#nothing really knows what it's doing but it does it anyway

[eowynstwin]

peristalsis - iv

selkie!soap x reader. depression. suicidal ideation. strangers to "lovers." social isolation. self loathing. hint of neurodivergent reader. manipulative soap. . Running away from life to the Scottish Hebrides, you meet a man who won't leave you alone. . Masterlist. Ao3.

previous

The other side of the bed is empty the next morning, when you wake up.

You feel it as the dregs of sleep slough off—an absence of weight. The heavy drape of the bedsheets around you. The lone sound of your own breathing, and nothing more—

It shouldn’t punch a hole in your chest. You shouldn’t be surprised in the slightest. What is for other people is not for you.

But you are. It does.

The little speck of hope that has survived every attempt of yours to exterminate it had flared a little brighter, fed by Johnny’s attention. A distant star in a clouded sky, finally reaching earth with its light. Stupid. You know better by now, and it should too. You’ve done this before, a hundred different times, a hundred different ways. The outcome is always the same.

You sweep your hand over the empty spot—

It’s still warm.

Your eyes snap open. At the same moment, you hear movement from somewhere else in the cottage, and then, through the open bedroom door, the warm aroma of coffee and cooking food wafts in.

You sit up. Pull the sheets up with you, clutched to your chest.

“Johnny?” you call. Tentative. Unsure.

“Aye!” a cheerful brogue responds from the kitchen. “Don’ move a muscle, I’ll be right there.”

Something sharp and hot pushes through your veins; the corners of your vision darken with it.

You realize you’ve stopped breathing, and inhale. Your need to be contrary subsumes completely underneath your shock. You sit completely still, suspended in place, as something sizzles in the kitchen.

He traipses into the room in nothing but an apron, carrying a tray with two plates of food and two mugs of coffee, which he sets on the end of the bed before he slides into the empty spot beside you.

You stare as if at a wild animal—if he notices your surprise, he doesn’t take it into account as he curls an arm around your neck.

“Mornin,’” he says, dragging you in for a kiss.

A long kiss—his mouth parts yours to permit his tongue, which he slides against yours as his fingers press upward into the soft underside of your chin. He inhales deeply before his lips leave yours, and you reel, listing toward him, as he pulls away.

“Sleep well?” he asks, hand dropping to your sternum to drag his fingertips between your breasts.

You blink several times. “Uh. Yes.”

“Bet you did,” he says with a grin. Then, he taps your neck—ink-blotting soreness with ungentle fingertips. “Sorry about this. Got too into it.”

He does not sound sorry in the slightest.

“It’s fine,” you say anyway, still blinking in whiplash.

He leans away to pull the breakfast tray up into both of your laps. “Made a classic English breakfast this time, but you eat what you like, bonnie.”

A classic English breakfast turns out to be eggs, sausage, bacon, beans, seared cherry tomatoes, and toast, which Johnny digs into with the gusto of the starving. You select a crunchier-looking strip of bacon and break it between your teeth, but you don’t pay much attention to the taste.

Johnny. His mohawk is mussed from the night’s sleep, and other than the apron, he really does appear to be completely naked. It seems like the first thing he did, when woke up, was not shower or dress, but head to the kitchen to start cooking.

For you. Again.

“Why?” you ask aloud.

He turns to you, one cheek rounded with food, dark brows lifted over bright eyes. “Hm?”

“Why did you make breakfast? You could’ve just left.”

Surprise on his face, freezing his expression. Then, consternation, dragging it down. “I wouldnae do that to you, bonnie.”

He says it so gravely—as if even the notion that he would make an early getaway amounts to betrayal on the deepest level.

“It’s,” you say, “it’s fine. It’s not like this…like…”

Like this meant anything. But didn’t it? You meant to punish yourself, with him as your scourge. A necessary reminder—a bitter pill you must swallow, over and over again.

Who better to deliver it than Johnny, because, hopes aside, he with his rockstar grin and wandering hands had not given off the slightest indication that he would stay the morning after a one-night stand. Let alone get up before you to make breakfast.

You had relied on that.

“I wouldnae do that,” he repeats.

Instead—here he is. Warm, bare shoulder against yours. Lashes dark over an insistent gaze.

You break eye contact, looking at your plate. “Whatever,” you say, for lack of any other response.

You pick at your food—it’s good, same as the meal he made you last night. Not pretentious, like he’s trying to impress you, but genuine and hearty. Tasty, the way breakfast in bed should be.

Puzzle pieces forced to fit together, despite belonging to different areas of the composition. A round peg the perfect diameter for a square hole. Incongruous. Confusing. Untrustworthy.

You continue to study him out of the suspicious corner of your eye as he goes back to eating, though it isn’t exactly any hardship. It seems to be a rare sunny day on the island, with warm, buttery light streaming in from the window. It catches the dark hair on his forearms, casts the sculpted expanse of his freckled shoulders in stronger repose.

You see it again—the wound on the side of his head. Nearly hidden by the dark stubble of shaved hair, but not invisible.

“What happened?” you ask.

He looks at you with a question on his face, and then sees the direction of your gaze. He nods to himself, as if he’s been expecting you to ask this whole time.

“Told you I served,” he said, setting down his fork. Then he notices you aren’t eating much. “Ach, bonnie, don’ let it get cold. You eat, and I’ll talk, aye?”

Begrudgingly, you spear some egg and clamp it between your teeth. He smiles indulgently, and continues.

“So you met Price. Was on an operation with him in London. Chasin’ this real bad fucker in the subway tunnels. He was tryin’ to set off a bomb, but we got to him first. Well, we chased him off the payload, anyways, n’ I’m demo, so I’m the one can defuse it.”

He looks at you. You bite down on a corner of toast.

“Guess he figured that part out, ‘cause not long after I get to the wires he comes back. Nearly takes Price out, so I get after him. Stupid mistake. Price can take care of himself, an’ we had backup. Fucker ended up shooting me in the head.”

Halfway swallowing that same bite of toast, you choke. “You—you got shot in the head?”

He nods. “Aye.”

You look again at the scar near his temple. A starburst, in a whorl of dark hair. Dead center in the silhouette of his profile, as if a paper target at a shooting range.

“Johnny—how the fuck are you still alive?”

He leans back against the headboard, folding one arm behind his head, exposing a thatch of curly dark hair in his pit. He runs his hand through the back of his mohawk, mouth canted at an angle.

“Got no fuckin’ idea, bonnie,” he says.

The expression on his face is, perhaps, the most human you’ve ever seen it. Consternation, maybe. Confusion. Aggravation. You’re not sure what you would call it, but just looking at him, you understand that that exact question is one he’s been asking himself since it happened.

Asking, without finding an answer.

“I’m,” you stammer, “I’m sorry. That’s a stupid thing to—I’m sorry.”

He turns to you and smiles. Chagrined, but forgiving. “It’s all right, bonnie. Have some coffee for me, why don’t you?”

You lift a mug and sip. He’s added cream and sugar to it, the way you’d made it yesterday morning.

“So, I survived it,” he goes on. “Woke up in the hospital a few days later. One in a million chance, they said, but I still had to learn to walk again, an’ I was out. Out, out. Medical discharge, thank you for your service, enjoy the rest of your life. The boys went off to kill the guy in Kastovia or Russia or somethin.’”

Quick as the bullet in his brain. Matter-of-fact. The story ending without him, with no hand reaching out to pull him back in.

Well, not quite—

“And then John Price came here with you,” you say.

He gives you a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes; strained, much like the only smiles you have to offer these days. “Nah. Came out by myself. He came after I’d been here awhile. Told me he was ‘worried about me.’”

The way this conversation is supposed to go, this would be the part where you would say of course he was worried.

“But he didn’t get it,” you say instead, seeing it etched into the grooves of his expression.

Johnny, in exile, alive when he shouldn’t be. Reckoning with the fact that everything he cared about did not care nearly as much about him. Figuring out how to live without anyone else.

Breakfast turns inert on the plate when you look down at it.

“No,” Johnny says, private and intimate, thick as molasses. “He didnae.”

“You seem okay now,” you say, diaphragm pushing the words up your trachea like debris on an incoming tide.

The Johnny you know—the smug, satisfied prick able to laugh at anything and everything—slides back into place.

“Yeah, can’t hide that from you, can I, bonnie?”

He looks at where you’re still holding the sheet to your chest, to the imprint of his teeth on your neck, and then back into your eyes. You know exactly what he’s about to suggest, and you intercept as he opens his mouth to suggest it.

“I’m still eating breakfast,” you say, forcing a whole cherry tomato into your mouth. It pops and squirts between your teeth.

He grins—too knowing. “Ah, that’s alright. M’ takin’ you to Callanish today, and I’ve got a’catch your supper first,” he says.

With that, he slides the tray fully onto your lap and rises, stretching his arms above his head with his back to you, tensing and releasing the muscles as if for your benefit.

“Callanish?” you ask, swallowing.

“Aye, on Lewis.” Then he turns around and, beating a forkful of eggs halfway up, kisses you on the mouth. “Why don’t you take a walk? Pretty today. I’ll be back ‘round noontime.”

Something hard in your chest, held tight between your lungs. Pressure bending the lid upwards.

“I didn’t say I was going,” you reply, but Soap just laughs at you.

He disappears from the bedroom, and you hear him retrieving his clothes from wherever he’d thrown them the night before. You start to shake with the effort of holding in, listening with straining ears as he dresses.

“Left some lunch in the fridge for you!” he calls, and in a stroke of bright luck you hear the front door open and shut before there’s any chance for you to respond.

Wind strokes its fingers through the thatches of the roof. Stillness retakes the vacated space.

You eventually bring the dishes to the sink, tray held in front of you like a shield, as if wary of some predator hiding just around the counter. You approach the fridge and crack it open carefully, imagining a wire you don’t want to snap. There’s a sandwich on the middle shelf, sitting on a plate, wrapped in cellophane.

It breaks open.

Finally, you are alone.

You take the walk.

The sky is nearly cloudless, and the sunlight has transformed the island’s greys into a storm of jewel greens, with what is likely the last warm breeze of the year dancing across fronds of tall grasses. Clouds tower in the sky as if composed and painted there. You lock up the cottage behind you and find a walking trail to put your feet on.

Johnny.

It’s as quiet on the island as you’d hoped. No road noise. No humming power lines, or distant radio on someone else’s balcony. You can hear tiny insects singing together in the sedge, sea birds calling to each other. The voices of colliding winds arguing like old friends in the wide sky above you.

No other walkers on the path. It’s out of season for tourists, the nice weather a rare gift for the people who belong here and them alone.

Johnny.

You’ve tried to be happy. You have.

All you know is that when things start going well, it doesn’t last long.

You don’t know when it began—years ago, maybe, when you first noticed it. The pattern. Something you think of as a chill; rapid cooling, thermal shock cracking the facade.

It happens like this: you find out about group chats you aren’t a part of. Dinners you weren’t invited to. Conversations you might’ve enjoyed, that happened without you.

A problem. A serious one. But you were solution-minded.

For a long time, you puzzled it out. Acknowledged that the common denominator was you, in every circumstance—and so you looked at yourself. Found your flaws. Stared open-eyed into the mirror and confronted your own lack, internalized that no one owed you what you wanted from them just because you wanted it.

Love is action, isn’t it?

So you tried. You really did. You wrote down people’s birthdays. You invited them out for coffee. You commented on their Instagram posts. You messaged first, every time you’ve thought of them, memorized details about their lives, gave them plenty of space to talk about themselves—

After all, no one wants a friend absorbed in themself. People like to be remembered. Thought of. Considered.

You read books others recommended. You watched their favorite movies. Spent evenings catching up on shows they liked so that you could always have something to talk about with them, because that’s how it happens, right? Mychorrizae for the roots between trees. Fertilized ground.

It worked, for a while. And you nurtured the hope that, perhaps, there would be space for you, that something wonderful might eventually germinate.

Maybe conversations would loop back to you. Maybe all you’d done would be returned in kind.

Exhaustion bared a preliminary truth: it would not.

Puzzling more. The next solution presented itself—people don’t stand in front of mirrors all day. If all you do is echo them, what interest will they have in you? You provide nothing new, nothing more than what they already have.

Human beings love novelty, after all. Something new and shiny to turn in the light at different angles. You needed to gleam so brightly that what you’d been seeking all along could see you well enough to find you.

So you worked on yourself.

You took classes you’d been swearing to take for years. Joined a gym looking for endorphins. Dove into crafts, walking groups, trivia nights at the bar. Wrote out a cleaning schedule for your small apartment and kept to it. You spritzed your pillows with lavender, and ate more fruit.

Joined forums for things you liked. Got certifications for work and then chased down the raises they entitled you to. Went to interesting restaurants, found tiny little card shops or foreign grocery stores to explore. Learned to make Pad Thai from scratch.

Rounded yourself out. That’s what you did—you took the raw block of yourself and chiseled down into it, to set free whatever you found inside.

For another while, it was enough. Endorphins make people happy, and all that. And it seemed to be enough, becoming to attract; drops of water usually obey the laws of cohesion.

Only, in the middle of it, you observed the exact same phenomena as before.

Mirrors of yourself in others. People making the same efforts—which bore a richer harvest than you ever had available to reap. Bounties so plentiful they could barely hold it in their arms.

And you, close beside them, trying, and trying, and trying.

Hairline cracks forming.

In the end, still alone.

The teeth of the preliminary truth fit into the lock holding all the rest, and turned open the latch. They flooded your stomach in a rush, expanding, shattering their container, so abundant that they left no room for anything else. And they all connected, ligaments spiderwebbing inward to an undeniable nucleus—

There is something deeply, deeply wrong with you.

Invisible to you, but obvious to everyone else. A thing you cannot fix. A thing you cannot medicate. A thing you cannot self-care away. Unobservable when you look at it; happening just outside your perception.

Something you manage to hide, even unaware of its existence, only for a short while, before it spills out of you and makes a mess for all to see, entirely without you knowing it.

You do not know what it is. You’ve looked and looked and looked for it, and have not found it. You’ve sanded all the edges of yourself, hoping you might unknowingly catch it—but whatever it is must grow back, like a lizard’s tail or the arm of a starfish.

It must be ugly. It must be so shocking that when it rears its head, people feel so sorry for you for bearing it that they’d feel guilty rejecting you outright, and so they recede from you slowly. Masking pity with compassion, and hoping you won’t notice.

There is nothing good enough about you to accommodate for whatever it is. No matter what you do, you cannot make up for it.

So here you are, on a dying island in the North Atlantic. Far away from temptation—from what you can only, inevitably, ruin.

Hounded by a man who it would be madness to think cannot see that.

You watch one foot swing in front of the other, barely leaving any prints in the hard, packed soil exposed by every walker who’s come before you. You hadn’t brought sunglasses with you, assuming that you wouldn’t need them, and the late morning light is too blinding to look too far ahead of you.

Johnny.

It isn’t about you, whatever his interest is. You see that very clearly now.

You picture him—a special forces grunt, riding high on his own masculinity, suddenly cut down. Ripped away from everything that made him him. Cut off from anyone who might be halfway capable of understanding how that might feel.

And you—a lone woman, marginally fuckable. Obviously flawed goods. An empty well of self-esteem waiting to be filled.

Someone he can impress with a wink and a flex, and make himself feel better taking care of.

He’s enjoying getting to play suitor—that’s all. You don’t think you’ve seen many women your age on the island, so for him, this must be a rare opportunity. You can’t, you suppose, blame him too much. You understand what he’s doing, and why.

You’ve done it yourself. Chosen a likely candidate and thrown all your feelings at them until you’ve felt better.

That’s how people are, in the end—that’s how you are. People look to others to get what they want out of them, and in Johnny’s case, he’s getting it. Not even two days, and you spread your legs for him. You let him come inside of you with barely even a token fuss, because he felt you up and smiled the whole time doing it.

He’s using you. The same way you’re using him.

It’s a shitty thing to do. You are a shitty person for doing it.

And so is he.

Maybe that’s why you’re letting him.

When you return to the cottage, you find the door unlocked, and Johnny on the couch with a romance paperback open in one hand. He turns to grin at you when you walk in, and tosses the book on the coffee table without marking his place when he rises. Today, he’s wearing a dark sweater over yet another kilt, but this time—

“Your—fur, thing, is missing,” you say, in lieu of greeting.

He looks down at his hips, patting his thighs with his hands. “My pelt? Ah, yeah.” He grins. “Threw it off in a hurry, can you blame me? Couldnae find it. I’m no’ worried, it’ll turn up. You ready to go?”

You frown. “I guess.”

“Good! I packed your bag for ya already, but you migh’ wan’ to check if I missed anything.”

Your frown harder. “You—what? You packed my bag? Why would I need that?”

You swear his eyes twinkle at you. “Is a six hour boat ride up to Lewis, hen, an’ six hours back, no’ counting how long y’wanna stay at Callanish. Probably dock overnight.”

“I never said I wanted to go!” you snap, marching past him toward the bedroom.

“A’thought we were past that!” he calls after you.

You find your carry-on open on the bed, and furiously upturn it, dumping everything out—it disgorges its contents like intestines spilling from a slit belly. Three romance novels. Toiletry bag, phone charger, jewelry bag, a shirt mismatched to a pair of pants it’s crumpled up with. One pair of socks. No bra, no panties—and you think Johnny might have a shred of decency after all, but when you go to your suitcase, you find your carefully folded rows of underwear haphazardly unfolded, thoroughly pawed through anyway.

Johnny comes into the room as you stand up with appropriate undergarments in your hands, ire shoving smog from your lungs.

“You’re no’ gonna need those, bonnie,” he says with, the ever-present smirk.

“Fuck you,” you snap. You have never wanted to slap someone so much in your life, but somehow, you know he would catch your wrist in the attempt, and just use his grip to pull you in.

And you’d let him.

“Yeah, that’s why.”

You scoff, and go to repack your bag, folding your clothes and tetrising everything together so it will stand on its own when put down, ignoring Johnny’s leering until you turn around. You make no effort to hide how much you’re grumbling about fucking assholes with fucking boats thinking they’re going to get laid again just because they got their dick wet once.

You sling the carry-on over your shoulder once it’s packed and zipped—fully intending to complain the whole way, even as you go along with his nonsense.

It doesn’t feel good, exactly, but you don’t quite feel your stomach up in knots. You feel clear, at least. You know what’s going on. You know the limits of this dynamic. You can deal with it.

“Oh, one thing,” Johnny says, then sticks one hand into a pocket in his kilt.

He withdraws your phone.

Whole again, back together with a gleaming new screen. Nested back in its protective case.

“Saw you dropped it, so I took it to Castlebay to get it fixed,” he says, holding it out to you like a dog proud of the task it’s completed. “No’ a lot of signal ‘round here, but wanna make sure you can get to me if you need to.”

The words enter your hearing like cotton swaps, blurring the deeper they penetrate. You take it from him without a word. You tap the screen—there almost certainly had been signal in town, and repair places usually charge phones for free.

Nothing.

Just the time, and the stock background you never changed.

Stone lungs in your chest. In—one, two three. Hold. Out—three, two, one.

“Thank you,” you say, the words dropping like pebbles from your tongue.

“You’re welcome,” he says cheerily. “An’ I didnae know wha’ y’liked to read so I picked my favorites.” He quirks his brows. “Thought we migh’ get some ideas.”

“Okay,” you say. “Let’s go.”

He makes you brush past him on your way out of the bedroom, and follows on your heels close behind, enough that you can smell him, axe and diesel and salt spray and all.

Too close—because, when you catch sight of something odd, you stop in your tracks, and he runs into you, having to catch you before he knocks you over over. Hands wrap warm around your upper arms, big enough to shackle.

There—wedged in the lintel, above the front door. Barely visible from this angle. A sliver of white spattered with grey. You’re not sure what you’re seeing, until—

“Johnny, is that your—pelt?” you say, frowning.

You point toward it; Johnny’s chin rests on top of your head, hands squeezing. Chest hot at your back.

“Look at that,” he murmurs. “How did that end up there?”

It looks well-packed into the angle of the thatch roof meeting the wall; nothing tossed away in a hurry, the way you imagine Johnny undressed the previous night, could have ended up where the pelt is now.

It was obviously shoved there.

Moonlit eyes dance in your dreaming memory.

You turn around to look at him. You open your mouth to speak, but there are no words waiting to leave it—and he beats you before you can come up with any.

“Why don’ you head down to the beach, an’ I’ll lock up here?” he says, looking down at you with pleased, half-lidded eyes.

A killer whale will toy gleefully with its prey. For hours, flinging it back and forth, punting it through the air with powerful flips of its tail. Whatever animal unlucky enough to have encountered it has no escape—it spends its last moments thrown skyward, soaring through the only habitat it could never understand, before spinning back down to sea, pulled back home by gravity’s ignorant love.

Too stunned on impact to be able to swim away. Still breathing—the body unaware that its life has already ended. Until the teeth closing around its neck is the only mercy it will beg for.

“Okay,” you gasp out, stepping back away from him. He watches as you escape, smiling slightly. In no rush.

Out the cottage door and down the path on shaking legs—you retreat to the kayak waiting on the sand, heart pounding against your sternum again, bolting from something that isn’t chasing you. Your nerves feel raw beneath your skin, unclosed circuits buzzing.

The short burst of warm weather is rapidly cooling; a passing breeze carries the chill of a cold night oncoming. You realize you left Johnny’s jacket in the cottage, but—you’re not going back for it. You don’t want to see whatever you left behind there.

Then you hear Johnny’s footsteps approaching. You jolt, tense—readying to flee. Turning, all you see is him holding the plated sandwich as he crosses the beach, jacket draped over the bend of his elbow.

“Forgot some things after all,’” he says, grinning—teeth clean and sharp.

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep the tremble from your voice, “yeah.”

You take it from him, and see that your hands are shaking. If he notices, he doesn’t comment.

If he notices, he’s probably enjoying it.

“Let’s get goin’ then!” he enthuses, taking your bag and setting it in the kayak.

There is no pelt around his hips.

next chapter early access

a/n: I won't lie, this was a rough one to write. Part of the prose of this chapter is inspired by september is a weary month by Yasmin Belkhyr. Not sure if this is the proper attribution but it's all I can find.

[unabletonotlovesatoru]

gojo satoru is a lot of things. strongest sorcerer. human disaster. a menace to society.

but rested? yeah, that’s never been one of them.

he hides it well—of course he does, he’s satoru—but you see it anyway. the way he rubs at his temples when he thinks no one’s looking. the way his shoulders sag ever so slightly when he thinks you’re asleep. the way exhaustion sits deep in his bones, even as he throws on a bright grin and pretends like he’s just fine.

so, after watching him push himself to the limit for far too long, you decide to do something about it.

and that’s how you end up in front of the higher-ups, voice firm, refusing to back down.

“he needs a break,” you say, arms crossed. “not optional. not negotiable.”

of course, they push back. they don’t care that he’s exhausted. they don’t care that he’s been running himself into the ground. but you? you refuse to take no for an answer.

and in the end? you win.

when you finally tell satoru, he just blinks at you like you’ve spoken in an entirely different language.

“…what?”

“you’re going on vacation,” you say, hands on your hips. “no missions. no responsibilities. just rest.”

he stares.

you raise an eyebrow. “gojo?”

his mouth opens. then closes. then opens again. he is, for once in his life, completely speechless.

“…you did this?”

you nod. “you never would’ve done it yourself, so I did it for you.”

he exhales a soft, breathy laugh, running a hand through his hair. his fingers are shaking. “i—i don’t even know what to say.”

“‘thank you’ would be a good start.”

he huffs a laugh, but there’s something shiny in his eyes, something soft and vulnerable. “you really—” he stops, swallows thickly. “you really went and fought the higher-ups for me?”

you shrug, like it’s nothing. “of course i did.”

he blinks rapidly, then suddenly reaches for you, pulling you into his arms and burying his face in your shoulder.

“‘toru?”

his grip tightens.

“… no one’s ever done that for me before,” he mumbles, voice quieter than usual.

your heart aches. you wrap your arms around him, rubbing small circles into his back. “well,” you whisper, pressing a soft kiss to his temple, “guess i’ll just have to do it for the rest of our lives, then.”

he lets out a shaky little laugh, and when he finally pulls back, his smile is so gentle, so grateful, that it steals the breath from your lungs.

“… yeah,” he murmurs, pressing his forehead against yours. “i think i’d like that.”

[differenteagletragedy]

Price who gets a little older and finally retires but is BORED OUT OF HIS MIND.

He's right around 50, give or take a few years, and years of active duty plus a shot to the leg made it so that he can't do his job the way he used to, and damned if he's going to ride a desk and watch the rest of his team flit in and out doing what he should be doing. So he takes the pension and leaves.

It's less than a month of trying (and failing miserably) to sleep in, starting (and failing miserably) to grow a garden, reading and smoking cigars on his porch (that part goes all right) before he's about to rip his hair out. He ends up takin a job as an adjunct professor at the local university, teaching history.

And he ADORES it, so much more than he thought he would. He gets paid to run his mouth about World War II, something he would most definitely do for free, and he finds it surprisingly rewarding to interact with the students. He always loved taking care of those under him, and this is another version of that. He's a natural born leader, and while teaching is less regimented, it still fulfills something in him.

Another unexpected perk? You.

One of his more attentive students, always sitting in the front row, eyes wide and focused on him -- always on him. You hang on his every word during lectures, jotting down notes and asking questions, offering observations. You're bright, funny when the opportunity arises, and the way you just listen to him so well ... you're young enough to be his daughter, but beautiful enough for him not to be too bothered about it.

Not that it matters anyway. Nothing will ever happen, he knows that. He's your professor, he's sure you see him as an old man, if you even see him as a man at all.

What he doesn't know, however, is that you don't only listen because you're a good student. You listen because he's got the hottest voice you've ever heard, you pay attention because sometimes the dress shirts he wears stretch a little too tightly over his broad, well-muscled shoulders. You hover at his desk after class and ask him questions because you're genuinely curious, sure, but also because that close, you can smell him -- a rich tobacco scent that you're pretty sure you could become addicted to.

"Excellent work, as always," he tells you in that low, gruff voice one day during his office hours. You'd stopped by to get him to take a look at a rough draft of an essay you were writing for him. "You've definitely got an interesting point of view, sweetheart."

He glances up at you, a small, tight grin on his face, and you positively beam at him.

It was a slip of the tongue on his part, the pet name, and he was just about to smooth over it, a quick apology, but when he saw how your eyes lit up at the tiny bit of affection, he couldn't bring himself to do it.

After all, it doesn't really matter, does it? He tells himself again that nothing will ever happen. And if more little names slip out, if maybe he hovers a little too close over your desk when you have a question in class, or if his shoulder brushes against yours when you're reading something in his office? Well, then that won't matter either, will it?

[euphoria-looney]

Idk if you’ve seen Nosferatu but I think a situation like that could totally apply to (Name).

Brief overview:

In Nosferatu, the main character Ellen grows up feeling lonely and isolated. She pleads for a supernatural being to arrive and comfort her and she wakes up ‘Nosferatu’ who makes her pledge herself to him fully. There’s loads of other stuff as well but I think this main idea would be interesting. Nosferatu in the movie is really, really old and ugly, but I think (Name) deserves a fit, hot vampire boyfriend/husband. But essentially he’s like a Vampire Count, aka Dracula.

How it’s play out:

(Name),as a young child, calls out for ‘Nosferatu’ (or whatever name the vampire will have) and he wakes up. He makes them pledge their complete loyalty to him for all eternally, essentially making them his ‘bride’. (Name) is comforted by him, but this connection fades as they grow older.

Then, when they turn 18, Nosferatu calls out for them in their dreams and travels to Gotham, keeping them in his manor. He’s basically a yandere in the movie anyway, so (Name) is kept quite weak and docile due to his mind control, spending most of their time doting on him or sleeping.

Now, I think it’d be interesting for the Batfam to react because the thing about Nosferatu is that the oath to him MUST be consensual, give or take MAJOR manipulation, but still, (Name) has to willingly go with him. So the Batfam have to come to terms with the fact that (Name) literally chose an obsessive, undead (but fit) vampire husband over them.

And ‘Nosferatu’ is NOT going to play fair if they try and take his bride. Literally no Dracula variant does.

I Asked For a Friend, But Got a Husband?

"I sense her in my mind, she's my collar" She's My Collar (feat. Kali Uchis)

So Much More. (Should I name this something new? Since it's a different AU?)

Special (?)

Divider Creds: @anitalenia and @qqmariztwsse

Being young, barely seen or heard, I could only busy myself with books. Even then how many books could I read before feeling that loneliness knaw on me?

Okay, dramatic I knew but who knew this one feeling would lead me to immediately get married by the age of eighteen?

I know how bad that sounds, trust me, I was the one who experienced it.

"What are you thinking about right now, honey?" I felt arms wrap around me.

Meet Elzire.

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

"Nothing much," I replied looking through our mail.

How we met, well I believe it because of this, but don't take my word for it, I might just be delusional.

I had gone to the library and saw [D/D] she ecstatically waved to me before Damian pulled her away giving me a sneer. I waved that off and looked around before spotting a book that I’d never seen before. 

It had a blood red cover and the title ‘Forever’, curious, I opened it. It seemed like a child's story as they had short sentences and photos. It starts with a girl who, one day after being tired of being lonely prays to the gods of her world she doesn’t care who or what they sent no matter what they looked like or how they acted as long as they were her friends, and nice to her at least, she would be happy.

Then it happened, a boy her age descended to her and every day they would play before growing old together.

The end.

I put the book back before returning to what I was originally doing, studying for my next exam.

— 

It had been a good week since I read that fantasy child’s book, and I couldn’t get it out of my mind. I went to the library at night when everyone was either on a mission or asleep and to my surprise the book was gone.

Someone must’ve thrown it out, there’s no reason to keep it here anyone.

I let out a sigh before heading back to my room and though I accepted the book was gone I couldn’t help but wonder, could I do that?

No, that’d be silly.

But…

It never hurts anyone to try.

“Please, whoever is out there, please accompany me and become the pillar I can lean on.” 

.

..

…

Welp I tried, back to sleep I have a piano recital tomorrow no time for these goofy beliefs.

3RD POV

 A figure descended into [name]’s room their black hair fluttered from the wind and their red eyes and fangs glistened in the dark of night, their hands like claws before stepping into the light a little more revealing a tall yet built man he looked angelic despite being a vampire that was friends with a demon, specially Barbatos.

He creeps a little closer to [name]’s room crouching to caress their faces. Making them blink open their eyes.

“... Am I still dreaming?” They question themself. Making the vampire chuckle holding their hands in his and asking.

“Do you mind becoming mine forever?”

“Woah, my wish worked… sure, why not.” He smiled happily placing one of their hands on his cheeks and relished in the warmth that their hand brought to his freezing complexion.

Before they had passed out.

He caught them before they could slam back onto their bed and gently laid them down.

“Don’t miss me too much.”

—

Holy crap what was that dream? 

Maybe I shouldn’t mind it. 

For the next few years, nothing changed except my dreams. Then I turned eighteen and it was out of pure luck that I met him, his name was Elzire.

We got married that same year after a few months of dating which I was totally against but then he convinced me and it hasn’t been like our marriage has been going great. I don’t like that he wanted me to be a stay-at-home wife.

Don’t get me wrong I appreciate him wanting this for me because he doesn’t want any workload on me but I just feel that it’s unfair for him.

Too bad the only payment he wants from me is to do simple household things but even that he just hires some housecleaning or helpers instead of letting me do it and when he comes home to get his pillow, it’s nice to play with his hair, might be better than mine.

Today again though I’m stuck at home and there’s nothing to do as I finished everything, it’s not hard when only two people are living in this house.

I went to look through the mail before finding a letter addressed to me.

It’s from Alfred, but I had never told him where I moved… It’s fine, this is Alfred we’re talking about.

“Dear young master, [name], 

How have you been? It's been 7 years since we last saw you or contacted you, I managed to get a glimpse of you and was able to deliver this to you.

Your family has long awaited meeting you again, if you could give them the chance to see you that would be lovely.

Sincerely, 

Alfred Pennyworth.”

I looked over my shoulder to Elzire before responding.

“I got a letter from my old butler Alfred, saying that my family would like to meet with me again.”

“So suddenly, darling?” He raised his eyebrow at that. Seems he was as lost as I was. I told him everything like he was my therapist so he knew too well himself why this wouldn’t make sense.

-

Despite my hesitance, I decided to go.

"Really Sweetie, you don't have to this isn't something that I would waste my time on, so neither should you." One hand on the steering wheel and the other holding my hand.

"Come on, El, I'm curious, 23 years of my life and only now do they care to see me. Wouldn't you also wonder why?"

"Wonder, not meet. but because I love you and I care for you we'll still go." He squeezed my hand a bit before softening his grip again.

We pulled up on the driveway and saw Alfred come out of the manor.

Elzire got out of the car first before opening the door for me, helping me get out.

I approached Alfred before bringing him into an embrace.

"Alfie, it's been so long." I pulled away before directing his attention to Elzire.

"This is Elzire."

"Pleasure to meet you, young sir." Alfred did his bow before leading us to the living room where the whole family was.

"[name]" [M/D] whispered, tears welling up in her eye, standing up and starting to approach me.

I smiled but didn't reciprocate the hug she was trying to give me.

"[name], we realized our mistake. it's time to come home." Bruce told me.

"Well, as much as I'm... grateful for that offer, I've already moved on and had a life, where you guys no longer matter or are related to me anymore."

"What are you-"

"This is my husband, Elzire. And I don't plan to leave him, for this."

Guys I quit on this if you couldn't notice the ending was rushed so badly, I'm so sorry to the one who sent the request I know this isn't what you would like but I kind of had a mind exploration, and now I have no idea what or how to write this request.

Maybe I'll rewrite this in the future but for now, this is the main result. If you were looking for a confrontation. It's kind of the situation of this Special.

Genuinely y'all could make your own or imagine this scenario. I have no idea what I'm doing anyway, thank you so much for reading this I don't think I'm tagging anybody on this and supporting other batfam authors, especially with all the hate that I've been seeing Luckily I haven't received anything.

Bye-bye, if anything is too unclear and grammatically wrong inform me!

Elzire:

(Cred to this art and oc: @♱⋆༒︎Ren༒︎ ⋆♱/lcttuve)

-ILoveeeMoney

[peacheeeliz]

030. my wife! (wc: 960)

“Okay, Sera, Jake, you'll stay in that little bunker over there,” Heeseung explains, referencing the small bunker built in the middle of the desert. “Roz and I will stay out here to keep Voodoo and Quix away, but if they get at least five blocks away, there's a level for you to pull that'll set off a good amount of TNT I set up.”

“A good amount of TNT?” You question, staring at the sandy bunker. “And we'll be safe from the TNT in there, right?” Heeseung's character stares at you without a word, his lack of answer leaving you on edge. “Your bunker isn't going to kill us, right?”

“Nooooo,” he says, voice pitchy as his character turns away slowly. “It'll be fine, I promise. There's nothing safer.”

“I highly doubt that,” you whisper to yourself as he goes on to continue more of the plan.

As Heeseung yaps away, Sunghoon's character turns to you. “Hey, I wasn't lying earlier. I'm here to protect you,” he says softly.

“Ew, can we keep the flirting to a minimum today?” Jake questions, rolling his eyes behind his camera. “This is a life or death situation. Now is not the time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sunghoon lets out, huffing. “You're just jealous.”

“Yeah, I'm so jealous,” Jake continues. “So jealous that we're in the middle of a war and our allies are too busy flirting to listen to the plan.”

“The plan that will most likely kill us?” You say, laughing when he doesn't respond. “Yeah, something tells me being inside that bunker will be more dangerous than out here.”

“You guys have no faith in me,” Heeseung huffs, after finally realizing no one was listening to his explanation. “Maybe if you actually listened to me, you'd feel more confident staying in the bunker.”

“I really don't think it will,” you answer, shrugging – despite the fact he can't see it. Before he can retort, an arrow flies straight past your screen. “Oh fuck.”

Just over in the next biome, Sunoo and Taeyoung are standing in the tree line with their bows drawn. Sunghoon immediately turns back to you, “Go. We'll hold them back, alright?” He starts, ushering you towards the bunker. “And remember, if they get too close, pull that lever.”

“But we don't even know if it's safe for us,” you retort, but you still make your way towards the bunker with Jake.

“You'll be okay, baby, I promise,” he tells you. “Now go. Stay safe in there, okay?”

Your smile brightens at his comforting voice, but Jake is quick to pull you out of your trance as he calls you from across the desert. The two of you take your place in the bunker, watching as the chaos unfolds in front of you. Many shots fly across through the air, but the battle takes a while to get close and personal; and eventually, swords are drawn.

“Red Winter is coming!” Taeyoung calls out, targeting Heeseung and slashing his sword towards the older boy.

Jake's character slowly turns toward you, “What the fuck does that mean?” He asks quietly, and you can barely hold back your laugh. “This is a Minecraft series… What does that mean?”

“It means we're at war with theater kids,” you answer, laughing with the man. Your eyes find their way back to the fight outside, landing on Sunghoon as he crosses swords with Sunoo. The two draw closer and closer to the bunker, Sunghoon backtracking when he realizes just how low his health has gotten.

“Wait, wait, wait, Sera, look,” Jake exclaims, trying to show you just how close Sunoo was getting to the bunker. “You gotta pull the lever!”

“Me? Why do I have to pull the lever?” You question, furrowing your eyebrows. “Why can't you?”

“Because I don't wanna,” he says sheepishly, showcasing a nice toothy grin towards his screen. “Come on, if they get too close, they could kill us! You have to pull it.”

“Whatever, whatever,” you say, but you make your way towards the lever anyway. “If we die, I'm blaming you.”

“I can accept that,” he answers, making his character nod quickly. “Now go! He's right there with Roz” He pauses. “Wait, don't pull it. Roz is too close. It might get him, too.”

“I,” you take a deep breath. “Do you want me to pull it or not?”

“Don't pull it,” he says. Just then, an arrow is shot right into the bunker, flying right between your two characters. After a moment of silence, he speaks up again. “Okay, pull it.”

You roll your eyes and move your mouse to hover over the lever. Taking in another deep breath, you click, and everything happens in a flash. TNT explodes all around the bunker, and your hearts drop faster than you can even count, until YOU DIED is written across your screen. Your mouth falls wide open, eyes wide in disbelief as you stare at your screen in silence.

Meanwhile, Jake has a similar reaction, watching your character disappear as sand falls all around him. He lost a few hearts, but not nearly enough to kill him off. He's brought out of his trance when he hears Sunghoon scream, “My wife!”

At Sunghoon's outburst and the crash of thunder that rings through the sky, the four out in the desert to the giant hole in the sand. “No, no, no, no,” the man babbles, eyes wide as he reads the chat over and over again. How could he have let you die? He was standing there with all three lives left, and you were gone. In his state of shock, left unaware of his surroundings, Taeyoung takes his chance to attack.

Within seconds, the same YOU DIED screen shines across Sunghoon's face.

synopsis ⤏ popular youtubers team up on all new minecraft smp, quick to name themselves the "newly weds" after sunghoon gifts y/n a poppy. but will these romantic endeavors between the two just be "for the lore," or will feelings blossom?

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[kaiserposting]

My Worries Come in Phallic, Freudian Shapes

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 2k TYPE: Established Relationship, It's basically just Kaiser tweaking for no reason 🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️🤦‍♂️ (I find it funny but interpretations may vary) WARNING(S): Kaiser's overactive imagination?

Kaiser would like to say he’s quite numb to being separated from you. Sometimes you come along with him at away games, if possible, but in other instances you have to be apart sometimes even for months, and Kaiser likes to think he manages it well.

You’re not on his mind much when he’s training or during a game. Mostly his times of weakness happen outside of that, though Kaiser doesn’t let it get to him. For example, he does this fun exercise where if his mind strays towards you too often or when he can sense the void in his chest is beginning to take on a suspicious shape, he holds out on texting or calling you for as long as possible. To test his will — which is something normal people do like all the time, of course — and because wanting to distract himself gives him extra neurotic energy to burn when he’s doing his exercises.

Not that Kaiser becomes neurotic over you or anything. It’s not even a big deal to him.

He’s sure you miss him more than he misses you. He’s confident you do. After all, to him, it’s no big deal, as previously stated. It’s true.

He doesn’t worry about small and nonsensical things like how you’d probably prefer a more present and available boyfriend, and how you’re free to do whatever you want with remarkable ease when you’re seas and oceans away from him.

Kaiser’s eye twitches while he continues shoving the last of his belongings back into his luggage, since he needs to pack for his flight back home. This train of thought isn’t going anywhere good — he needs to abandon it. Besides, a second with Michael Kaiser is worth way more than a month with some stupid, worthless commoner. Your shitty replacement for him will never rival the real deal.

No, this is stupid. You love him, you don’t have a replacement for him. Right? You wouldn’t betray him while he’s away. You’re his first and only love, you can’t do that to him, can you? You know he’d kill you if you did it and he found out, don’t you?

This is stupid. He wouldn’t kill you! Kaiser doesn’t want to kill you. He should stop thinking about this… You wouldn’t do it to him either anyway, you love him back. Kaiser knows you do, so why does it not feel real most of the time?

What if you’ve fallen out of love with him, though? Maybe you look forward to when he has to go away for long. Forget all about him the moment he’s out of your sight, don’t spare him a single thought, have fun with your little friends while he’s gone, all that.

You probably get together and you start shit-talking him with them the way people do about their good for nothing boyfriends sometimes. They call his haircut stupid and you cackle along with them, then you tell them how insecure and unlovable he really is, and actually his dad beat him as a child so now he’s barely human, how it makes him an arrogant and pretentious piece of trash pretender, and then you’re like ‘I wish I had a normal boyfriend instead of Michael’, and they’re all like ‘you deserve a normal boyfriend, this is fucked up’, and you’re empowered to free yourself of your burden. So he comes back home and you pick him up from the flight and you break the news to him that you’re leaving him and he has to move his belongings back to his place.

Maybe you have a new fling already, but it’s nothing serious because you still need to dump Kaiser and all. And he’s like in finances or something, an accountant maybe, who works normal hours (not the overachieving workaholic type who stays behind to do extra), and he probably doesn’t have footage of him having meltdowns on live TV for everyone to see. There are no interviews where he’s acting bitchy, no compilations of him acting cruel or ‘crashing out’ or whatever else. And he probably grew up in an average household — they weren’t rich or anything, but his parents made time for him. They were loving and nurtured him to be a rightful member of society, raising him to be someone worth your affection…

Holy shit does Kaiser feel unhinged. Literally why is he making up this entire story in his head? It never happened.

It didn’t, right? You wouldn’t do it to him, would you? You love him. You really, really, really love him, like from the bottom of your heart, somehow you love him and you don’t want to hurt him, even if you’re probably sick of him being away and of his problems and his attitude and his everything. If you had a magic wand, he wagers you’d wave it and change him on a neurochemical level, keep his looks and his successes, but get rid of the unnecessary baggage.

Or would you keep him as he is and love that ugly thing? Can you? Do you have it in you? Are you just tolerating him for some monetary benefits or out of pity with your knowledge of his past? Do you still love him? Will you love him a few hours from now or are you going to get bored? Are you bored and antsy waiting for him and is it affecting your feelings, suffocating your love to zero each moment he’s not by your side, each reunion only serving to put off the inevitable? Is the novelty wearing off? Do you need novelty?

Kaiser fights off the impulse to write you a text message threatening suicide and then turning off his phone until the end of the flight to keep you on your toes. A flashy move in attention seeking for sure, but for one you don’t even know he’s in a mind war with you, so you’re more likely to be confused than begging for him not to do it and for his forgiveness, though maybe it could earn him a reassurance of love and care. Regardless, Kaiser is not taking the chance because if you ignore him or don’t see the message it’ll just devastate him.

And also he kind of doesn’t want to act like that. Well, he does, but the rational part of him is also still awake and holding him back. You won’t appreciate that. Right now the strife he’s going through is completely imaginary, but if he goes and acts crazy outside the confines of his mind, he really might fuck everything up.

If he makes too many mistakes, you might fall out of love with him, and if you fall out of love with him, you’ll leave him. Kaiser thinks about what he’d do in that case. Without you he is nothing besides an unwanted waste of breath — you’re the sole person who got close enough to see beneath his nonsense and decide to tolerate it, attracted beyond frivolity for an enigmatic reason.

Maybe the perpetrator behind this strange limbo of weird hysteria is Kaiser’s low self-esteem. It always circles back to that and he is sick of it. He doesn’t understand why you subject yourself to him and here, a whole ordeal.

Whatever anymore. Kaiser doesn’t even care. It’s a pointless matter to lose his mind over. He knows you cherish him, and even if you didn’t, he’d get over it. Life moves on. There are other fish in the sea…

Actually, if you tried to leave him, Kaiser has so many things he would do, they’d earn him a restraining order. First he’d resort to begging and ugly crying, but he doubts it’d sway you. He’d need to be more extreme.

No, that’s silly. If you separated, he’d react to it like a normal person, right? He wouldn’t do a thing. He’d let you leave without any theatrics and move on. Right? It’s what he would do, Kaiser decides.

Or maybe he can get a leg up on you and catch you out when you begin losing interest in him and he can work to win you back over. You won’t even know what hit you. Yea, Kaiser will scheme to sweep you off your feet.

Not that he cares that much to put so much effort in… It’s just his strength and natural calling as an unbothered male manipulator.

___

After the packing and the waiting at the airport and all that, Kaiser survives a restless flight. He tried to read a book during it, but he turned out not to enjoy it whatsoever (catastrophe). Then he turned to Gesner, who was sitting next to him and seemed like he wanted to kill himself, and told him in detail about all the plot problems and why this was what made nonfiction superior.

To Gesner’s relief Kaiser also spent a good chunk of it trying to sleep, though the endeavor was useless. He closed his eyes and his pattern of anxious cyclical thinking continued and he failed to doze off. What do you think about accountants? Maybe your side piece wouldn’t have any tattoos because you secretly find his corny and you’ve sworn off tattooed men. ‘I mean, seriously, just put the eyeliner on like a real man.’ Kaiser would bet this is what you’re saying to your friends.

Anyway, again, his flight was spent stirring in ridiculous thoughts in that vein. If nothing else, actually, if you knew what was running through his head, that would be what would put you off of him. But you don’t. He needs to just… keep it to himself and it’ll be fine.

So you find each other after some stumbling and chaos and some vague text exchanges like ‘where are you?’, ‘At the airport obviously’, ‘you think you’re so funny’, and so on, and when you spot each other, you grin upon the sight of him (hard to fake such immediate happiness, Kaiser concludes) and spread your arms out for a hug.

Kaiser rolls his eyes. You’re so cute, he wants to squeeze you to death, but regardless he puts on a big show of what an inconvenience this is and gives you a stiff, nonchalant embrace. The way you hold him is a small reassurance. You’re still in public though, so he needs to play it cool for a bit longer, and he reluctantly peels himself away from you.

You interrogate him about his time away while he’s your passenger princess on the way home. Kaiser takes it as a good sign you’re still interested in his life at least enough to ask, as if there was a possibility he was going to come back and you just… wouldn’t give a fuck about him or what he’s been up to. He keeps his answers vague, trying not to let on the almost daily mental torment he’s been subjecting himself to just because his brain can’t stop making up stupid narratives.

Once you two arrive, and only when you’re inside, does Kaiser give into his desire for your affection. He wraps you up in a way tighter embrace without intention of letting go and peppers your face in kisses.

The first time he acted like that with you upon coming back, you were rightfully weirded out, but now you’re used to this whole routine and let him have his moment of rare forwardness.

“You know,” he says, “I missed you like, a little bit.”

“It’s hard to tell,” you say, sarcastic.

Kaiser ignores it. He bites your cheek. Not hard enough to hurt at all, but it’s a strange sensation.

“So gross.”

“I hope you weren’t doing anything stupid without me. I wouldn't want to miss out on any fun.”

“I wasn’t.”

“What do you think about accountants?”

You raise an eyebrow at the random question, but humor him anyway. “Can’t say I think anything in particular about them.”

“Is that so…”

For some reason, you find his tone to sound suspicious? There is a harder bite — your skin might be a bit irritated around there for a few minutes. You wonder if Kaiser was arguing with management or something somewhere abroad.

___

I just wrote this because I thought Kaiser having emotional impermanence (which is likely) would be hilarious I promise I'll write a more plot-oriented one shot soon again

[mourndust]

‧₊˚♡ DAYWALKER // vampire!cait x hunter!vi x reader

hiiiiii, the pool results are loud and clear, so here it is my little promised piece. this here contains smut so please, 18+ minors dni, dead dove do not eat, mentions of murder, voyeurism, vaginal sex, strap-on cait is my vibe (give me more top!cait now), descriptions of blood, spit, fingering, oral sex — it's clear this is a threesome so well. reader is caitlyn's pretty pupil and we love our creator. also, yes this is smut but it is lesbian drama, that being said, there's a lot of jealousy, attempts of murder, treason, toxic relationships (pls they are vampires and i'm no emily dickinson), english is not my first language, so any mistakes i’m sorry. reblog, likes and comments are loved, enjoy the read!

you know there's something off with caitlyn from almost two weeks before the incident.

you don't really know what it is exactly, but since she made you take the bite almost six years ago you know it deep in your chest as your emotions are connected to her, a constant thought that lingered in her mind whether she likes it or not — the countess is hiding something, and it makes you sick in the stomach cause fuck: when did you two began to keep secrets from each other? more than a partner you’re a part of her; caitlyn’s blood runs in your veins, keeping your twisted nature alive each passing second, making her irrevocably, more than just a creator.

"you look worried baby, what is it?" you're so invested in knowing what she's doing in the shadows that you openly ask her, placing a soft kiss over her shoulder as if to calm her nerves down: it has to be something far more sordid than what you two did every time when it comes to feeding cause she has the nerve to stay silent even when the vampire knows every corner of her own mind it's actually infected by you.

she hides it anyway, and mad does not cover the whole emotion you're feeling in your chest when you're still trying to discover what the fuck is going on by the end of the week. you're nothing to her in the matter of the word — yes. she's your creator, and it's an unbreakable bond you'll always share. you'll always have to be close to her since she aches, physically for your company, but she's not yours in the sense of the word, and you're not her's either.

did she found another vampire to rely her pleasure on? the thought eats your brain like a parasite on a saturday night. the moon is hiding in the sky as the clock hits in the middle of the silence marking the hour: six in the morning and you find yourself pushing the thick door of your room to slide in the cold spaces of the castle instead of sleeping. a light breeze hits your uncovered shoulder, and you're quick to become one with the dark nature of the place you call home.

it's a lack of respect to appear in the chambers of your count uninvited, but your feet do not listen, compelled to pay a visit to her without a proper plan: maybe demand an answer? bend caitlyn against that expensive desk she spends so much time in? make her admit there’s something off with her lately while she's weak and pliable? somehow you'll make clear you are bounded to her, that in the end of all, she's yours.

and as the dark engulfs you, the path to caitlyn's room seem an eternity in the long hallways connecting the whole property. silent as you can only hear the sound of your footsteps against the marble of the ground, the whistle of the wind almost whispering to you until you can see her door at the end of the hallway. your feet come to a complete stop as your fingers tighten against the fabric of your night gown when you can notice the smell it in the air like a disease — a human.

the countess is hiding a human.

if you'd had a heart, it would probably race against the sudden news. a few more doors and you'll be right in front of her room like multiple times before, yet this time completely different than any other day: was she feeding without you? was she playing with her food like you two always did?

deep down, you know what it is. you can hear it too. playing dumb like that wasn't the moans of your countess, like that isn't the subtle smell of sex leaking through the barely opened door of her room. you stand close to the gap not daring to touch the door, keeping your whole body at a safe distance before giving in an just lean.

there it is. the fever in your own body as a response to how caitlyn's spread open in the mattress of her room with a fucking human feasting on her cunt, taking your spot as she's knees deep into the irregular floor, pink hair, and tattooed back full in display, acting like she owned the place.

the countess is fucking a human.

and it's not any human when you pay attention to the girl's details, the mark of a vampire hunter resting in the skin of her lower back, hiding in between the mechanic design you look for a while.

your countess is fucking a damn hunter.

she can be killed by the high council if they knew the treason she's committing in her own castle — on vampire ground, but instead of leaving, of making your creator aware you're there, you stay right where you are, peeking through the door unable to look away.

something is not right with you, all sorts of freak when you keep looking, drinking in the sight of the human making delightful sounds deep between the countess legs, hands wrapped up in her tights as she pulls her closer to her face — caitlyn’s a fucking mess.

of course she is. dark blue hair spread on the pillows, back arched and opened legs like a fucking offer to her, like the count did multiple times with you.

caitlyn’s moans fill the room, and you feel filthy by looking, but you cannot dare to move away, even when you try to avoid that feel of ache between your legs as you’re painfully aware of how good the hunter’s making her feel.

you’re connected, isn’t that right? it’s both a curse and a blessing when you swear you can feel it, the long and wide licks of the haunter’s tongue, her calloused hands trailing up her body like a map she’s just taunting, land she’s just discovering. man, you want to hate it all — but hate it’s a strong word when you feel so fucking good there at only inches, damping your panties cause the scene itself could turn on even a damn nun.

and you’re annoyed. hella annoyed as you’re puzzled in between shouting or still enjoying the view stupidly horny, but even annoyed, you don’t dare to move a muscle, blending with the dark as a red hue appears in your irises: maybe you could kill the human. end up the threat and remind the count what a hunter should be to her: food.

“tell me what you want-” you hear the pink haired talk — “please. wanna do good f’you cupcake.”

has caitlyn been fucking the hunter for a while? your mind turns fuzzy as they go, not really aware of your presence as you lick your lips, craving some blood to warm up the insides of your cold soul, the fire slowly spreading in the pit of your stomach. you should be making a scene, demanding your creator to give you explanations when she, herself, has said multiple times hunter's are not to be trusted, but instead, your feet seem glued to the marble floor, just thinking for a while how much you'd love to kneel too. be good.

you try to understand what it is with this human. maybe that's the only rational explanation you can come up with — you're looking because you need to know: what does the hunter has, that you don't?

"your tongue, vi" the count answer in a ragged voice. "your fingers- please."

she's close. the human knows it, you know it. it's like a shared secret. you've seen her like that before, pleading, erratic, asking for more when she can even handle what she's already receiving, yet vi, looks pleased by it, curling her fingers inside her leaky cunt until the sounds you can hear are nothing but a nasty symphony of her arousal dripping down the hunter's hand.

"listen to you, cait" the sound of her voice is muffled against her, leaving kisses over her tights, biting the count's skin pleased with the whole situation — "you're sucking me in baby, 'can feel your pretty pussy squeezing me already, gonna cum, cupcake?"

your hands shake, and you wonder, deep in the confines of your mind, if it would be so wrong to finger yourself too. eyes narrowing in pure envy when caitlyn's mumbling some stupid bullshit about feeling so full, of her fingers curving just right to rub on that spot she fucking loves. her body spasms while the hunter's taking care of the mess she just made, slowly, gently, almost to herself more than in search of her desire. like she need to have just a little more.

it's not the worst. the worst comes when caitlyn's pulling her, tossing her to bed to straddle her lap, vi's hands on the countess ass — almost controlling her movements when she's trying to make her move, ride her tight to come undone once again.

and caitlyn's a greedy bitch. your creator has always been a greedy bitch, so it's not a surprise when she's making full usage of her force to keep the hunter prisoner under her tights like it's nothing, towering against her broad figure to let her fingers roam against her naked form, the silver jewelry of vi's pierced nipples that has your creator licking her lips in need.

fuck caitlyn. fuck that nice feeling in your chest being so connected to her, the one that mingles with the pleasure in your guts, coils of desire forming even when you try to push them aside, tempted to join in like looking at them is not really perverted already as the countess uses her bare hand to keep her steady against the sheets, ethereal in contrast to the poor illumination of the night coming to an end.

"feed from me," something stirs in you when hearing the hunter asking for something that she should be terrified about "somewhere they won't see- bite me." the smell of the blood makes you dizzy as caitlyn leans against her skin, kissing her with nothing but longing before her teeth sink in without a previous warning, and the sound the human makes — god. you crave to hear it again as the countess pushes her fingers against the wound she made beneath her left breast, allowing her blood to run freely as she licks on every drip.

it's hard to resist. and you know now why cait's keeping her. sweet scent, warm blood, devastating pussy-eater. it makes sense when vi's whimpering against the cold touch of your countess, how the vampire is so invested in something that could get her killed. the hunter's blood fill the air of the room, placing itself beneath your nostrils as you breathed, not because you need it, but because of the delicious smell of her blood.

she's risking her life because she's damn worth it. every. single. drop.

and as vi whimpers, lightheaded, you seem to also make a sound, cause suddenly the count's tense before looking over her shoulder, cold gaze now glued to the spot you used to be, scanning the place as she could smell your scent disappearing on the wind.

you can hear the footsteps even after you're long gone, going back to your room so fast to slide in the fresh sheets of your bed, turning off the candles in hope that would deceive your creator into believing you're deep in your sleep.

count kiramman is ruthless. you know that very well as you close your eyes mere seconds before your creator is resting against your door frame, hands crossed against her chest as she simply studies you, like you two aren't connected and she won't know in the end you've seen her, that you were there.

it feels like a test when she stays there for five-eternal-fucking-minutes, watching if you move closely before going back to her chambers in silence.

you know she knows. you know it, cause you can feel the hunter's hands all over your body too.

being connected is both a blessing and a curse, wasn't it? as a young vampire, you didn't really care about it until now.

there's no way caitlyn don't know.

even in the next days when she acts all happy and nice with you — it's all because she knows it. she knows you were there, that you knew about her biggest treason to her own kind.

was it an act? you've heard about creators killing their protégées, making fun of the idea before experiencing it first hand: will the countess kill you? she has a temper for sure, but enough to get rid of you? never. despite all tries to calm yourself down, you find yourself looking from over your shoulder multiple times in plain dark, barely sleeping through the day as you're too worried to wake up to her impaling you during the broad daylight.

it's rational that you're hurt, rational about your plans to get rid of the threat that is compromising your comfortable life, so you stay far from the countess as much as you can, surprising her to the point she's now questioning your presence like she didn't get you're heartsick ever since you find her with a hunter.

fuck. why does she have to be like that? why does she always want to have it all?

it pisses you off how she’s acting like everything's okay, like she cannot feel it too, that ache in your chest whenever you're close. you can smell the hunter's perfume like a new scent on caitlyn and you fucking hate it every time. furiously whenever you catch it, making up excuses about random things to avoid the count as you go to your room, plotting more plans that would fail miserably to just- kill her.

it becomes a need soon. so much you start to dream about it, the need to feast on your lover's pet only to leave her dry in front of her eyes — to hell if caitlyn's mad.

"i need to speak to you," the count's dark blue hair shines thanks to the light of the candles in your room, taking a look of the insides as you stand in front of her, barely covered in a white sheer nightgown that caitlyn feels it makes you even more desirable to look at, exposed cleavage as her eyes followed the moles that got lost in between your breasts—. "in my room."

"i know i've been weird lately. and i was hoping we could talk," she tries to convince you after seeing your annoyed expression: is that all it takes? a sexy outfit and some indifference? — "i'm not really asking."

the power she has over you must be studied, cause you simply nod as she leaves, making you promise you'll be in her room in an hour not a minute past midnight. so usually, that would mean a good old fuck, but now? now you're not really sure about what's going to expect you in that room.

will she be honest for once? admit she's been engaging relations with a hunter? putting them all at danger? it's stupid how torn she makes you, but you're standing there forty minutes later cause you're weak, and you'd hear anything she'd have to say not because you have to, but because you need to hear it.

so as you enter, it caughts you off-guard cause the hunter is there over her bed and you think it should all be an illusion but her gaze seems buried in you, very aware of your presence there in the count's room — "is this a tramp?" you ask, and the human's laughing as she props herself over her elbows, looking at the whole scene as if she's waiting for the next instructions.

"sit down," caitlyn’s voice is more of a command one than a plea. the tone she uses to make you do things, compelled by a force that's pulling you to the chair of her desk before you could even understand her words — "in the bed."

the scent of vi's blood is nothing but alluring as the hunter stays at a considerable distance when you both share the count's bed. naked shoulder on display for you to lean forward and just-

"you seem to forget about the fact that i can hear what you're thinking, love" the countess accent is a caress against your cheek, a gentle touch as she speaks.

"never" you admit as the vampire moves to stand between your legs, fingers tightening against your jaw to make you look at her.

"speak louder."

"i said never."

"then you think i'd never knew you were looking at us standing outside of my room like a pervert? that i'd forget easily?"

her tone is like a million cutting glasses in your skin, a taste of her temper as you blush, probably for the blood you consumed earlier, ashamed of her words — "you- you're fucking a hunter in vampire soil. risking it all for a human!"

"but you stayed to look, huh?" caitlyn demands, squeezing your cheeks harshly as her grip tightens each passing time — "stayed to see me cum like a dirty slut. leaved the place stinking with your fucking mess, made you soak your panties right in the hallways and you thought i- we were going to let it pass?"

she's cocky when right. enjoying the fact she has the last word as usual — "answer me."

"yes" you admit shamelessly — "i know i shouldn't have look."

“yes what?”

“yes count kiramman.”

"thing is, we're not really mad at that, aren't we?" she asks as the human shakes her head with a hum. "what i'm mad at is having you spent the whole week acting like resentful minx. this whole act of direspect.”

"this human can get everyone killed my count. you know it."

this time it’s the hunter who’s openly laughing when hearing you, shaking her head unfazed — “no one is finding this out, troublemaker. no one is going to kill anyone, don’t have to worry about me sweetheart.”

you look at her like she’s fucking crazy, staring at her freckles until you come across her blue eyes, trying to know if she’s going to jump to kill you anytime. however, you grow distracted by her features, finding in the rough exterior something magnetic that calls you in, a sudden need to touch her naked shoulder to leave a sloppy kiss to her bare skin.

“you like her too,” caitlyn seem pleased to look, staring down at your figure seated in the corner of her bed. there’s no explanation to how her words make you feel, how her voice tickles something in your brain — “i know you do. such a fucking mess for a hunter. can smell your cunt dripping just like before.”

“i don’t-” it’s pathetic how you try to hide it, how you’re so invested in a plain lie you don’t fully believe. violet’s smell is like a knife straight to the chest as she’s there, expectant, and fuck, the hunter’s gaze is so intense soon after you can feel it somehow, blue irises drinking in the sight of that lacy night gown that’s showing enough cleavage to let her wondering sight study you.

“no more lies,” the count says, shaking her head in disapproval — “i want your full honest or else i’ll get rid of you and your poor conduct.”

it’s impossible not to shiver when vi’s lips come in contact with your naked skin without a previous warning, soft kisses like the ones you wanted to give her before in your very own shoulder— “c’mon bloodsucker, don’t be mean. you’re a pretty vampire aren’t you?”

“yes- i’ll beheave” you answer — “i’ll be good i promise-”

the hunter’s words sends shiver down your spine as caitlyn’s grip in your jaw tightens for a second time, making you look up to her as the human continues on her own bubble. the feeling of her soft kisses is a huge contrast with the vampire’s cold fingers, and good fuck. you know you’re in trouble when you’re craving the warm feeling of the human’s skin, the blood pumping on her veins so close to you — “kiss her.”

the countess gaze search yours as her command lingers in the air, and you look like you don’t believe it at first: kiss her personal toy? did you hear that right? — “you know you want to. kiss her.”

violet’s eyes change to a darker shade of blue almost expectant of your next move, and you’re there, trying to remember she’s the enemy, jeopardized in your own feelings: why do you want to kiss her too? your fingers trace the shape of her lips, lingering on her scars as the hunter’s breathing hitches on her throat: weren’t you about to kill her? weren’t you ready to claim the count as yours? finish all the threats? it doesnt make sense now how a creature made to kill is so invested now in pulling you closer just to steal a deep, demanding kiss.

it’s a game. you’re nothing but a prime killer, top tier in the food pyramid and the human’s there, looking at you with pleading eyes like you’re not remotely near to be a predator. and you want it. pouring in your chest like a long lost need, something you’re craving yet somehow never realized it before.

vi’s lips are soft under her scars, pushing her tongue against yours in a saliva-filled kiss, wondering hands as she steals a moan — oh how quick she forgot you’ve sworn on killing her too! how quick she forgot she’s trained to kill you and the countess as she seems very into the kiss now, leaving a sweet scent in the air that mingles with her own arousal.

it’s almost a victory when you can smell her soaking panties, a trophy you’re planning to keep on your memories as you seek for more.

“aren’t you a charmer?” violet says sharing a look with the countess as if looking for permission — “are all vampires like this? so hot and bothered so easily?”

“no,” you answer sharply, almost offended — “most would kill you. pretty things like you should be destroyed.”

“don’t kill her” the count says as the hunter squeezes your breast when she notices how you’re not pushing away but in, kissing her until she’s choking on something so basic as breathing — “no feeding until i say so, get it? use your words and tell me you understand.”

“yes,” you soon shake your head, looking at vi’s chest filling up with air at the lack of it— “ i understand, no feeding- i’ll do it.”

“that’s more like it,” caitlyn praises as you’re crawling over on your hands on knees to corner the human against the bed, caging in between the mattress and your own body — “wasn’t so hard, see?”

you want to say something, deny it even, but fuck, how could you when you’re so lost in a hunter? bitting her with just enough force to make her body shiver in need, a tease when her reactions to you are like a vice. it’s not your fault when you’re breaking the bandages of her chest, tearing them appart without really making force.

“hey-” violet’s ready to whine before you lean against her breasts, squeezing them between your hands before sucking her nipple in, taking special time on marking her down as if you wanted to rip her off caitlyn’s property and make it your own. the barbell of her pierced breasts only seems to add to her pleasure as she seems to forgot about what she’s going to bark about, a competition almost as the countess makes you stay on your hands and knees, pushing you further into vi’s tits only to make your ass lift up in the perfect position.

“you’ve been nothing but a problem, forgetting about your place” her words are slurred as she moves you in the way she wants you to be, ass up, face buried in the hunter’s chest before spanking you until her whole hand is visible on your ass-cheeks — “should i remind you that i made you? that you’re mine too?”

you’re too zoned out to answer, kisses travelling from vi’s chest to her stomach as the sharp angles on her body now melt away against your lips, traces of visible saliva on her skin as she parts her legs like an invitation, leaving enough space for you to settle between them.

fuck her. the hunter knows what she’s doing, looking down to you as she moans and writhe, silently asking for more like good human pet.

“i can see now why caitlyn’s keeping you” you say, fingers purposefully moving now to reach her black underwear — “you got this nice smell on you and fuck. i could devour you whole, you don’t really understand.”

you aren’t aware of your ass being at the count’s behest, however, the strap is around cait’s waist as she uses her right hand to cup your cunt like it’s hers cause it is. and in her dingy room, her index fingers teases over the fabric of your underwear only to dampen her finger with it, looking, interested, how you’re pulling vi’s panties to the side, licking your own finger to just tease her entrace too.

she’s sensitive as you spit against your fingers, the feeling of your slick saliva in her sensitive sex as you look up to her, the blush on her face that matches her hair and makes your stomach do this thing you don’t even know it can do, a warm feeling spreading all over.

pink pussy on display, a rough slap on your ass and suddenly, caitlyn’s pulling down your panties to your knees, middle finger teasing your entrance without really going in, angling you down to where she needs you to be— “eat her up,” she breathes out, coaxing you into doing what you’ve been craving to since the beggining. “go on. feast on her pretty cunt, want to see you enjoying it.”

it alleviate all your aches, the weight on your back, the worry you’ve been going through the week, the anger you’ve been gathering on the pit of your stomach as the count buries her finger in your aching hole, pushing it inside until her knuckles are brushing against your core and you’re arching your back, presenting your ass to her without dismissing your current job.

she’s elegant even where her actions are nothing but filthy, taking her time in stretching you out as you sink in between vi’s legs.

it’s desesperation what invades you, a depravity that makes you surrender to her, to both of them. moans are muffled against the hunter’s cunt and suddenly you’re eating her up like a meal, tongue rounding her clit in slow, controlled strokes. “fingers-” vi whines, arching her back as she searches for more of your mouth, of your fingers stretching her open without fully sinking in — “please, please use your fingers.”

“so pretty when you beg-” you say, becoming a fucking mess against caitlyn’s fingers itself, moving against her digits to make them reach deeper as your own do the same, burying them in the human’s cunt, mixing up your caresses with your tongue until you can only taste her, flavour filling up your bucal cavity like candy — “ngh-fuck. you’re so warm-”

it’s making your mind go dizzy as vi’s pussy suck up your fingers, delving deeper as they curl inside her dripping cunt, arousal now dripping to your palm making you satisfied as ever.

it’s such a fucking sight.

trapped between the hunter’s pussy and the count’s cock she’s pushing against your leaking cunt, finally burying herself until it reaches that nice, velvety spot you enjoy almost too much so the pleasure becomes unbearable, her fingers leave your channel to be replaced with the her dick, making you look from over your shoulder as profanities leave your lips in response — she loves it. the vampire gets off your messy look, your swollen lips as you finger violet stupid, the blue rubber cock dragging along your walls, pushing against your cervix to take what she wants.

“such a whore, taking me all the way in,” she mutters “good girl letting me fuck you like this, sucking my cock in- keep eating her, c’mon, you’re losing focus baby.”

and god she’s so right. vi’s looking at you through half lidded eyes, lost in the squelch sound as your fingers quickly fuck her, curling inside as she seems interested now in the way caitlyn’s pistoning her hips against your sore sex, pushing her thumb against the entrance of your pucker hole, teasing you only cause she knows you like far more than you’re willing to admit.

connected. you are connected to the count so hell— caitlyn swore she can feel your walls clenching against her dick, your arousal dripping down your tights to stain the sheets of her bed, your sloppy, erratic licks against vi’s cunt and her fucking taste in your mouth.

vi’s abs clench as she’s close, muscles flexing as you look up to her, connecting your gaze to the powder blue eyes, sweat covering her skin in such a human reaction, arching her back to your mouth as she pulls you closer, taking the strands of your hair between shaky fingers — “m’gonna cum- fuck m’gonna cum-”

the smell. god her smell is driving you insane. fuelled by caitlyn’s rough movements impaling you relentlessly, you swear your vision turns hazy.

“bite her,” the count manages to say composed as ever, looking down to both the hunter and her cute pupil — “you’ve been craving her blood since you saw us. bite her.”

you look up to the human almost asking for permission, like you really give a fuck about her opinions before she nods unaware of her surroundings. and there’s a pulsating vein on her inner tight you can feel pulsating over and over again like the key to heaven, a kiss or two, a slow lick as your fingers sissor inside her pussy and suddenly you’re bitting her with an unknown force, tearing up the sensitive skin to finally, finally have a taste of what you’ve been thinking about from almost two weeks.

it’s common that young vampires are unaware of their force, common that they take so much without noticing, so you think about it for a second, her warmth flowing inside of you only to renew your energy, a new vigor as your fingers greedely fuck her to reduce her into pieces — it would be so easy to just- end up with her.

that’s the emotion of all, you think. making her lightheaded to the point she’s not sure of where she finishes and where you begin, until her blood is staining the countess sheets and you’re sucking, like a fucking leech, the blood that comes out the open wound.

you can feel the hunter orgasm pouring in, the way her pussy spams in your hand, the loud moans as she loses control of herself, shaking beneath you. it’s such a lovely sight as you drink, taking more of her like you werent satisfied already, the pain mixing up deliciously with the pleasure you’re bringing to her.

so when violet cums, you can feel it everywhere. a demolition that crushes her down, destroying that façade of the bad big hunter to reduce her to a babbling mess, trembling against your fingers as she whines when you continue on sucking her blood, not caring about her uneven breathing.

“i said, don’t fucking kill her,” caitlyn’s rough voice it’s the only thing you can hear as she takes you by the hair, pulling on your strands harshly as she takes you away from her leg, keeping your head up as her hips crashes over and over again with renewed energy, the hunter’s pliable body beneath you as her hand comes up to choke you, not really harsh when she’s weak, but gripping your neck and tucking the messy strands of your hair beneath your hair.

“such a pretty pet,” the hunter says, looking down to you even when she’s still lightheaded from the blood loss— “let’s keep her, can we keep her?”

the countess hums in response, you’re her’s but she can share right? she can share a bit.

vi’s hand slides down to your clit, and it’s just right when her fingers move in circles, an added pleasure that makes your body shake, intense coils of ecstasy now forming in your belly as electricity travels down your spine, making your body burn without a previous warning.

it’s delicious- the way you reach your peak, a high you cannot come down as you ride your orgasm, face disorted in pleasure as your vision turns blurry, caitlyn’s burying the rubber cock as far as your cunt allow it just to leave it there— keeping you full of her as a way to remind you who owns you, you made you like this.

fuck.

maybe you are going to be acussed of treason too, cause when vi’s pushing you forward to make you sit on her face you don’t have any questions about it, surrendering to her touch in seconds.

pathetic. you love it.

[blubunz]

YAP SESSION 3

— RE chars in general x gn! reader

《MINORS DNI!》

Tags: Sex. Just casual stuff nothing crazy. RE characters includes: Leon , Carlos, Ashley, Jill, Chris, Ada, Luis. Claire is mentioned but I don't write anything horny abt her.

A/N: I have a hunch I'm actually gonna be sick un,, not feeling so great. This is just what j think if it's based on normal stuff like no fucked up messed up situations whatever, just casual lovers making love and what they like.

Consensual.

Ok now that's out of the way, I have some preference in minds, obvi they're purely just my opinions.

Leon is like, the guy who swings with whatever you want. Rough? Yeah. He'll go feral. Gentle? Ok. He'll be so sweet, even moan for you I'd you want to hear them, in which most of the readers in my fic would love. Most of the time it's just you, you, you. Him asking you what you want. Princess treatment or absolutely feral, he doesn't have one in mind, he's just on board with whatever you want and if you don't say anything, he'll ask you what you want anyway while kissing your cheeks so sweetly.

Carlos,, grhfrgrhgrh, he's so bite-able. I think he's the soft type. Like, he can be rough, but most times, he chooses not to if you don't specify anything. He absolutely loves seeing you just getting satisfied and happy, so yes, he'd go rough if that's what you want, just not without you saying. Even when you did something bad, or if you hit him when youre on top, he'd just melt and cradle you in his arms, kissing you, and you two would have some cuddle-fuck session. In my mind, Carlos is very emotional and sentimental in his love life. I can ramble on about the same thing over and over, how he's an absolute king in showering you with too much affection.

Slapping? You're into that, but Carlos is scared of hurting you. Bondage? He doesn't want to see ropes burn into your skin, the only thing should be on your body are his marks and hickies.

So anyways, his biggest turn-on is seeing you getting so, so satisfied. This might make him indulge in overstimulation however, he keeps making you cum and seeing your brain melting after each orgasm. That's right, you don't have to think, just be happy of what Carlos is giving you — pure love and affection.

I don't get much thoughts fron other characters in a sexual way, but I'll think about it like rn. Both Leon and Carlos are hot to me so obvi they're like,, um, long, and,, the first ones I write about.

I think Ashley would be some vanilla stuff, and if you two both try to go into some kinky stuff, things just gets awkward because both of you never really know how to do it professionally, and then you two would just laugh and watch a movie.

Jill is like,, ohmygod,, she's so ourhrorhrirug. The Jill in my mind is like, into the casual stuff, but she prefers handling you as well. She mainly wants to see every once of your reaction so mind you usually sex with Jill will never be a quickie, she doesn't do it slow, but rather she just does a lot of things to finally let you go.

For Claire. No, idk, I never think of her in that way and when i think about it now,nothing comes to mind. I love her character! I just don't associate her with these horny stuff so no.

Chris, big beef guy, I like him too! I think he'd enjoy handling you like Jill. Ok, so he's be like, usually, dominant and rough, hed praise you though, but hes very rough, and he enjoys using his strength to let you know who's in charge. but like, you can put him down no matter how strong you are. One word, one pleading look and you got him all soften up and asking you if you needed anything. Usually, he's never the one to initiate too, he respects you and only fucks you when you want to. If he's horny and you're not then he's holding it in, not even letting you know. If he's not and you are, then, obviously he has the need to satisfy you in every way he could.

Ada is like, I think with how she is in the games, she'd know what you're into by now. You're an open book to her and she can read you. You didn't even have to ask, it's like she knows. It creeps you out honestly, sometimes, at how every time she knows what you need. Maybe she keeps track every month? She knows your kinks too, and when you talk to her, she's like,, "I know,," sometimes she surprises you during sex, turning the usual sex into one imof your kinks. She enjoys seeing you surprised following with the high amount of pleasure that follows suit.

Luis. A bottom.

[sailorsoons]

On the Clock | Teaser (c.hs)

Pairing: Vernon x f. reader

Summary: Modern problems call for modern solutions, including naming a random stranger in the bookstore as your boyfriend to avoid an embarrassing encounter with your ex. The problem? The stranger is Vernon and he’s not supposed to be a stranger at all - he’s your coworker, and now everyone at the office - including your ex - thinks you’re dating. 

Word Count: TBD

Genre: Faking dating, Coworkers to Lovers, Romcom

Type: Smut, some fluff and crack

 Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging in and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

Warnings: Full fic warnings TBD but general warnings include explicit language, explicit sexual content, a little bit of a miscom trope, a hint of angst, a whole lotta stupid!

Written for the Lonely Hearts Cafe Collab by @camandemstudios

Masterlist | Ask | Join Tag List

COMING FRIDAY, FEB. 14

“Well,” Vernon (from IT) eventually says. “No harm done once you tell everyone we’re not dating.”

“Once I what?” 

“Well you’ll have to-”

“No way.”

“What?” 

“Do you know how embarrassing that would be?” 

He raises a brow. “More embarrassing than grabbing some dude in the bookstore and claiming he’s your boyfriend.” 

The air leaves your lungs and you melt into the seat, your misery showing. “I already said sorry.” 

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Just tell everyone you broke up with me.” You snort. 

“No one would believe that.” 

“Why?” 

Instead of answering him immediately, you busy yourself unraveling silverware. It’s a hard question to answer, not because you don’t know the answer but because you don’t want to tell him. Vernon (from IT) is quiet, though. Patient. 

He doesn’t press you for an answer, happy to wait you out until you’ve folded your napkin and placed it on your lap, and once again drained the rest of your water. It does nothing for your nerves as you fixate on a spot atop the table. 

“I don’t… date.” 

“You dated Minho.”

“Yeah. That’s uh… it. It’s kind of a running joke that I am undateable.”

He frowns at that. “Respectfully, I find that incredibly hard to believe.” 

“Thanks. I think.” You pick at a string in the tablecloth. “Anyway, no one would buy that I ended the first relationship I’ve had since Minho. I didn’t even end the last one and sort of clung to it in a way that was sort of embarrassing.” 

“I see.”

You’re unsure if he really does. When Minho had broken up with you, you’d attempt to make arguments to keep him around. Offered less work hours, even said you’d go to therapy to talk about your insane need for success. He hadn’t wanted any of it, and you’d eventually realized that he just… didn’t want you. 

They never did, when people realized what dating you entails. Everyone wants a woman who works hard. They like the illusion of it, the woman who gets up early in the morning and goes to workout before going to her corporate job and girl bossing all day long. They desire the woman who dresses fashionably, who wears designer tags and commands a room all day before coming home to make an effortless dinner followed by a luxurious night routine. 

And you get it. You want to be that too. But the truth is most days you wake up past your alarm and rush to the office wearing shoes that don’t match, and sometimes you come home so late and burned out from your job that you eat a handful of shredded cheese over the sink with a stick of beef jerky, only to do it all again the next day.

That wasn’t what anyone wanted. At least, not in your experience. 

“Anyway,” you clear your throat. “You’re right, or whatever. I should just tell them I lied. I’ve given worse news. Just you know - less personal.” 

For a few minutes, Vernon (from IT) is quiet. You don’t look up to meet his gaze. Instead you watch the ice cubes in your glass melt, little beads of condensation zigzagging down the curve of your glass. 

A sigh makes you look up at Vernon (from IT). “What if we dated for like a month or something?” 

“What?”

“I don’t mean really date,” he offers quickly, sensing your surprise. For some reason, that stings a little. You swallow it down past the knot forming in your throat. “It’ll get people off your back or whatever and we can just mutually end things.” 

“Really? You’d do that.” 

He shrugs a shoulder. “I guess, yeah.”

“You can break up with me,” you promise eagerly, leaning forward with the new promise of a solution to your problem. “Everyone will believe it. Just say I work too much and I’m too obsessed with my career.” 

An uneasy gaze flickers in Vernon (from IT)’s eyes. “It can be mutual,” he says firmly. “That way it ends nicely.”

“Fine. Everyone will think one thing anyway, you’ll get out without a scratch, trust me. Are you sure you’re willing to do this? I can… suck it up and tell everyone I made it up.”

“Do you really want to?” 

“No,” you admit.

“Then it’s settled.” He shrugs, heaving a heavy sigh. “I’ll give you a month and then we can mutually end things.” 

Sticking your hand over the table, you offer it for Vernon (from IT) to shake. His mouth twitches a little as he smiles, leaning forward to take your hand. His is warm and softer than you imagined, enveloping yours firmly as he shakes. 

“Deal,” you smile, feeling a glimmer of hope. 

Just like that, Vernon (from IT) becomes Vernon (your boyfriend). 

Sort of.

[akawifeyy]

RISK! | smau & fic (FC43)

description: franco colapinto is a playboy — everyone knows that — but he does have some boundaries that he’s unwilling to cross. that is, until he meets you. the younger sister of oscar piastri. then he’s willing to risk it all.

tropes: forced proximity, mutual love, forbidden romance, age gap (18 and 21), op81 sister!reader!

face claim: gracie mckenna

trigger warnings: suggestive content, swearing

| note: this is a combination between a smau and a fic, meaning that some social media snippets are mixed throughout, along with blocks of prose. hope you enjoy!

tagged: @ williams, @ francolapinto, @ f1

comments (2718):

@ user1: this is so ridiculous, he's literally just being used to get girls to watch F1 🙄

-> @ user2: I agree, he can't even drive

@ user3: CONGRATS FRANCOOOO #argentina 🇦🇷

@ williams: We're so grateful to have Franco on our team, and can't wait to see what he will achieve in these upcoming races!

Melbourne, Australia (2025)

There was no way you could ever do this. Get in a tiny metal race car and go spinning around in circles against nineteen others for almost two hours? That was a tall order for anyone, yet your brother always exceeded expectations. You watched him glide through the track, his papaya car shedding sparks as he pushed the engine to the max. He was incredible, carefully looping around and setting records.

It was his home race; nothing lesser would have been expected. Oscar needed to excel, to survive against the pressure. Over the past few weeks, it was like he was glued to the sim, practicing this circuit repeatedly, making sure every movement was executed flawlessly. This was the final countdown: FP2, meaning that in less than a day, Oscar's skills would be put to the test.

Behind you, your best friend Georgia, wolf-whistled. Lando Norris, Oscar's teammate, had just entered the paddock. His curly hair was obscured by his classic neon-green helmet, his race suit hanging loose around his waist. "I'm so ready..." You heard him say to Zach, and then you turned your attention back on Oscar, who was on his final practice lap.

The car moved around as if it were a dagger, slicing through the track like the weapon it was. When he finally slowed to a halt, you rushed to meet him. He exited the car, removing his helmet, chest heaving with exertion. "Hey, Y/N," he said, smiling.

"Hi, Osc! You did amazing!"

He flushed, not one for compliments. "Sure. Where's Mom?"

"I think she went inside because it was too hot. I'll go get her," you said brightly, trailing after him.

Oscar shook his head. "It's OK, don't worry. Stay out here a bit, I think Lando's about to go on."

"I don't really care about him," you blurted. "I was waiting until you were done to go walk around the track."

Oscar raised one eyebrow, but didn't say anything. Even though you were younger than him by only five years, he acted like you were still a child. You were eighteen, and just one semester away from going to uni! You wouldn't have constant supervision there.

"Mom said I could," you pouted. "You're not in charge of me, I'm an adult now."

"Yeah, but you can't read a map, and you're naive," Oscar pointed out. "You trust everyone."

You gave him a look. "Like that's a bad thing. Anyways, I'll see you later!"

Oscar hugged you quickly, his eyes watching you concernedly, and you rushed off to explore the circuit.

Melbourne, Australia (2025 / continued)

You exited the McLaren paddock, tugging off your jacket and tying it around your waist securely. It had been a while since you'd been able to go to a Grand Prix; your parents hadn't let you because of all your studies. But this was Oscar's home race, and it was monumental. After months of arguing (and failed attempts at bribery), you'd finally convinced them to let you tag along.

The sun beat down on you, warming you from head to toe. It felt nice to finally feel a bit of a breeze, since you'd been cooped up in your room all week, prepping for your finals.

As you wandered through the grounds, you watched as fans cheered for their favorite drivers. You saw a few Australian flags here and there. One even had Oscar's face on it, next to a koala on a eucalyptus tree and a kangaroo, and you laughed.

You passed the Mercedes and Haas motor homes, where you saw Kimi Antonelli and Ollie Bearman talking. They were close to your age, and potential friends, but whenever you tried to talk to them, Oscar ushered you away.

"They're guys. And F1 drivers. They can't be trusted," he told you.

You rolled your eyes. "So that means I can't trust you."

Eventually, you found yourself in the Williams paddock, watching as they prepped the car for its final practice before the race. A man with the most attractive dimples you'd ever seen was talking animatedly with his race engineer, discussing potential strategies.

You were enthralled by his lilting accent, caught on every word and phrase. He finished with the race engineer and turned to his car, but then he stopped, noticing your presence.

You were wearing a bright orange blouse, and the jacket wrapped around your waist had Oscar's number on it, immediately incriminating you.

"Hello there," the man said, a grin dancing on his lips. "I'm Franco. And you are?"

Seven words, and you were hooked.

Text messages between Oscar and Y/N (2025):

@ yourusername: home is where the heart is 🩷

tagged: @ oscarpiastri, @ f1

comments (182):

@ yourbffusername: had sooo much fun w you!

-> @ yourusername: i love being with youu

@ oscarpiastri: I already miss it

-> @ yourusername: go kick ass in china 😼

@ user4: Just dropped to my knees in the middle of the grocery store. She's just that beautiful

Two weeks after the Melbourne Grand Prix

You flopped down on your bed, feet kicked up in the air as you texted none other than Franco, the same driver you'd met in the Williams paddock. He was funny and flirtatiously silly, but he was smart too. You had a lot of conversations about your upcoming university days, and he gave great advice on the topic.

"You don't always have to listen to your brother," he texted you a few nights after you'd met. "You're your own person, cielo."

You two had bonded over your mutual love of horse riding, a hobby of yours that you were trying to continue despite all the stress of the past year. Franco sent you a few photos of his horse, and one where he was shirtless. You spent more time ogling that picture than you'd care to admit.

Talking to Franco was therapeutic, and you didn't want to hide the blossoming friendship (or more?) that you two had. But you knew how overly protective Oscar was of you. You didn't want to spark a rivalry that could play out poorly on track. It wasn't worth the drama.

You weren't going to avoid telling your brother forever, but you wanted to wait a while to make sure that you didn't give him an aneurysm for nothing. Franco had a reputation as a playboy, like all other F1 drivers, but he was still young and a rising star. He could be using you — at least, that's what the little voice in the back of your mind warned. It spent too much time listening and believing everything Oscar had told you.

There was a knock on your door, and you jumped, turning the screen off so that no one could see the conversation you'd been having.

I've never met a girl like you before.

You're my princesa, you know that? All pure and perfect. I wonder how long it would take for me to absolutely ruin you.

"Dinner's ready," your mother called through the door.

"Thanks, I'll be there in a minute!" you responded. Once you heard her footsteps recede, you texted Franco that you had to leave, and hurried outside, your cheeks blushing red.

@ francolapinto: ¡P8 en el Gran Premio de China! Es muy emocionante ver todo el progreso que ha logrado Williams. Estoy agradecido de ser parte de este equipo. ¡Hasta la próxima carrera!

(P8 in the Chinese Grand Prix! Very exciting to see all the progress Williams has made, I'm grateful to be part of this team. Until next race!)

tagged: @ williams, @ f1

comments (489):

@ user11: Amazing work, Franco!

@ yourusername: podium coming when???

-> @ francolapinto: Soon 😏

Text messages between Franco and Y/N (2025):

The Confrontation:

You fidgeted under Oscar's heavy stare. Even through a phone screen, his brown eyes pierced you. "I need to tell you something, but you can't flip out, OK?" you said.

"Oh God, what did you do now?" Oscar responded, preparing for the worst.

You shook your head, putting your palms up in a gesture of surrender. "Nothing bad! I swear!" You hesitated. "Well...I've been talking to someone. A guy, for a bit now."

Oscar sucked in a breath. "Not Lando."

Your jaw dropped. "Absolutely not."

"Good. Who is it, then?"

You closed your eyes, praying to God that Oscar wouldn't explode from anger. "Um...Franco?" You waited for the name to register.

Oscar blinked. "The new Williams driver?"

You nodded. "Yeah, that's who it is."

"That's who you chose?"

"Yeah?" you questioned, cocking your head to the side in confusion. "Is there something I should know? I mean, other than the fact that he's a supposed playboy and —"

"— He's fine, I suppose," Oscar mused under his breath. "Just be careful, alright?"

You froze in shock. "Yeah, I will be. Thanks for not freaking out."

"You're eighteen, I can't stop you from being romantically interested in someone. All I ask is that you don't engage in activities that should be done after marriage." Oscar pursed his lips. "I love you, Y/N. I'm always looking out for you."

"I know, and I'm thankful. You're the best older brother in the world."

@ francolapinto: Felices tres meses para mi hermosa novia, Y/N. Gracias por escucharme hablar y estar siempre ahí, incluso en los momentos más difíciles. Hasta pronto, corazón mío.

(Happy three months to my beautiful girlfriend, Y/N. Thank you for listening to me speak and always being there, even in the most difficult moments. See you soon, my heart.)

tagged: @ yourusername

comments (5895):

@ user11: I KNEW IT 🥳🥳🥳

@ user12: we weren't delusional guys!!!!!

-> @ user7: I love clowning and then being right

@ yourusername: hard launchhhh ‼️

-> @ yourusername: love you so much franco, i don't know what i would do without you!

-> @ francolapinto: Muchos besos, mi amor 💋

─── ୨୧ ─── THE END ─── ୨୧ ───

[tokyo-daaaamn-ji-gang]

Hii do u have any headcannons for reader being Baji's little sister and Mikey having a huge crush on her, but Baji is like suuuper protective of her and refuses anyone from the gang to date her because him being her brother is already dangerous as is, I hope this ask isn't too complicated 😅

Ok I set this in the good timeline and there's also two endings. We have the sfw ending which is with all the other hc's and we have the nsfw ending which is clearly labelled at the end. You guys can choose which ending you want to read (the bullet point with the star is where you should switch if you only want the nsfw ending).

Baji is very very vocal about the rules around his little sister, makes it very clear to all the guys that you're off limits and "too good for all of them anyway".

Unfortunately for Baji though, he's keeping an eye on the wrong ex gang members. He eyes the way Hakkai blushes to you, chases Kazutora and Hanma for saying they plan on dating you (they're actually just teasing Baji), raises his eyebrow at how friendly Chifuyu is with you and yells at the Haitani's for trying their pick up lines on you. The point is Baji is so distracted by the others that he never sees Mikey coming until it's too late. 

Mikey starts off simple, just getting you alone one day and asking you what you really thought about your brother's "rules". And as he watches you giggle and call Baji caring but too overprotective, he thinks he falls even more in love. 

And so operation "make y/n fall in love with Mikey" begins. Of course Mikey assembles a mini team for this. Including Draken (he think this is an awful idea and Baji will kill them all), Emma (she thinks the two of you will be cute together), Takemichi (he is very scared of the consequences of doing this), Sanzu (anything for Mikey) and Kisaki (has no idea why he's here and thinks this is a waste of time). Of course these meetings don't do much but Mikey does get some advice.

You start getting mini anonymous presents daily, always pretty or thoughtful things, the card is always just signed with a heart. (Baji is very concerned when he finds out).

Mikey also comes up with elaborate plans to get you alone so the two of you can hang out and get to know each other more. These mostly involve distracting Baji in some way, either by telling someone to hang out with him or by telling him a cat needs his help a few miles away. Baji falls for it everytime, rushing off and leaving you alone. 

He's very touchy with you whenever the two of you are together. He'll happily hold your hand, hug you and lean his head on your shoulder if he gets tired.

Also loves to take you for rides on his bike, Baji barely ever let's you ride with him because of the risk so Mikey figures it's up to him to show you how much fun it is (the feeling of you clinging to him is great too). 

Mikey really likes hanging out with you and get's a little sad whenever it ends but he can't risk Baji seeing this, not yet.

He takes you to the sea often too, sharing a taiyaki with you and talking about anything that comes to mind. It's here that he finally confesses to you and here where the two of you share your first kiss after you confess back to him too. 

You two become experts at secret dates and secret looks at each other. 

Even in front of Baji the two of you find ways to flirt and be affectionate with each other. Mikey whispering you a compliment as he walks past you. You telling Mikey he dropped something but when he picks up the paper it's just a note from you telling him how much you miss him during these big gatherings. Baji never even suspects anything at all.

It is a little difficult hiding your relationship at times but the two of you feel like you could do this forever but of course nothing can last forever.

☆It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

The two of you had just settled down to watch a movie, happily sharing a blanket and cuddling when Baji walked in. Turns out the trip had been cancelled but that's nothing compared to the chaos that was about to go down.

Baji stands there for a moment, staring in disbelief at his oldest friend and his baby sister together. You and Mikey stare back in shock, no one daring to move until Baji opens his mouth to start yelling or talking. You're not sure what he was about to say because before he could get even a word out Mikey launched a pillow at his face, giving himself a head start to start running.

Baji very quickly shot out of the apartment after Mikey all while yelling "MY SISTER!!!!" You watch them for a moment before sighing and calling Draken. Before then calling Ryoko, if anyone could talk sense into your brother it was definitely your mother. 

After Draken (and Mitsuya, who he brought along as backup) separated them and Baji got yelled at down the phone by Ryoko a truce was made. You and Mikey could date and Baji wouldn't kill him if you kept all of that relationship stuff away from him and out of sight. It was a lot better then either you or Mikey had expected (largely thanks to Ryoko) so you both happily agreed. Holding hands and walking off together to Mikey's apartment this time (all while Baji yelled about how holding hands counts as "relationship stuff"). 

Nsfw ending

It was a pretty big day for the two of you, Baji had gone on an out of town trip, leaving you alone in your shared apartment. So of course you took the opportunity to invite Mikey over.

Eager to see and feel each other, things got steamy very quickly. Mikey was just in the middle of thrusting into you, in and out, getting lost in the warm, velvety feeling of your walls. While you were letting small moans and whimpers slip as Mikey went deeper, hitting your spot and making you see stars everytime. Both of you were so close and lost in each other that neither of you heard the key in the door or the door swing open. You moaned as it finally became all too much and you came, the feeling pushing Mikey over the edge with a groan as he releases his thick load into you. Neither you get to enjoy it for long though as Baji announces his presence with a dangerous growl.

Mikey frantically tries to cover you before putting his clothes on in record time and racing out of the door with Baji quickly pursuing him. All while he yells "MY SISTER!???? AND ON MY SOFA!?????" 

Putting some clothes on and cleaning up the mess as quick as you can, you frantically run after them. Who knows what Baji will do to Mikey after seeing that, whatever it is you need to stop it.

You think you're getting close as you hear raised voices but suddenly your wrist is being grabbed and some strang man is holding you still.

"Hey I recognise you! You're Baji Keisuke's sister, yeah. That fucker beat me up years ago, made me lose my gang and my reputation, I've always wanted to make him pay..."

You only see the knife for a second before it's being kicked out of the guys hands and you're being pulled away. Baji holds you in his arms, both of you needing that comfort while Mikey knocks the guy out. They worked together to save you and without knowing it, Mikey proved he's more then capable of keeping you safe. 

He's still a little reluctant but Baji gives you his blessing, after muttering about needing to bleach his eyes out. 

[contamination-zone]

warning im a yapper

hello ummm just wanted to say!!! i really like the dynamic you give fresh and nightmare/color with the whole “cat who goes to different houses to get fed twice” thing. nightmare and his weird cat that he has probably locked in a basement a few times. color and this guy he picked off the road because he looks weird and decided he can solve this mess. fresh does not have any strong personal feelings towards either of them.

i very much so like the comic thing where nightmare and ccino were talking about fresh and ccino thought he was a kitten cat,,, no he is not but he acts like one. “he keeps crawling on my lap” that is a grown man get him away!!!! he has a dog cage i think that he is put in sometimes for naughty behavior. he doesn’t really care because he’s allowed his gameboy though. do you think nightmare ever sprays him with water when he does something bad. and this is like a grown adult. what

maybe i just like the trope of dehumanization (bonus if with someone who’s weirdly chill with it like fresh) but whatever,,, your art!!!! it gives me life!!! i very much enjoy the pixely type style and how freak you draw fresh. he’s a fucking creature he is. something is wrong with that guy. and i love him soooo much. so creature. he’s the kind of guy to do that thing where you walk on all fours up the stairs.

AND the way you characterize him is!!!! so good!!!!!!!!! he is so fucked up and weird and terrible and manipulative!!!!!!! he takes advantage of others’ empathy and feelings because he has very little of it himself and whenever he does feel it he does not like it!!!!!!! he looks at a guy with a savior complex and goes yeah i can mentally fuck him up for the next seven months to get something cool i want. he’s just actually terrible and i love him for that.

i also!!! don’t know too much about CB but i feel that fresh’s dynamic with them (him?? i forgor) is very interesting from what i have seen!!!!!! and their shimeji is very cute i still need to download it but i like it a lot :3

OKAY UHHH BYE!!!!! I LIKE UR ART A LOT…… HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!!! 10/10 fresh posting on your blog love him a lot he is my wife (he feels nothing towards me)

THANK YOU!!! I see you mass reblog things sometimes it makes me giggle :-]

I yammer back...

Glad you like the dynamics haha X] Fresh having very little personal feelings about people is fun and interesting to me. As someone who has trouble connecting and low empathy, its nice to depict someone like me. [Guy interacting with people who are a Lot more invested than he is ghghg]

Fresh would only accept being put in the cage because he can teleport out. Anything like that is only for the Aesthetic, which I think Nightmare would still be down for. Shove that thang into some awful little crate, as a treat. [Honestly I think Fresh would like to get in some nice dog crate with a blankie. Small hide / den thing to nap in :-]]

ALSOOOO dehumanization and freak who doesn't mind is my favorite dynamic <333. Fresh doesn't mind because... he isn't a monster? or a human? And he doesn't have a human/monster centric view of the world. Being seen as a human/monster isn't in anyway important to him, because he doesn't seen it as better/worse. He is the way he is, why does it matter?

Its like, I don't think a cat has very strong opinions on the fact it isn't a man. I also think Fresh is incredibly self-centered and when he's on a high point, sees himself as above humans/monsters. Of course he's not seen as human, he's Fresh! he's a sick-nasty parasite! way cooler. [annnddd way cooler that he gets to eat dog-treats. heck yeah!!]

Also I drew up a little thing with CB and Fresh. Its ahh, I like them a lot I just get nervous speaking about them because its suuuch a oc & canon are besttties that it makes me feel a bit cringe... I also get nervous because CB and Fresh have a very, toxic?? friendship.

Fresh is very possessive and strange about it, because this is his Only friend and he has very dysregulated emotions. Not being able to feel positive emotions often makes it so when he does, he gets very odd about it. So its a lot of... trying to keep CB to himself, at the detriment to CB's goals and ambitions. [CB is trying to track his family down, and Fresh uh. knows. where they are. and is not telling him :-)]

I dunno I think Fresh being genuinely friends with someone but also an awful person about it is like, sorely missing from the fandom landscape. He's a bad person but bad people can still form meaningful relationships and!!! I think that should be explored :-]

[They do eventually get somewhere more healthy. As in, Fresh's whole Thing is revealed, a lot of shinanigans happen, CB lives with his family and Fresh and CB reconnect and become friends again, just with like. Fresh trying actively to do "good person things" to make sure CB's family doesn't shoo him off [I ADOREEE good actions for morally ambiguous reasons!!!], and CB with the understanding that his best friend is Kinda a Freak.]

[bnyf]

fawn over you ♡

yandere hunter x fawn hybrid reader

warnings : yandere content and themes, unhealthy behaviors, relationship and relationship dynamic

authoress note : first post :3 lowkey inspired by 'my sweet bunny cage' manga and i'm planning on making a bunny hybrid one too

his heart almost imploded and gave out upon sighting such a delicate, dainty fawn such as yourself.

little ole you had him in a rhapsodic trance, him whom's nature greatly differed from hers (you).

he, a mere man who's psychological disturbances causes him to hunt and kill. and you, a lovely creature who now gained the attention of a brute man who's main objective was to capture and claim.

the pattern on your skin like pearls, little dots trailing you. so perfect, almost impossible yet here you were.

it didn't help that by the beautiful white lily of the valley flowers surrounded you, like it was a symbol of how fucking perfect and graceful you are. you were ethereal. an angel or a goddess.

and god, those beautiful glassy orbs peaking his way held nothing but the universe and more in them. so innocent. the epitome of pretty and perfect.

he's sorry you had to meet him of all people, someone who'd ruin and corrupt you but he'd also worship you, others may do much worse to you anyway.

his movements were so still that you'd only notice him due to your instinctive feeling of being watched. your tailed and ears twitched.

you shivered, feeling bare and open to such preying eyes with selfish intent behind them.

his eyes held such a mad and malicious look, as if he were some sort of barbaric mad lad. he looks honcho and quite the opposite of you whom had a much smaller and soft physique.

his whole aura wrecked of death, he is, without a doubt, a true blood lusting predator's, a troubled psychopathy who needed to take his frustrations out on poor, unsuspecting creatures.

with that in mind, and thanks to your nimble agility and speed, you darted off before he could even approach you from the shades of the trees only 10 feet away from you.

he'd only chuckle to himself, engulfed by your beauty and elegance, and more than intrigued by the pretty, little doe-eyed fawn hybrid he just had the pleasure to encounter.

sure. you're quick witted. but being quick only gets you tangled up in a trap quicker.

and with that, his infatuation steadily mounts. he immediately started littering the leafy forest grounds in traps ever since that faithful encounter.

you've taken extra precaution after that day, hiding far away from his cabin and even further from that specific meeting sight.

like a lethal game of hide n seek, you both played your parts. and just like that, you started feeling more unsafe and uneasy knowing that he'd set up traps and cameras, watching your every move, both during the day and night.

sure. he had a life outside of this secluded forest he loves visiting. which is the only thing really giving you time to run and hide.

his work life was distressing as a lawyer, it was a very mentally, emotionally and sometimes psychically taxing line of work.

but that don't mean much considering whenever he got time or a day off, whether late night or not, he'd clear out an entire section of the forest with traps and cameras.

and eventually, you run out of both stamina and luck. you become dreary and tired, exhausted from fearing for your life. and your little stalker becomes impatient.

your little game of cat and mice becomes long over due, and sooner or later, you find yourself injured and trapped in enemy's territory.

it only takes 12 hours for him to finally come off work and whatever other things he may be preoccupied with in his life to come get you.

mean time, you kept your wound clean by licking it, fearing what he'll do to you once he gets there.

and boy oh boy, were you shivering when you'd hear the sound of twigs cracking under heavy boots approaching in the darkness of the light midnight. he's here.

you already cried a lot from the pain and realization of your situation but that didn't stop you from repeating the whole process again.

tears already brimming at your swollen, red eyes. the light from his flashlight becoming brighter as he gets nearer, near enough to shine the light directly at you, in your eyes and blinding you from seeing him.

yet he could quite clearly see you, those teary innocent eyes, your wound. every detail up close right in front of him as you lay right in his trap. looking at you with a sinister smile which you cannot see, leaving you guessing what smug facial expression he must have right now.

he let out a feral, maniac laugh.

"my little fawn, you're finally mine."

you had no where to run or hide anymore. grasping onto what little sanity you have now and praying for whatever great deity above to have mercy upon your innocent soul.

what awaited you next was a life of constant torment. the tears run off your chubby soft cheeks, colliding with your skin and the snot in your runny nose made the whole ordeal pathetic and shameful for you.

but to him? it was such an exquisite show! to him... that disgusting crying face of yours was nothing short of adorable.

he grabbed you away, kidnapping you from your carefree life of freedom. the last thing you felt was a prickling sting on your neck before you were enticed with an unknown sleeping drug that took effect instantly.

all the stress and negative emotions that were building up inside subsided as you were knocked out cold, remembering only his footsteps as he carried you to your new home...

the rest of your days were all a painful blur, you were cared for yes but you'd now have shackles placed on your ankles, a big enough cage and a collar. forced to comply to whatever rules he'd put in place for you. punished when disobeyed those rules. dressed to his liking, feed like a child and forced to learn tricks for his entertainment.

for lack of better words, you've been reduced to a pet.

his pet

your leg wound was still healing, which made escaping difficult. worse yet, his home in the city was large and difficult to navigate, with a built in security system that is literally impossible for anyone to get in or out without permission.

"shhhh don't be so scared, you're safe with me, my little fawn," he'd coax, all while keeping you sedated and locked up. you don't know why but for some reason he'd smell strange but also strangely good at the same time. you'd feel a bit oozy when around him, and inhaling his scent was addictive.

that's because his cologne is laced with pheromones and a special drug to get you addicted off him.

but you didn't know that, and you didn't need to know that. your innocent self blamed yourself for becoming addicted to him. he only smiled and hugged you, because he knows you can't think straight every time he's near.

keep this up and he might just send you into heat a little too early. not! that it's a bad thing for him, not that he wouldn't like that of course.

you hated every bit of this. hated him for making you into his glorified object rather than a living being, a person with thoughts and feelings.

but oooohhhh how he loved every second of it, loved dressing you up in all sorts of cute clothing like some little doll, loved pulling your collar when you misbehaved, and absolutely adored watching you get high off him.

the way your nose twitched, and your little tail sweep from side to side, that look you give him cause you're thinking this is all your fault when it's absolutely not.

[littelovelunette]

what about a navy! sevika x farmer! reader where the both of them are on the edge of their relationship because sevika won't prioritize her wife because reader wants to start a family before reader eventually goes out to her garden in the middle of the night.

sevika then follows her wife to the garden to she apologies and beg for forgiveness before they eventually got really really breeding kink, praise kink intimate on the grass in the garden in the middle of the night

Little You's, Little Me's, but Janna, Little You's...

Navy! Sevika x Farmer!Reader

Contains smut, angst, breeding, praise kink, lovey sex, impregnation, possible depressed!reader, modern au, Sevika G!P

With the basic supply and demand of fruits and vegetables during spring, you're always on your feet running errands and supplying food.

It gets tiring after a while especially when after a particularly heavy night even when you come back there is no loving wife of yours to greet you, hold you, sleep with you or even have sex with at this point.

Beyond frustration.

And you knew perfectly well this was because Sevika didn't want kids and you did, so whenever you guys would talk now it'd get awkward because of that. When you both met you both had planned out your entire future together but now it all seemed in shambles. The woman you had married, who once said she loved children, didn't anymore.

Your marriage was at an all time low, Sevika was so busy with her work and missions that she was barely even available anymore and it made you so sad.

At the beginning you had thought she was cheating but then you both had a huge fight about it, it's been distant since that one fight.

Today was your anniversary and this was the first anniversary you spent without Sevika, sitting by the staircase in front of the front door, praying to Janna she comes back tonight because you have so much to ask. Does she even love you anymore?

The door clicks at 3 AM and Sevika slips in. She sees you at the staircase and sighs.

"I know I'm sorry." She said her voice nonchalant which made you further mad, she averted her gaze.

"You don't sound sorry," You retorted angrily, "Look at me when I'm talking to you!"

"What do you want me to say?!" Sevika yelled back, her voice booming, making yours seem like a puppy's bark, "I'm not bending backwards and apologising for no shit, you know very well what my job expects of me, and if you can't handle that maybe you should buy yourself some maturity!—"

"All this just because I wanna settle down? I'm not getting any younger, Sev..." Tears appear at your eyes and you say nothing as you stormed upstairs and into your shared bedroom, curling up in bed. You felt miserable now.

You waited for her to come in the bedroom and comfort you but you didn't hear her walking in so after you got up and looked around, the bedroom was still empty. It made you feel even more hopeless than before.

You could hear the faint snoring, Sevika was probably sleeping on the couch. You stayed there curled up in bed, leaning against the bedframe with tears pricking your eyes. You could feel the warmth of the tears falling down your cheek, it's been a while since you've felt any sort of warm anyway.

2 days pass, it's been the same except now you don't even get up to water your garden, nurture the plants. You just stay in your room, eat in your room, sleep in your room and sulk in your room. You wanted to cry, scream and just disappear but you also loved Sevika so immensely that it was eating away at your whole being at this point.

It was late at night and you couldn't hear Sevika snoring from down the hall, usually it was the white noise that helped you sleep but today you didn't even know if she was home.

Body too tired to move from mental exhaustion but you forced yourself out of bed, almost stumbling into the wall as you walked down the hall. Your eyes squinted in the darkness and finally found the doorknob, you opened it and a small gust of wind greeted you. You sighed again, heart heavy, you just wanted Sevika.

You walked outside and sat down on the grass, curling up there.

A while later, you hear the crunching sounds of the grass signalling Sevika either stepped out of the house too and into your garden or some mindless killer had broken into the fencing and would kill you.

Whichever it was, you didn't really care. Still staring into nothingness. You felt the figure kneel down behind you, "Baby," came Sevika's soft voice, "I'm so sorry I shouldn't have said all that."

You turned to look at her, eyes tired, face sunken.

"Love," Sevika gently held the side of your face, "Baby, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean what I said. I'm just scared. I'm being a little bitch but I'm so fucking scared that I won't be able to give my little ones enough time. I already don't give you time and—"

"Mm, it's okay," you said, looking away at the ground.

"No, it's not okay, I'm ready now. I'm sorry for being so cowardly, I couldn't even tell you, I thought you'd assume I'm weak."

"It's okay," you said now cracking a small smile as Sevika leaned in and kissed you, "Mm..." The kiss deepened, your body pressing into hers as you both kissed.

"I'd love to see little you's, little me's running around. Oh but Janna, little you's," Sevika said, her voice a little dreamy before she continued kissing you making you moan a little in her mouth, that gets her immediately hard.

Her hard cock pressing against your clothed sex through her sweatpants but she doesn't stop kissing you. Sevika nips at your jaw, and your neck as she moved lower. Her hands slipping beneath your blouse as she palmed your breasts. She was being soft and slow. Something you've rarely seen during sex.

You tilt your head back giving her better access to continue her ministrations, (I sound like c.ai)

"Doing so well, my baby," Sevika muttered as she tugged her sweat pants down just enough for her massive erect cock to slap up against her stomach, oozing precum.

"Stuff me with your cum," You cooed in her ear which was probably tearing away at any forming hesitations in Sevika's head. She didn't need telling twice when she pushed your panties to the side and penetrated you. Her cock slipping in your slick wet folds with ease, buried snuggly within you.

"You look so beautiful like this, taking my cock so well," Sevika mumbled, she would always go pussy drunk whenever she was inside you mainly because you were so lewdly wet and your pussy was so tight.

Sevika pistoned her hips, pushing deeper into your cunt with each thrust, hands coming down to roll and twist your nipples between thick fingers that didn't hesitate going down your throat too, making you choke and drool.

"S-Sevika..." You whispered and then moaned loudly as she got a little faster.

"That good, yeah, baby? You like it? Want more?" Sevika cooed and you nodded, barely able to make sense out of her words as she thrusted in and out. Your juices coated her shaft completely, you needed more of her.

"Sevika, Sevika," you continued babbling her name and moaning softly with every kiss of her dick to your cervix, it felt far too good.

"Gonna cum in this pretty pussy," Sevika panted out, kissing you deeply. As she gave one ast thrust, you could feel your pussy filling up with her warm semen. Your eyes rolled back at the feeling, she didn't pull out though, she stayed inside for a bit before she slowly pulled out, letting your panties back on your vagina.

"They'll get soaked," you whined.

"I don't care, keep it inside," Sevika kissed you again.

Sevika picked you up bridal style and took you to the bedroom, letting you lay down as she cleaned herself off and then you too, running you a warm bubble bath.

"I'm so sorry for fucking up our anniversary," Sevika leaned in, kissing your forehead and stroking your hair gently as she helped washed your sore body.

"It's okay," you said with a tired smile, "I'm just really sleepy..."

"I know," Sevika gave you a half smile before picking you up, drying you off and putting you in bed, tucking you in. She got in bed too beside you and held you close.

"Soon... We'll have a little human all to ourselves," Sevika thought out loud to herself, looking at your already asleep face, "Sleep well, love."

[tennco]

part of me wants to look more into this supposed decline of touhou, it's fascinating. but here's what i got now.

1.there are overall less touhou fanworks being made

this is mostly measured by doujin circles that apply to conventions. which, while a big part of it, is not the whole sum, specially since nowadays more people may opt to share their work digitally. also fails to account that conventions had considerably less overall attendance post-pandemic and it's still too soon to tell if that has normalized again.

2.touhou and doujin are more commercial than before (got nothing myself but i'd be inclined to agree, sure. then again things like merchandise have been around for a long while)

3.less quality than before (not really i already went over this)

ok but to be fair there was a dip in popularity somewhere post-UFO right. which is one of the games people like to point out as the downfall, along with anything else ranging from MoF to HSiFS because who gives a shit anyways. but that's a little bit misleading, it's not that there was a dip after UFO, it's more likely there was a peak with UFO. and i did no research on this next point to be fair, other than ZUN's account who largely alleged to it around the time of UM, but like i implied earlier with digital mediums being so prevalent there is the possibility that the decrease in doujin circles on conventions could be the result of a shift in the general landscape and not an observation endemic to touhou.

alright so what about the community. well i'm gonna leave out the bigoted takes (which have significant overlap with the rest i wonder why) because they deserve nothing more than shut the fuck up. everything else is all over the place, these are some of the sentiments i've seen over the years.

cries about secondaries and whatever the fuck a "tourist" is supposed to be. "oh they don't play the games", and if they do it's "oh they don't read the print works" this is just stupid i got nothing else to say about it.

"porn is good" but also "porn is bad and everyone is a gooner" this is also stupid.

"everyone just agrees or justifies everything ZUN does, there's no criticism" sometimes, and that should change. it doesn't signify anything though.

"there's politics now" lol

"touhou should've stayed niche" it's still niche but i know right? it's like this used to be my little corner and now there's all these people i don't know playing with my toys in ways i don't like. come the fuck on man.

and i think that's the thing. it's not about the statistics or the quality or the content or whatever else. either these people have completely shut themselves off on their own volition due to this perception that others are "corrupting" this thing they love (i wasn't kidding about the overlap up there btw), or they don't accept they are just bored with the series and continue to linger for some reason, and instead of moving on to something else they just start looking for ways to justify their disdain because there's no way it's just me it's gotta be ZUN's fault or the fans or this or that. but above all this is nothing new, we've been doing this for almost twenty years, touhou's been dying for twenty years apparently come on.

anyways sorry for the rant. that's my message, if a piece of media is genuinely not making you happy anymore there's no reason to keep engaging with it, no one's forcing you to stay i promise. let go. this should be obvious.

[disaster-writer]

Uncovered Part 3

Alpha!Bakugo x Omega!Reader

A/N: surprise! Have another part today

Summary: Alpha!Bakugo finds out that you’ve secretly been an Omega all this time

Part 1 Part 2

Bakugo stood with his fist poised, ready to knock on the front door to your apartment— that was until he dropped his hand to the side for the umpteenth time that night.

”Fuck— this is so fucking stupid,” he growled, yearning to just punch a goddamn hole in the wall and just leave already.

It was late anyway, you were probably asleep by now. He could just come back tomorrow morning.

He took a step back and turned… that’s what he’ll do, he’ll come back tomorrow morning before you’re meant to report to the agency for work—

He stopped. 

“FUCK—“ Bakugo slammed his fist hard against your front door three times. 

After a few beats he was greeted with the door being swung open and you standing exasperated on the other side.

Almost immediately you rolled your eyes, shaking your head, “No. Go home—“ you went to shut the door but Bakugo shoved his foot in the door before you could.

”We need to talk,” He muttered gruffly, peering down at you with hard eyes.

Your nostrils flared as you stared back up at him with an indignant look, “I have nothing to say to you—“

”Have you been crying?” The words flew past his lips as he took in your appearance. You were dressed in pajamas, no doubt already in bed for the night when he came, and your eyes were swollen and watery as if you had just finished sobbing your eyes out.

You huffed, “Go. Home.”

The two of you stared each other down for another moment before Bakugo forced himself forward and shoved himself inside, throwing you off balance and stumbling backwards, unable to stop him.

Bakugo glanced around your apartment. It was nice— expensive. It was expected of a hero of your notoriety, but even more so due to the fact you were a legacy hero. He wouldn’t lie, despite being relatively close friends ever since Raccoon Eyes all but adopted you into the group during first year, he always did chalk you up to just being another rich kid from another long line of heroes that got everything handed to them on a silver platter. 

He realized with faint recognition that this was the first time he had set foot in your place. You never invited anyone over, always assuming you just liked your privacy but now… he was sure it was more than that.

Bakugo heard the click of the door shutting behind him, followed by a defeated sigh.

“Why are you here Bakugo?” You asked, clearly exhausted, walking past him and deeper into the apartment as you made your way to the kitchen.

”Hah?” He sneered incredulously, following in tow, “You’re really going to ask me that after what happened this afternoon?” 

“I’ve been watching the news all day— you haven’t told anyone yet,” you muttered, reaching the top of your fridge for a bottle of sake.

”Of course I didn’t tell dumbass.”

You threw him a resentful glance over your shoulder, “Well why not?” You spat before unscrewing the top of the bottle and taking a swig before finally seating yourself down at the kitchen island.

Bakugo rounded the island, slamming his hands down on the counter across from you, “How low do you think I am—?”

Your head snapped up, locking your gaze with his once more, ”Pretty fucking low considering I found you going through my shit!— I mean, who even does that!? What were you even trying to find—“

”You’re changing the subject!” Bakugo rushed, ears tinging pink knowing the truth of why he even looked in the first place was embarrassing enough. 

There was a pregnant pause before you finally rolled your eyes and took another swig— it didn’t even matter at this point did it? Your life may as well be over anyway… 

“What do you want?” You finally sighed, resigned to whatever the rest of this interaction was going to be.

”I want to understand,” he replied, more even and controlled than his previous outbursts, “How have you hid this for so long? —And who else knows about you.”

You exhaled sharply through your nose, fingering the rim of your sake bottle in thought. “Why should I even tell you?” 

”I’m not going to say anything.”

“That is until you change your mind.”

”I won’t.” He hissed, “I’m not going to get your license revoked— now will you just answer me.”

You continued to remain silent, making him huff in frustration.

”The cold.”

Your eyes slid to his, confusion painting your face, “What?”

”The cold,” he reiterated, clearly annoyed, “It’s my main weakness.”

You narrowed your eyes, “I already know that—“

”I’m just saying— if I tell… then you tell. I have a lot of enemies that would pay for that kinda information.”

You were quiet once more, eyeing him and weighing his words. His own gaze was unrelenting, pinning you in your seat. Bakugo was many things but you never really knew him to go back on his word…

”You’re the only one other than my family, doctor, and trainer that knows,” you sighed, taking a swig, “That’s how we’ve kept it secret, parents that hired a doctor and trainer to mix up the perfect cocktail of drugs and regimens to pass me off as an Alpha. That and a whole lot of hush money.” You muttered sarcastically.

”Why?”

”Why?” You scoffed, “Because I’m a (Y/L/N). We don’t have Omegas, everyone in my family has been born an Alpha and then has trained to become a hero for generations.”

”But you guys do have an Omega.”

You shot him a glare, “Yeah, I’m well aware asshole.”

”So what? Making you a hero was going to somehow save your family name?”

“Yes. That’s exactly what it is. And I was doing a fine job of it too until you decided to stick your nose in places it doesn’t belong.”

Bakugo finally took a seat, “You all actually think you can keep this a secret?” He asked incredulously.

You quirked a brow, “I am.”

He pursed his lips… technically that was true, but more so because it would have been unthinkable that an Omega would have managed to get as far as you have in this field. 

Honestly it was a goddamn miracle you even managed to get into class 1-A to begin with. 

If it wasn’t for that he probably would have believed you were at least a Beta if not an Omega, especially as your scent gave no indication…

Bakugo perked up, “Why don’t you smell like an Omega?”

“Drugs,” you shrugged, “My brothers also scent me to mask whatever’s left.”

”And what about—“ heats, Bakugo caught himself before he could say it, the realization hitting him over the head like a ton of bricks. You experience heats. A blush spread across his cheeks, mind suddenly clouded by images of you locked away in your bedroom  and—

“What about what?” You asked him impatiently, “Are we done here yet? You already get the gist and if I still have a job in the morning then I need to go to bed now.”  You stood up, rounding the kitchen island back towards the front door with Bakugo following behind hesitantly. He still had so many questions but was suddenly and actually aware that you were an Omega… he had never been very tactful around Omegas before.

You stood by the now open door, waiting for him to leave.

And so he did, but not before you stopped him with one final thing left to say. You had stopped him with a grip on his bicep, peering up at him with serious eyes, “You need to be aware of how you treat me in public going forward. If you start pulling some Alpha bullshit and favoring me on missions or doting on me in front of our friends I will make sure every one of your enemies finds out Dynamight can’t handle the cold. Understood?”

He bared his teeth and in a low whisper said, “Don’t get such a big head— you’re still an extra to me.” 

With that he had tugged his arm from your grasp and headed out.

He would never admit that what you had said was exactly what had been weighing on his mind since he found the pill bottle.