#original private practice character

[twitt3rpate]

[ilylovelyz]

⍣ ೋ Rom-Com Gone Wrong

˚ · . bakugou katsuki x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ takes place during their third year, mentions of injuries and blood, forced intake of aphrodisiac, unestablished relationship, mutual pining, love confession, both characters are 18, protected sex, implied unprotected sex, virgnity loss, misunderstandings, a bit angsty, bakugou is lowky ooc and gentle, this is really long

following a rough battle with a rather inconvenient villian and his quirk, y/n finds herself induced with aphrodisiac against her will. she wins the encounter, only to be told if she doesn't relieve her sexual desires within 24 hours with another individual she will die.

"i'll be the one to do it," mineta says, trying to sound nonchalant about the situation, flipping his non-existent hair off to the side if his shoulder. the girls, in unison, disagree verbally, knowing of his creepy tendencies.

"can't she just do it with a girl?" tsuyuri thinks aloud, attempting to find an easy way for you to feel more comfortable with the situation. "if that's the case, then i'll do it!" ashido declares, raising her hand in the air.

this has been the subject of conversation for the past hour or so. yes, your classmates and even teachers are conversing on what to do about your current state, on who will be the one to sleep with you. it's almost heartwarming, to know that your classmates care so much about you that they'd be willing to sleep with you if it means you'll live.

which is exactly what it means. exactly nine hours ago, you had a confrontation with a well-wanted villian. you knew of the risks, you knew of his horrendous and taboo quirk. you knew that he used his quirk to take advantage of women who were defenseless and practically leaving them for dead within 24 hours of interaction.

quirks like these were rare, none of your classmates nor teachers had any experience with this type of thing. originally, the teachers were going to discuss of this situation privately, but after almost three hours had gone by with no real possible solutions, they had decided to involve your dearest classmates to come up with something, anything to help save your life.

"no, according to the villian and the tiny information we were able to get out of him, it has to be done with a male." midnight had said, rubbing at her temple to ease her stress. your female classmates groaned with frustration, side-eyeing mineta with disgust.

"t-then i'll do it!" a new contender had volunteered. "y-you? y/n needs a real man, denki—," jirou had said, trying to play of her nervousness with a chuckle. "i agree." momo said sternly.

"no offense but.. how about the boys leave this discussion to the boys." she added on, having distrust in the intentions of her male classmates. "i know you boys just want to do what you can to help her, but we also have to think about how this will affect her mentally."

the topic carried on with the girls, occasionally one of the boys attempted to give a idea, but were almost immediately shot down due to it's risk.

admist to all the tension and debate, there was one who was uncharacteristically quiet. bakugou katsuki.

all of the boys were huddled into a circle, behind the girls, listening into their plan. however, it was bakugou who stuck out like a sore thumb. he kept his hands in his pockets, a rather stoic expression written onto his face as he stared up to the ceiling.

"i'll do it! you guys just gotta trust me!" mineta yelled once more, his body jolting with fear when he was met with clear resistance from the girls.

everyone was too wrapped up in figuring out a game-plan to even notice that bakugou had taken his leave, muttering a scoff at his classmates's immaturity and perversion.

he made his way to the dorms, his hand rubbing at the tense skin of his nape. bakugou stopped in his tracks, seemingly he wasn't the only one who had the same idea. his hands returned to their place in his pockets, his eyebrows furrowing at the sight of his classmate, todoroki shouto, standing a few feet away from your dorm room.

"what are you doing here?" bakugou asked, resting his body weight on his right leg. todoroki looked back at bakugou calmly, observing the blonde's stiff movements. "i want to help y/n-san." todoroki stated, glancing back at the door of your room.

bakugou scoffed at his answer, rolling his eyes to the back of his head. "yeah right—you?" he hissed, coming up to todoroki and shoving him away from your door. "don't make me laugh. i'll be the one to do it."

todoroki stayed in place for a moment, blinking at bakugou's aggression and determination. he glanced once more at your door, and then back to bakugou before sighing with defeat and turning around to head god knows where.

bakugou scoffed once more, not taking his eyes off todoroki until he was well out of his sight. bakugou turned around, his red eyes staring intently at your door. he chewed on the walls of his mouth, wondering how to go about the situation.

as brash as he may be—he's not an idiot. he knows that if you don't end up getting any help within a few mere hours, you'll die. and thats not what he wants. to stand and watch while his dumb classmates argue over who will be the one to have the honor of having sex with you is something he won't abide with.

ೄྀ࿐

a soft moan escaped your lips at the feel of your fingers caressing against your sensitive folds. a drop of sweat ran down your flushed face, running down to your collarbone and dampening the sheer tank you were wearing.

there was a knot in your abdomen, a very tight knot, that has been yet to be undone. normally, when you had this kind of urge, you'd be able to satisfy it yourself. but it's been nearly eight hours since you'be been drugged, and the effects only get more and more intense with every passing minute.

you're tired. your body is coated in a thick layer of sweat, the room smells grossly of your own scent, and it's been eight hours—yet no release. tears sting at your waterline, your hand coming up to cover your pathetic whines and cries as your fingers scissor their way into your cunt, trying to find relief to your frustration.

you gasp with pleasure when your finger nails press ever so slightly against that one spot, hazy eyes going wide when you finally find it. your back arches off the bed, toes curling when you can barely press your fingerpads against that sweet spot, but nonetheless it's something.

your body jolts when you hear a light knock at your door, hands flying to grab onto your blanket to hide your half-naked body. you sat frozen on your bed, eyes watching the door.

a couple of moments later, once again the visitor knocked, snapping you out of your haze. you rushed to find any pajamas or clothes to wear, eventually settling on a pair of grey pajama shorts. the visitor knocks again once more, earning a groan from you. "g-give me a second!" you hiss loudly, dusting off your body and finally walking up to your door.

with a deep inhale, you open up your door a few inches, hiding your sweat-ridden body behind the large frame and peeking out your head to see the visitor.

your heart drops into your stomach at the sight of the familar blonde, his red eyes lidded low at you. "b-bakugou?" you stutter out, your cheeks blushing intensely when you feel your core throb at just the sight of him. "what... are you doing here?" you say, swallowing down the fat lump in your throat.

bakugou stares at you, his facial expressions uncharacteristically calm and unreadable. "..isn't it obvious?" he says nonchalantly, taking a step towards the door. his low tone heats up your body, making you impossibly warmer with embarrassment to top it off with your seemingly insatiable desire.

still, you don't move from the door, and if anything, push it forward so only a few centimeters remain between the frame and the door itself. your forehead rests against the wood, contemplating your options.

bakugou katsuki has come to your door to do the obvious with you. for many others, this would be a dream come true—and it almost is, for you, almost. tears cloud your vision once more at the thoughts that run throughout your head, he's only here because you'll die.

"let me in y/n,—", "no, i don't want you here." you interrupt, still hiding behind the door. bakugou's eyes widen slightly at your refrusal, not expecting you to shut him down given the situation.

to you, it's almost insulting—bakugou katsuki is here to have sex with you, to save you. your crush of many years, is here to have sex with you, but only because he feels the need to save you, not because he wants to.

bakugou sighs silently, he knows its a sensitive matter, that you're practically forced to have sex with someome that you possibly don't like just to live. his fists tighten up into a ball, his eyebrows furrowing at your stubbornness. but he won't have you die, he won't knowing he could help you.

"y/n. open the door or i'm going to break it down myself." he says sternly, his voice raising slightly. it sends shivers down your spine, but still you hold your ground. alas, you find it within yourself to close the door, only for it to be held open by bakugou who most definitely overpowers you when it comes to strength. with a grunt, your already weak arms give in, quickly dropping back to the floor as the door slams against the wall now that bakugou has won the short game of tug-o-war.

bakugou makes his way into your room, not even caring to check if the door handle has made a new hole in the wall. his mouth opens, ready to say something, only to purse into a straight line when he sees the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"i don't want you here." you mumble out, attempting to hide your tears by wiping them away as quick as they came.

with a grunt, bakugou is pulling you up to your feet, his hands gripping onto your shoulders while his lips smash against yours. the kiss is rough, almost uncomfortably stiff. and yet, you almost let out a moan of satisfaction just by him giving the worst kiss ever. he pulls away a moment later, his hands keeping you in place.

not like you'd be able to walk away even if you wanted, your gaze was fixated on his soft features, eyeing those lips of his. this time, it's bakugou whose walking away—and it's you who is running after him.

with haste, you push yourself forward to the blonde, your hand wrapping around his wrist and pulling him back to you. bakugou breathes out a grunt when your lips collide with his once more, desperate and clumsy, more teeth than tongue. you can't help but grab into bakugou's broad shoulders before finding better purchase by wrapping them around his neck, feet on all toes in order to reach his lips.

bakugou pulls away from you, quickly shutting the door and locking it. though, he barely has time to do the second, as soon as the door is closed, you're pushing him against it and shoving your body against his, encapturing his lips with yours once again. he swallows your desperate whines, his tongue fighting for dominance against yours. it's messy, it's not at all in sync—but just that alone has your body heating up than what you thought was possible.

and bakugou can feel it. his hands find purchase on the small of your waist—your skin is hot to the touch, almost fever hot. he raises an eyebrow when the feel of his skin on yours alone has you letting out a soft moan, much to your embarrassment. experimentally, bakugou's hands travel down to the curve of your ass, squeezing the plump flesh lightly, earning a gasp from your lips.

seeing this, bakugou pulls away from you, a fat string of saliva connecting the two of you. his red eyes watch you tortuously, watching the way your delicate features contort with pleasure as his hands explore your ass, his squeezes getting more and more rough as your body reacts. his finger glides up to the hems of your shorts, playing with the drawstrings and eventually pulling on one to untie the knot, allowing your flimsy excuse of so-called shorts to drop and lay around your feet.

your cheeks burn at the way he stares closely at your half-naked body, eyes darting down to the ground when you realize that you didn't even put on any underwear. to you, bakugou is eyeing your body, looking for any imperfections and unsatisfying marks.

but to bakugou, he has to hold back a groan by biting on his lower lip at the sight of your bare cunt. his hands tighten it's grip on your hips, attempting to keep his composure. bakugou finally pushes himself off the door, leading you quickly by the small of your waist to your bed.

with a gentle shove, you're laying down onto your back, your legs dangling off the edge of the mattress. your eyes widen when bakugou's hands grab the hems of his shirt, pulling it up to his head and discarding of his shirt, revealing his rather toned abs and few scars he's gained in the various fights he's gotten into as a hero.

your mouth is agape in awe, practically drooling at the sight of his fit muscles and small waist. without another word, your hand subconsciously reaches for him, generously touching the muscles of his abdomen. for the first time of the night, bakugou finally shows some emotion, smirking widely at your infatuation with his abs.

"i know i got some great abs, huh?" he grins, his hand coming up to rest on the flesh of your thigh. his grin flattens to an slightly agape 'O' when your hand travels down lower to his lower pelvis, your nails caressing the skin, sending shivers down his spine. dangerously, it continues, your fingers meddling with the edge of his baggy pants, circling the metal button.

before you could do anything else, bakugou is grabbing your hand away, and much to your surprise, settles himself inbetween your bare legs, eyeing your exposed cunt. naturally, you rush to close your legs, but are stopped by his hands that rest on both of your inner thighs.

"don't try to hide yourself from me." he growls lowly, his cock growing hard in his pants at the fuller sight of your glistening cunt. a yelp leaves your throat when you are pulled closer to the edge of your bed, cunt mere centimeters from bakugou's face. your eyes close shut, palm hiding your face in embarrassment.

"open your damn eyes, you're gonna watch as i eat this pretty pussy." he hisses out before blowing lightly onto your folds, enjoying the way your thighs shiver. with a lick of his lips, bakugou dives into your cunt, his tongue dragging across your folds and into your core. you let out a rather loud moan at the feel of his tongue exploring your cunt, your hands diving down to entangle themselves in his short blonde locks.

as told, you watch bakugou devour your poor pussy through tears, moaning into your palm to not let anyone hear the way you're getting eaten out by one of your classmates. your eyes roll to the back of your head when you feel bakugou enter his index finger into your tight walls, massaging your gummy walls without mercy.

"bakugou.." you mewl out, back arching off the bed when you feel the knot in your stomach begin to unravel. the fingers tied in his hair pull tightly on his roots, earning a hum of satisfaction leave his lips, vibrating against your clit so deliciously it has you sobbing out his name within seconds and squirming within his tight hold as you cum. tears run down your cheeks as your body convulses with pleasure, eyebrows furrowed intensely as your first orgasm of the night washes over you.

a minute later, you finally come down to earth, chest heaving heavily as your eyes focus down to bakugou who licks up the remains of your delicious juices. it's so over stimulating, but it feels so good, the way his tongue laps up your cum as if he was a starved man.

for a second, you close your eyes, basking in the sweet after-glow of your orgasm before a familar vibrating sound snaps you out of your bliss. bakugou holds up the pink bullet-vibrator within his hand, cocking his head to the right. "this yours?" he asks teasingly, a sly grin painted into his face.

before you could respond, bakugou is pressing the bullet against your clit, sending waves of overstimulated pleasure up your spine. you wiggle and shift on your bed, attempting to get away from it, from him, but in the heat of the moment you seem to have forgotten of bakugou's trained strength. he pins your hips onto the bed with ease with one hand, and holds the bullet to your clit with the other.

he evilly chuckles into your cunt, his tongue gliding into your tight hole. your cries and pleas are melodies to his ears, and he only stops when your thighs are shaking for a second time around his head and your pussy walls are tightening up around his tongue. he hungrily laps up your fluids once more, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit as he discards of the vibrator in order to grab onto the back of your thighs and practically smothers himself into your pussy.

finally, once he's deemed you cleaned up and not an ounce of your cum wasted, he pulls away from your drenched pussy. his chin glistens with your juices, his tongue lapping up any remains on his lips. his ruby red eyes watch as your chest heaves up and down, his hand grabbing your wrist that was covering your flushed face and discarding it to the side.

he passionately kisses you, not like the kisses you two shared earlier. rather, your inhaling his heavy breaths as his hips roll subconsciously into yours, his hard-on poking against your inner thigh. "bakugou.." you exhaled against his lips, your hand sliding inbetween your close bodies to palm his confined cock.

bakugou lets out a almost pained groan, his eyebrows furrowing at the feel of your hand brushing against his cock's tip. "fuck.." he groans, his head dipping down to your chest when your hand slides below his trousers and over his confined boner. "wanna help you too bakugou," you mumble shyly, batting those pretty eyelashes at him.

the tempered blonde seems to have been frozen in place at your unexpected boldness, his cock growing impossibly harder at your words. he curses under his breath when your hand glides in between the gap of his boxers, your fingers coming into contact with the skin of his cock.

you're so unexpected. it's all bakugou can ever think of. unlike all the others, you've surprised him the most. you've surprised him with your wits—instead of strength and speed. no matter how mean or offensive he's been to you, you've been nothing but a saint—going so far to even nurse him back to health after a particularly aggressive battle with a villian.

thats why he had to be the one to help you. after all you've done for him, he had to return the favor in the one time he could save your life, even if it meant having sex would save you. he wasn't about to let those ungrateful, clueless extras do it with you either when they didn't deserve the opportunity to have you so vulnerable for them.

and having sex with you doesn't seem too bad, not in the slightest. especially not when your hand is pumping his cock so deliciously. bakugou's lips apart slightly, a sharp gasp escaping when your palm tightens around his sensitive cock.

you jolt when bakugou's own hand wraps around your wrist firmly, practically slapping it away from his cock. you look up at him with filmy eyes, looking for an explanation within his own. "gotta focus on you," he mumbles under his breath, his hands coming down to your hips and dragging you down to him.

bakugou finally begins to undo his belt, the metal buckle causing your ears to tingle. he pushes down his pants to his lower thighs, for a second he glances up at you, to which you can see a small glimpse of the red tint that covers the apples of his cheeks and the way he stares intently at your features, most likely waiting to see your reaction.

he slides his dark red boxers down to the middle of his thighs, just enough to free his cock of his uncomfortable confines. and, just wow, maybe it's because you're quite literally drugged with a sex drug, or maybe he's just that perfect—but just the sight of his cock has your pathetic pussy walls clenching and throbbing around nothing.

your mouth salivates at the mere thought of his cock, and just now seeing it—god you just want him to fuck you already. without a thought, your hand reaches once more for him, only for bakugou to pin your wrist down to the side of your body, his own climbing on top of the bed. your legs come to rest on each sides of his hips, his thighs underneath yours while he sits on his knees.

it seems you're not the only one so horny, afterall, as bakugou wrapped his hand around cock, his hips inching closer to yours, his body jolted, eyes widening. his sudden movement has your heart dropping in your stomach, a cold sweat breaking out on your body. "w-what? what is it?" you stutter out, your hand crossing defensively over your clothed chest.

bakugou's cheeks seem to bloom more a shade of red as he leans back, searching for something in his pocket. "hah.. i almost forgot the condom.." he says, taking out the unmistaken small square packet out of his pocket.

you chuckle lightly at the mistake, feeling embarrassment for yourself as well. to think that you two were so wrapped up in the heat of the moment that you almost forgot the condom gives such a strange feeling in your stomach.

finally, bakugou puts the condom on, a bit shaky with embarrassment as he slides it on. all prepared, he looks up at you—possibly the calmest you've ever seen him, but there's a hint of seriousness and maybe even care with the way his eyebrows are furrowed lightly or how his eyes never leave your face.

"ready?" he asks cautiously, his hand gripped onto the underside of your thigh with the other resting on the side of your lower stomach. with your nod of approval, bakugou meets his thighs to your ass, his cock tip pressing lightly against your virgin hole.

before bakugou could go any further, your soft sobs stop him. his head immediately snaps up to yours, his eyes wide with shock. your eyes are once again wet with tears, eyebrows arched and lips frowning.

"i know this is not very convenient, y/n, but if we don't do this, you'll die-", he tries to say before he's interrupted by your sobs and hiccups. through fat tears and incoherent sentences, you finally manage to say something clear.

"it's not that." you practically hiss, surprising the blonde. "..then what is it?" he urges, a confused expression forming on his face. with a loud sigh, you groan loudly with anger and sadness, practically throwing your hands to your face as you try to wipe away your never-ending tears.

"i d-didn't want it to be like t-this!" you sob loudly, your shoulders jumping with every hiccup. before bakugou could press any further, the years of untold suffering and thoughts just came rushing to you, spilling out of your mouth like vomit. "i-i didn't w-want it to be l-like this! to happen like this!"

"oh my g-god! bakugou i've been in love with you since i've m-met you—and it–it hurts—for it to happen this way—you're only doing this just b-because you f-feel obligated to do i-it—not because you l-love me—" you mumble out, hands covering your eyes to avoid seeing his reaction.

"for it to ha-happen this way—it's like a whole prank..! like a fucking—slap in the face!" you say, practically yelling the last part as your hands fly down to the bed with frustration, finally meeting bakugou's gaze. your sobs quiet down, stomach churning at the realization of the word vomit you just had.

you thought he would be weirded out, maybe even make fun of you for it. but instead, bakugou is now looking at you with an unfamiliar gaze, full of something that seems to just be more than politeness and friendly care. sure, he's not smiling, but the way his red eyes are half-lidded, pupils dilated so big they might as well just be black, his eyebrows no longer furrowed but instead arched upwards with what seems to be surprise.

before you could say anything else, waves of sharp pain are shot up your spine as bakugou unexpectedly pushes in the tip of his cock, his arms now finding purchase by wrapping around your waist, lowering himself closer to you.

his lips press yours, slow and steady as he inches his fat cock into you. he pulls away from your lips with a grunt, his eyebrows arched downwards as he tries to set aside the way your cunt feels so heavenly wrapped around the end of his cock.

"i'm sorry for how i've been treating you." he says lowly, his teeth nipping at the pristine skin of your collarbone. "i just didn't know how to tell you—didn't think you felt the s-same," he breathes out, stuttering the last word when your walls clench around his cock. bakugou curses under his breath, trying to ground himself by pawing at your clothed breasts, sliding his hands under your tank to feel the bare skin.

bakugou's words has fresh tears forming once again at your water line. "the same..?" you think out loud, a hiccup escaping your throat at the realization.

"f-fuck, y/n—," he chokes out, his balls becoming flush with the curve of your ass. "bakugou.. the same?" you urge on, a small gasp leaving your lips when his cock tip glazes against your sweet spot. it takes bakugou to find the strength to answer, but he does with a groan, rising his upper body to have a better look at the sight of you.

"..yes the same you dummy." he finally confirms, his eyes unable to lock with yours, instead choosing to glue themselves to the sight of your tight pussy swallowing his cock. without wasting another second, your hands fly to his nape, pulling him back down to kiss him roughly. the two of you moan into the kiss, your hands desperately exploring the skin of his back while his continue to grope and massage your breasts.

"hah—i just couldn't allow it.. i didn't want the others to have you.." he groans out, his hips speeding up against yours. his teeth bite at your breasts possessively, leaving dark red marks over the unmarked flesh. his possessiveness sends a shiver up your spine, making you impossibly more hornier than you thought possible.

"baku—katsuki," you mewl out, your fingernails digging trails of red into the skin of his back. his head nods silently at your use of his first name, his ears tingling intensely.

his head tilts up to face yours, unprepared for what you were about to say. "please fuck me. i need you."

with a few words of heavy profanity, all previously known touches of gentleness are thrown out the window and bakugou is throwing your leg over shoulder and practically folding you in half. bakugou is quick to cover your mouth with his palm, if not your screams of pleasure would be heard by all the other people in these dorms—and he's not quite on board with any nobodies hearing your pretty moans.

bakugou practically jackhammers his hips into yours, his cock tip bullying your cervix. your eyes roll to the back of your head at the foreign feeling of your cervix being fucked, of your cunt being mercilessly destroyed by a fat cock. your hand flies up to the head board, desperately attempting to find purchase on anything to keep you grounded.

his cock grazing your sweet spot has you screaming once more into his palm, creaming around him for the first time that night. "f-fuck—" bakugou curses loudly, his teeth drawing blood on his lower lip in an attempt to hide own moans.

your cunt walls have a vice grip on his cock, practical almost leaving him unable to move as you cum around him. still, bakugou works his hips in and out, doing everything in his power to prevent himself from cumming just yet.

in an last ditch effort to do so, bakugou lifts his palm up from your mouth, flipping your body so you lay onto your stomach. he's quick to shove his cock back into your overstimulated cunt, rutting into you like a dog in heat. bakugou doesn't find it within himself to care when you're moaning so loud that the first floor can probably hear you, neither does he care that he's fucking you so hard that the bed frame begins to slam against the wall.

all he cares about is destroying your cunt, destroying you, something he's been wanting to do since he's met you. "fuck, fuck, fuck, y/n you feel so fuckin' good—i'm gonna cum," he babbles, his cock growing hard at the sight of your fat ass bouncing with every impact of his thrusts.

you're no better off than him, moaning his name desperately like a mantra. bakugou finally comes with a sharp and deep thrust, pushing his cock so deep it has the tip flush with your bruised cervix. he groans incoherent words, most likely profanities, as he cums into the condom, his hands gripping on the swell of your hips as he tries to ground himself.

you cum just at the unmistaken warmth that pools inside of you, tongue lolling out of your mouth pathetically. your body twitches underneath his weight, hands weakly grabbing onto his biceps. "katssshuki.." you mewl out, stars practically twinkling in your eyes.

bakugou pulls out of you with a sharp inhale, taking off the filled condom. his cock twitches when you stop him just as he's about to throw away, taking the cum-filled latex from his hand and holding it over your mouth, allowing the cum to drip onto your tongue and into your throat.

he watches you with wide eyes as you practically suck the cum out of the condom before throwing it into the trash bin on the side of your bed. you look at him with a grin, licking your lips generously before giggling.

bakugou's face twitches uncontrollably, any remains of the composure and the obvious "better safe than sorry", he has left is discarded before he practically pounces on you like a wild beast.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

bakugou is jolted awake, his eyes darting to the door of your room. theres a couple of knocks, his eyes look for your clock, '5:04 AM'.

he shuts his eyes, fully okay with ignoring the late visitor before theres more knocks. bakugou, begrudgingly, gets up, only because he doesn't want you to wake up.

he wraps his lower body in a spare blanket, taking a few seconds to rub awaken more before he's inching the door open, just barely enough to see who the visitor is. though, his shoulders relax when he sees it's just mr. aizawa at the door, most likely checking up on your state.

mr. aizawa blinks unexpectedly at bakugou, surely not expecting him to answer the door. his expression softens at the realization, being quick to offer an explanation. "i was just coming here to see if y/l/n was alright.. but i see it's under control, right?"

aizawa punctuates the last word of his sentence with the tilt of his head, his eyes pointing out bakugou's half-naked body. bakugou in response sheepishly shrugs, muttering out a groggy 'yeah' before closing the door.

he stands at the closed door for a second, rubbing his eyes tiredly before turning around to go back to bed, your bed more specifically. he stops in his tracks for a moment before continuing, seeing that you're now sitting up and staring at him.

"katsuki.." you breathe out tiredly, practically purring when you feel his hand settle onto your hip, bringing you back down onto the bed with him.

the two of you share a chaste kiss, departing only to get a short breathe in before you're pushing your body against his, deepening the kiss once more for the nth time that night.

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[chaos-in-deepspace]

LADS Zayne: A Good Day | NSFW

Happy Birthday Zayne!!! Our boy deserves a good day because he's our little meow meow! I'm so happy with his event and today imma play his card because I've been holding myself back and AAAAAAAH I am so ready for this. Also this is going to have two parts, the other will be posted by mid-day!

❧ Pairings: Zayne x Reader ❧ Warnings: Fluff, Dry Humping, Cum Eating, Hand Jobs ❧ Synopsis: Zayne's birthday is finally here, and he asked to have a simple, uncrazy day. So a hike through a forest and a picnic dinner by the lake sounded perfect. Halfway through the hiking trail though, Zayne decides he wants his birthday present early. ❧ Word Count: 4.5k

Disclaimer: This is an original fan work for “Love and Deepspace”. Do not repost on other platforms or plagiarize. All characters shown in this fic is 18+.

Blog Information | Masterlist

Part 2

Zayne

A Good Day

Being on a private hiking trail was certainly something that you weren’t used to. The path was well kept, but there weren’t any signs to your destination. While you were always used to running into people, even if it were one or two, you hadn’t seen a single soul. It was nice, for once, to be as affectionate as you wanted to on your walk with Zayne without having to worry about random passersby.

Zayne was still a little uncomfortable with PDA so you normally tried keeping it to a minimum. This entire hike you had been clinging to his arm, randomly pulling him down for a kiss, and just being all over him the entire time. It was probably why the hike was taking longer than anticipated. He didn’t stop you once, instead leaning closer whenever you tugged on him and giving a knowing look, sometimes commenting that he wasn’t going to walk off without you if you let go.

You had full plans on making it there for an early dinner so you could sit and enjoy the sunset while you sat by the lake at the end of the trail. Zayne had thought ahead and made sure you two left earlier than expected because he knew you, and he knew you’d probably get distracted and want to take a few breaks here and there. Your loyal doctor was, of course, right in this assumption.

Which is what you were doing now, sitting on a perfectly flat rock that was clearly placed on the trail for people to sit on.  The uphill climb was more tiring than you expected, especially with how you were practically skipping because you were so damn happy to be spending a vacation with Zayne. You once swore you would never be one of those lovestruck smuck, but there was just something about this man that had you acting like an idiot.

You felt something ice cold touching the back of your neck and you let out a small yelp at the sensation, almost jumping right off the rock. You turned your head and was met with Zayne having that ‘innocent’ smirk on his face, the one he always swears he doesn’t give you whenever he’s being a little shit. Everyone always thought this man was so calm and composed, but you knew better. He always had a teasing streak when it came to you, even when it came off with his dry humor.

Your eyes went down and you saw the water bottle he was holding out to you, which was the culprit of that freezing sensation. He had used his evol most likely to make sure it chilled perfectly for you. He always told you warm water was better at quenching your thirst, but after you had complained once he always made sure it was cold for you.

“You should hydrate,” he commented as you took the water from his hand. You stuck out your tongue, and uncapped the bottle; pressing it against your lips and taking a few sips, then  wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

“Thank you, honey dearest,” You said with a teasing smile. Watching the man’s face get a small flush from your endearing nickname was adorable as you placed the bottle next to you, “We’ve only been hiking for like…what an hour and a half? Why is this hike so hard?” you were whining now, although as a hunter this was nothing, you still wanted boyfriend sympathy. Sadly though, your boyfriend was a logical man and only gave you sympathy when you actually deserved some, not fishing for it.

“The first half is up a steep incline and we’re carrying a lot of supplies. Once we reach the peak it’ll be downhill so it should be easier,” Zayne pointed out. Right next to your feet was a rather large modified picnic basket. You had brought a lot of stuff, wanting to make sure you and Zayne would have enough for dinner. He had claimed he didn’t want to do anything extravagant for his birthday dinner, so taking it out in nature by a lake was the best solution you could find.

Just the two of you with beautiful scenery and some home cooking. You had even prepared a small surprise for him in the basket, which is why you had insisted you’d carry it. Zayne had protested a lot about that, but your stubbornness won out in the end when you told him this would be good training for you.

“Are we almost there?” you asked, knowing that Zayne had been the one to get the map so you two wouldn’t get lost. After your last little hike ended in a two hour detour because you swore you knew where you were going, he became the navigator.

“We’re about ten minutes from the top, and going downhill will only take maybe twenty minutes.” He stated and you let out a small sigh of relief. You couldn’t wait to get there and just relax and have a nice dinner. You had managed to work up a good appetite from the hike, and your stomach rumbled slightly as if reminding you it was still there.

“Good, I’m starving,” you commented. You had been preparing your dinner all afternoon, and as a result skipped lunch by accident. You did have a few samples of what you were making though, mainly because Zayne would keep stealing bits and then pressing it against your lips so you’d try it. It was most likely his attempt at making sure you didn’t become hangry later in the day. He used the excuse of helping you as well, not letting you say no when he asked, so you had given him simple tasks.

It had been fun having him helping you out in the kitchen. Especially when he had been content to just wrap his arms around your waist and rest his head on top of yours while you stirred a pot. Moments like those were irreplaceable and you wished you could do it every day. Sometimes your busy schedules were truly a hindrance. One day though, perhaps one day you two would get to have that domestic bliss every day.

“You know, you never did tell me what was in that mystery package when you put our lunch together,” Zayne said as he decided to sit down on the rock next to you. You glanced at him with a smile, knowing he was trying to pry information from you. The package was something you had made at your own apartment yesterday before you guys had even come to this cabin.

You had been very stubborn in telling him not to look in it when you placed it into the fridge, letting him know it would be for dinner. Of course it didn’t stop him from being curious, probably because he figured it was a dessert of some kind. He had been cuter than usual when he saw you place it in the fridge. He had pressed a kiss to your cheek and asked if he could have his present early. He even used your weakness of nuzzling his face into the back of your neck while cuddling, knowing it made you absolutely melt.

So far you had managed to keep it a top secret from him, but it looked like his curiosity was getting the better of him. Sometimes he really did like to push it since he knew you always caved in with a few looks and touches from him. This man knew the effect he had on you, and wasn’t opposed to using it to his advantage.

“I told you, it was a surprise,” you said, feeling his hand cupping your cheek. His thumb trailing over you then going to tuck a strand of hair behind your hair. He was being cute again, giving you a soft look. This stubborn man…

His hand went back to just resting on your cheek and you were now leaning into his touch, unable to help yourself. “Yes? Did you need something?” you mumbled, already knowing you would be caving in soon. Your resolve was already melting away and he just needed to push a little more and it was all over for you.

“Is it so wrong for me to want to look at my partner?” he asked, pressing his thumb against your lip now. You chuckled, looking at him and kissing the finger there. Zayne smiled, the tips of his ears only a little red for the time being. You leaned closer to him on the rock, your hand almost touching his thigh and he shifted himself in case you wanted to come just a little closer and close the distance between you two.

“Normally it isn’t, but I know you,” you pointed out, taking his hand in your own, and playing with it. “You’re trying to butter me up right now,” you turned his hand so you could place some kisses on his knuckles. A small shiver went down Zayne’s spine as he looked at you with slightly wider eyes. His expressions came a little easier since it was only you two right now. While to others he still seemed expressionless, you could tell from the most subtle twitch of his lips how he was feeling now.

“I’m doing no such thing, I’m simply admiring you,” it was a weak argument, but it was enough to make you blush. You let out a small whine of protest, knowing you were losing right now. He was flustering you too much, the butterflies in your stomach going batshit crazy because he was just so perfect you couldn’t handle yourself. Who told him he could act like this and make you feel things?

You suddenly felt his warm lips pressing against your cheek, causing another whine to leave you. You wanted more, you wanted to feel his lips on yours. When he leaned back he could clearly see it on your face, but instead of doing anything about it he just had that subtle, knowing smirk. You were pouting now, knowing you’d have to take charge if you wanted a kiss and play right into his hands.

Instead of giving in immediately you decided to just try to continue on your conversation, “Well, if that’s all…” you murmured, your eyes looking away from him. You squeezed his hand and he adjusted his grip to run his thumb across yours. It was his turn to bring your hand to his lips and kiss the back of it, making your breath get caught in your throat.

“However…” he began and you knew it. This was it. This was where you broke and gave the man whatever it is he wanted, “Perhaps a snack wouldn’t hurt to help us reenergize for the last leg of our trip,” there it was. It was almost relieving that you had gotten to know Zayne so well that you just knew what he was going to do sometimes.

You laughed, pushing him slightly on the chest and rolled your eyes, “I fucking knew it,” you huffed. You could see the ghost of a smile on him because he already knew he was getting what he wanted now.

“Language,” another eye roll from you was the result of his little comment. You leaned closer to his face until you were staring directly into those hazel eyes of his.

“Besides, it was merely a suggestion, I don’t know what you’re trying to imply with your comment,” he played coy, as though he wasn’t trying to manipulate you into giving him the treats you had packed. You groaned and leaned forward, pressing a kiss against his lips.

“You’re playing dirty,” you said against his mouth, feeling the tug of his smile as he leaned in for another peck. “Way too bold today…” Another peck was his response as he took your chin between his pointer and thumb to keep you in place.

“Was it not you who said the ‘Birthday Boy could have whatever he wanted today’?” he reminded you, pressing another sweet kiss to your lips. You were absolutely putty in his hands right now, wanting to just kiss him breathless.

“How dare you use my own words against me,” your complaints fell on deaf ears as he brought you in for a longer kiss. This time your mouths working together, pressed up and savoring the contact. You felt him nibble on your lower lip teasingly, making you gasp. He really was being bold today, and you were all for it. He parted before you could lean in to deepen the kiss, a small pout on your lips and you could hear him huff in amusement.

“You can’t be mad at me for being curious. You’ve been sneaky the past few weeks, claiming you were ‘busy’ and then coming back smelling like sweets,” He said after a moment, leaning away from you for a moment. You whined, knowing he was done kissing you for the time being. Normally he was the one who had no restraint when it came to these things, but the man was on a mission. 

He had probably been wondering what you had been up to since you continuously told him you had plans when he asked you to cuddle on the couch…which was easily one of the hardest things you had done in your life. Saying no to Zayne? Unspeakable. Still, you wanted this to be the perfect surprise, so even if you left his home almost in tears because you wanted to run back into his arms, you held strong.

“I told you, I was going out with Tara,” You reminded him. It wasn’t a lie, when you told your friend you wanted to do something special for Zayne, she suggested making his favorite sweets. The only issue is that his favorite sweets happened to be macarons. So she had been going to classes with you. You only thought you’d be attending one, but after failing miserably you went to four more just to make sure you had it down to a science.

“Then care to enlighten me as to what you were going out for?” He asked, trying to pry it out of you. You let out a little groan the moment you saw the look in his eyes. He was giving you those big, pouty eyes. The ones he swore he never made at you. You knew he was a filthy liar though, the look on his face could only be described as a kicked puppy. He was almost begging right now, knowing how weak you were.

“Did you want your surprise right now?” You caved in, knowing that it was futile. You shouldn’t have stopped at all, should’ve powered through the walk and gotten to the lake to avoid this. He would be the end of you. You could give him the entire world if that’s what he asked. It’s the entire reason you had made him take time off work so you could spoil him for his birthday. Spending a couple days together in a secluded cabin is all you wanted so he could relax.

You felt him kissing your cheek again, “Only if you feel like sharing with the class,” he said, happy to have won this round. You almost pinched his cheeks for that, he seemed far too satisfied knowing he got you to crumble.

Instead you groaned and nodded, “Okay, fine, but only because you’re being really cute right now,” you saw him frown a little at that. He always said he wasn’t ‘cute’, but anyone with eyes could see it, “You can only have one though. You can have as many as you want after we eat an actual meal,” you at least could hold strong on this stance. You refused to let his appetite get spoiled because he ate too many sweets. Sometimes he could really act like a child…not that you were any better. You two brought out the best of each other, the childlike whimsy coming back in each other's presence.

“That’s agreeable,” it better be. You brought him down for a quick peck again before parting and going to the picnic basket you had. The bottom compartment had a cooler in it that you had stashed the treats in. You rummaged around, finding the perfectly packed box that you had wrapped in a pale blue cloth with snowflakes decorating it.

“Alright, close your eyes,” You instructed him. He complied, closing them with a smile on his lips. You took out one of the macarons you had slaved over; it wasn’t perfect by any means. Still the top and bottom were smooth and not burnt, and the cream inside tasted amazing judging by how you kept sampling it. They certainly weren’t worthy of being sold in a bakery, but they’d suffice for the time being.

You placed one at his lips and he opened and took a small bite out of it. He covered his mouth as he chewed, finally opening his eyes to see you holding out the other half of the macaron. He took your hand and brought the rest up to him, taking it into his mouth and savoring the sweet treat. You flushed at his boldness as he made eye contact with you.

His eyes then went to the box in your lap where he could see the rest. Some of them were a little disfigured, but you could vouch that they tasted good, “You made these yourself?” he finally said and you nodded.

“Ya, I went to classes with Tara so I could make them for you, they’re not the best, but they taste good at least,” you said, suddenly feeling a little nervous. You watched as Zayne’s tongue poked out, licking the remnants off your fingers and you gasped at the action, feeling the teasing sensation on your fingertips.

“They were perfect,” he said and you swallowed thickly, not knowing how to respond. You looked away from him, your heart was beating widely now because of him. He knew what he was doing because he kissed the pads of your fingers in response.

“I-I mean they’re not that great…” you murmured, “If I bought these in a bakery I would be pretty mad,” you tried rambling on, avoiding eye contact. He let go of your hand and you felt your shoulders relax as you could now think clearly again.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t talk down about my favorite baker,” Zayne said with a small sigh and you let out a whine from the back of your throat. His compliments were starting to get to you and you really didn’t know what you were supposed to say.

“I…fine,” you decided to just go with it. Arguing would only result in sweeter compliments being thrown your way. You sighed as you took the box and wrapped it back up, then placed it to the side so it was out of the way, “Well now that I’ve officially spoiled the birthday boy by letting you have a present early, I think we should get back to heading to the lake,”

Zayne had other ideas as you felt his hand around your waist, dragging you closer to him. You had to adjust yourself, throwing one leg over his lap so you could straddle him since you already knew this dance. Anytime Zayne could get you on his lap, he would. It was basically your favorite chair at this point, and it felt a lot better than the hard rock you were on.

“Yes?” you chuckled, waiting for him to tell you what he wanted. Instead you felt his hand on the nape of your neck, dragging you closer to him. Your lips met and you were still smiling against him. This time it wasn’t just a quick peck, it was a little more heated. His lips worked against you and made you moan once you felt his tongue prodding your lips, requesting access to your mouth.

He still tasted like macarons, sweet on your tongue as it glided against yours so perfectly. You couldn’t forget the irony of getting off of a hard rock, only to find yourself on a different hard object. Zayne’s hands went to your thighs, dragging you closer to his body, and you had to place a hand on his chest, moving your face away and watching the small string of saliva between you break as you panted.

“You’ve spoiled me, I think I want another present now,” his voice was a little more gravely as he pulled you in for another kiss. You moaned against his lips, feeling his hips rolling up into yours. You could feel his growing arousal pressing between your legs as you pushed your hips down on it. The way Zayne’s breath hitched at the movement sending a shiver right down your spine.

“Zayne, don’t forget we’re in public right now,” and on the edge of a hiking trail. Sure you guys hadn’t seen a single soul on the trail, but the thought of doing something so lewd in such an open area was…well you couldn’t say it wasn’t a turn on. You were just so used to Zayne being more modest about how he acted in public.

“This is a private cabin that the lake is connected to. Nobody else should be walking this trail,” Zayne said, squeezing your thighs a little harder. You moaned again as you began grinding down on him, “And you did say the birthday boy could have whatever he wanted today.”

With his permission you began grinding down on him again, letting out small moans as you felt his cock rubbing at you through your thin pants. His pants were already so tight that you could feel the outline of him perfectly through it.

Your hands were gingerly placed on his shoulders, giving you more support as you worked yourself on him, pressing down on him just right to hear small moans leaving him. The grip he had on your thighs was near bruising as he held himself back. He still rutted up into you, even through the layers of clothes he could still feel the warmth of your core against him.

“Zayne, you’re such a pretty boy. I love it when you become a mess just from something like this,” You moaned, looking down at his flushed cheeks. His hair was already a little disheveled, and he was panting, his kiss swollen lips parting slightly as he looked up at you with hazy eyes. Just the sight of him had your insides clenching around nothing.

He let out another groan and gasp, pulling you down tightly against his lap to stop your movements, “G-give me a minute to-,” he started and you could only chuckle. You pressed a kiss to his forehead, then another to his cheek. You could see he was taking one of his hands to bring to the front of his pants to take out his cock, so you grabbed his wrist and placed it back on your thigh.

“If you take your dick out here it could count as public indecency,” you chided, moving your hips as much as you could on his lap. There wasn’t much he could do, not when he found himself under your mercy as you rolled against his cock, the fabric only providing more stimulation to him.

He bucked his hips up into you, jolting your entire body as you began working on him again, this time pressing your hips harder onto his own, intent on making him cum just from a little dry humping.

The moment you could hear him whimpering you knew he was almost there. He always had the same, cute reactions when he was close to coming. The way his body subtly shook against yours, his thrusting became sloppy and erratic, and the way his noises got louder as he lost the ability to keep himself quiet.

“Zayne, are you fine with it in your pants, or no?” You finally said, panting now as you started pressing kisses along the column of his neck, being careful not to leave marks in places he couldn’t cover. He groaned at your words, holding your thighs still.

“No, out,” was all he managed to say between moans and you nodded. You unzipped his pants quickly and took out his dick. The moment it was in your hand you stroked it once and held your hand over the tip as he came. Your hand collected the warm fluid as he groaned, rolling his hips up into your waiting hand.

You watched as Zayne panted, pressing his forehead against your shoulder as he took a moment to calm down, his body still going through the after effects of his orgasm. You slowly took your hand away, satisfied you were able to not cause a complete mess in his pants. As much as you would’ve loved to, you knew you guys still had a full day of plans and it would probably be uncomfortable for him.

“Feel better?” You asked after a moment, noticing how his breathing started to go back to normal. He let out a small moan against you, lifting his head. He took a moment to stare at you which you decided was the perfect opportunity to bring your hand up to your lips.

You licked at his release, letting out an exaggerated moan at the taste. While cum wasn’t the best flavor, Zayne did take good care of himself so it lacked the normal bitterness. Zayne let out a groan from the back of his throat as you spoke, “Tastes even better than the macarons,”

You felt his large hand wrapping around your wrist and then dragging you forward onto him, locking your lips in a heated kiss. His tongue pressing against your own as he tasted himself on you. You smirked into the exchange, licking the roof of his mouth and making his gasp as you bit down on his lower lip.

“Is the birthday boy satisfied?” you finally asked, pressing a peck at the corner of his mouth. You watched as he cleared his throat, slowly coming back to himself. You began working his dick back into his pants and zipping it back up so he had at least some decency for the moment.

“Almost, we still need to take care of you,” Zayne said, looking down at his lap. Of course he would realize you didn’t cum just yet. You chuckled, cupping his cheek with your clean hand and making him look at you.

“You know, the picnic blanket I got is really comfortable. Maybe we can take care of one another and work up an appetite before dinner?” You watched as Zayne’s throat bobbed and he flushed slightly. It was clear he liked the sound of that, already thinking of all the ways he could have you by the lake.

“We can do that,” he said and watched as you stood up. You grabbed a napkin from your bag, wiping up the rest of the mess on your hand and running some of the water he handed you earlier. You then reached out, helping him to his feet albeit shakily.

“Oh and by the way…happy birthday,”

Tadaaaa! And if anyone was wondering, yes the Rafayel fic is coming and soon. I just need to do the final edits and I'll post it. I wanted to get it out before Zayne's birthday, but it's a literal behemoth of a fic.

[sxsilly2]

ed distractions

all of this is from distractions.carrd.co!!

out and about - ☆ people-watch ☆ sit outside ☆ go window shopping ☆ try out clothes w/o buying them ☆ get a mani/pedi ☆ cloud-watch ☆ make a shopping list ☆ go on a shopping spree ☆ find a new location in your city to visit on google maps ☆ go stargazing ☆ go to the library ☆ go thrifting ☆ pick flowers ☆ go to a new coffee shop you haven’t been to ☆ go camping ☆ go to a museum ☆ go to a park and draw people walking by ☆ see a movie in theaters

moving - ☆ play tennis ☆ ride your bike ☆ go swimming ☆ make your own workouts ☆ swing ☆ make a playlist of workouts ☆ climb something ☆ go for a jog ☆ take a walk ☆ go hiking ☆ do some yoga ☆ do your work out routine ☆ pilates ☆ stretch

creative - ☆ draw, add a pos over it and draw all over again ☆ make a collage out of book pages ☆ make flower arrangements ☆ style your school uniform ☆ copy celebrities’ signature looks w things in your closet ☆ draw many puzzle pieces ☆ make your own zentangles ☆ create your own signature symbol ☆ dry flowers and make a flower diary ☆ learn to crochet ☆ make gift cards for your friends ☆ make a google docs template ☆ copy tattoos w a marker ☆ make stickers ☆ create your own digital museum ☆ make friendship bracelets ☆ make a diy bath bomb ☆ make a movie ☆ tye dye a t-shirt ☆ make playlists for moments ☆ write a letter ☆ decorate an envelope ☆ write jokes ☆ scribble and turn it into a drawing ☆ splash paint onto paper ☆ try to recreate art ☆ recreate notion/carrd pages you see online ☆ make a graphic novel ☆ build a fantasy world ☆ draw a map ☆ draw a webtoon ☆ decorate a notebook ☆ collect dried leaves ☆ make tattoo ideas ☆ do commissions ☆ draw pixel art ☆ make powerpoint templates ☆ make a subliminal playlist ☆ make edits of ppl ☆ make a notion template ☆ write a cringey wattpad novel ☆ write fanfiction ☆ decorate flower pots ☆ paint your phone case ☆ make diets for your fav characters ☆ write a love // hate letter ☆ make lyrics out of random words ☆ paint rocks ☆ decorate a hat ☆ cut out your clothes to make new ones ☆ up-cycle thrifted clothes ☆ draw on your wall ☆ make a bullet journal ☆ doodle on anything around you ☆ memorize a poem/song ☆ come up w original thread ideas ☆ make jewelry ☆ make soap ☆ crochet // knit ☆ draw a self-portrait ☆ draw w your eyes closed ☆ scrapbook ☆ paint some cloth ☆ animate something ☆ start a dream journal ☆ start a blog ☆ bake a cake ☆ cook something new ☆ create new outfits ☆ color ☆ learn origami ☆ draw an original character and give them their own backstory ☆ color-code your google calendar ☆ draw your dream home in detail ☆ paint on a canvas bag ☆ make a jar filled w movie titles and pull one out randomly to watch ☆ start your own private instagram account as a digital diary ☆ write a screenplay ☆ direct your own movie ☆ make lists

educational - ☆ research a random topic (then make a presentation on it) ☆ learn all the countries on a certain continent ☆ learn all countries’ capitals ☆ educate yourself ☆ catch up on current events ☆ go on a study space and study ☆ join a google classroom ☆ take a masterclass ☆ sign up for a course ☆ practice public speaking ☆ finish your assignments ☆ improve your memory ☆ memorize things ☆ organize your notes ☆ learn a new study technique ☆ learn morse code ☆ annotate a book ☆ learn curse words in other languages ☆ learn how to play an instrument ☆ pick up a new skill ☆ learn some psychology tips ☆ learn some cool facts ☆ learn a new language on duolingo ☆ learn about finances

hang out with yourself - ☆ induce a glow-up ☆ induce your honeymoon phase ☆ choose a signature smell ☆ interview yourself ☆ write about your day ☆ figure out a crisis you’ve been having ☆ romanticize your life ☆ get a signature look ☆ get on another twt side ☆ use subliminals ☆ put all your thoughts on paper ☆ decorate your personal journal ☆ watch a childhood movie ☆ go through your old playlists ☆ discover a hidden talent ☆ ask yourself weird questions ☆ write a love poem to yourself ☆ make a goal list ☆ create a vision board ☆ make a time capsule ☆ look at old photos ☆ write a will ☆ practice gratitude ☆ declutter your phone ☆ practice meditation ☆ make an online quiz about yourself ☆ create a five-year plan ☆ plan out your week ☆ write three short-term goals ☆ work on current goals ☆ use a body scrub ☆ do a hair mask ☆ take yourself out on a date ☆ plan YOU days ☆ journal your feelings ☆ write letters to your future self ☆ make a top-10 list of your fav anything ☆ examine your birth chart ☆ color or cut your hair ☆ start a happiness jar ☆ write down your manifestations // affirmations ☆ watch self-improvement videos ☆ give yourself a spa day ☆ update your resume

social life - ☆ facetime your friends ☆ interview someone ☆ do a virtual meet-up w friends ☆ get a penpal ☆ learn about recent drama ☆ boost your socials ☆ talk on spaces w your moots ☆ volunteer ☆ contact an old friend ☆ plan a meet-up w friends ☆ call a relative ☆ plan fun outings // themed nights for you and your friends ☆ hug someone

at-home - ☆ take a cold shower ☆ re-organize your bathroom ☆ try on your clothes ☆ take a bubble bath ☆ visit a digital museum ☆ paint your nails ☆ do a movie/book/game marathon ☆ clear out your closet ☆ drink water ☆ put together a skincare routine ☆ go through your emails ☆ use a bath bomb ☆ do a face mask ☆ plan your meals ☆ re-arrange your books ☆ clean your room ☆ have a picnic on the floor ☆ stick pictures to your walls ☆ organize your drawers ☆ redecorate your room ☆ clean your makeup brushes ☆ declutter your makeup ☆ organize your photos ☆ clean your electronics ☆ do your laundry ☆ take a nap ☆ make a fort ☆ clean your desk area ☆ print posters and decorate your walls ☆ brush your teeth ☆ back up your laptop and phone ☆ update your passwords ☆ clean your car

just for fun - ☆ pretend you’re vlogging ☆ plan a trip ☆ copy ppl’s insta stories ☆ pretend you’re a model ☆ plant a flower/tree ☆ play uno or another card game ☆ play scrabble ☆ make a tournament of a game like “true american” in new girl ☆ make an amazon list ☆ learn dances ☆ do a makeup tutorial ☆ play loud music ☆ do buzzfeed quizzes ☆ read a webtoon ☆ look at memes ☆ look at thinspo ☆ make a youtube channel ☆ watch vlogs ☆ count your money ☆ discover new makeup styles ☆ tweet something stupid ☆ google yourself ☆ read fanfiction ☆ find new music ☆ write online reviews ☆ read shein reviews ☆ sing karaoke ☆ play never have i ever ☆ play with bubbles ☆ try to rap ☆ recreate your fav movie scenes ☆ make a shrine ☆ make a treasure hunt ☆ play chess // checkers w yourself ☆ start a controversy over a stupid topic ☆ donate some money ☆ learn to hula-hoop ☆ do a sudoku ☆ save tweets to your bookmarks ☆ make a tbr list ☆ go through old ana forums ☆ take a survey ☆ make a wishlist for when you reach your ugw ☆ make an elaborate conspiracy theory ☆ play w legos ☆ start a new show ☆ make a new playlist ☆ listen to a podcast ☆ surf pinterest ☆ read a book ☆ make a bucket list ☆ shop online ☆ sell clothes online ☆ test out a new hairstyle ☆ look up recipes online ☆ watch true crime ☆ watch a rom-com ☆ play video games ☆ redo your phone layout to a new theme ☆ watch a yt documentary ☆ start your own cult ☆ try dimension shifting ☆ record your own videos of you talking to yourself ☆ re-organize your pinterest account and all your boards ☆ scream into a pillow ☆ go through the app store and look for cool apps

[etanow]

MASTER POST

The Experimental Monster Laboratory, or Monster Labs, is a TADC AU where the cast is in the physical world! Sorta..

C&A Research Facilities is one of the cornerstones of the science and medical worlds! They do everything; funding research, manufacturing equipment, and research into the known and unknown in an effort to understand everything. To the public, that is.

They experiment heavily in everything, from hiring literal Gods on earth to manage the more ..sensitive divisions; mixing machine and magic, technology and the supernatural, genetic experimentation, you name it, they’ve probably done it! The world outside may not know anything of the advancements they’re researching but there is little C&A Labs won’t allow in the name of progress in understanding and cataloging everything in their universe. Our story takes place in one of the more private residencies deep in C&A, belonging to Caine; a minor God with mysterious origins, unknown limitations, and boundless enthusiasm for learning everything he can about his little science friends.

╰┈➤ Content

╚═ Unnamed fic (Coming soon...) ╚═ Bubble can cook?? .

╰┈➤ Asks

╚═ Does Pomni act like a zombie? ╚═ Is Zooble's Demon Snake Leg happy? ╚═ Gangle is in a Situation.png ╚═ Gangle's temperament ╚═ Has Ragatha ever shocked anyone? ╚═ Gangle love RAAAH ╚═ Do Caine and Ragatha fight over Pomni? ╚═ Why did Gangle summon a demon? ╚═ Why does Pomni wear a bell collar? ╚═ Kinger's eye ╚═ What if there was a baby crying? ╚═ Death trauma [Gangle and Pomni] ╚═ Kinger has ONE hobby outside of Bugs ╚═ Is Zooble protective of Gangle? ╚═ What happens when you touch Pomni's brain? ╚═ JAX DATED SOMEONE?? ╚═ What does Jax do? .

╰┈➤ References

╚═ Intro Cards ╚═ Height Chart Lineup ╚═ Zooble Demon Snake Leg Intro Card /j ╚═ Queenie ╚═ Gummigoo ╚═ The Sun Room ╚═ Logo .

╰┈➤ Arts

╚═ First ML AU Post ╚═ Second, exploring outfits ╚═ Design sketches part 2 ╚═ Pomni + flower language ╚═ Showtime + Ragapom doodles ╚═ Jax not practicing lab safety ╚═ Abstragedy cuddles ╚═ Raga doodle ╚═ Ragapom doodle ╚═ Jax and Meadowsweet ╚═ Pomni staring out a fake window.png ╚═ [Gives pomni flowers] ╚═ more doodles ig

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╰┈➤ Misc.

╚═ Caine Lemon Rant [Animatic] ╚═ Zodiac signs?? ╚═ Caine gets called a Tumblr Sexyman and cries ╚═ Bubble Looksmaxxing ╚═ Jax wants to take ketamine with you (Romantically) ╚═ Caine eats a lemon [Animatic] ╚═ BUNNYSUITSSS ╚═ Magma doodles ╚═ Magma doodles part 2

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╰┈➤ Pomniverse

╚═ Wonderland and Zombni are friends :D

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╰┈➤ Boundaries / Q&A

╚═ Any story plans? I'm not sure yet, currently writing a fic and several comics on the way.

╚═ Any boundaries? None, so go crazy! I am OK with gore, NSFW, angst, violence, etc, just be sure it is tagged/TW'd appropriately as not everyone is OK with that content. I'd also like to see please LOL

╚═ Can we create fanart/fics/content? Can we dub or fancam? Yes of course!! Please tag me, I'd love to see all of it! I'm tracking the tag #TADC Monster Labs AU for other's content

╚═ Is NSFW allowed? Yes, both art and fic, so long as it's marked appropriately I'd very much love to see!

╚═ Can I ship the characters, self-ships, or OC x Canon? Yes, ship away! Just be aware the only au-canon ships are Caine/Pomni, Ragatha/Pomni, Gangle/Zooble, and PAST Ragatha/Jax.

╚═ Can we make OCs? Go on ahead! Here is a PSD file for the blank template and the PNG can be found here.

╚═ Who are you?

✦✧ Hi I'm Audi! 26, she/they. Full-time office worker, I do art in my free time. ✦ My current interests are TADC, RWBY, Looney Tunes, and Trolls. ✧ I draw using a custom PC, a Huion Kamvas 16 (2.5K), and Adobe Photoshop. Currently learning to use Procreate. ✦ I do not RP and this isn't an ask blog, asks interacting directly with characters will probably not be answered. ✧ Asks are not guaranteed to be answered, sorry if yours isn't but please don't spam/send multiple times! ✦ Commissions and requests are not open at this time, thank you. ✧ My main tumblr is Audi-art. My Twitter is Hammerspaced.

[tinfoil-jones]

Tate Pines AU 

(aka Tater McGucket is an oops baby Fiddlestan kid)

Note: LONG POST. This is me hyper fixating on a brain worm because the Gravity Falls Fandom roared back to life. This is probably misspelled in a lot of areas, and not the clearest or most concise post because this is me rambling at 2 in the morning. Also the characters are maybe OOC. Also, this is written without accents because I'm not from the Midwest or southern United States.

In this AU/Scenario, Stan is a transgender man, and 'encountered' Fiddleford during his vagabond years. It was a heavily drunk/high one-night-stand, so they never properly met or even knew each others names. This happens after Ford graduating Backupsmore University, and for this scenario to work let’s say that Fiddleford went to BMU for his undergraduate program, but then went to the local university in Palo Alto for his graduate studies.

Years later, just like in the OG show Fiddleford is Stanford's research partner in Gravity Falls, and married to Emma-May Dixon; but they don't have any children together at this time, and they got together *after* his encounter with Stan. So this isn't an affair baby scenario.

Tatum "Tate" Pines is 5 years old, living on the road with his dad, currently staying in a motel but they're about to move into a real apartment for the first time ever because Tate needs to start school soon. Stan is still a drifter and a con man, but he recently came upon a large sum of money because Tate accurately guessed the lottery number for the state they were currently in.

Stan still receives a postcard from Gravity Falls that says "Please Come", and is allegedly sent from his estranged Twin who he hasn't seen in almost 12 years. But this is roughly a few months before it would have happened in-canon.

Given Stan's disownment, no one knows that he even has a son, not even Ma Pines. Not like he'd want them to know. Having his own son and loving him unconditionally made him realize that his own dad Filbrick was a monster, who he didn't need to prove himself to. But he still wants to reconcile with Ford, so he decides to go just like in canon.

This post card, however, wasn't sent by Ford. It was sent by Fiddleford, who was watching Ford spiral in real time and hoped that if anyone could convince Ford that he was acting crazy and unstable, it was his twin brother.

While Stanford doesn't greet Stanley with a crossbow like in the original because this is before the portal test with Fiddleford, he's definitely shocked to not just see Stanley there, but Stanley with a tiny gap-toothed child in tow.

Stan doesn't know that Ford wasn't expecting them, and excitedly introduces Ford to his nephew.

Ford: Stanley, are you sure this child is yours? Stan: ...Ford, did you forget we're not identical twins?  Ford: ...Oh! Oh my, Stanley... Stan: *thinking* 'I don't know if I'm touched that you don't see me as anything other than a man... or insulted that you forgot something so fundamental about me'

Flabbergasted, Ford lets them both in; Fiddleford is welding something downstairs so he doesn't see or hear any of this. Ford plants Tate on the couch in front of the TV and practically drags Stan to the kitchen to talk to him privately; he's too surprised by Stan having a child to question why they were there in the first place.

Ford: Is there a... another parent..? Stan: ...It's just me and Tate. Always has been. Ford: How did...? Stan: I didn't plan a pregnancy... but I had no money for T-shots for months on end, and without the T, everything down stairs went to factory default.  Ford: Do you know who it is? The father- I mean, the other father? Stan: Not exactly, some southern guy, don't think I ever got his name. Ford: What happened? Stan: Funny you should ask. (FLASHBACK) Fiddleford, high out of his mind: -and that's how I won a golden fiddle. Stan, drunk out of his mind: That's crazy, dude. *grabs him aggressively by the shirt collar to pull him close* Now shut up and fuck me until I can't walk. Fiddleford, horny out of his mind: Hoo-whee, well don't you diddly-darn mind if'n I do. (END) Ford: Stanley? Stan: Hmm? Ford: Are you okay? You just said 'its funny that you ask', and then stared off into space for 10 seconds. Stan: Let's just say I never touched tequila ever again.

Eventually, Fiddleford does come upstairs when he notices Ford didn't come back downstairs, and see's the brothers in the kitchen just as Ford asks Stan why he even came here.

Fiddleford admits it was him who sent the postcard, that someone needed to 'talk some sense' into Ford, and then introduces himself to Stan.

While Stan isn't perplexed by Fiddleford because he was too drunk to remember a face- Fiddleford, who has very good memory, immediately knows he met Stan somewhere, he just can't quite place where, when, or why.

Ford does show Stan the portal, saying it's his life's work and he'll need to test it soon, and casually asks Stan if he wants to stay and help. Before Fiddleford can protest that's a bad idea and Ford should just stop, Stan agrees because he wants to reconnect (and also keep a roof over Tate's head, what were the chances they'd win another lottery?), it did hurt his feelings that Stanford hadn't reached out out to him after all, but maybe they could work on that.

While Ford hasn't exactly forgiven Stanley for the science fair incident, he can't just let his brother, a single father be homeless with a five-year-old (Stan had to drop the lease with their intended apartment to come to Gravity Falls). And... well, Ford gets attached to Tate quite early:

Tate: ... *staring at him* Ford: Can I help you with something, Tatum? Tate: Uncle, is your name "Stanford"?  Ford: Yes, but if you prefer you can call me Uncle Ford. Tate: Oh. Okay. It's funny, Stanford is my middle name. *later* Stan: Kiddo, why has your uncle been sobbing in his room for the past thirty minutes? Tate: *shrugs*

Not realizing the gravity (hehe) of the situation, Stan gets settled in the house and helps Ford and Fiddleford where he can (usually just moving heavy objects or punching paranormal creatures, or forcing Ford to shower). He does notice that Ford seems a bit... unhinged, and weirdly obsessed with some new geometry based religion, but people change after college right?

He does get unnerved by Fords weird episodes where his personality seems to shift and he goes into town to act like an absolute menace. Stan can't help but think that isn't Ford; its been years since he saw him but damnit he knew his brother and whatever entity possessed him just to slap a cops belly, *that* was not Ford. But Ford always brushed him off when he tried to bring it up, and one time 'Ford' even coldly reminded Stan that he could remove Stanley and his son from the home at any time if he wasn't going to be useful.

During this time, Stan and Fiddleford get to know each other, they get along quite well actually; Fiddleford is fond of little Tatum, who along with Stan enjoys listening to him play the banjo. One could say, given Fords obsession with his current passion project and prioritizing work over his relationships, that Stan and Fiddleford become close. 

Fiddleford picks up, however... that little Tate is a genius. Although he's a quiet kid, he has an advanced vocabulary for his age. He's able to read and write at what must be a 2nd or 3rd grade level despite not even starting kindergarten yet, and... one time Fiddleford left an 8x8 cubiks cube unattended, and came back no more than five minutes later to see that Tate had already solved it. And Stan had told him that Tate has actively predicted lottery numbers before.

He brings it up with Stan, who admits that he already knows Tate is a genius, but he also knows what academic pressure and high expectations can do to someone (referring to Ford), and he just wants Tate to live life by his own terms, not let other people dictate that for him based on his IQ.

Fiddleford... also see's resemblances between himself and Tate. Sure, Tate has browner hair like Stan, but the wavier texture is just like his own. And while Stanley does have a prominent nose, it's not as prominent as Tates, which is much more similar to Fiddlefords. 

Fiddleford begins to ask Stan about his past, specifically bringing up that he believes they may have met before.

Fiddleford: Say, Stan, did we meet before you moved here? You're so familiar to me. Stan: I wonder where you could have possibly seen my face before? *glances at the lab* Fiddleford: No. I feel like we've met before - you ever been to Palo Alto? Stan: That city in Cali? Yeah. I'd say about six years ago. I was just passing by, resupplying, and selling weed to college students. Fiddleford: You were a weed dealer? Stan: Among other things, yeah. California's *the* place to go to for weed. I don't do it anymore. Fiddleford: Did you... ever visit the university there? Stan: A couple times. Hated going there because it reminded me of... well, I think you know. Why? Fiddleford: I did my graduate studies there, maybe I met you there? Stan: You think so? I only saw buyers, did you buy weed from me? Fiddleford: No... I had a dealer, but it wasn't you. Stan: Other than that, I did get invited to a frat party once. Think they were called "SigEp" or something. Fiddleford: That's 'Sigma Phi Epsilon'. That was the fraternity I belonged to. Did I see you at that party? Stan: Probably - oh man that party was crazy. I made so many bad decisions that night. Fiddleford: Stanley... how old did you say your son was? Stan: Five, why? Fiddleford: ... Fiddleford: Stanley... *reaches out* Stan: *jerks back, before pointing away* Hey look over there, a distraction! Fiddleford: What- *looks away* Stan: *jumps out the window and makes a run for it*

Stan does not entertain any further discussions with Fiddleford about his past, and goes out of his way to keep Tate with him and away from Fiddleford. Given his criminal past, he's afraid that if Fiddleford is correct, he could make legal actions to take Tate away from him.

Fiddleford eventually goes to Ford about his suspicions.

Fiddleford: Stanford I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to promise you'll stay calm. Stanford: *doesn't look up from microscope* Are you going to tell me you suspect you're Tatum's father because you slept with my brother around the time he would have been concieved? Fiddleford: ... Stanford: Because you are. Fiddleford: What in tar- Stanford: *tosses a file folder towards Fiddleford* I have all of our DNA on file - Fiddleford: You do???? Stanford: Of course I do! I store the DNA profile of everyone who's entered my residence, just in case there's a shifter afoot. Comparing yours and Stanley's DNA to Tatum's, there is only a 0.001% chance that he isn't your biological child. Fiddleford: ... *speechless* Stanford: Congratulations, according to science you're a father.

Fiddleford does eventually manage to talk to Stan about it, and clear the air between them. Stan is apprehensive because Fiddleford is married, but he's at least relieved that Tate happened before Fiddleford was in a relationship with Emma-May. Stan allows Fiddleford to spend more time with Tate (supervised), but they agree Tate doesn't need to know just yet what Fiddleford is to him.

Fiddleford also holds back on telling his wife about Tate, he'd prefer to tell her face-to-face.

But then the portal test happens and Fiddleford gets a glimpse of the horrors beyond the portal, which traumatizes him just like in the original. This doesn't convince him to leave, because Ford is becoming dangerous and Fiddleford is worried about what would happen if Stan and Tate were left alone with him. He invents the memory gun, but holds up on using it on himself.

The relationship Ford has with both Stan and Fiddleford  becomes more explosive. Stan and Fiddleford are both telling Ford that he's messing with forces beyond his control.

To get Fiddleford off of his back about the portals, Ford instead lashes out at him about something else.

Stanford: Fiddleford... you know you're my best friend right? Fiddleford: ...Of course. Stanford: Stanley and I don't have a good relationship... we haven't in a long time. *puts a hand on his shoulder* But don't you dare hurt my brother, or nephew. I don't care how strained things are between Stanley and myself, or how close you and I are... He's my brother, and I'll always protect him, even if it's from you. Fiddleford: Do you think I would try to steal Tatum, Stanford?! *Pushes him away* Also, if you're going to threaten me, you could at least not be such a hypocrite. Stanford: How dare- Fiddleford: You say you care about Stanley? That you'd protect him? He's been homeless for over a decade! You SAW him get kicked out of home when he was still a minor! He escaped three different prisons, had extremely shady black-market top-surgery, chewed his way out of the trunk of a car, and gave birth by himself in an alleyway! He had walking pneumonia for nearly a year straight and almost died from it because he had to choose between himself and Tate over who needed treatment more!  But you didn't know any of that, did you? Because you don't talk to him or try to reach out. You still avoid him. You still treat him like he's your enemy. You're still resentful about that damn science project.  You don't know him or what he went through. You didn't even want him here, I called him up here so maybe somebody could set you straight!  Working with this portal, messing with these forces beyond comprehension and control- the only threat to Stan and our son is you! Ford: Get the hell out of my lab- and stay the hell away from my twin.

But this 'Mystery Trio'-esque era of their lives has a Bad End:

After Ford gets sucked into the portal the same way as he did in the original, Stanley decides to take over his identity; Fiddleford helps him with everything up until Stan fakes his own death.

As Tate's biological (other) father, and Stan having recently altered Tate's birth certificate to add Fiddleford, the boy is given to Fiddleford right away following Stan's 'death' and not put into foster care or an orphanage. This window of time is also when Fiddleford establishes the Society of The Blind Eye, but he chooses a leader after he founds it rather than leading it himself.

When Stan makes it clear he's going to dedicate himself to fixing the portal and bringing Ford back, Fiddleford makes a drastic decision. 

Knowing what the portal obsession did to Stanford, Fiddleford doesn't want Tate to be around if- no, when, the same thing happens to Stan. 

He uses the memory gun on Stan to make him forget about their son entirely. He does the same thing to Tate to make him forget about Stanley, legally changes his name to Tater McGucket, and takes him back to California with him.

He makes this decision because in this scenario he never used the memory gun on himself, so the memory of what's on the other side of the portal still haunts him, making him more desperate and callous, especially with a child involved.

It breaks his heart that he did this, but he doesn't want Tate to be dragged into Pines drama. He takes the boy home and tells his wife that he was conceived before they were together (looking at Tate's age, he was born at least a year before they started dating), and uses the news clipping about Stan's death to explain how he got custody without any trouble, and Emma-May adopts Tate. Tates memory gaps are excused by his young age, and the trauma of losing a parent at such a young age, so Fiddleford and Emma-May decide not to tell him about Stanley.

Stan forgets about both Tate and Fiddleford, but he has this deep sense of loss and betrayal that he can't place. He figures over the years that maybe it's just some of his feelings about Ford having gone through the portal...

Decades later, and after a divorce, Fiddleford moves back to Gravity Falls, bringing Tate with him so Tate can start his Bait and Tackle Shop somewhere quiet. Fiddleford is there to check up on the Society of the Blind Eye, and also to check on Stanley because he feels guilty about what he did. Although he knows that this is Stanley pretending to be Stanford, he says nothing to anybody about it, it's the least he could do.

When Stan see's Fiddleford again - he doesn't know why, because he's 'never met the guy', but just looking at his face pisses him off. And every time Stan see's Fiddleford from then on, whether its across the street or at the shops or what have you, he is openly hostile towards him even if he can't adequately explain why he feels this way about Fiddleford. Also strangely attracted to him, particularly his banjo playing, but its overshadowed by his hostility.

Stan meets Tate shortly after the Tate and Backles Bait and Tackle shop is opened... and he doesn't know why, but this young man he's never met makes him feel sad. But also... Relieved? Elated? Proud?? He comes by often, sometimes not even buying (or stealing) anything, he just chats with Tate (and Backle to a lesser degree).

Tate himself feels strangely fond of this frequent flier customer. Like he's met a dear old friend. He is awfully confused why Stan will sometimes call him 'Tatum', seemingly without noticing, and why he never feels like correcting him. 

Fiddleford knows why, because he never erased his own memory, and he feels so guilty. But it's been 30 years, he can't say anything without ruining his relationship with Tate (which became strained after the divorce, which in this timeline happened maybe around Tate's late teen/early adult years). 

One way that this whole thing can be revealed is when Dipper and Mabel deal with The Blind Eye society, they find two memory tubes, one labelled "Tatum S. Pines" and another labeled "Stan Pines" take it with them because it has their last name, and Grunkle Stans name, on them.

They play the one labeled Stan Pines at first, and realize it's Tates early childhood memories of Stan.

When they play the one labeled "Tatum S. Pines" they see it's all of Grunkle Stans memories of Tate, leading up to his confrontation with Fiddleford.

(MEMORY) Stan, backing up: Wait, what is that thing? Fiddleford, what are you doing with that?! Fiddleford, pointing the memory gun at him: I'm sorry Stan, I truly am. But I can't let you drag our son into this... I do care for you, and I wish things could have been different. But you're just like him!  **BLAST** (END OF MEMORY)

This horrifies them, and they have a real moral conundrum of if they tell Stan and Tate, or if they keep it to themselves to keep the peace. 

They deserve to know... but it'd be so painful. And this would take place before "The Tale of Two Stans" so they don't even know what Fiddleford was talking about to justify stealing Tate, or who 'him' is.

Eventually, it's Wendy and Soos who confront McGucket and tell him that he better be honest with Stan and Tate, or they're going to do it for him. That he's a selfish coward who ripped someone's young child from their arms.

Or, an alternative scenario; Fiddleford never stored those memories in the first place, or at least didn't store them with the Society of the Blind Eye, and it's Ford who brings this all up to Stan. Ford was already through the portal when Fiddleford decided that parental abduction was totally okay if there was amnesia involved.

Ford: Are these Tatum's children? *motioning to Dipper and Mabel*. Stan: They're Shermie's grandkids, and - who? Ford: ...Tatum? Tatum Stanford Pines? Your son. Stan: ...I don't- I don't have a son. *tears gathers in the corner of his eyes, but he either doesn't notice, or chooses to not react* And if I did, I wouldn't give him your name as a middle. Ford: Yes you do, and yes you did. You introduced us right before the portal incident. I even DNA-sequenced him to confirm that his other father was Fiddleford. Stan: WHAT? And- who?? Ford: Here, look *pulls up his DNA files from ones of his secret safes in the lab and shows it to Stanley, which not only has the DNA results but also pictures of Stanley, Fiddleford, and Tate from the time* Honestly Stanley, how could you forget a child you car-.

Ford realizes something is wrong when it's clear that Stanley is distressed, but also confused, like having a son is legitimately a surprise to him. He's so shocked he has to lie down for a bit. His eyes keep leaking tears but he doesn't know why 'Fords cruel and oddly elaborate joke' is making him so upset, because 'clearly it's not true'.

When Ford hears Fiddleford lives in Gravity Falls, he seeks him out and demands answers.

At first, Fiddleford tries to play it off like maybe Ford was remembering things wrong - but with enough pressure, and a ray gun pointed at his chest, Fiddleford finally comes clean. About what he did. Why he did it.

Ford is still angry at Stan for getting him trapped in the Nightmare Realm Multiverse for 30 years; and then stealing his name, identity, and house, but that's still his twin brother. And what Fiddleford did was to him was horrendous, especially after Stanford had already warned him years ago to not to hurt Stan or Tate. This was a crime against the whole Pines family. 

So Ford beats him up. No, he doesn't kill or maim him, but he beats the living dog shit out of him until Fiddleford promises the glass tubes of Stan and Tate's memories in exchange for mercy.

Mabel, Dipper (and Soos/Wendy) are clearly confused (because they wouldn't have seen the memories in the "The Hall of the Forgotten"). Although, this whole revelation does bring Dipper closer to Stan, because Dipper had no idea he wasn't the only transgender person in the family.

Ford shows these memories to Stan first, who is going through all kinds of emotions especially after getting Ford back and their bitter reunion. This allows Ford and Stan to somewhat reconcile early; just like how Ford lost 30 years of his life to the portal, Stanley lost 30 years with his own son because of his conviction to fix it.

Ford also has to physically stop Stan from hunting down and murdering Fiddleford (who Stan only knew as McGucket up to this point) with his bare hands. Reminding him that it's more important that he reaches out to Tate.

But Stan is conflicted. He wants to be Tate's dad again but... Tate is in his mid-thirties, he doesn't need him like he did when he was 5. And Tate already has two loving parents, both of which don't have an extensive criminal record, and who provided him with a stable home, which Stan never did because they were homeless the whole time.

Does he really want to uproot Tate's life and/or peace of mind with a revelation this big?  

This goes all the way to Weirdmageddon, where everyone gathers in the Mystery Shack for security; faced with a possible end of the world, Stan takes Tate to the side, dragging Fiddleford with them, and tells him the truth. Fiddleford confirms it all, ashamed and apologetic. Finally, they give Tate his memory tube, which he watches.

For a moment Stan and Fiddleford have a moment of solidarity; Stan can see that Fiddleford really did want to spare Tate from whatever unknown-at-the-time fate had befallen Stanford because of the portal.

Fiddleford finally faces his past mistakes, and apologizes for what he did. That what he did was wrong, and he can never make it up to them, but if they survive this maybe he could try to make things right.

This is their last family moment between the three of them pre memory-wipe.

The mind wipe thing still happens. Gravity Falls is saved. Mabel and Dipper manage to jog Stan's memory but there's no way to make him remember Tate - the glass memory tubes have already been used, and Stan didn't keep any photos from his homeless era because he couldn't afford it most of the time, and when he could he always managed to get kicked out of whatever state they were in before the photos were done developing.

Once again, Ford comes in clutch. Throughout his last journal, just like how he made entries about Fiddleford, he also made entries about Stan and Tate, including detailed sketches. How Tate liked to get into high places, exasperating Stanley who was afraid of heights. How Stan would take him to the woods to follow the creeks because Tate was intrigued by waterways. How Tate said so few words but Stan always seemed to know exactly what he wanted or needed at any given time. How Tate only liked eating the green M&M's but Stan was fine with it because he got to eat the rest. 

Now while Stan's heartwarming memories of his son come back, so does his desire to break Fiddlefords neck. 

Fiddleford still buys the Northwest Mansion and converts it to "McGucket's Hootenanny Hut", but because the Pines families are the heroes of Gravity Falls, they (Ford) manage to convince the local government to put Fiddleford on house arrest for an indeterminate amount of time as punishment for 30-something years of parental abduction and alienation (also the whole starting a Cult thing). Fiddleford accepts this, and Tate still lives with him.

Post memory-wipe Stan still reconciles with both of them, and his relationship with Fiddleford is... weird, but not entirely bad. It's like they're dating, but with a lot of emotional distance. Like, Stan still tells Ford he wants to murder him... but also tells him to never, ever, check their texting history. 

Stan still goes to sail the world with Ford on the Stan O'War II. They do invite Tate, who declines because "He'd rather just live the simple life in Gravity Falls, and not get involved in whatever supernatural gobbledygook his dad and uncle are sure to get into".

And Stan is so proud of him... because just like he said thirty years, there's nothing he wanted more for Tate than to live his life by his own terms. He video chat's with him as often as he does with Dipper and Mabel. 

Tate ends up keeping McGucket as his last name, but he changes his first and middle back to what it was originally.

And that's the end of this tale, thanks for sticking with me. Here's a passage where Ford teases Stan while they're on their sea adventure;

Ford: It was so sweet of you to give your son my name. Stan: Poindexter, I swear to Moses. Ford: Even after a decade apart. Admit it, you missed me so much. Stan: *rolls his eyes* Of course I did. Stan: Stan: But the real reason that's his middle name is because he was conceived at Stanford University. Ford: I- Ford: I really didn't want to know or think about that.

The End... Go home.

[hyperfixatedbastard]

one must grab the titty

Soft!Adam x AFAB!Reader

It's no surprise that Adam's big on physical touch, but you expected it to be - well, sexual. Turns out that this clingy, hypersexual douchebag actually likes innocent, nonsexual intimacy. Like holding your boobs just 'cause they're nice to hold.

Word Count: 926

WARNINGS: SFW (I think?), AFAB!Reader with gender neutral pronouns, mentions of sex, no sexual content, nonsexual intimacy

A/N: I kinda hate this but I'm tired of working on it, so here ya go! Apologies if you have no tits, but let's be honest, that wouldn't stop this bastard.

Dividers

Adam has some… odd habits, at least by Heavenly standards. Sometimes you wonder just how exactly he’s an angel, but you’ve learned to not question it. He may be a douchebag and an asshole, but he has his moments. He’s sweet with you, at least. You never expected him to be a doting, clingy boyfriend, but he certainly proved you wrong.

No matter where you are or what you’re doing, he’ll have an arm around your waist, or one of his wings loosely wrapped around you. Adam is a possessive guy (after hearing about the whole Lucifer debacle, you can’t really blame him), and he makes it clear with the way he interacts with you in public. And in private, he’s arguably worse—you’re lucky to sit down without him draping an arm over your shoulders to pull you in close, or practically pulling you into his lap. He’d never admit it, but you think he needs the reassurance that you’re still there, that you haven’t left him.

You’re not so sure about that theory once the touches go past cuddling.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

"Adam," you begin in a suspicious tone. "What are you doing?"

The angel in question blinks back at you owlishly. His mask and robes have been traded out for some sweatpants and a t-shirt that reads ‘I Got ADHD’ with the subtitle ‘A Damn Hard Dick.’ The two of you are cuddling on the couch in your shared apartment, with some shitty action movie playing on the TV as you sit wrapped up in his arms and wings with your back to his chest (you didn’t think that action movies would be allowed in Heaven considering the murder and whatnot, but once again, you don’t question it).

"Hm?" he hums innocently. "I'm watching the fuckin' movie, babe."

You glance down to where his hand is shamelessly groping your boob over your shirt. You debate whether or not to even confront him about it, considering he isn't actually doing anything other than just holding your tit, but you ask anyways.

"Why is your hand on my boob, then?" you prompt, your eyes shifting between his face and where his hand is idly groping your chest.

Adam chuckles and breaks out into a smug grin. "What? Can't a guy hold his partner's tits?" He gently squeezes your boob for emphasis.

Your face heats up at that, and your eyes narrow in confusion. "Why do you want to?" 

"Uh, because they're fucking great," he answers incredulously, like you're the weird one here. He then brings his free hand up to hold your other boob. He gives them both a gentle squeeze, but doesn't do anything more than that. The lack of a sexual innuendo, joke, or proposition doesn’t make sense to you—it feels out of character for Adam, even after learning about his love of cuddling.

You just look at him, confused. Sure, you've always known that he's a boob guy, but this doesn't strike you as Adam's usual horny antics. But if it’s not sexual (which you still find hard to believe), what the fuck is it? 

He seems to realize that his original explanation isn’t good enough. "Look, hot stuff, boobs are just nice to fuckin' hold, y'know? All soft n' squishy n' shit."

You raise a brow at that. It’s a fair point, you suppose. "So, what, my tits are like stress balls for you?"

Adam laughs—not that loud, boisterous laugh he does when pranking some poor soul, but that more genuine, softer one few people ever got to hear. "Yeah, pretty fuckin' much, babe. They're comforting!"

You roll your eyes at him, albeit fondly, as a smile pulled at your lips. "Whatever works for you, I guess."

His smirk grows, and he squeezes your boobs a little firmer this time. "Oh, these beauties are fucking workin' for me, sweet cheeks."

You scoff, albeit lightheartedly, and swat at his shoulder. "Shut up and watch your damn movie."

Adam doesn’t respond, but he pulls you a little closer and gives your tits one last good squeeze before returning his attention to the TV—for the most part, at least. His hands don’t leave your chest, but they don’t really do much either. They’re just resting there, occasionally groping or giving a light squeeze. Damn, this really isn’t a sex thing for him, is it?

You’d already been shocked when you’d first realized how clingy Adam is. You were even more surprised to discover that he’s a fan of nonsexual intimacy in general, like cuddling and hugging without it leading to something more. And here he is, surprising you once again by doing something that should surely be sexual in his mind, yet treating it casually and barely even making sex jokes about it. 

A few more minutes into the movie, you can’t hide your curiosity anymore. “This really isn’t a sexual thing for you?”

Adam’s eyebrows raise, and he looks puzzled at your question before breaking out into a smirk. “Why, do you want it to be?”

You scoff and shake your head. “No, I’m just… surprised, is all.”

“Hey! I can appreciate some nice boobs without it being sexual,” he protests, and he sounds at least partially serious.

“Okay, okay, I believe you,” you assure him with a soft laugh. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.”

“Good, ‘cause I fuckin' like this,” Adam remarks, once again squeezing your boobs for emphasis. You just fondly roll your eyes at him and go back to watching the movie.

Having a clingy boyfriend is pretty nice, actually.

Taglist: @3sire-777

[sigmasemen]

WHEN YOU GO ON A DATE WITH THEM. (1/2)

multiple blue lock characters x reader

tags: romance, cute relationships, established relationships, fluff.

taglist: n/a currently

characters: alexis ness, akira endoji, ryusei shidou, nijiro nanase, ranze kurona, michael kaiser, bachira meguru, rin itoshi, chigiri hyoma.

word count: 2668

extra notes: i originally had sae in this but he didn’t make it into the 9 character count i usually do.

ALEXIS NESS:

- Ness is very strategic about dates and things of the sort. He always thinks about the best ways to make you feel special, how to plan things out for you to enjoy yourself, he's particular.

- Though he tends to stick to romantic dinners in a nice restaurant, private to just you and him, sometimes you suggest something a bit more daring. Like, "Let's go to a yoga class!" or "Let's head over to the local water park!"

- But, arguably, his favorite non-romantic-dinner-date is definitely when you two went out shopping. Not to a mall or anything, just a town square, traditionally built with intricate patterns in the rocks.

- Ness, at first, was just window shopping and letting you pick everything. Whenever you looked at something for a prolonged second, he grabs it, buys it, and gives it to you. Especially if it's matching.

- He's a bit touchy on dates. Mostly wrapping his hands around your waist, occasionally glaring at people who stare at you for too long then pressing a firm kiss onto your lips, face, wherever he can reach.

- Ness enjoys taking you to fancy wine and dine restaurants, though gets confused if you order something more normal. He always gets you extra food just in case. (On most dates though, he's cooking for you.)

- At the end of the date, he walks you home and has his usual V-shaped smile plastered on his face while he waits for you to tell him bye. He then leans down, presses a kiss on your hand, then trails kisses up to your cheek and smiles.

- "I will see you soon, my love." He then walks off, leaving you dazed (with, of course, a soft smile on your face.)

AKIRA ENDOJI:

- Akira blushes bright red whenever you do literally anything slightly cute on the date. If you give a small giggle, he'll grip the table with a huge grin and bright blush on his face.

- He holds open every door for you, pulls out your chair, adjusts your outfit when people are looking. He'll do anything for you and your praise.

- He loves his first date with you. He remembers you went to a garden, and as he was chasing you around in there, he somehow stumbled into the fountain. He looked sad that he had ruined his appearance, so you jumped in right with him.

- He adores going on as many dates as he possibly can with you. You're practically going on one every other day.

- Akira, whenever you're going up an elevator or doing something before a ride, will bounce on his heels and smile as he's excited.

- Each date is extremely eventful though. You cannot say you've ever had a bland one. Whether the idea is skydiving or Akira just accidentally does something dumb, it's a 50/50 chance.

- One time, you went to a zoo and stepped on a bug. You didn't really care, however your (lovely) boyfriend's arms and legs were wrapped tightly around you as he stared at the guts of it. Then proceeded to act cool until he saw another one.

- He enjoys when you touch the tuff of orange hair in front of others because he practically chirps like a bird.

- Always buys souvenirs after every. Single. Date.

- He also loves going on coffee or hot chocolate dates in the winter because you always shiver and he gets to give you his coat. He's very proud of himself after that.

- At the end of each eventful date, you lean on his shoulder while listening to music with him. He fools with your hand until you both fall asleep.

RYUSEI SHIDOU:

- Oh expect the most eventful dates to the point your legs are trembling after from running around with him.

- He adores to pamper you and give you all his attention on dates. And grab your ass. Also a very important part.

- Most dates include going to parks and beating kids on the jungle gym, going to a carnival and competing to see who's better (if he wins, he gives you the stuffed animal regardless), going to rave concerts, or staying home and fucking. Whatever he wants that day.

- He actually took you to see A Clockwork Orange. You didn't understand what he saw in it, especially considering the foulness of it... However, he explained how he fucking loved the gore. Weird, but you had learned to accept it after seeing that kick to the face Rin got...

- Shidou adores randomly slapping your ass on dates and making you yell. He finds it hilarious and will press kisses all over your face as a thank you for letting him.

- He sometimes invites you on sudden notice to feed strays with him, which then spirals into a long and loving date.

- You teach him how to slow dance. He does it to impress you, but beyond that he'd suck.

- Always asking you to wear revealing outfits but accepts it when you don't. He enjoys how you gawk at his muscles when he flexes though.

- He also finds it fun to take you to cat cafes and to place all the cats on you, then take a picture and run.

- He buys you a lot of small trinkets, especially clips and plushies. He even gets a custom plush of him to put on your phone. (He has one of you on his too.)

- All dates end back at his place after a few rounds, having you curled up against his chest. For once, even though he feels empty as usual, he enjoys the sight of you on his chest. His breath and your face made you both drift to sleep.

NANASE NIJIRO:

- Nanase is over the moon when you ask him out on a date. He's a bit scared to ask you out on dates but he appreciates when you ask him. The only time he ever asked you to take him out on a date was when he asked you to prom. (His mother was dolling him all up while he looked a bit embarrassed.)

- Most dates have you two holding hands or interlocked arms.

- Also getting dirty.

- Nanase sometimes takes you on remote dates to picnics so you can remain distant from everyone as it's nice to have just your company around.

- He loves dates where you two get to go on adventures together to try new things. Like rock climbing! (You found out he had a fear of heights with that.)

- A few times on your dates, he'd say a metaphor wrong to a snow cone vendor and you'd just giggle and kiss his cheek.

- He's very much a gentleman and will hold open doors for you constantly.

- Tried to slow dance with you when it was getting dark and it was raining, except he slipped and you both fell. It took a while for you to stop laughing.

- Usually you buy large drinks early on in the date to quench your thirst for the entire date.

- Whenever the date ends, you walk him home and shake hands with whatever parent is there at the time. You then wave and walk home. (He's texting you the entire way home to make sure you get home safely.)

RANZE KURONA:

- He practically rushes to ask you out as he doesn't want any other guy to come sweep you up and take you away. 

- Dates usually are random, he'll go anywhere you want to go. The aquarium is the main spot. Not because he picked it, but because you did. You'll stare at the sharks for a few prolonged moments, then look at you and trail your fingers along his teeth.

- You always wear lipstick to your dates so you can press a kiss onto his cheek.

- He usually dresses pretty casual for dates. Shorts and a tank top. You always go all out and it's cute to see your contrasting styles.

- Sometimes you'll bring a Nintendo switch and show games to him that he enjoys.

- Most dates are actually at either of your houses as you two like having alone time together. Sitting in bed together, sharing his jacket as you lean against his shoulder and keenly watch the movie you had put on.

- He enjoys playing music in the background when you two do work out dates. By the end, Kurona is still going while you're face first on the ground.

- Kurona hates going to restaurants and instead picks up fast food for you two. He's always trying new things at places. Though he especially likes snowcones from a certain corner store.

- Dates ends with silent walks late at night, content with each other's company and nothing more. Though, not much more is needed for you to be satisfied.

MICHAEL KAISER:

- Oh how he loves to spoil you rotten and pamper you. He sometimes runs his hands down your back and tells you how good you look. Asks you to wear outfits he specifically buys for you.

- He constantly takes you slow dancing and tells you that he has to show you off to the town. You're used to a lot of attention but it's even worse when Kaiser is flaunting you. Kisses you for the paparazzi.

- He pampers you a lot. Mostly dates on the town where he can show you off. Or he takes you in a helicopter and flies you around, taking you across buildings sight seeing.

- He loves how the cities reflect in your eyes and will randomly kiss you because of it.

- Always takes you to big, nice musicals and plays after renting out the entire theatre. He enjoys comparing you and his relationship to one of the relationships in the show.

- He adores feeding you German cuisine, says he made it but he most definitely did not.

- Most dates are very formal, however he doesn't mind any sort of date with you. He adores the look you get in your face after you've been pampered silly. 

- You have at least 50 different pieces of jewelry encrusted with a blue diamond or sapphire that he bought for you.

- Kaiser sometimes randomly reaches around your waist and presses firm kisses onto your neck, mumbling how beautiful your body looks in the outfit you have on. He just chuckles when you get embarrassed.

- All dates end with him dropping you off at home in some extra way, then telling your parents how great you were. He always has to make a grand gesture towards them as well.

[bones4thecats]

How Did Charlie Meet Her Father's S/O?

Type of Writing: Random Idea Characters: Charlie Morningstar and Lucifer Morningstar Name: How Did Charlie Meet Her Father's S/O? Idea-Gifter: Random Thoughts

A/N: Here the reader is specified as a fallen angel and the role of the reader is listed below the character's photograph! By the way, this has spoilers for the first season. Now, have a nice rest of your days/nights!

⚠️ Trigger Warnings: Swearing ⚠️ Spoilers for: Season One ⚠️

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Fallen-Angel! Reader ; Parental-Child Relationship

☀️ Charlie was very happy that her father was attending the Hotel more often, so when he called and said he was coming by with a guest, she was nervous immediately

☀️ I mean, she was on-edge with her father due to their strained relationship when he first arrived, but now she might be meeting one of his friends? Oh, someone help this girl

☀️ When she tried asking who the person was, she could only hear her father nervously laugh and she could practically see him playing with a rubber duck in panic

☀️ She just put it behind her as the rest of the Hotel rushed around, trying to make the Hotel look the best for the King of Hell and his special guest. Despite the fact that he's already been by multiple times ever since the Extermination Day and the original building being destroyed

☀️ Whoever it was, she was just happy her father had someone around

☀️ When the sound of her father's familiar knock entered the Hotel, everyone went near-pitch silent and watched as Charlie straightened herself out and walked to the door, opening it to see two different figures behind it

☀️ One of a shorter male with a very similar appearance to his daughter, and his large top-hat sitting on his head while he spun around a cane with a large apple decoration on top of it

" Oh! You must be my father's friend! I'm Charlie- uhm, his daughter! What's your name? " " I am Y/N. " " Y/N?! As in the angel?! "

☀️ Lucifer laughed as the rest of the Hotel looked at you shocked. It was true, you were once a highly-regarded angel in Heaven. And the only reason you fell was because you dared to defy the higher-ups and defend your oldest friend

" Yes, as in the angel. Or rather, as in the fallen angel. "

☀️ The Hotel watched as you released your wings, they were very large, but, unlike Lucifer's, they were a far darker shade. Maybe around a grey-ish white with black stripes; they looked much like an Exorcist's wings

☀️ And it made sense, you were the creator of their sub-species

☀️ Charlie just looked at your wings in awe, they were so beautiful! But, when she heard her father's cane hit the ground, she turned to look down on him and she smiled and chuckled; how oblivious of her!

" Actually, Charlie, may I speak to you, in private? " " Yeah, give us a second, you guys. "

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✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋆⋄✧⋄⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅

Fallen-Angel! Reader ; Significant Other - Courting Stage

🦆 Lucifer was beyond happy; he was finally getting to introduce his love to his own daughter! Even if the one didn't even know about the role of the other

🦆 When Charlie had asked who her father was bringing over, he just laughed while nervously playing with a rubber duck, squeezing the poor creature until the squeak grew to loud to hear

🦆 Once you both reached the door of the Hazbin Hotel, you could tell the man you were currently courting was getting nervous, so you laid a hand on his shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze, knocking him out of his no doubt wild mind

🦆 Hearing and watching the door opened made one thought pulse through the King of Hell's mind; there was no turning back now.

" Oh! You must be my father's friend! I'm Charlie- uhm, his daughter! What's your name? " " I am Y/N. " " Y/N?! As in the angel?! "

🦆 Lucifer was not at all surprised, you were an angel that was held in very high-regards in the transcript about Heaven that laid in the old books, though you were eventually given a more minor-role in his eyes

🦆 He smiled lightly and laughed as even Alastor looked at you in surprise, only for you to show your wings and chuckle as Niffty asked if she could touch them, only for you to bend one down for her to grasp

🦆 Lucifer then remembered why exactly he was here, so, with a swipe of his cane to gain Charlie's attention, he asked if they could talk in private, resulting in them going to her main office

" So, Charlie. I want to give you a thorough rundown of what me and Y/N are exactly. "

🦆 Now she looked confused, damn it Lucifer, just think straightly and get to the point!

" Y/N has been by my side ever since I was sent here. They tried defending me and keeping me in Heaven, much to our dismay, it failed, which resulted in them falling. But, anyways! Okay, so, the things is- well, the is thing- "

🦆 God damn it!

" Me and Y/N are currently courting one another. I'm sorry for not notifying you before. It's just, I didn't want you to hate them for not being your mother and I just- " " Dad. It's fine. I'm happy for you guys. Besides, I've heard you talking to them on the phone. I just figured you may have been speaking to someone else you were close too, like family maybe. "

🦆 Lucifer began to laugh, why did he ever think that his daughter would've been upset? You were by far one of the sweetest beings in existence, and his daughter was one of the nicest with you! Of course she'd understand and support you guys

" I would've appreciated a possible hint on this, but, really I am fully supportive of you guys. " " Thank you, Charlie, so much. " " It's not a problem, Dad. Now, we should go back. I'm starting to want to get to know my future step-parent! "

🦆 The King of Hell's cheeks then began to darken a few shades; Charlie was thinking of that already?! Wow, he was going to have a heart attack before he reached the age of 500,000 on this ride...

[twitt3rpate]

[dirtyvulture]

Natasha Romanoff x Tattooed!Reader*

18+ only, read at your own risk

Requested by anon: Hiiiii I'm the one who asked for the tattooed reader with nat and I wanted to say thank you, I love it... I have another request... Maybe younger reader, who is a virgin, with nat who literally praises them throughout the whole thing and just kind of guides them... Not necessarily a totally innocent kind of reader, just that they don't know exactly what to do. G!P or male reader would be great, just whatever you're comfortable with, and if you can/want, reader has tattoos (if you haven't noticed I'm kinda obsessed with them). Hope you had/have a great day❤️ (sorry if it's kind of confusing, English isn't my first language sooo yeah) 

AN: Reader has a penis, no pronouns used.

Read the original blurb here!

You’re a little surprised when Natasha asks if you want to go to her room after the party, but not enough to turn down her offer. You’re not stupid, and you’re pretty sure your little display at the pool was enough to catch her eye. But at the same time, you’re a little nervous, because despite what everyone thought about you, you’d never actually done it before.

She holds your hand while she guides you into her room. You’re a little surprised at the lack of character it has: just a bed, a plain dresser, and a desk in the corner. There are no knick knacks, no memorabilia, no pictures or posters.

You knew that Natasha Romanoff is a woman who is very hard to read and immensely secretive, but you hadn’t expected this to extend to her own private room as well. But this was your chance to get to know her--assuming you didn’t disappoint tonight.

Natasha guides you over to her bed and sits down to face you. You don’t even realize that you never put your shirt back on from the pool until she leans forward to run her fingers across the sword tattoo on your left side.

“I got that after I spent six months in Japan,” you volunteer, a little uncomfortable with the silence. 

“What about this one?” Her fingers move up to touch the dragon on your chest.

You shrug. “My friend designed it. I just thought it looked cool.”

“You’re not wrong there.” Natasha drops her hand back to her lap and leans back, biting her lip as she looks you up and down. She spreads her legs and grabs onto your shorts to drag you forward until you’re standing between them. “Obviously I brought you here for a reason. But only if you want to.”

“O-Of course I do.” But your stutter gives away your nerves.

“Are you sure?” Natasha hesitates.

“Yes. It’s just...I’ve never...” Your cheeks heat up at the fact that you have to explain to her that you’re still a virgin, but she tugs on your shorts again, bringing you down into a kiss. Her lips taste like coconut lip gloss and press against yours softly.

“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” she says.

You want to tell her that you’ll take care of her, but your words are lost when she kisses you again, wrapping her arms around your back and pulling you on top of her. You put your hands on her shoulders, not really sure where else to put them, but as the kiss deepens you find them gravitating towards her chest and groping her over her bikini.

“Hold on,” Natasha says, breaking away from your lips and sitting up to undo the knot behind her neck. She slips out of her bikini top and you have to consciously keep your jaw from dropping when she exposes herself to you. 

“Can I...”

“You don’t have to ask,” she chuckles, amused by your manners. 

You cup your hands around her breasts, surprised at how soft they are and rubbing your fingers over her nipples.

“My turn,” Natasha says, practically panting as she reaches for your shorts. You’re a little nervous to show yourself off like that, and she can tell, but she brushes her hand along your thigh and asks you to take them off yourself. With a deep breath, you pull your shorts down, your cock springing out hard and ready, and it’s Natasha’s turn to hold back an exhale.

“You’re gonna stretch me out so good,” she hums and you feel yourself throb at her dirty words.

“I can’t wait to be inside you,” you say, not sure if the words will turn her on or further show your lack of experience. 

But Natasha doesn’t comment, lying back down and sliding out of her bikini bottoms. You carefully move on top of her, enjoying the silky feeling of her bare skin against yours. Your hips rock against hers, your cock twitching as it makes contact with the insides of her thighs.  

“Inside,” Natasha begs suddenly. “I need you inside.”

“I...I don’t have protection,” you say, the thought suddenly dawning upon you. 

“You don’t need it.”

“Are...Are you sure?” The last thing you need right now is to become a parent. 

“Do you trust me, baby?” Natasha asks, and your heart soars at the pet name.

“Of course.”

You sit back to line yourself up, tensing in anticipation and not wanting to blow too early. As you slide yourself in, all you feel is a warm tightness around your cock, better than your hand or any toy you had ever been inside of.

“Oh fuck, Nat,” you pant, pressing yourself deeper, desperate to feel that same warmth along your entire length.

“Finally,” she moans, dropping her head back on the pillows. “Start thrusting, baby. Fill me up and make me feel good.”

You take her waist in your hands, jacking your hips forward in uneven, short strokes. You don’t really have the focus or the patience to take your time, but you also want Natasha to be happy with your performance. 

“Fuck, right there,” she says, her nails suddenly clawing at your back as you lean down to kiss her again. “A little harder, baby. Don’t be afraid. You won’t break me.”

You grunt as you try to deepen your strokes, railing into her harder. Her walls clench around you perfectly and you know the stimulation is already too much. You try holding out as long as you can, but you spill before you can even give Natasha a warning, pausing as you release your cum into her in sporadic bursts.

“I...Oh, God,” you mumble, embarrassed and ashamed. “I’m so sorry, Nat--”

“Don’t be,” she says, stopping you from pulling out. “We’ll try again when you’re ready. It feels nice to have your cum inside of me.”

It’s strange to hear something so crude come out of her mouth, but it makes your cock twitch. Maybe it’ll be ready for round two sooner than you thought.

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AN: Please like, reblog, and comment! Follow for more content. 🥰

[baddiewiththebook]

Over the Years | e.m x reader [18+] | EXTRA

-> The origin story of Eddie Munson, and how he fell in love with the worst person he possibly could - his best friend.

-> eddie munson x you (she/her)

-> friends to lovers, slow burn, angst

-> warnings - strong language, suggestive themes, smut [18+]

a/n EXTRA, EXTRA, READ ALL ABOUT IT. This my dear readers is a bonus chapter that does not have to be read to understand the story. But, I do hope you take a look to feel more connected to our favorite characters. xo

-> <-

July 1983*

“Jeff, you got a light?” Eddie’s crouched down on top of the gravel in between your place and his with a firework held between his fingers. The lighter that he was using flickers, but sizzles and burns out before he gets a chance to light the fuse.

The Fourth of July has always been an excuse to blow up something without getting in too much trouble with it. Although, you’re sure the curtains moving back and forth at the Peterson’s trailer is a sure sign that you’re being monitored. A quick call to the sheriff would blow your party.

While Jeff helps Eddie light the firework, you sit back on your porch step. The light from the sky is just a few stars dotting the clear deep blue sky. It’s warm for a summer evening. Without the sun, however, your legs feel the cool breeze and you shiver.

You’ve already gone back inside to slip on a sweater that you’ve zipped up to your chest. Hugging yourself tightly, you wish the boys would get on with their firework show already. It’s nearing eleven in the evening, and your eyelids are burning from trying to stay awake.

“Should we dip?” Robin is bored. She already chased you around with a sparkler until the both of you were out of breath. You were practically up a tree trying to get away from her.

You want to tell her yes. There’s a set of cozy blankets draped across your floor, a bag of forgotten popcorn and a stack of films calling your names. Your plans for the evening had changed when Eddie and his boys came home with a ton of firecrackers that they weaseled off of some guy in a sleezy pickup off the main road near your place.

You sit far enough back, and wait for the explosion.

Just as you’re ready to give up, Gareth drapes a blanket across your bare legs. He spares enough for Robin to scoot over and hug the corner.

“Thanks,” you scan over his bare arms. “Won’t you be cold?”

“I run hot,” he shoves his hands into his pockets, and tries not to tremble on his way back to the circle of boys surrounding the lame firework.

Robin nudges you, “has he asked you out yet?”

“What do you mean?” You hold the blanket closer.

“Come on,” she replies, “you have him in the palm of your hand.”

The boys are flocking around like wild animals that have the last scrap of food. Eddie's running away from the lit firework, but trips over Gareth behind him. They argue, while the firework sizzles then bursts into the sky shooting off bright blues into the night. You watch until all that's left is a cloud of smoke fizzling in the distance.

“Alright, who are you interested in?” You tease Robin. “Anyone catch your eye?"

Robin's quiet about her love life. Perhaps, a private soul. You've never asked her out front why you've never heard of any boy that she finds hot. It's always about you and your problems.

There's only one boy in particular that Robin has come closer to in the past few years. He's the same boy that you've grown up with, so you can only assume that she's waiting for the right time.

“Oh,” you clear your throat. Robin's gone out in space, while staring at a particular subject. “I mean- it makes sense. Eddie’s- er-.”

Robin stops you there, “it’s not Eddie.”

You snort.

Here’s the thing about Robin. Ever since she was a little girl, Robin Buckley knew that something about her was different than the other girls.

In elementary school, Robin played like any other little girl. She can recall the projects they would do in class like drawing picture of mom and dad, or beading a bracelet together. Something that got her attention was how well she could braid her hair into two strands on either side of her head.

During recess, she would become the girl to go to when someone needed a quick fix. She can remember how the strands of hair flowed through her fingertips, so softly like velvet.

Sometime when the weather began to warm, the girls in her class would bring their dolls from home to play house. This prompted a week’s worth of begging and pleading to her own mother to buy her dolls. And, her mom did.

Robin liked the Barbie dolls her mom bought for her. She disliked Ken. Ken's became often were forgotten about. They were dumped in the bottom of a storage bin that was slowly climbing higher to the top with various toys that Robin would loose interest with.

It didn’t occur to her that other little girls were creating a life for their Barbie dolls. They would have little houses made from their pillows and their other creative imaginations. Barbie would have a family with Ken, which was usually a different small stuffed toy named Mary or Mark. They’d have a simple, but happy American life.

Robin’s Barbie didn’t have a Ken. Actually, Barbie despised Ken and his system of oppression against women. Especially, the way he would force her to have his children, just to leave for work every morning and make her his breeding mule.

In more or less words.

Rather than Barbie having Ken bossing her around, Robin’s Barbie had another friend - Other Barbie. Other Barbie made frequent visits to Barbie’s house, and she even stayed the night once or twice (or every night - sun up to sun down). Yes, Barbie lived a lavish life with her dogs and her cats with Other Barbie.

It really shocked her that the girls at school despised Robin’s plan to leave Ken out of the story. That two girls living together (which, they obviously weren’t living together) isn’t appropriate when you’re forty-five and have no children.

Robin disagrees.

In fact, she decides right then that living a life with another woman until they die wouldn’t be a poor plan. Neither of them would have husbands and neither of them would have children. They could have hobbies. They could have pets.

Robin was in for a big shock when she got into middle school, and everyone began developing. To her, the boys became grossly male. The woman became beautiful beyond words. It's much less about their physical form, but their conversations are much more intelligent and more forgiving than to have to explain to an angry man how the world spins fifteen times over.

“Robin,” you grab her attention when you swipe the pad of your thumb over her cheek. Brushing a few strands of her hair away, you’re full of concern when you say, “you’re crying. What’s wrong?”

Robin touches her tear kissed cheek not realizing that she's sprung a leak. While she adores you deeply, you could never come to understand what she goes through daily. If not for the town, the whole world hates her. She's seen the hatred in churches, in newspapers and magazines. The news is always shaming people like her - and, recommending that she be fixed.

In quick step, Robin races back inside to calm herself down back into her safe little bubble where she can smile and play pretend once again. This little life of hers is all that she aspires to have. If she has to be alone forever then so be it.

“I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings,” your voice comes barely above a whisper to her.

Robin jumps out of her skin. Why did you follow her inside?

“It’s not you,” she sniffs. “Allergies.”

“Come on, Rob,” you sort out her lie. “What’s wrong?”

Robin's unsure what's made her say it. The words shock her tongue, as though this is the first time she's ever admitted out loud how she feels. Maybe it is? Spewing the words over again, she waits for the worst to come. You're done being her friend. You never want to see her again!

Yet, you’re quiet.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Robin drops her voice to barely a whisper. “I’m- I’m gay. I like women."

“Okay," you nod slightly. "That's-"

“What?” Robin blinks a few times.

“That's okay."

Robin wobbled. The tight knot in her belly loosened. You didn't care? All this worrying and you still hold the same glistening stare you always share with her. You hold a grin from ear to ear with your arms out wide for her to fall into.

"But," you hold up a finger, before Robin can get too comfortable. "You never told me who you like."

Robin reddens, and you laugh.

-> <-

tags -> @leelei1980 @sheneedsrocknroll92 @jesuisbuginette @starrywhitenight @meetmeatyourworst @munsonburn3r @5tud10-54r4h @pvdulmol @loveryanax @am0iur

[neetily]

Kinktober 2024 — Angel Sam

— ✧ pairing: Sam / F!Reader — ✧ genre: smut 18+ — ✧ word count: 9,145 — ✧ warnings: religious contexts, Christianity references, blasphemy, angst, major character death, daddy issues, praise kink, worship, cunnilingus, love bite/hickey, creampie — ✧ synopsis: just one more night with you is all he needs, really. he thinks he could die happy if you smile one more time, y'know? he's still so sorry, by the way.

— ✧ A/N: i have been wanting to write something like this for a very long time, so im happy to finally have finished it! it's not as angsty as i'd originally planned it to be because im a hopeless romantic, but it is pretty bittersweet! please enjoy my ramblings!!

oh, and happy kinktober !!!!!! — ✧ kinktober masterlist

He comes to you in the middle of the night, as all misdeeds tend to.

It's quiet, of course. Naught but the light passing of wind against your window, a few stray moo's hidden from the barn. And for a few breathless moments, he opts simply to stare upon you. Watching you with tenderness in his heart, the kind borne out of the word almost. In that, the tenderness cannot even hope to band-aid his heart back together. Almost, but not quite. Though, looking at you is a treat in its own right, surely. God given, he’d imagine, for father was ever kind in his hatred. Something that, to this day, he’s thankful to remain deaf to for the most part.

And yet still, the burning bile that lines his stomach turns into lava as he listens out for that low thrum of disapproval, the very same one that he’s not entirely certain if it originates from within himself or not—the faux voice of father hidden away in his melting mind, or his own inner monologue? They sound the same at this point—so he can’t help but to look upon you with salvation. Home. A small smile tugs at his lips at the sight of you so peaceful; his appreciation is barely there from how feather light his love for you is, but it’s there. It always has been. And, it’ll always be there, too. More than anything, you help relax his mind— purely by existing. And for that, he's thankful.

Blessed, he feels, to view you in your most vulnerable state. It’s funny, he suddenly thinks, how you feel safer with the sheets covering your fleshy frame as opposed to laying bare and naked— it’d do nothing to save you from his pointed claws, or his God, for that matter. And it’s funny, he reiterates, that the moment he hovers a hand over your sleeping body, you take the opportunity to toss and turn some sheets from your legs anyway, catching his attention immediately as he pores over every detail of you.

For he must.

His very own private God; far kinder and softer than the one deemed naturally as father. Sometimes, he thinks he can hear God in the morning showers you take. Trickling down your body as water droplets, drip, drop, a ritual of love in its own right. Thank you, he slowly mouths down at you. For showing me so many mornings. They never had to be particularly good mornings, because every morning with you was good. And now, more than ever, he wishes to hear the familiar stream of water wash over you, just so that he can put his hands to use again in prayer.

There are, of course, other uses for his hands besides washing your troubles away. So he looks at them, regrettably tearing his vision away from you and into his tired palms instead for a moment or two. It's curious, how they look nothing like how they used to; mud stained and hard worn by now thanks to the Earth’s gifts— and your farming orders. But he smiles once more, because they are at least his. And with his hands, he decides to smooth them over your exposed leg. Gently, with practiced restraint, he ghosts over your trembling skin. A routine worship, his gaze softening at the way you shift and stir in your sleep. How pretty you are right now, forever and always. He takes in the sight of your eyelashes, fluttering with good dreams, he hopes. And of your hair, how it lays perfectly against your pillows, and how he wishes to reach out to stroke your head, but he needn’t disturb your rest further, he thinks. So he gazes some more at how cute you look when grasping the sheets in your sleep, a picture perfect little doll for him to adore. Dropping his vision down to where his worn out hand steals heat from your thigh, and how soft you are under his touch.

Truth be told, he could map out every intricate detail of your being all night long, and on some nights, he does just that. But he can already feel the world dimming in response to his gawking, and he knows that he hasn’t much time left at all. Least of all to be staring, instead of doing.

He wonders how much it’d hurt to see the look on your face later tonight. All twisted and unpleasant, an assumed mimicked wince flashing across his face before he fixes it right up for his sleeping audience. Will you be able to notice the crumble of his mind? Threads picked one by one to undo his wings, pinching at your knee just a little to try and remain soft, stern in his affection for you. Would you, if given the chance, watch in horror as lions teeth are shoved down his throat one by one, just to tear up his insides into something new? Something less tangible— for his own benefit, supposedly. Would you stay by his side to witness the ecstasy overtake his entire being, knowing that despite it all, he’s happy to just be by your side. Even for a single day… He thinks that would have been worth it all the same, too.

But, alas, he plans on depriving you the right to such sights. He couldn’t bear the thought of casing you any harm, least of all from his own faults.

Instead, gentle hands press palms of golden sunlight against the slight sliver of inner thigh your slumbering body offers him. And it’s like a meal to him, bleeding gold against that soft, dangerously so, skin. Enough that he’s convinced he could feast his eyes on you for eternity and still not go hungry. Full of love, desperate to express, communicate, and exclaim it until his lungs give out.

But etched into him is his very own undoing. God’s fingerprints still yet wrap around his bones, coiling up and around his throat to leave the most human lump lying in His wake. He remembers pointing at himself in the mirror one day— before an outing you had suggested. To the local saloon, dressing him up in a manner he’s yet to grow accustomed to; but he can still feel the warmness of his cheeks even now as he idly strokes up and down your leg, how he felt this sense of pride swell in his beating chest upon catching your lovesick smile staring back at him in the mirror and… Oh, so that was the beginning of it all…

Regardless, he remembers pointing at himself. Right in the middle of his new throat, swallowing thickly as a means to steel his frayed nerves, and catching sight of… Well, you had called it an ‘Adam’s Apple’, right? And he’s not so stupid, he knew exactly what those words meant in the moment. But he refrained, bit his tongue in a rare moment of strength around you, and begged the further question of: why?

He liked to hear you talk more than anything this God given world ever dared to offer him. More than the sky, and the birdsong among the clouds, and the smell of grass after it had just been cut, and the softness of your bed sheets right after washing, and the smell of freshly baked bread, and the taste of that terrible Joja Cola, and his newfound friends laughter, and the hot sand between his toes, and the waves that kissed his skin, and the sound of rain against glass, and the sticky floor of the saloon, and the purity seen within the children's smiles, and the way you scrunch your nose up in confusion at him so often, and the way the wind brushes past him on his skateboard, and the countless jokes shared amongst strangers, friends, and lovers— your voice is better than it all and more.

Even when you’re yapping about his not-Adam’s-Apple.

For he’s anything but, to be honest with you. A mere spark in the greater cosmos, but one flicker of light on the verge of turning off forever. And all it takes is that flick, much like how you’d done so earlier tonight before heading to bed; did you ever figure out how he never went with you? It pained him every time to lie by omission, crawling into bed just before your usual wake up time to keep up the tired facade. The occasions that you had caught him up and about were so easily explained behind restlessness. Not entirely a lie, this time. But he’s just like that light switch, and he can feel the ever present threat of a finger looming behind his weary wings.

A stray feather falls by your side in the midst of his musings. Neat and tidy, spinning in circles before softly caressing your sheets. The first of many, he assumes, and he can’t help but to widen his smile at the sight. Good, he thinks to himself. I tire of this hiding. Of this waiting. Of this wretched thing you call existence, father. Please. Please. Take it all away, for I fear that even a slice of this paradise will prove too much to bear.

Another pinch, this time against the softest section of your thigh, and he’s not surprised to see you wake up in response. Gently, lazily, because you have all the time in the world. He’s made sure of that.

“Sorry…” he whispers down at you, as light as the second feather that falls with a pulse. His beating heart laid bare and white before you, so stark in its contrast against the dark, moonlit room that he’s afraid he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been; which would never be the case. Not concerning you. He was made to love you, he thinks.

He knows that to be the case.

He wishes to say so much more than mere sorries, but there is no human way to explain: I love you so much that I want to rip your throat out with my own teeth. I want to clean you dry of blood and swallow you whole, so that we may forever be one. Or, at least, he hasn’t thought of a way yet. And he’s running out of time, so he instead settles on something a bit more understandable to your human ears, like… “Didn’t mean t’wake ya. Jus’ couldn’t sleep again.”

He sees God, again, in your yawn. Strained and teary eyed, and the resulting groan you exhale fills him with such joy that it’s almost unbearable to look upon you with tender eyes. He wants to listen to it forever, on repeat, burning it into his dwindling memory in some vain hope of holding on.

Another feather falls from his wings when you smile back at him, and his hand stills on your thigh in response. Mother Earth whispers promises of give and take, of an intertwining, eventually. These things take time, she reassures in your closed fist, rubbing sleep from your eyes with a slow blink. And he’d much rather listen to the worms and the soil beneath his very human feet as opposed to the unfair God he was unlucky enough to originate from. But then he realises that you, too, originated from Him. And he figures, well… He can forgive him for that, at least.

Your voice is hoarse and riddled with heaviness when you speak, and he can’t help but to sympathise with you, feeling the very same ache in his brittle breaking bones.

“It’s okay, Sammy,” you smile, genuine and fucking pretty, so much so that it aches his bleeding heart. “Restless? Wanna cuddle instead?”

Like moth to the sun that is you, he could never, and would never, deny your invitations. To do so would be akin to blasphemy, he fears. And so with an intentional nod, slow and thick, oozing with the amount of utter adoration he harbours for your every little move, he lifts his hand from your thigh and huddles under the sheets with you. Soft and silky, he thinks to himself. But he’s not quite sure if he means your body, or the sheets. Just that he’s comfortable, happy to accept the terms of his existence so long as he can spend whatever he has left of eternity in your bed, by your side.

Besides, it’s easier this way. Where you’re left unaware, right?

He falls so easily into his usual spot too, his shape carved out of the mattress under his body through sheer use alone; but he likes to think that it was perhaps made for him instead. It helps the inevitability soon approaching, anyway. And just as effortlessly, he assumes the position with you. One arm under your neck, letting your sleepy body curl into his own, a wing outstretched under you to help comfort you. To add to the feathers hidden under pillowcases, too, from the rate they fall for you.

And for the first time tonight since feeling the edges of his end, unfurling into the chaos of the universe within the very same four walls he had hoped would be his coffin, he feels like he can finally rest. A welcomed break from the tiring thoughts, and from the oppressive atmosphere the threatens to pick his wings from his very back; bone and all.

It almost convinces him that he was, and certainly is, good.

But he will never be a good man. He tried— God did he fucking try for you. Did his absolute best to be human, learning through doing; you were ever helpful in his endeavours to denounce his divinity. But alas, here he lays, with the love of his life half asleep in his arms, and all he can feel is home between his teeth. Pick at it all he wants, he never did find out a way to rid the sticky aftertaste of holiness. Like a disease, burning bile in the back of his throat, prompting him to unfortunately cough to clear God from his windpipes and further disrupt your sleep.

“Sorry,” he once again whispers at you, tightening his arm under your neck, another apology resting in his demanding hug. “Caught a cold, I think.”

“It’s okay, Sammy.” You stress, and he feels the urge to apologise again. And again, and again, and again. He doesn’t think he could repeat the prayer of sorry enough times, for he is simply one of His least qualified angels, fluent only in loving the wrong god. He knows only the language of almosts, turning his body in towards you, shuffling along that edge he so precariously sits on even now just so that he can smile at you some more. He’d do anything for you— even die.

“I love you, y’know?” he says as if on instinct, coming naturally to him upon seeing your closed eyed lazy smile. “I will love you for as long as this life will have me, and even after that, too.”

You merely hum back at him, clearly exhausted from the hard days farm work, and he suddenly thinks that he wouldn’t want it any other way. It’s nice, actually. For mother Earth to treat him no differently than you, as if recognising him as a fellow mortal, finally. Laid here beside you so late at night; or is it early morning? He lost track of time a while ago now. But it’s exciting to be recognised as one of the same, and he wears his final moments like a badge of honour.

Though no one will remember you, the moon casts against your cheek, drawing him closer to your angelic face, and they will not make note of you, except of your disappearance, she scolds him, and he takes her harshness with grace, because she’s speaking across your lips, wasn’t it at least fun?

He can’t argue with that, bursting into light laughter at the plain thought. Loving you was fun. It is fun, the humour in his chest continuing at the way your lashes flutter open to the commotion, and adoration floods his lungs.

“What’s funny?” you yawn, his mind growing sluggish with his very own undoing, so he takes a second longer than usual to respond to you.

“Nothin’, jus’ happy, s’all.”

He’s not saying very much, he’s aware. It’s difficult to sort through his thoughts in the face of your cuteness, is all. Too many words swirl in his mind, screaming pick me, pick me! But what’s the best way to appropriately explain the amount of love he holds for you? How can he, ever, accurately formulate the correct string of words to precisely and utterly convey just how blessed he feels to know you, to have known you, and to forever know you? Burning the feeling of your dead leg digging into his hip bone into his hot flesh, so that it exists forevermore— “Can I show you, please?” he settles on, because you’ve taught him that sometimes, actions are far better than words. And though it was not part of his original will, he can’t help but to continue to dote upon you even in his final hours. A hopeless romantic deep down, he supposes. Caring more for you than himself, even if he can afford to act a little more selfish now of all times.

“If you’re not too tired, I mean…” he’s quick to follow up with, not wanting to pressure you into following his eager pursuit of the ultimate death; he’d be just as happy if you simply fell asleep by his side during the whole ordeal, too.

But graciously, you yawn up at him once more, nonetheless turning onto your back. An invitation, he’s learnt. One that he swiftly follows up with by kneeling before you, shuffling his way under the sheets and between your legs. This is his favourite place to worship, and you’re doing him a great unknown honour by allowing him his final supper.

“Will it help you sleep?” you ask, darting your eyes to the barely curtained window, drawn back and wide open to allow moonlight to dance across the floorboards— he wanted to gaze upon your hard work one last time. He’s so incredibly proud of you, y’know?

“It will,” he promises, genuinely. “You too, I bet.”

“You make a good point…”

Giggles. He’s gonna miss giggles, especially yours as you warm his chest up with the sound of joy following your cheeky comment. Shared over natural chemistry, pure instinct borne out of each others company. He’s gonna miss the way your nose wrinkles when you laugh, and how your eyes squeeze shut with promise, beaming up at him like the sun itself; only far warmer, his own personal little sun. Even if you beg to differ, he can’t help but to squint his eyes back down at you when you so easily allow him passage forwards. Like the warm morning sun he’s unsure if he’ll last to kiss, you beckon him closer with that gentle sleepy smile he’s fallen in love with over and over again. Who cares about greeting the morning anew when he’s got you radiating back at him?

His actions remain light, rubbing whispered promises against your knees with his mild thumbs, smoothing them over ever crease and crevice of your legs in a silent act of worship. He knows that heaven exists— not because he’s an angel, but because he met you; ironically, the far better angel than he’ll ever be.

“Aren’t I always?” he teases you back, half-hearted at best— he knows who the real boss of this relationship is deep down. It was never him to begin with, not with the way he follows around after you like a little lost puppy at every God given opportunity. Prophet girl, the suns chosen; he never stood a fucking chance when put against you.

Still, he appreciates it when you play along with him. Offering him the kindest of scoffs before reprimanding him with “You have your moments.”

It’s as he’s helping part your thighs wider, inching closer to to his favourite place on Earth, and hooking a finger under your panties—thank God you tend to sleep in only them during the night, for he fears he could not wait a single second longer due to his wound—that he realises something. What kind of a cruel God creates for the sake of loving, and then subsequently snuffs out that creation for fulfilling its purpose? What kind of a joke was his existence in the first place? Were his siblings, too, cast out of the heavens on some cruel holy mission only to slowly realise that this is but a mere suicide?

It’s silly, how he tries to grapple with the subject of his life. And yet still, it’s but another reminder of his dwindling humanity. A small comfort in such a tender moment with you, that no matter how many questions go unanswered by his so called father, he has you. Sighing so sweetly that it burns his ears red, bunching the sheets up in your barely awake fists, twisting and turning to help him remove those sacred garments— plain and cute, and the feeling of the soft fabric between his nimble fingers serves as a catalyst. Smoothed against the palm of his hand as he slowly tugs the fabric down, noting the slight damp patch adorning it.

He misses you already.

But he keeps a brave face, making a show of his enjoyment by dragging your underwear up to his lips, bunching it up like you do with the sheets just to give it a good long sniff.

“Freak.” You lovingly scold him.

“Only for you. Your freak.” He corrects you.

He’s joking, clearly. Playing along with the facade that having him sniff your scent down his hungry lungs isn’t one of the hottest things you’ve ever seen—he’s already noticed the way you shuffle sheepishly with arousal at the perverted display—but he’s also reciting prayer for you. It’s not just hot, it’s also an assurance.  Look, his tongue darts out against the fabric to beg of you, how I love every part of you, he reassures by licking a fat stripe up the meagre wet spot, being sure to suckle on it to swallow every last drop of you. Let none go to waste.

And he’d love to sit here and worship you forever and ever, like a loyal dog. Tilting his head curiously at the thought, he really is just a loyal little dog for you. A creature made for loving, without really being good for anything else. He’s supposed to love you, that’s his God given job. But the ticking time bomb in his chest made of glass shards and peeping eyes claw at his heart, not anymore, the rusted nails dig into his lungs harsher. Now, your job is to be dead. Like an overflowing cup, too much of him spills from the rim and onto you, placing your panties to the side while he assumes an unholy position between your legs.

Not yet, he whispers kisses along your inner thigh on his way down, hooking his arms around your underside to rest on your waist; you can’t escape his devotion, not tonight.

“Let me know if you wanna stop.” He peers up at you, face mere inches away from your bare cunt now as he snakes his body down the bed, not missing the way he must really resemble Adam, salivating over your apple. At the end of the day, you were right as always, he internally grins. And he just wants to make this experience a pleasant one for you, too. As much as he can anyway, in spite of the fact that he’s signing his very own death warrant under your sheets.

And your voice is so soft and gentle when you respond with “Always, Sammy.” that he can’t stop himself from voicing his appreciation, groaning unashamedly when your hand comes up to reassuringly stroke through his messy bedhead hair. You never tell him to stop, but he likes to remind you that he will, absolutely, whenever you ask, stop. Because he is a simple servant to you, his God. Nothing in this world is his, except for you. He’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and further if you so much as asked him to. So stopping is the least he can offer, even if his cock twitches to life at the mere thought of pleasing you tonight— he couldn’t imagine a better send of, honestly.

But before he can dive into his last meal, you call his attention once more. And like the stupid mutt he is deep down, his ears perk up immediately to the sound of your breathy tone.

“You’re pretty like this,” you hum, a teasing lilt to your words that just begs for his attention, cracking a smile on his weary face. “Thank you.”

Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. And I know, deep down, that I would undoubtedly do it again and again, as many times as you'd unfortunately allow. For there is so sweeter taste than my lover under sheets.

You like to remind him on dark, oppressive night like these, that the stars shine brightest in their last moments. And he can see the twinkle in your eyes even now, half lidded and hazy, but bright before him. Peering down in that sultry manner he’s fallen victim to on so many occasions before, his tummy filling with butterflies to counteract the razor blades in response. It’s like you can tell, somehow, that his light is bursting forth for one last time before dwindling infinitely, exploding in on himself in only the most romantic of ways. Are you aware of what you’re thanking him for? Can you tell how much he truly appreciates those simple words, rolling his eyes back briefly in enjoyment before hiding his honesty between your legs, cock twitching against the soft sheets under his hips at the first and last full inhale of your pretty pussy.

Angel cunt, divinity between your legs, ripe for his taking. His tongue automatically darts out upon drawing closer to your cunt, and his cock dribbles some more onto your sheets in wanting. Beads of his love for you dripping, spilling around his fat erection the moment your slick hits his taste buds, and he takes a mental note to savour you. You taste like heaven, but fuck if you weren’t built for sin. Because nothing gets him harder than worshipping you, making you feel good under his pointed flicks and greedy sucks, letting his tongue lay flat along your slit to soak up most of your slick before rolling it upwards, circling around your clit for a few seconds— he can’t help but to slurp around it, his lashes fluttering shut with a roll of his eyes. And then he’s sucking on it for you, making sure to swallow around you just as much as he collects spit, dripping saliva down your pretty pussy to make her all messy and sloppy; just the way you like it, right?

This, between your legs, is his true home. More than the clouds above and the warmth of his wings, the sound of your heavenly sighs and shuffling sheets is more homely than anything before. His fingers, deft and nimble from all the guitar playing he’s partook in on his time on Earth—a pleasure in it’s own right, he’ll miss that too—lifts to your twitching hole, one pad rimming the outside; there’s time yet to tease you, he bargains. For you alone, he is weak.

You just taste so good, always, but especially tonight. Sweeter than usual, like your body knows this to be his last. More than anything, he wants to eat you out until the end of time. Drink you up and swallow down every last drop of juice your sacred hole has to offer him, make you writhe and tremble on your soft sheets for more for all eternity, because fuck his broken existence. Only you matter to him, and the way your muted moans make his cock dribble some more, forming a little puddle under him to match your own leak under your hole, has him acting out. Like an unruly teenager, struck by his first love, hormones going haywire with how rock hard his cock is from just a little petting of your cunt. How much of the holy water staining your sheets sheer is your slick versus his saliva, he wonders?

The finger rimming your hole dips into your cunt and dives as deep as possible, fucking in and out of you in tandem with his circling tongue; near violent with how much he desires you. He’s done this so many times before that it’s almost become routine by now, a repeated prayer of please, let me taste you some more. You deserve it, most of all, for putting up with him tonight. It only makes sense that he thanks you with a curl of his finger, helping stretch that tight little hole out with sacrilegious intent, paying special attention to your puffy little clit with loud slurps and a droning hum to send vibrations through your system.

“Sam, God—!” you gasp, all pretty and hushed, hidden under the bed sheets with him as if doing so would somehow prolong his lifespan. And he shakes the misuse of God from his mind, risking a particularly deep knuckle fuck to bring your attention back to him, where it rightfully belongs. It’s okay, his finger strokes your insides. I’m happy, his lips suck around your clit. “There, right there,” your nails rise to dig into his scalp, a desperate plea for more, and he’d be a fool not to oblige his God. “Do that again, please—”

He’s happy to hear that his angel is a little more awake now, more alert to his divine touch that threatens to ruin you, his wings flapping eagerly behind his heavy back at how urgently you encourage him to continue with tiny tugs and muted gasps. He needn’t be told twice, flicking his tongue over your clit a little faster and pumping his fingers in and out to match the speed, curling against your sweet spot right… There…

“Sammy—!” Bingo.

He doesn’t come up for air; he won’t need it where he’s going anyway, so he wants to get used to the sensation of choking. And there’s no better way to test his limits than to gag on your sweet nectar, dropping his lips down to your hole as soon as his fingers leave in an effort to swallow all your slick, fucking his tongue and in out of you devoutly to help you milk that orgasm out fully. The sound of his name repeatedly falling from your lips is enough thanks for him, but he won’t deny that feeling your thighs muffle around his ears is even better, got his hips acting up when they rut against your sheets once or twice in lewd response.

He only stops kitten licking and swallowing around you when you tenderly pull his head upwards, an exasperated sigh falling from your pretty bitten lips; so swollen and wet, God— he wants to eat your face, too.

“Fuck—” you sigh after a few moments, all smiles and shivers, and his falling feathers ruffle in response. Trailing under you, leaving you trembling in a bed of white roses. He wonders if you’ve noticed them yet. “I don’t think this’ll help me sleep after all.”

“Sorry,” he hums genuinely, but he can’t even hope to hide the boyish smirk that tugs on his lips, an act of defiance against you… Or is it God? What is the difference now, really? Is it really that important to decipher when he can feel the lions jaw close in around his soul? “I’m not done with you yet, though.” He wards the feeling of an approaching roar off.

“I’d hope not.”

Irony is endless. He may now understand his lifes purpose, borne out of the lines on your face when you smile up at him, hidden under your pillows, where an indent of his arm sleeps soundly— will that, too, disappear with him? But with understanding comes nonexistence, and the fault lies with him, apparently. Falling for you is in his blood, and it is with the same blade that his throat is slit, dripping down onto your front and in your hair and on your sheets and on your tongue and God… He can only hope that the stains of his existence are easily washed out. You will, won’t you? Wash him out?

Because sometimes suffering is just that. It won’t make you any stronger, and it won’t offer any deeper meaning to his life. Sometimes, suffering just hurts. Like when he peers down at you from above, sitting more upright now to allow his wings to cast the prettiest shadow over the moonlit back light of your face, and he feels as though his lungs are failing. For all he knows, they very well might be at this point. But he persists, for you. For his selfish desires that put him in this position in the first place— for the rock hard erection that still yet throbs with life, all for you.

“You’re so pretty.” He blurts out, lost in his train of thought while idly stroking himself. He’s kneeling before you again, chin stained shiny and cock throbbing in his loose grip; he’s too idle with his stroking, so much so that he almost forgets what must happen tonight. Too busy admiring you from above, hoping that you can see the way his gaze sparkles for you. “You deserve the world.”

You assume position too, leaning into the long built unspoken language of lovers by way of opening your legs wider, prompting him to bite down on his bottom lip at the sight of your sopping wet little cunt. Pretty, too, just like your face. And your body. And your voice, and your hair, and your— “Thank you. I think you’re pretty too.” You interrupt his self indulgence, but he’s hardly mad. His cheeks flushing warm at your honest praise, he can’t take his eyes off the way you lay there so perfectly pliant. It’s insufferable, just how much he loves you. How it has him leaning down to press a sticky with slick kiss against your wanting lips, his heart stuttering at the way he can feel you smile into the shared saliva.

He’ll never forget about you. Not even for a fucking second. You were, and still are, worth it.

The tiny halo atop his head cracks with his thoughts. Just a little, barely noticeable, even. But he can feel the weight of his musings bearing down on him as he guides his cock to your cunt. Tired fist wrapped so tight around the base of it, tapping the tip against your sensitive clit once or twice just to hear you squeak in pleasure. One last time, just like that.

“Are y’ready?” He asks, because he’s genuinely not sure if he is.

“Of course.” You respond so easily, because you’ve always given him courage he so sorely lacks at times.

“All right, jus’ lemme know if—”

“Sammy,” you reach out for him, touch as tender as your voice is. “It’s okay, I’m not going anywhere.” you kiss the words against his arms, and he can do nothing but give in to you.

Of course. You were here before him, and you’ll exist after him. But rather than acknowledging so, he simply nods instead. Confident and reassured thanks to your affirmations, he prepares to give you what he always strives for.

“Promise t’make y’feel real good.” He huffs, letting his leaking tip rest between your soft folds before automatically rolling his hips a little to feel your warm heat try to envelop him whole. And normally, he’d have you waiting a little while longer for this. Make you writhe and squeal and beg him for this; his cock heavy and beading precum against your red little clit. Normally, he’d have all the time in the world and more to dote upon you in privacy, down on his hands and knees by your feet just pleading for another chance, just one more, c’mon baby, I know y’can do it.

But it’s the end of the world, so he figures that giving in to his natural selfish desires just this once is okay, right? Especially considering the way your brows furrow from the meagre amount of contact he’s provided you thus far, and the way your chest heaves so persistently, body begging for him when your words get lost on you… He’s sure it should be fine.

So he gives in. Just like that, without second thought. He angles his cock down with the pad of his thumb, letting his other hand rest gently by the side of your head— careful. He’s always so careful with you, treating you like glass, afraid that if he were to not be so gentle with you, that you’d disappear from beneath his very fingertips. And he absolutely can't have that happening, not right now.

His wings ruffle some more to spend plenty feathers, a shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine at the feeling of your hole twitching eagerly against his leaking tip. You are sin incarnate, coaxing him to fall further for you, and he’s never felt so good to be so impure. He takes in a single breath, steeling himself for what’s to come, before dipping his tip inside of your wanting hole with a further crack of his halo. Catching perfectly into you to force a gasp from your pretty lips, and fuck, it feels so good to die.

“God—” he gasps, with the amount of heavy reverence your cunt demands of him. “Can’t get enough of ya— shit—” he pushes in some more, well aware of the fact that he’s barely filled you up and he’s already dying for more. “Mine. All mine.”

He punctuates his act of ownership with a quick and mortal thrust forward, unable to hold himself back the second he enters your cunt; you are his very own undoing. And he’s powerless to stop his hips from stuttering in, coating his cock in that sweet slick he fell for in the very beginning, and he knows for sure that the Gods must be envious of him in this moment. To feel your walls squirm around him as he eventually bottoms out, soft and squishy and fucking perfect, divinity coursing through your veins to wrap around him so tightly; to be so human is a blessing, he thinks. And yet still, somehow, you are his cosmos. Sooooo fucking pretty under him, gasping for air as his balls rest flat against your ass and your hips are turned slightly upwards to help ease him into your angel cunt, and fuck— he can’t fucking stand it anymore. When he dies, which he must do, he’d like to go out with a bang. Physically and metaphorically.

You’re ruining him, and you’ve done nothing but lay there for him. “Taking me so well, fuck, I needed this—” he praises you regardless, a breathless chuckle escaping his failing lungs. “So beautiful like that, y’were made for me, werent’cha?”

And he’s not certain you understand the gravity of his words, or how true they really are, but he appreciates your meek approval regardless. A soft spoken, fucked out little “Mhm—!” Crawled up your throat for his heavenly pleasure. He does his best to relish in how wrecked you sound, knowing deep down in his bones that it’s not what you do, or what you say that he’ll remember. But it’s how you make him feel that’ll stick with him, all dizzy and light-headed, heat coursing through his system to leave him breathless above you.

As far as coffins go, this house is the perfect burial. Comfortable and familiar, balls deep in your cunt, he offers you mere seconds to grow accustomed to his final searing stretch. Because to be human is to accept the inevitability of it all, a shudder running through him at the way you look picture perfect under him. Like an old classical painting, caught in a moment of utter passion— he does everything in his power to burn the image in his mind.

“I’m gonna get movin’ now, ‘kay?” He warns you, because it is a warning. With how heated his temper is right now, he can’t be blamed for fucking you within an inch of your life, surely, as he intends to do. Drawing his hips back until only his tip remains inside of you, just to selfishly hear that little whimper drip from your pretty pouty lips like usual. Comforting in its predictability, he loves you beyond words. “Good girl.” Escapes him, an automatic worship, before he’s slowly pushing his cock back inside of you. Making you endure every throbbing inch of his heavy cock, carving his shape out in your hole, and then again. And again, and again, settling into a tedious pace of in and out— torturous even for him. Teasing both parties to try and draw the inescapable end out for just a little longer. He misses you with every thrust in, and he loves you with every draw back out.

“Feels good—” you struggle on the words for him, and he chokes with you. Voice caught in his throat from the sheer amount of pleasure coursing through him. Enough to rival the dwindling divinity within him, specks of gold dust your bed sheets with his lazy fucks. And you’re right, it does feel good. Unfairly so, as if the universe was playing some kind of sick joke on him. Here, your lover lies, forever pretty under the spilling moonlight. Here, she feels better than ever, squirming on the end of your cock, gasping into the night air as a form of thanks. And here, you must lay on the bed of your own making.

Ouch, he thinks. But the pain of knowing that he’ll soon leave you—there’s nothing you could have done to help him, y’know that, right?—is easily pushed aside when your cunt wraps ever tighter around him, squelching slick around the base of it for his viewing pleasure. The feathers that fall to signify his status of death compliment you well too, he thinks. Surrounding your shivering frame in a manner most befitting a God. Ruffled out of him with eager thrusts, his pace quickening under the tight squeeze of your cunt just begging for more. And he can’t hope to stop fucking into you from how good you feel now, choking him so nice and tight like you know this to be the end, causing him to fall further into you. One hand locked around your waist to keep you pinned in place, the other supporting his broad shoulders by your head. His nails dig into you, just a little, as if to communicate the gravity of his decision. “Love you—” he whispers fervently, cut off by a telling moan barely bitten back by his terse lips. “I love you, love you so much—” he whispers, not out of shame, but out of a want for you to be the only one to hear his prayers. “Love you so much it hurts—” he fucks into your harder now, harsher, communicating the significance of his existence, and the impact your life has had on his own tapering one, with how heavy his thrusts turn out to be. How with every fuck his halo shatters that little bit more, the tips of his wings turning to ash before his very eyes.

But he’s being honest, y’know, about how much it hurts to be so in love with you. His sacred lover, taking his cock so well, letting his limbs entangle with your own so that he can’t find where you start and he ends. It’s nice that way, right? A shared mix of fluids, your cunt leaking all over his cock— so much so that some of it spills down to his balls, causing a loud slap! to reverberate against your four small walls when his thrusts increase in speed, a desperate bid for more, more, more. He could never get enough of you, never in a million lifetimes. And he, too, spills precum against your walls. Drowning your cunt in his slick, an ever outpouring of his love for you through such seedy means; though God may not approve of his affections, you do, don’t you? Clawing at his tense arms, muscles taut under your loving scratches. He will not relent, not for a fucking second will he give you anything but his best. Because you’re his just as much as he is yours, and you deserve his loyal, unending thrusts. Fast enough to prompt him into adding more weight to your hips, just to keep you from being fucked up the bed. Deep enough to leave him breathless, heaving for those last few gulps of air he’s allowed under the heavy squeaks and squeals of the bed below him.

And oh, how lovely you sound when matching the bed. All high pitched and airy, the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss is almost too much for him to endure. His jaw snapping shut to grind his teeth, exhaling through his nose back down at you. He’s sure that he must looked so pained right now, fucking you so full of his fallen angel cock that he can barely keep up with himself, a mess of the man you fell in love with. Especially with the way his wings appear broken by now, crooked and mismatched, tainted by his profane reason for living, but he continues. Relentless in his loving assault, moving the hand on your hip down to your puffy clit once more in a final bid of defilement.

“C’mon—” he rasps, voice lost on him due to the oil that tars his system all clogged up, “I got you, jus’ one more, y’can do that fr’me, right?” he ends up pleading from you, humping into your tight hole with newfound carelessness in an effort to have you cream his cock— it’s all he wants, now, selfishly. To feel you reciprocate his dying wish in kind, his thumb slipping and sliding between your folds for a moment or two due to how hard and fast he fucks, leaving him a little off balance. But he finds you soon enough, cooing down at the way you whine and shiver from under him when he rubs sloppy circles against your sensitive clit. He knows you’re close— a lifetime with you offers him entrance to your secrets. The quiver of your thighs around him, as well as the repeated pulsing of your insides, squirming around his fast fucks, is all he needs to know that you’re close. So he doubles his efforts, pressing messily against your clit with half thrusts, focused more on your pleasure than his own, as per usual.

And he can hear just how much you appreciate it due to the small and forgiving sounding “Sammy—!” you whine, a knee-jerk reaction causing his hips to falter some more inside of you.

Instinct commands him to fall down, his body completely encasing your own in one fell swoop, frantic wings doing their best to cover your enjoyment from prying Godly eyes as his lips naturally find home on your neck for a heated kiss. He can’t breathe, suffocated by your tight heat, warm little hole soon creaming around his cock just like he wanted it to— but still he finds the strength to mutter a weak “Fuck— don’t— y’can’t sound that good, or I’m gonna—”

It’s prophetic, almost, how soon he follows suit. Coaxed into painting your insides white with fat ropes of cum the second your cunt starts to squeeze rhythmically around his cock, milking him for all he’s worth; which at this point is very little, but he does his best for you. It’s a surprise that he’s lasted this long, truth be told. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, he urgently pants hot air against your damp skin in between open mouthed kisses, downright desperate to keep your scent in his lungs, his own hair sticky with sweat too when he pushes ever closer towards you, driving his cock deeper against your womb in some vain attempt to leave a lasting memory of himself.

But here, he can do something, at least. A final hurrah, urged into action from how madly in love with you he is to the point of delirium. Feathers twitch behind him as he latches onto your neck with different purpose, grazing his teeth against that sweet spot of yours—the resulting soft sigh you exhale only has his cock throbbing some more, a few more drops of cum dripping to make your cunt extra sticky—before he sucks. Long and hard, using the last of his strength to leave a temporary mark, because God cannot even hope to take this part of him away from you. It’s outside of his jurisdiction, he hopes.

He heaves once he’s satisfied that he’s sucked on your neck sufficiently, pulling back to marvel at the wet bruise soon to bloom on your pliant skin. And, because he’s completely spent, he lets his cock drag out of you with a pop! A shared wince hissed amongst satisfied lovers, it’s so easy for him to fall by your side with a light oof.

“Gosh...” You gasp after a few moments of silence, embracing the mutual huffs and puffs for air with kindness and grace. He’s struggling, now, but his arm automatically snakes under your neck once again, and he instinctively pulls you closer like some home safety routine.

“Yeah,” he agrees with your wordless thanks, coughing to clear his throat— or is it to remove the barbed wire? He can’t distinguish clearly now, which must mean only one thing. “C’mon, I love you, but hurry an’ get back t’sleep. It’s late.”

He does his best to sound as caring and considerate as possible, releasing a sigh of relief when you smile a whispered yes boss before snuggling in closer, and a quick peek down at you as he offers you a last forehead kiss shows that your eyes are closed, and finally, he can fully relax by your side.

He doesn’t mean to rush you, but he’s been selfishly using borrowed time till now, and he doesn’t want to have you endure his ending whilst awake. So he, too, closes his eyes with you. Though he needn’t have to; angels don’t sleep. But it just feels natural to, humanities last gift. Rest, now, the moon implores him. Promise it’ll be like a dream.

And it’s not that he doubts Mother Earth, but rather, his brows furrow in confusion. But mom, he resembles that of a child. There is no better dream than her.

Nothing replies back to him, which he takes as mutual understanding. He’s correct in knowing that nothing could ever beat resting by your side, watching you fall back asleep peacefully, soundless in your blissful ignorance. He hopes that he’s warm enough for you to cuddle into, and that he’s left you feeling satisfied enough. He doesn’t think he could take not serving his God properly, as you deserve. That'd be a fate worse than death, no doubt.

Once more, he glances down at you. At the way your chest rises and falls wordlessly, such a simple detail to notice, but one that he hopes sticks with him through his nearby transition. You’re really pretty in the moonlight, y’know? And you suit his limited parting gift as well, all red and blotchy, but his mark. You're beautiful in your unknowing.

And his voice comes out before he has a chance to check himself, an unavoidable aspect to death, he supposes. Letting it all loose for you.

“When you wake up to a world absent of me, just know that you made me the happiest.”

He can’t stop himself, now. Quiet in his affections, pushing through the ache in his chest to say his final goodbyes.

“And I’ll miss you, like a lonely little dog.” He forces out cheap laughter, cheeks tinted warm from the sheer state of himself. “And I’ll wait for you, too.” He reassures you, flinching at the way his wings now stab into his back like iron daggers, their usual softness is nowhere to be found, besides amongst your bed sheets. Though he hopes, fucking prays that you’ll never find your way back to him. You deserve heaven, he thinks, as opposed to the exile he’ll soon be greeting for going against His word.

“Good dogs wait, right?” He coughs again, squinting at the specks of blood that spatter against his panting chest. “Was I good enough?” he questions you, not his God, the Earth, or anybody else. But you, who dozes so serenely beside him, unaware of his current predicament. He’s made quite sure of that. “Didn’t you say that all dogs go to heaven, even if they did some bad things?” Then why not him? Why not him? Was his sin far too egregious to be allowed in heaven? His crime of loving you?

It’s pointless, he realises, to ruminate. Taking to throwing his head back to stare up at the ceiling absentmindedly instead, and warmth spreads throughout his entire being in the action. He briefly wonders about who will look after you when he's gone, and how much he grieves for you already. The dim light from his broken halo is swollen with: love was here, as a defiance. And in between the cracks in smaller writing is: it still is. He thinks he will always wonder if he could have saved you from the pain, if only love could have saved you, then he'd still be here after you.

He will ask God why for the rest of time itself. And he knows, intimately now in the mundanity of it all, that he will never come to an understanding. Even if God himself came down for a personal chat to tell him the exact reason as to why he has been branded with sweet sin, he would never accept it. Could never accept it. With great love comes great pain, and my God, you were the greatest.

Thank you escapes his lips again, mouthed to the rickety old lampshade staring back down at him. Maybe he should have fixed that before tonight, too.

Maybe he should have—

taglist !! (i know this one is late im sorry i FORGOT i will add it to future writing tho !!)

@wrongdodo @loverboykirstein @buniieboo @bnvlntce @lovethethief @sashiavi @deepestnightcolor @kyrothehornypuppy @catboyjesus @mollybun @scrunkle-writings @girlconsume @quoththe-ravenn @anonymousren @nervous-obsolete @pastelhedgehog @kyrasmoon @cherryminxx

(praying that these work)

[yinyuedijun]

bofurin trio in feudal japan | youkai au

inuyasha-esque au featuring the wbk characters as youkai and other feudal era figures. I watched too much inuyasha as a child and you can tell lol

kitsune!suo x fem!reader hcs here

sakura haruka | nekomata-possessed human

→ a nekomata possessed him while he was still in the womb. its memories are gone, but its powers remained. consequently, sakura was born as a human with nekomata features (including his black & white hair, superhuman strength, and a tendency to severely misbehave).

→ he can switch completely between forms. he cannot shift into the form of another human or radically change his human appearance, however.

→ he tends to prefer existing in his human form. (If he spends too long in his nekomata form, he becomes afraid that he'll forget how to be a human and permanently stay a monster.)

→ when he gets embarrassed or very emotional, his ears and two tails come out.

→ suo teases him a lot for this and will try to provoke it as much as possible lmao. he likes to offer sakura towels and ask him to dance whenever his tails are out. (the first time this happened, sakura tried to maul him lol)

→ growing up, sakura was referred to as a "demon child" and ostracized his whole life. after a demon attack on their village, sakura was blamed and his parents were killed for having given birth to him. he escaped to the mountains (where nekomata tend to hide) and lived mostly as a cat for some time before re-entering human society due to nirei.

→ this is why he's so poorly socialized and literally has feral cat energy btw lol

→ misses and longs for human connection, but is also afraid of it!

→ hates vegetables because he is a cat, likes meat because he is a cat, and likes eggs because his mom used to cook them a lot.

art by yoshitaka amano

nirei akihiro | human onmyouji

→ an onmyouji related by blood to the abe clan. originally a young and talented officer working at the bureau of onmyou, he became frustrated (frightened) with its politics and left for the private sector. he loses the court official hat, but he keeps the clothes because I think they're pretty 👍

→ his talents mainly lie in astronomy, divination, and calendar-making. very analytical stuff!

→ due to his family having been affected by disease spirits when he was younger, he has a strong wish to become skilled in exorcisms and always attempts to engage with evil spirits and demons to build experience.

→ chronicles his encounters with the supernatural, at first for his own learning, but now because he wants to put together a publication to help others interested in recognising supernatural phenomena and understanding common exorcism practices.

→ at some point, nirei was privately contracted to perform a purification ritual at a small mountain village. he heard stories about a boar demon that had been causing problems, so he went to go search for it, and it nearly killed him. sakura (living in his nekomata form) happened to be nearby at this time and saved him. he expected nirei to try to attack him or run at this point, but nirei instead tried to communicate with sakura, despite his monstrous appearance.

→ upon realising that sakura could actually adopt a human form, nirei convinced him to go back to the mountain village with him by offering to treat him to oyakodon.

→ the villagers were somewhat frightened by his appearance, but warmed up when nirei explained that sakura had killed the boar.

pictured above are japanese works depicting kitsune, which suo would be considered, but some of the below is influenced by lore regarding the related chinese myth of the huli jing

suo hayato | nine-tailed fox spirit

→ a nine-tailed fox spirit who was originally quite powerful; however, his hoshi no tama was stolen in a fight with a demon, which left him weak and nearly dead.

→ after these events, took refuge in a village with an inari shrine and acted as their guardian deity for some time as an act of gratitude.

→ having lost his hoshi no tama, suo's powers are now limited but still substantial. notably, he can still shapeshift freely between a number of forms—his original form of the common fox, different human appearances, etc.—but he cannot adopt his true form of a giant nine-tailed fox.

→ in his typical disguise, he is indistinguishable from regular humans. however, if you manage to catch his shadow in the light of a full moon, it reveals his true ears and nine tails. (based on this art!)

→ his disguises are otherwise so skilled that even other youkai and animals have difficulty recognising him. however, all dogs can sense fox spirits and are consequently terrified of suo. suo, himself, prefers not to interact with dogs.

→ while sakura did not immediately recognize suo as a youkai, he correctly identified him as a shitty person at his core (lol) and was later unsurprised to learn that suo was a kitsune. ("oh, the worst kind of demon.")

→ on the other hand, suo immediately recognized that sakura was a nekomata lol

→ being a fox spirit, suo is quite skilled in jujutsu and eventually trains nirei in exorcisms and/or demon extermination techniques.

→ sakura has a preference to travel and hunt demons at night, partly because there are fewer people around to make a spectacle of him, and partly because it's just his inclination as a cat. since nirei is a human and cannot see well in the dark (unlike his two youkai companions), suo lights up mountain pathways with kitsunebi to allow nirei to see.

→ in addition to enjoying tea and sweets, suo likes aburaage (since he is a fox spirit). if you offer aburaage to the kami at a shrine, there's a 9/10 chance that suo will come by and eat it before any of inari's actual messengers can visit.

[mushroommanstan]

A douchey frat guy tries to hit on Y/N, only for her to shoot him down. But he’s PERSISTENT. Y/N tries to avoid him until she meets up with Tenko. Ylthe frat guy is SHOCKED that a babe like Y/N is with a ‘creep’ like Tenko Shimura! He tries to convince her to ditch him, until she finally snaps. Instead of tearing the douche a new asshole, she makes her point by aggressively making out with Tenko instead

“Well aren’t you a pretty little thing?” Some frat idiot slurred into your ear, way too close for comfort. You jerked back, turning around in an instant and seeing this guy who’s obviously trying to look sexy. He had a toothpick in his mouth, a surprisingly well maintained soul patch and some messy slicked back hair.

If you were any other girl, you’re sure you’d be at least a little intrigued. Maybe even attracted. But nah, he picked the worst target for flirts at the party.

“Thanks.” You replied apathetically, pointedly looking away from him and back at the busy bartender of the frat house. Your face was blank, your eyes wandering far from him, obviously not interested. Regardless, he persevered.

“S’ anyways, the other day I saw the stupid retro arcade game in the common area. I don’t usually play that stuff, y’know, it’s kinda for nerds. But-“ he glanced down at your phone, seeing the background having the same characters from the game. “Something tells me you dabble in it.” He continued.

“Anyways I got like, 20,000 points or whatever on my first try.” He boasted, and you had to stop yourself from laughing. Seriously? 20k? This guys trying to brag about a measly 20k? Tenko could get that with his eyes closed. Speaking of which…

“Hey y/n?!” You turned your head, searching for the speaker before your eyes landed on the makeshift bouncer at the door. Behind him, a disgruntled Tenko with his arms crossed. “He-yeah, Shimura over here says you invited him?” He chuckled in disbelief.

You held your forehead, shaking your head in dismay. Of course he wouldn’t be let in, damn it, why didn’t you think of that? He must’ve been waiting for you there for ages. Poor baby, you can’t believe you were so careless after all you’re begging for him to come.

Taking your head shaking as an answer, the bouncer turned back to Tenko, crossing his arms as well. “Alright, nice try man. Go home and… sniff panties or something I don’t know, pervert.” Even from the distance, you could see the hurt in tenkos eyes as he stared at you, utterly betrayed.

No. NO! You didn’t mean that-

“Ugh, what’s that guy doing here? Saying he knows you? What a creep. What say you I go over there and-“

The show-off next to you proposed, but you were already gone, hopped off your seat and dashing towards your sweet baby before the door closed. You yanked it open just in time and cried “Yes! Yes oh my god yes I invited him here babe I’m so sorry!”

Tenko let out a sigh of relief, smiling a little as you pulled him inside gently by the arm. You guided him to the bar where you were originally sitting, all the while gushing apologies.

“I promise babe I’ll make it up to you. Here, I got us some drinks coming it should only be a little bit.” You told him, taking your seat as Tenko took his. He just grunted in response, returning to the aloof brick wall he always became in public. (It just made the intimate moments with him in private where he practically melts under your praise all the sweeter)

The frat guy cleared his breath, taken off guard a bit, then after clearing his throat awkwardly, continued. “Yeah, uh, nice friend there, heh. Um… so, anyways, you wanna make my night and come to my place after this for some “coffee”.” He actually did air quotes for the ‘coffee’, being so unbelievably subtle.

Tenko stiffened at this, staring at you in an almost begging way as his tear-jerkingly vulnerable eyes just dared you to pretend you didn’t know him again. They dared you to confirm his insecurities.

You scoffed, taking Tenkos hand in yours and showing it to the guy. “Yeah, no thanks. I’m taken.” In synchronize, the man frowned as Tenko smiled, his fears put to rest as you pressed a kiss to his forehead.

The man guffawed un-genuinely. “What? This creep? Seriously? You know he steals girls underwear right?-“

“not proven” Tenko grumbled.

“-right, sure, “not proven”. Seriously doll, what’s he got that I don’t!”

“Well, for one thing, deodorant.” You snapped.

Tenko cackled at that, and the guy fumed. Before losing his cool, he calmed himself under a blanket of delusion. “Whatever. Y’know what? ‘Bet this is all a set up. Yeah, bet you paid him or something so you could play hard to get. The bits over babe, heh, you can’t seriously believe someone like you, would be hanging around with someone like that instead of me.”

Now it was your turn to fume. You saw Tenkos lean muscles tense under his shirt, and his mouth opening as he was about to defend your relationship, but you beat him to the punch. In one swift movement, you made the other man speechless as when you grabbed Tenko by the back of his head and pulled him to you, messily colliding your lips.

He let out a muffled yelp of surprise, grabbing onto your shoulders instinctively as you moved into his lap for better access. You sucked on his tongue before infiltrating his mouth with yours, making him moan and his eye lids droop in pleasure.

The rude fellows jaw dropped, along with those around him at the scene. You were sure to go the extra mile in showing them just how much you loved your Ten-ten, theatrically grabbing his hair and pulling his head back, showing off the fresh hickies on his neck amongst all the scars. The deep purple bruises stuck out like a sore thumb.

“Holy shit!” One of the spectators hollered. “Fucking Shimuras getting more action than Davis!”

Ah, so thats his name. Davis. You could tell it was the sleaze-bags name by the way his face flushed red in embarrassment. He grumbled something before distancing himself from the both of you for the rest of the night lest he humiliate himself further.

Tenko had bit of a quiet night after that while you party-hardyied, opting to chill on the couch for a while playing Pokémon Black 2 while nursing on his whiskey. Every so often he’d glance in your direction, making sure you’re not doing something TOO stupid.

And when it was over, he carried you home bridal style. You weren’t so drunk that you couldn’t walk, but you were drunk enough to whine about wanting to be carried home. He didn’t really mind, it was a good workout anyways.

And when you both made it home, he tucked you into bed, kissing your forehead and placing a glass of water along with an Advil for when you woke up. Then, he grabbed his lock picking kit and made his way to the old flirty merty’s house. Davis, right? Yeah, that’s the one.

But don’t worry. He just put an old dog turd on his pillow. A petty, jealous revenge sure, but none the less effective. After all,

You were HIS.

[moonsunyinyang]

I firmly believe that Kishimoto set out the write a very normal Shonen. He had his protagonist, Naruto and his antagonist, Sasuke and was gonna write another Dragon ball or Bleach.

But if any of you are writers, you know as you develop characters, they take on a life of their own. Suddenly, it's not you in control of the piece you're making, but them. They develop and change in ways you did not have in your original plan and diverge dramatically. They want things you didn't want for them originally. All your plans go out the window.

I think Naruto and Sasuke did that to Kishi. They started evolving outside of what he had originally anticipated. They slowly got closer and closer, more magnetized to each other, mesmerized and interwoven with each other.

I think Kishi set out to have Naruto marry Hinata and Sasuke marry Sakura. In the manga he envisioned, this would have been met with little derision and anger because he only imagined SN as typical best friends.

But those pesky two...they accidentally fell in love and became soul mates linked by fate and choice. Maybe Kishi was shocked by it, but by the end, I think he knew it too and found it hard to wrap up the manga the way he wanted to all those years ago.

So no, Kishimoto did not set out to write a gay romance. He's a typical japanese man. But he ended up writing just that and believe it was leaned in to by the end. I believe he knows where SN's hearts are truly at and probably secretly enjoys the pairing.

Perhaps crazily, I also believe he absolutely has to draw SN stuff on the dl. Private and never to be relased but c'mon ...reverse orioke needed to be practiced before being put in the manga 👀