definitely wasn't stressed for the reasons he wanted you to think he was. You scoot a little closer to him. God, any closer and you'd practically be sitting on his lap. No, no. He seriously needed to stop before his thoughts became out of hand. Though, he wondered if it was too late for that. He wanted you to think he was beyond excited for the date-- that, other than his outfit he'd been thinking of it for days and couldn't wait. Now, he was thinking of taking the long way and claiming that he fell asleep or forgot his phone or something. But as stressed out as he was about this, he couldn't be an ass about it. So, he was going to try and make it on time. He didn't want to make his co worker think he didn't care about them. Cause he certainly did... like youd care for a cup of coffee so as to not spill it. But you? He cared for you like his own body. Unfortunately, you didn't fall for his see though crystal lies. "Well, yeah, I knew you were scared. But are you sure you should be?" He looked at you in question, fearing he might've just blown his cover, "Shouldn't you be nervous? Maybe even stressed out. Hell I know I would be, you've shown me their picture." You chuckle, he smiles. His eyes shine with glee like they always do when he smiles. Just like his eyes shone as you lay in bed together in peace. His chin on your head made you never want to leave his arms. You playfully nudge him. "As cute as they are..." You dip your head around to meet his gaze. You're leaning down and around and its an awkward looking position but you don't care.

"Really, Minghao, what's the matter?" "I wanna go on this date; I promise--" "Nobody said anything about you not wanting to go?" You say, your eyebrows raised in expectantly as if to tell him, you're not getting away from this question this easily. The truth was, you didn't really want him to go. You'd much rather have the rest of him in bed with you. But up until now you were going to suck it up because it seemed like he was happy about it. Now it seemed he didn't want to go either. "I'm just--" He sighs, running a hand through his hair just for it to go straight back into place, "What if I'm not into them?" He thinks it best to just tell you. I mean, what's the harm? A lot of people aren't into other people. Maybe now, as much as he didn't want you to have to, maybe you could help him come up with an excuse. Maybe you'd just have to give him one. "Sorry, I can't come because my next door neighbor said they're gonna fuck me lmao catch ya later ttyl" You know, better than that. Thats what he wants. Fuck more than anything. Thats why he'd doing this--- not only because youre his friend and he needs someone to unload that heavy feeling he's got onto someone, but also to give you an opening to hand him an excuse to stay. "What if?" You repeat. In a tone that said: tsk, either you do or you don't. "You're right" He sits up as if this just hit him. "I'm not into them. Like, at all." "Isn't that how it's supposed to work when you first start to 'get to know somebody'?" You ask, head tilted like a puppy. He thinks its the cutest thigh he's ever seen. "Yeah, yeah. You go out with them because you like how they've talked to you, three times and the very vague vibe and because they're cute, then you start to be 'into them', into them." He says. "Hao," He perks up at the name, "Looks like you're not too shocked by what I said. You already knew this, or?" You let your sentence trail off for him to answer. Damn you and you being close enough with him to pick up what he was feeling. It was really barely turning out to be in his favor.

"Maybe i wanna do something different with my time." He says, voice low and sultry, looking no where but your soft lips that seemed to be begging and calling for him, inviting him in with ease. "Yeah?" You ask, your voice for once not taunting but rather as soft and whispering--- only for the two of you to hear, no wall in between, "And what might that be?" He answers you with a kiss-- soft as his lips, it is. Sucking on you bottom lips so gently you can't help but moan into his mouth. His teeth grazing it so lightly it almost feels like tickling. Soothing and calming as you press yourself closer to him, hand reaching over to rest on his hip bone. spreading warmth and rubbing where you had previously squeezed nearly a month before. The two piles are messy and unruly on his desk and you had planned on picking them up by now but right now you couldn't care less. Noting else on you mind besides his lips and how needy you felt because of them. Because of him. You pull away, just for a second, to look at him. He's beautiful. Handsome beyond belief, really.

And it doesn’t take but a minute to get him hard against you, tent in his pants pressed on you just as before. Without a second thought you push him further into the bed and he pulls his shirt over his head. You scan his body. And your core throbs with need when you see him. His mouth hangs agape as you rub his skin as sensitive nipples. He bucks up into you in search of some sort of friction. It probably wasn’t the best idea to be doing this. He has a date, for fucks sake. And here he was getting his neck kissed by you. But right now, you didn’t really want to think about that. More concerned with getting his lips on yours again. He whines as he tilts his head into the pillows, giving you more access to his neck. “God, you’re like a dog in heat.” You whisper against his skin. He chuckles and runs his hands down, down, and down until finally stopping at our ass. Resting his hands there. You start kissing down his soft body. He’s so lost in the feeling of you that he doesn’t think to control the endless stream of consciousness running out his brain like water out a open tap. “I’m sorry. I’m so so so sorry” he whisperers, words barely heard over pants and little groans he can’t help but let out. He wants you to know how good you make him feel. Couldn’t be anyone else.

“whatre you sorry for, pretty boy?”

You raise your head a little to meet his eyes, belt discarded on the floor along with this pants. He doesn’t look like he wants for answer. And you know, as hard as he is, he isn’t that close. You stop all movements of kisses and hickys on his thighs that nearly shake with want for you to go where he needs you. He tugs you up closer to his face but your shirt, the same shirt that a second later he’s pushing up so he can kiss you tummy and waistline. And as good as his lips on your hipbones feel, you can tell there’s something wrong. You move his hand away from your shirt pushed up to your bra. He looks up at you. This time with more that just lust in his eyes. And that worries you. He seems scared, begging. Not for you to touch him, though. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling—“ you cut him off. “No, but I think you’re feeling some type of way and you’re not telling me.” You start to worry that he’s having second thought about this. I mean, he was supposed be getting ready for someone else. He turns his head away. “It doesn’t really matter.” He says. You scoff. “You’re a bad liar. Now tell me.” You speak softly, thinking it may be something you did. After a second, he realizes that he needs to speak what’s on his mind. It wasn’t going to do either of you any good if he just stayed quiet about it. “Please don’t be mad…” he says quickly. You raise an eyebrow at him-- quite the funny sight if he wasn't a little scared.

you move a little bit off of him, still staying close to give him room to breath, straightening out your shirt. “But it was me.” You looked confused. God why did you have to look to cute when you’re confused. It was really messing his apology speech up. “I’m sorry but it was be who made that Wi-Fi you’re always talking about. It tried— you won’t believe how much I tired to get it off but it won’t let me.” His constant rambling turns into background noise for you. He was the one who did that? All this time he was the one who made you worried that you might get evicted because of noise complaints? “Now, I didn’t completely mean it in a bad way! It’s just, well, i-I hear you?” Why was that a question? Either he did hear you and he liked it like how you wanted, or all this time he’d been putting on headphones and canceling your noise for him out. Shit. Did this have anything to do with our nice he was to you? You felt like you were dreaming. Was the serious? He couldn't have, right? I mean, it wasn't like you were particularly hurt, contrary to popular belief because the guy was still rambling on in front of you. You had to grasp his arm tightly to get him to stop. "huh?" He wonders aloud. "Listen, I have no fucking idea why you'd do that, but I don't hate you for it." You start to laugh,

"In fact, it's even kinda funny." His eyes are questioning, inquisitive, wondering if you really mean what you say. "I was pretty drunk... Not like thats an excuse." He said, still sensing how you must've still felt a little miffed. "I think its my time to ask you whats the matter." He puts a hand on your thigh, trying and succeeding in being comforting to you, when a not so comforting silence falls over the two of you. "...None of this was for some sort of compensation, right?" You ask, feeling your stomach sink, not with the anticipation of what would come after his feverish kisses to your hot skin, but now because... what if he couldn't answer that? What if it took him a minute? That was how you'd know this whole thing wasn't a rooze-- a plan to make you think that it wasn't him. In your heart you knew he wouldn't. As little as youve known him and as much as he was a drama queen, Minghao couldn't do something like that. Not to you, not to anybody.

Y/N!" He genuinely sounded hurt by the even mere suggestion. Then, realizing that, well, he didn't have the right words at the time and that, even if he did words alone might not do much. He gets up with a rush. "Wait, here." He nearly runs out the door, almost forgetting his shirt. "Hao--" You chuckle. Why does he seem so excited ? You wonder. But, just like with everything, he was a wonder. He peeks his head back into the room, reaching for his clothes with a shy smile up at you. His whole face seems to brighten. The last thing you hear is the faint clicking of his belt as he hurries out the bedroom door. He rushes back in the same way he came. But now holding a letter. "I wanted to give you this earlier. But this seems like a better time than anything." He explained, "with the date and everything... I just figured it would look stupid." You open the letter and start to read, it looked half finished. But the paragraph inside tells you all you need to know. In synopsis: he views as someone very special in his life. He cherishes you to the ends of the earth. And with what he's written down, it only solidifies how he'd never do anything to hurt you. Your head starts to turn up before you're even done reading. "Listen I was never that concerned--" "Just like old times--" you both say at the same time. "Sorry, I've been thinking about saying that since I started writing it." He mentions. "I thought so." You said. God, how do I know you so well. He knows he's written something else, but he also know sees you haven't read it yet. He doesn;t say anything, though, preferring to leave you to find it on your own when you're ready. He gestures to you like; and you were saying? "Hao," A feel good shiver runs up his spine at the nickname, "I never was that concerned with it. Sure, it stung a little to know that someone complaining about my apartment." He starts to say something, but you cut him off.

"And I know you're sorry. And I've heard horror stories about your wifi provider before." He smiles at you, beath calming down, not sounding like he's run a race as a second ago. He looks unreal. Other worldly, even. So fucking beautiful. You can't think of another word to describe him. Every single one you've tried seems to be a little off. You werent expecting such an actual explanation. And he didnt just leave it at: "Well, I was drunk so you can't blame me." His actually made sense, too. And, from his track record, and even from today. You could tell he was telling you the truth. One look into those deep brown eyes and you knew that if he had the power to he wouldve long changed it. And if he wasn't drunk he wouldn't have made it. "But there's one thing I don't know... I knew you were drunk, but, anything you'd like to tell me that spurred this on?" You sit there, pulling his body towards yours, starting to fiddle with the hem of his shirt. It was on backwards. He shivers as your fingers graze his heaving stomach. "Yeah." HE says simply, "But not how you think!" You chuckle. "What?" You question, "You don't mind the loud music? So... is there, anything else?" You say it like there could be anything in the world that caused him to make a jab at how "loud your apartment is." "Your noise." HE looks into your eyes, referencing how you'd make yourself cum every night. So close but way to far away from him. He wanted to start rambling about how he doesn't mean tot hear it... but, it looked like, but your smirk you wanted him to. You wanted him to get riled up and desperate for hearing you in person. And thats just what he was. "I'm glad you've finally said something about that. Looks like I've accomplished what I wanted for the year." You breath out a laugh.

So he has unsent letters just like you? You think back to your drawer of your nightstand or the shoebox by your desk. There lay, dormant and gathering dust, all unsent letters. Letter deemed a little too early in the friendship to send, letters describing dreams or thoughts youve had of him where he's been gripping your hips as you rock on hid dick, him begging you for release as you chase your own orgasm, even one letter asking him a stupid question about some show you bother watched, you remembered the answer soon after and diced to start a new one on a fresh sheet on paper. But you still kept it and held onto it like it was a precious gem. Your fingers stop their teasing movements the waistline of his pants and tell him to wait there, same thing he told you. You come back with letters, you more than him. His eyes tell you he's interested. But also: "hold on, you too?" He reads them and smile each time he turns to another. Making little remarks and comments here and there. "You know, there's something else in mine as well." He says, flipping to one of the last ones-- the ones with detail after detail of your conscious when it came to him. About how you wanted to have him and what you wanted him to do to you in your bed. Or his, it didn't really matter as long as it was with you. "Fine. Read the rest of mine though." You say, wanting, no, needing him to know what you thought of him when he wasn't beside you. You eyes flicker down to the arrow to the font of the letter in your lap. You flip it around to see his number, clear as day, staring at you in your face. (With a little note that says: how come we never did this before?) and a little, delicate sketch of the first flower pressing he'd ever given to you whine you mentioned something about them neither of you can really remember. You pressed the note onto your thighs, smoothing it down.

"You know i never minded when you sent me pressings, right?" There was noting to make you think he was about to ask, but something told you it was in the back of his mind. He nods, barely listening as he read the letter about the dream you had about fucking him like both of your lives depend on it.

And with the growing need on your pants it sure felt like it did.-- You call his name a couple times but to no avail. “come back down to earth, angel. I’m not done with you yet” you climb back onto his lap

A second later his lips are on yours. "Fuck," He whines, "You really wanna do all that to me?" He doesn’t sound repulsed at all, he now craves the thought, desire pools in his stomach for him to feel you. All of you. Wrapped around him, bouncing on his cock like how you described. He leans on top of you, making you push down into his plush bed, his mouth more eager than the first two times. You didn't; think that was even possible. You pull away, him left chasing the feeling of your lips on his. It felt so god he'd be happy if he died there. "Call them to cancel?" You beam. A moment after he sends them a quick apologetic text, here he is, grinding into your thighs, trying to fuck himself on the pillowy flesh you so lovingly provide for him. “what is it angel? You wanna be inside me?” You ask him, smiling to yourself as he nods, gulping. Your lips are ghosting over his as you slide down on him. His fingers are inside of you and making you cum in an instant when you drop your pants. Curling and pumping just how you said he did so in your dream. And the instant his cock has sprung out of his pants, ready and waiting for you, you're starting to move in a way that makes you feel like heaven is in your grasp as he swallows your moans with a kiss.

“G-god I—“ his words are cut short as he bucks his hips up into you. The stretch you feel inside your cunt feels fucking amazing. Noting like ever before. lips hovering against his once more as you start slow movements on him, the force of them still making you move from his mouth to his eyes. Slower, now but deep as ever. HE runs his hand up your back, his brain too foggy to think to take off your shirt fully like his-- to match him, fully naked in his bed. It's something he's been dreaming about ever since he first heard you moaning from the wall behind him. even though the condom he can feel every inch of you. You’re so warm and wet and so fucking tight and slippery-- the way he glides in and out of you, always drawing pleasured sounds from the both of you drives him so crazy he can barely take his eyes off of his cock disappearing into your pretty pussy over and over again. fascinated by how a ring of your slick starts to form around his cock, sticky and thick. He wants noting more than to see you lick it off of him. Or for him to get a taste. You fuck yourself on him, not like he wants anything else. He rubs circles on your back, your thighs bare as he grips onto them to ground himself. Your hands fault against his chest for leverage, you seem to never tire of the delicious feeling of him. "What're you sorry for?" You ask him, leaning down to his earlobe and nibbling it. Almost as a reminder of how stupid it all is, you chuckle at his inability to speak when you squeeze his cock particularly tight.

The thought had long done turned into a desire, and you couldn’t have imagined a better action for you two to take.

End~

~before you interact, as with all my other smut posts, please put an age indicator in your bio saying you’re not a minor so I don’t have to block you!~

2023copywrightofshutupheathersorryheather©️ do Not repost my work anywhere, translate it, or anything like that even if you give me credit, no one is anyone allowed to do what is stated above

thank you all so much for readin!! Please leave some love like comments and or reblogs if you liked this! Also I will be coming in to edit this a little very soon so I’m sorry if it’s not good at the moment @jasminexox5 @impuritywritings @jjjzzz @zozjella @mimisxs @itz-yerin @toorauz @daechwitabaddie

(if youre username isnt underlined im sorry that i couldn't tag you! im not sure why but sometimes with tagging it doesn't show up) If you'd like to be a part of my permanent smut and or fluff taglist please comment on this post! if youd like to be a part of my smut taglist please have something in your blog bio telling me youre not a minor thank you! the previous action is not necessary if you want to only be a part of my fluff masterlist. So please specify which one

[mrlntt]

Hello! I'm Mrlntt

I joined Tumblr to share some projects ive been working on, with you! :)

At the moment my first project I have started an is at a point i'm willing to share is a short story only posted on Wattpad at the moment.

(I will post it onto ao3 once my invite gets accepted and maybe on tumblr but for now it will only available on wattpad)

!DISCLAIMER! At the moment all of my works will be SFW and will have very little romantic themes so if you are looking for that... This isnt the place.

My first story, "I hate summer" has been posted and has currently 1/5 planned chapter posted, chapter 2 is being written (hopefully it will be published by sometime next week) and chapter 3 + 4 + 5 are already planned.

My current projects are writing stories, I have many story ideas planned,I also I also would like to do some coding related projects specifically games, I unfortunatly do not have many skills needed for my projects but I am learning coding, 3d modeling, 3d animation and animation.

I cannot spend all my time on these things as I am busy with school but I am learning these things on the sides so hopefully I'll be able to one day turn my ideas into actual games!

I do want to hopefully create a mini community of people who enjoy and my work(s) so once I get a small audience (by small i mean like 10-20 people) ill make a small discord server to interact with my community, I also plan to make a few playlists based around my stories or characters just for fun!

You can check out my unfinished, short story by searching "I hate summer" on wattpad by Mrlntt :) or by using the link below.

Feel free to vote, comment on my stories or to follow me or to share my projects it would be much appriciated!!

- Mrlnt :)

[hiemaldesirae]

please. I'm begging you for more crumbs about VADD!Shen Jiu and also that Roxana AU you have from that art post you did of the two.

As a VADD AND SVSSS fan, especially as a fan of the original villains— please. I AM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR MORE. I'm actually in the process of outlining a crossover with the original goods of both.

God, the Roxana one as well— please, PLEASE TELL ME SJ IS ROXIE HE'S SO ROXANA-CODED SOMEHOW. GIVE HIM BUTTERFLIES AND POISON AND— *gets knocked out*

by the way, LOVE your artstyle. scratches an itch i did not know existed in my brain. your chibis as well. they're so cute!!

oh you have no idea how long ive waited to talk about them. this mayyy get a bit long so ill leave it under the readmore.

disclaimer: i intend on finishing these fics so what im going to be talking about is inspirations and unfinished / abandoned ideas and other ideas i have for the works instead of anything relating to the plots themselves

for svadd, sj is a lot more complicated than he appears to be on the surface. im not so sure if what i have written currently is what i /want/ exactly because i know i want his character to go a certain way. the relationships between him and his modern-day friends is one meant to parallel the in-game "shen qingqiu" sj compares himself to and in much the same way, mirror the way that sy contrasts himself with sqq in canon: but instead of being condescending and viewing sqq as a one dimensional character, sj is able to appreciate his nuance while still being rightfully angry over his actions

to me, sj is supposed to be an unreliable narrator who constantly enforces his own thoughts. he tells himself over and over that he misses his home and that he wants to go back, that he absolutely needs to- but then, he turns the other way and finds himself being sucked even deeper into this different one.

i also really wanted to explore how sjs dynamic with a lot of the characters would be affected knowing that they were "based off" his real friends, but again im not very confident with how it came off lol

there was a lot of points in the story where i attempted to add in foreshadowing for the ending i want the story to take... in any case, it definitely wont go the same way as vadd, though i did toy with the idea of a "version" of sy being the main villain haha

(it might still happen for shits and giggles)

as for the roxanna au there are a lot of things ive wanted to do with this au and its good that i havent posted because it means i can keep revising til i come up with something good lol

its a liujiu au with some bingyuan / cumplane thrown into the mix (the cumplane is overwhelmingly toxic btw bingyuan is the healthy one out of the two here 😭) where yes sj is xana !!! he really just makes such a good manhwa villainess haha

i had been puzzling over what i wanted his motif to be-- after all, sj is typically associated with the simplicity and calming bamboo so the glittering butterflies wouldnt work with him- but after some deliberation i decided with using moths for him :3c still subject to change ofc but i think im happy with this as is

the story is somewhat similar to how roxanna goes but surprise sj isnt the transmigrator here! (and honestly, roxanna wouldve been sm better if xana hadnt been a transmigrator... or maybe i just think that because it was only used as a convenient plot point for her to know crucial info. sigh.)

my outline of how the roxanna au goes is basically this:

lqg fucks around and finds out

sj who has been seeing dreams of the "book" sy read knows what will happen to his family if lqg dies

etc

at the same time: sy, transmigrator, attempts to make sure his only surviving older brother lives to a long happy life and the only way he can secure this is by fucking up that hack author

also i killed off qi-ge and idk if i want him to come back. he'll be like the stereotypical dead anime mother for this au lmao

hmm and i think thats all i have to say for these aus... thanks for giving me a chance to ramble on haha ~ much appreciated !! and thank you for the compliment, im flattered!! 🥹🥹💕

[okthatsgreat]

20, 22, 29, 40, 56, and 75-77 for ODIETLG specifically

Picking your brain is one of my favourite Tumblr hobbies

ITS GREAT THATS ONE OF YOUR FAVOURITE HOBBIES BC IM A BIG FAN OF TALKING !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

20. have you noticed any patterns in your fics? words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? UMMMM call me the forgetter the way i forget..... there are definitely words/expressions that show up a lot definitely. im sure if i looked hard enough id be able to see them GHFDJGSDFKG aaaaaannnnd as for themes i noticed ive been writing a lot on trauma and some of the uglier side effects of it ESPECIALLY when put in a situation that does not encourage healing or anything like that other than that I AM REALLY BLANKING THERE ARE DEFINITELY SO MANY MORE COMPARISONS TO BE DRAWN LMFAOOOO

22. are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc) hmmmmm i do a LOT of genfics and im not that much of a purely romantic type of guy yknow..... i dont see myself doing anything like that in the future i reckon! unless its a gift or something :). in the same vein i dont think ill be posting smut on my main ao3 either just bc i feel like itd really come out of left field ghfjkdgshdjkfgh.

29. what’s your revision or editing process like? i stare at it. hope google docs caught any spelling errors. convert it into ao3. hope ao3 caught any spelling errors. send it out. wake up the next morning and grimace so hard

40. if someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? IF ANYBODY MAKES FANART OF MY WORK I CRY IMMEDIATELY YOU HAVE NO IDEAAA HOW MUCH IT MEANS TO ME SERIOUSLY. ohhhh there are a lot of big scenes in fics ooooo............. if youre looking for a dramatic piece of fanart then the miu+kokichi confrontation in lgowab is a good one. the sonia+akane conversation in opddmh could be cute........... like them on the floor looking up yknow. like a little comic. i can see it in my brain. and oooo a lot of interactions from that second last chapter of odietlg when the whole place is falling apart ................................

56. what’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? BWAH uhm the characterisation :) i try to keep them in character but also make them feel a little more real if that makes senseee

75. what scene in odietlg took the longest to write? what was difficult about it?  ooo its been a while hm. odietlg was during a time i had a LOTT of time on my hands so i was whipping through chapters so fast it was crazy. um. maybe the finale???? just because it was a lot longer than most chapters and i kept going back to flip a few things around and all of that :))

76. did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of odietlg?  I DONT HAVE A DISCORD CHANNEL FOR THIS ONE SO THERE ISNT A LOT OF EVIDENCCEEEEEE let me think let me think. because this story was more interactive there were a few scenes that didnt make the cut solely because it wasnt voted for!!!!! i know there were MULTIPLE executions that were avoided during that miu gonta trial. there were a few more scenes including a tsumugi conversation that got cut in favour of the tenko/himiko chat in the bunker. ummmmmm unrelated to any sort of poll im really unsure!!! odietlg had a lot less planning which means a lot of initial ideas made the final cut!! i think tenko nearly started hearing other "voices" other than angie but i decided against that just bc it was never supposed to be supernatural or anything

77. do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from odietlg story/chapter?  OOOO THERE ARE A FEW SCENES I ENJOYED WRITING i think one of my favorites has to be the final 3am encounter with shuichi and tenko. it really just felt like all of those conversations were building up to this last one and i loved writing the setting and loved writing their interaction bc it just felt like a great culmination of their character development up until that point but ESPECIALLY tenkos :)

ASK GAME!!!

[ryetherat]

so... percy jackson rp?

i've had this idea in my mind for... years at this point, i guess, just swimming around in the back of my mind. and it Hit me again thanks to the show so here we are

i'm not looking for a roleplay partner, which seems to be the "norm" nowadays. my plan: a pjo rp forum site, hosted on jcink or proboards, whatever works. forum roleplaying was a big part of my online experience growing up and god i just MISS it

i have basic ideas, ill put them under the cut

the bulk of the rp would be character building, threads in camp and elsewhere - but i have this main gimmick idea for "quests":

they would be primarily crafted by admin (who have first dibs for playing cabin counselors too), and assigned to players who signed up to be on the quest "waiting list". admin (which would have a shared account so it didnt matter specifically Who) would play the parts of NPCS - including monster encounters. if/when gods showed up, they would also be played by admin

i'd love to implement some sort of ttrpg dice system, with quickfire threads for combat separate but linked to the main thread. monsters would have different stats, etc. and players could even consent to character deaths when signing up for quests!

demigods wouldnt be the only type of character available to make, but it would have to be the majority. satyrs, i think, would be the most numerous "side characters", maybe nymphs around camp. those details arent important rn tho

what i'm thinking:

with admin, i'm looking for people who know how to code and create custom layouts, graphics etc. ideally, 2-3 people so its not all one one person

i'd want the timeline to be vaguely post-pjo - meaning, there are more than the 12 cabins, less unclaimed demigods, etc. but its been a while since ive read the heroes of olympus and i've barely cracked open the first trials of apollo book so idk what Happened to affect the site's timeline/lore. so in my mind, it's just post-last olympian.

also, i wouldn't want to have canon characters - at the most, they'd be NPCs that are rarely used.

i know a big thing is that people have lives, and i have no idea what the forum-rp scene is like because i haven't been involved since.... god(s) idk, around 10 years???

me personally, i have the free time to be willing to overlook the site and get everything written out; admin i would want to be more active, of course, just enough to keep things running

age-wise, it wouldnt feel right to make it a 17+ forum, this is a kid's series after all. i think 13 is the limit for most if not all forums, and i'd be fine with that. player ages shouldn't be broadcasted, we could have some sort of Minor/Adult indicator but idk if even that would be necessary.

and i'd want at least a "proficient" level of writing, whatever the terms were - rp posts wouldnt need to be whole novels, but at least a chunky paragraph that the partner could work off

i'm hoping the popularity of the show will give me a chance to actually do this >:3

so uhhhh i guess if you're interested, shoot me a dm or reply to this post? let me know if you'd want to be an admin or mod, what you'd be able to do for the site, whatever you think is important to mention. if you just want to be a normal member and rp a funny lil demigod, thats fine too! maybe we could have Special Privileges for those who join at the start!

[arsenicflame]

what should i do with my robe fabric? an uncomfortably long write up and a poll (since i have polls now)

id really appreciate if you could take the time to give some input, even if you dont read all my writing and just skip to the voting! the writing is mostly me explaining my ideas, buf you can totally skim it and get the idea

the fabric is here, so its time to plan

i think im down to two main options, screen accurate robe or a historically accurate one- accurate is a general term here, ultimately ill do what i want with little care for being exact, but as an overview, thats the idea split. there was a fleeting idea i might do some other style of robe, but i never found anything i exactly vibed with (if you wanna vanilla extract it though, feel free to drop other suggestions in the replies)

screen accurate (SA)

a lot of my information for this comes from this blog post, its excellent research and covers just about everything. honestly theres not much i can say that isn't already written on there, and anyway, its the robe. you know the robe.

its necessary to note at this point i already plan to stray a little from screen accuracy on my lining. the SA lining is quite a vibrant pink, but to compliment my personal wardrobe more, im learning towards a dusky pink or almost maroon colour (im visualising the robe fabric background colour but a little darker, but itll depend on what i can actually find in my local shop)

this one will also require buying another fabric on top of the lining (an orange for the piping) and making or sourcing tassels if i decide to have them (up in the air as i am bound to catch them on things)

a big appeal to this version for me is the box pleat in the back- it allows for more volume, more movement, while still sitting right and keeping the silhouette. i do like volume in my garments

its probably a more technical build than a HA one, just on the neck binding and kinomo sleeves, but it should still be pretty straight forward

historically accurate (HA)

historically, the SA version seems to be based on wrapping gowns. a very simple construction, cut all in one big length (though, as on the SA i would have a seam at the shoulder so the print isn't upside down) this image gives both a good idea of pattern and silhouette

the wrapping gown is generally quite a loose fitting garment, and is very simple in its cutting. its all straight lines, and all triangles and rectangles. theres a couple of different options in the cutting, but im thinking as flared as i can make it (with or without piecing) at the hem, and also maybe some flare on the cutting of the sleeve to make it wider at the wrist without affecting mobility

wrapping gowns do typically have a small collar up near the neck, similar to the way the SA one is, but it only wraps around a short distance, not to halfway down the body as the SA does

this is obviously a much easier pattern, in my research ive seen people complete this in a day. my main concerns for me personally are in the flare and in the fit. i like a good swoosh and im not sure that ill get that in this (but not certain. some look quite full).

while it is designed to be an unfitted garment, it still has some fitting. im a little concerned that to give myself enough room around the chest i will end up with quite a dropped shoulder (shoulder seam sitting down the arm) and im not a huge fan of that. these are all things id figure out in a mockup, but it has me hesitating to go that way

here are some research links, if you care to read a bit more

video by nicole rudolph, wrapping gown talk starts at 18:27

the difference between banyan and wrapping gown

pinterest board with various historical pictures

a sort of tldr;

heres a basic look at what the patterns look like. as you can see the HA one is far more simplistic in shape

if youve been following any of my sewing projects youll know i have a tendency to make things take far longer than they really need to, so obviously a simpler garment that uses mostly techniques i already know is a huge appeal rather than a far more complicated and out of my comfort zone project. but i have concerns about the fit of the HA, and there is just something so appealing to making the SA version....

obviously. whichever path i pick i have a lot more research to do, and with OFMD now being on iplayer ill definitely be watching the episodes it appears in the get a better idea of how it should sit myself.... but for now

[cheolhub]

NO CAUSE IM SUCH A SUCKER FOR WHEN THEY'RE MEAN

but imagine the aftermath, like you would not know how to fucking act after that and it throws you off your game and he wins the next race and !!!

you're so mad. you're so angry he got to your head that much. and he's so fucking smug about it. but of course, it can only go one way at this point, and at the end of the day you end up in his bed again bc what else are you even supposed to do?

AND HE'D BE SO MEAN ABT IT, all "can't believe you're here begging for my cock again. shouldn't you be out training? or are you just that much of a cockhungry slut?"

and it continues like that. it doesn't even matter who wins or who loses anymore, bc the outcome is the same anyways - you crying on his cock, you on your knees for him, you taking whatever he wants to give you. and you know that if this came out it could ruin your career, but you just can't stop.

(okay but spinning off of that earlier ask. what if you're in a crash, maybe it's one if the last races of the season, and he's THE FIRST ONE THERE bc holy shit he got so worried. like he always worries when someone crashes bc this shit is dangerous, but it's different now, and he doesn't quite want to think about what it means yet. (he's a little less mean the next time, not bc he's gotten soft or anything, he swears)) - ☁️

UR SUCH A FUCKING MENACE LIKE IM GONNA RIP MY HAIR OUT. it’s 1 am so that means this is going to be hot shit (the bad kind 😹) ok but seriously if i dont make sense or it reads bad, im so sorry, ive written like 4k words today and my brains fuzzy

wonwoo is so cruel. he’s so fucking cruel. he’s insulting you while fucking you stupid, rambling on and on about how you’re always crawling back into his bed like a shameless loser. about how you have no self-respect whatsoever. about how you should be out training even though you’re going to lose again. and again. and again.

and you’re just taking it because, fuck him, but he makes you feel so good. he bullies his cock into you and makes you cum countless times and it’s just too fucking good. you’re in this toxic… relationship? would you even call it that? you’re in this toxic situationship and you have no idea how to get out of it… or if you even want out of it.

and, cloudnon, you’re 100% right. it doesn’t matter who wins or loses.

if he wins, he’s fucking you as if he were some type of god with the cockiest smirk on his face. if you wanna cum, you have to beg and tell him how much of a loser you are. (woah humiliation kink popped out again my bad)

if you win, he’d be so fucking pissed. so so angry and he’s taking it out on you, immediately adjusting that cocky attitude of yours. makes you cum over and over till your just in tears babbling his name and incoherent pleas.

no matter what, he’s always going to have you begging for more bc you’re just his a pretty, cockhungry slut.

[oh my god i alrdy know that didnt make any fucking sense, BUT WAIT BC UR LIL SPIN OFF THING IS KINDA CUTE ☺️ ill start with a poorly written post-crash bed scene]

you’re fine. you’ve told him several times, but he keeps asking and it’s starting to get on your nerves. but, like, it’s also starting to freak you out a bit. he hasn’t said anything mean to you and the way he handles you is kind of… soft? something you’re not used to at all when you’re under him like this

he’s still a bit freaked out if he’s being honest. you could’ve been really hurt… and it’s morbid… but you could’ve fucking died and he doesnt think he’d be able to stand it if anything really bad happened to you.

he has no idea what he’s feeling right now. he doesn’t want to know. god forbid he have a crush on the his top competitor and god forbid you don’t feel the same way.

you grow impatient with his gentle touches bc you’re dying to have him manhandle you like he usually does, so you sigh out. “wonwoo, told you i’m fine. just a few cuts and bruises. stop worrying so much. you won’t break me.”

he looks at you nervously and your heart squeezes a bit… he’s kinda cute when he’s not being a complete dick. “you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

“i’ll be nicer today,” he mutters, “y’know, since you obviously don’t know how to ride.”

there he is.

you smirk, “oh? why don’t you show me how then?”

he smirks, voice low when he says, “it’d be my pleasure.”

[cinnabunnii]

Casey (Ninjago) V2

(IK its closer to like version 15 at this point, but this is only the 2nd time ive posted ab his full info [ninjago ver] here so <3)

Fair warning for scars, mentions of mental illness and disorders, and the like <3 And oc x canon??? if ur fussy ab that??? idk

Casey first, bc he's my little man, my favourite scrunk.

Basic info includes: Casey Abel Tinniel 17 years old (averagely, does change w/lore and how i draw him) He/Him pronouns (feel free to use candy themed neos for him tho, kinda experimenting w/that) Trans-Masc, FTM. Half Oni, Half Human Canonically he has ADHD and BPD. (Feel free to hc him as autistic aswell idm, no other hcs tho pls lmAO, feel free to ask if he does XYZ in my askbox, but do not hc.) British/Japanese. He is 6'3 (tall man, love him, towers over so many), loves candy (any, even that chalky valentines candy stuff), he's left handed, constantly carries chapstick, and kinda needs glasses but rarely wears them (bc hes an arse). He has a dog!!! Leonberger/Great Pyrenees X called Mochi!!!! She's big and fluffyyy!!

He is an EM (Elemental Master), but like his element b kinda stupid but i love messing around with it. (Hes a fandom oc he wasnt made for realism nor to be canon SMH) And a ninja ofc bc what cringe baby's first ninjago oc (he wasnt my first im lying) isnt a ninja!!! Pink ninja go!!!

His element. is. Technology. and I do have basic mechanics written down for it, which i will paste from my notes rn: (Please ignore mentions of "Roni" i will get into that in another post if yall like him enough)

Not me actually thinking and noting down stuff ab Casey's element.

his machines don't need power (batteries, a plug, etc) he can power them himself with his element, but that's draining so he would still add another source of power, and because he already rarely uses his element he can only power small devices.

he's able to cut off power or turn off security systems. (Like just by touching control panels & stuff)

if he knows how to build smth (mechanical) he can just build it instantly, not needing to touch the materials (idk how to explain it? like he can float electronics but he cant hold them mid-air THEY HAVE to be added to Smth mechanical/technological)

is able to hack certain things without touching them, but mostly just does that to annoy Zane when he's younger (Lloyds command/prank) and rarely does it at all later on, leading him to barely be able to do it at alllll when it's needed (most of the time it isn't because of Jay, Nya and Zane having tech knowledge and jay being master of lighting).

Mostly he can just barely use it at all other than to control small devices/andriods because he's never needed to use it. (Up until Roni, which I'll not down stuff for later, might make it so that he's forced to make a few different Oni soldiers and then have his father mass produce them? Idk) probably will change a lot of stuff but these r just notes based on the few ways I thought of him using his element

Elemental notes over (i cant be bothered to edit them)

i was gonna make him a new reference sheet for this post, but instead u can have these: (older art i might've posted but forgor)

(yk that second to last one/the one in the bottom left? yeah ill go into that in another post <3)

i draw him happy to contrast his lore <3333 and the scars tbh, hes so covered in them that drawing him happy and ignoring them is kinda comforting?? idk haha The stories behind his scars r long af so like ill just put them down as "ninja accidents" and move on. His horns and tail r optional, as he's an oni obv smh (shapeshifty boy) I think thats all for him as a character?? He's just a happy silly boy (golden retriever to Lloyds golden cat fr i mean whaTT!!!???) Yeah. Biotech. Aka Lloyd Garmadon, himself, X Casey Abel Tinniel. They r my scrunks, my blorbs, and maybe even, my little guys. I dont have any updated art of them atm, but i promise u i will make some at some point ong!!!! They like to eat candies and stuff together & watch disney movies fr!!!! Casey likes to cook so he makes homemade mochis and stuff a lot n like ong<33333 way to lloyds heart is through candy and i will NOT hear otherwise!!!! Youngest ninja members gotta look out for each other (even if that means kissing sometimes SMH) Thats all for now i think yoooo!!!

[nialltlynch]

i got to ask about the niall mor v's but also...jordan blue??? can we get a morsel of jordan blue??

i posted what i have of the jordan blue thing here BUT i know i posted the bullet point version of this fic somewhere on my blog ?? i just??? cant find it??? it is so silly of me to have the whole thing outlined but like not written SORRY EVERYONE maybe ill try to bust this one out..

oooOHH okay so ive given Niall and mórs whole Thing some thought since cdth over the years (lmaooooo. sad). all of them were fleshed out and written way before greywaren so they have the added bonus of being non canon compliant too!!!

v1 was a strange half epistolary, half found footage type thing which was fun to do as a format but ultimately i decided to not use since i had no idea what i really though of niall and mór. v2 was an extended imagining of one of their later meetings in life and it's where i got a feel for the type of dynamic i felt they had (still super janky). and v3 looks A LOT like (current and active wip) v4 which is a brief (re: 17k words and counting) overview of their entire relationship in a way that is very cool to me personally and also has nothing whatsoever to do with greywaren SO. yeah. ive cannibalized and restructured quite a bit from the earlier versions so it's hard to pick out stuff that probably hasn't been reused but i tried !!!

the wip fridge: the post

v1

This appears to be the final letter.

The question of who is of most interest to us.  A bit of digging reveals that there once lived a Niall Lynch in Washington DC who was murdered in the Singer's Falls area around the time when we believe this final letter to have been written.  Furthermore, his body was found near to the place where the original burned house is located.  There are no photos of Niall as he appeared to live a life generally under the radar.

The house itself sits on a relatively hidden plot of land that had been assumed abandoned.  Legal records show that it had changed a few hands back in the 1800s but those families either did not survive this long or they appear to have moved out of the area.  Legally, it has been without owner or resident since at least the 1930s.  

The few details we have been able to cobble together make for a strangely compelling case that perhaps Niall Lynch is the same Niall who penned half of these letters.  Per immigration reports, Niall came to the United States in the early-mid 1990s from Ireland which lines up with the proposed timeline in the letters.  Niall struggled to raise three sons in Washington DC.  The family appeared to sustain themselves completely on odd jobs done under the table.  It is assumed the boys' mother died early in life and not much is known besides the indication of an "A. Lynch" in reference to the mother on the boys' birth records.

We interviewed a few of the folks in Singer's Falls and the only knowledge they had of Niall Lynch was that he had been murdered there.  No one knew him before then.  Local police records show a thin investigation for his murder, which unfortunately is not uncommon for the area.  What then was Niall doing in western Virginia when it seemed most of his life revolved around Washington DC?

Records show that the three Lynch Brothers (Declan, Ronan, and Matthew) were attending Aglionby Academy, a prestigious all-boys preparatory academy in Henrietta, Virginia, which is just a hop, skip, and a jump from Singer's Falls.  When reached for comment, Declan Lynch summarized that he had been born and raised in Washington DC and his only brief stint in western Virginia was when he attended Aglionby Academy.  He described his high school experience as "easily some of the years of [his] youth."  When questioned about the burned house and if he or his father knew anyone in Singer's Falls, Declan came up with nothing.  We showed Declan some of the letters and sketches and he seemed genuinely very surprised.  He guessed that whatever had happened was something that happened to far more interesting people.

"I do love a good mystery," he told us.

For the past couple years, Declan has lived and worked in Boston as a notable art critic and curator.  He and longtime girlfriend Jordan Hennessy are celebrating the opening of their first gallery in the summer.

Ronan and Matthew Lynch were unable to be reached for comment.

If the evidence for Niall Lynch is anemic at best, any clue to the identity of Mór Ó Corra is like chasing a ghost.  It's clear from the letter that Mór Ó Corra, is a chosen name and no references or mentions of her legal name are ever made in the letters.  Scouring historical records and those noted to be in contact with Niall Lynch turn up no mention or indication of any such character.  The references made in her letters to the supposed society she joined here in the United States do not lead to anywhere of note.  Select portion of her letters and available sketches have been sent to databases ranging from criminal to amateur to art historians alike.  To our knowledge, no hits have been made yet.  We had hoped that perhaps being knowledgeable about art, Declan Lynch would have been able to shed some light on her identity.  However, when he viewed the sketches he came up with nothing.  He did praise her technique and warm use of gesturing.

v2

Niall Lynch spits blood and bourbon on the stoop of the bar as he's so kindly escorted out.  He curses them, too, but the words splash against the door and dissipate in the humidity, thick and hungry and alive.  Even the sky up above is rolling and nauseated as though it feels as tipsy as Niall.  There's grace in good company, Niall thinks.  At least there are no witnesses to this low point.

What a mess this all is.

They had made him say her name.  Mór Ó Corra.  He rasped it and the consonants cut a line from the soft places in his gut and all up his throat.  Vowels seeped from his saliva like poison.  There was a pause on the other end, long enough for Niall to rethink things a thousand times over, and then simply the name of a bar and the line going dead.  

He came here to find her.  He came here to forget.

In the end, it doesn't matter anyway because she didn't show up.

There's a row of measly potted flowers hugging the weathered stone exterior of the bar.  They're a little dry, barely enthused to be alive, cracks all along their pots.  But the sound, oh how delightful it is when they crash and shatter on the concrete.  Petal flatten under his boots, fluttering to the dirt as he draws his foot up to stomp someplace else.  There's a window smudged with years and too old, too timid now to reflect anything.  He should break it.

"Yes, I can see you've definitely matured."

Niall blinks, the world tilts just so, and where there had been nothing now there is Mór.  The years between the Mór he had last beheld, both with his eyes and his hands, and this Mór now in front of him are distinct, jarring.  She is lovely.

"Cunt," he calls her.  His instincts flinch in muscle memory but the wave of regret never follows.

What does follow is a moment of silence.  Niall is afraid to look away, to possibly lose her as though she is only here because he longs for her to be here.  The sick clouds above rumble and spark in the distance.  A smattering of rain tentatively falls and it's the wet spots budding on her skin, on the fabric of her shirt, that makes Niall believe this moment is real.

"You used to write me sonnets.  Is that all?" she asks, already exasperated with him.  He can feel the joy already beginning to turn his stomach.

"I'm all out of words for you, woman."

"Good to know you've stopped lying to my face.  The other side of the leaf is greener and you, my steadfast and true beloved, are proof of that.  What have you done with him?"

"He doesn't know," he says truthfully.  Mór makes a face like she doesn't believe him.  Niall has missed that little pout in her lip.  Her eyes rove  the ground but they don't find anything and Niall laughs, gesturing at eye level.  "He's about here now."

"Disgusting.  Why would you let that happen?"

aaaaaaaand i actually have nothing to post for v3 since it's essentially draft 1 for the current iteration. hopefully (HOPEFULLY) ill be posting the fic soon !!! goal is before the end of the year lmao

[porkyratt]

(i hope its ok to respond in an ask! if you want to answer privately and not clog up your blog feel free ^_^!!)

unfortunately something with tumblr (and a lot of english speaking fanbase in general) is that being mean / callous is really normalized! i dont think what you said was especially cruel or evil or anything, but the wording of "getting the characters completely wrong" is just a very blanket statement that can come off a bit mean especially when fic authors are usually pretty unappreciated in fandom in general. i hope that makes sense?? i also think having the experience of being in disco elysium fanbase sort of sets you up to fail when it comes to rvb. its a superbly written game about intense political theory, and a large majority of people who write fanfiction for it will be people with a vested interest in that political theory who have a lot of writing experience / experience reading advanced nonfiction (karl marx for example since hes a such a huge influence on disco elysium itself)

meanwhile, rvb has a main character named donut. whos thing is that hes gay. because donuts have holes. kind of like a butthole. like for gay sex??... /teasing

but seriously if you need good fic recommendations ive got plenty! !!ive been in the fanbase almost a decade so ive been around LOL there are definitely some baaaad fics in the world but this is not necessarily indicative of grimmons fic as a whole

(if any of this is hard to understand please tell me and ill do my best to rephrase!!! ^_^ )

tysm for coming into my askbox... I feel like an oldman facetiming whenever I use the tags to respond like "help how do I switch the camera" Again thank you for pointing it out. I genuinely do not realize when somethings I am saying are coming across as mean since I am translating it from a different language in my head. I did go back and edit the post because last thing I would want is to bash or belittle people making content for a fandom. That was not my intention in the slightest, and I deeply deepplly apologize. Also for the disco elysium example, yeahhhh maybe not the best one to give! I was more trying to point out how they write ship dynamics where it feels a lot less playing into steriotypes if that makes sense. Not trying to box them(I am saying this with a big fat question mark idk if this is coming across as intended?) Also, wasn't my intention to belittle all grimmons fics because I have read some really beautiful ones. I have just ran into really questionable ones especially recently which made me raise an eyebrow. And yes I am on my hand and knees I need good fics so bad:'))))) Tsym for taking the time to write all of this... I honestly didn't expect my little "let me ramble about what I'm thinking" post to get this much attention I think I forget that I have a bigger reach now compared to when I started posting like a couple of months ago. ( also this is my first social media in like 4 years I have def forgotten social media etiquette a bit) I will be more careful with my wording in the future bc last thing I want is to hurt people even if it's completely unintentional</3