#stars writing!!

[mirkhammett]

anything having to do with dave mustaine + breeding kink.. we are incredibly delulu tonight, yes indeed 🗣📣❗❗

oh yes u r so right. and oh yes we are!!

kiss of life

summary: a quiet night on dave’s tour leads to a late night confession of his, which leads to something more.

warnings: unprotected sex (don’t do this), breeding kink, one mention of drug misuse, consent is not verbally said, sleepy sex, dominant dave, he’s so cute kill me, all that jazz, dirtiest thing ive wrote yet also the shortest

w/c: 2.2k

sorry this is shorter than usual, i couldn’t think of a good plot idea for this, so it’s very basic lol ^.^ not proofread so correct me on mistakes!!

the almost minuscule tv on the beside table hummed muffled sounds in confluence, a showing of an old 60s movie, (which seemed so ancient now), radiating the bedroom with hues of grey, and even darker greys. you couldn’t say it was the best hotel room you had stayed in, but it wasn’t even close in being the worse. it was comfortable, and that was enough for a night, or a few.

you lay on your side, facing the diminutive television, though only really paying attention when the room would light up white, your hands clasped together under the not so unusually thick, hotel pillow. so much for comfort, when you could deem the single pillow practically thicker than the mattress.

dave was propped up beside you, his large hand calloused with litters of guitar scars from playing too harshly, (which you had berated him for many times), draped over your waist. his other hand was holding him up so he could see over your body, eyes glazing over the tv lazily. his shirtless body was pressed against your own, the only thing separating the embrace of pure skin on skin being the lacy silk night dress you were sporting, the colour a captivating mix, or so dave thought, between cream and an off white.

“are you even watching this?” he muttered, a mix between a question and a statement, the hint of a smile slipping through his words. he suddenly let himself flop down into the mattress, the bed rumbling sideways with a soft thud.

“no,” you murmured, turning to face him. “are you?” you questioned, already knowing the answer from his body language. he was laying on his back, facing the yellowed popcorn ceiling, that had a multitude of darker splurges, probably from a leak that was never fixed.

he shook his head, turning on his side to face you, the remnants of a grin visible through his features, his eyes a slight crease. he lifted his arms, wiggling those calloused fingers as a signal for your comforting touch.

“how was the show?” you whispered, rolling into his arms, your face fitting perfectly between the crook of his neck, his head resting just above yours. he placed a soft kiss on your forehead, his left hand working through your hair, detangling strands that were slightly caught up from your movement in the bed. you hummed.

“good,” he replied, his usually gruff spoken voice soft with eloquence. the show was good, and you knew it. the way the band performed was just so perfect everytime, well, at least all the shows you had been there for since joining him on tour- what your question really meant, was how he had found the show. he never really said much about it, but his dedication to his fans through every show was so clear. you knew what he really wanted to say, though the words never came to life. good, to him meant great.

it was rare for a night to end this way for him. usually, the band would go out to celebrate and blow some steam, (by snorting up god knows what), only stumbling back to the hotel at some stupid hour late into the next day, to repeat it all again the same night. but tonight wasn’t one of those nights.

you curled into his touch, slipping your arm through the tiny gap between your body and his to rest on his bare chest, a leg hooked over his hip. this seemed to awaken something inside of him, a fire of some sort, as he suddenly came to his senses, becoming more awake. he moved his hand from your now deranged hair to massage your thigh, pulling you further into his embrace.

he shuffled into a position where he was able to sit up and look at you, all while still keeping you connected. to him with an invisible string. the change of position allowed you to completely straddle him, your silky night dress now hooking up by your hips. you played your head down on his chest, your ear against his skin catching the sounds of his comforting heart beat.

“you’re my good girl, aren’t you?” he spoke, almost grunted, his voice now sounding much more restrained than it previously was. he brought his hand to scratch gently under your chin, an amiable purr escaping through your plumped lips.

“yes.” you murmured into his chest, your breath a hot contrast to the slight chill of the room. he used the same hand to pull your face up, sculpting you in a particular position to be facing him, his thumb brushing up and down, up and down gently, like a broken record on repeat.

“good,” his subtle grin showed excitement, but his eyes deceived him, his excitement clear- and then it all clicked. “because i’ve been thinking about this all day, baby,” the state you were once in- your eyes, that were oh so ready to flutter closed for once and for all until the morning sun arose, now felt incredibly awake, entranced, even- that state had dissipated. “can you be that good girl for just a bit longer? then i’ll let you rest.”

you nodded, and there was no time for either of you to waste, no time for you to even think before your night dress was slipping off your shoulders, the cream silk having an easy escape. you smoothly pulled your arms out of the thin sleeves, easily but with little agility, your exhaustion catching up to your, your panties wetted.

one of his hands cradled your chest, groping your breast and rubbing his pointer finger against your blushed nipple, squeezing it between his thumb, soft whimpers escaping you. his other hand found its place against your bare back, holding you up and steady on his lap, but not for long. he ravenously manoeuvred both of your bodies, so that you were lying, back pressed firmly against the mattress, pulling your sleepwear down your legs and flinging it off to the side, landing on the floor with a gentle thump.

and then he was ontop of you again, your hands suddenly feeling frail and useless as he placed his weight just above yours, his body height emitting like blazing yours, your fingers stretching against his sides. you hadn’t even realised he had already shed himself of his boxers.

he slouched his head down so was face to face with your breasts, licking his lips to gather up wetness, before harshly sucking on your left breast, leaving trails of spit in his wake, a sloppy, messy kiss. “can’t wait until one day, when these are so full and plump,” his voice had grown in an octave since you had last heard it, his words muffled, his breath heavy on your bare chest. you sucked in a tight gust of air. “the mother of my children.”

his words caused an instant change in your body, your arousal wetting your thighs and your cheeks turning a sweet red, cascading down your neck and into your nimble fingertips. he released his grip in your boob with his mouth, quickly moving down your body, his hands trailing down, his fingers giving your right nipple an endearing squeeze.

he spread your thighs with his weaker hand, his stronger one inspecting your gushing pussy, a tender finger spreading it apart, a thumb pressing down onto your clit. you released an enthralling whimper, and a grin graced his pretty face, his ginger locks falling onto his features like a sculpture. “already so wet f’me,” he noted, the movements of his thumb causing a full body jerk out of you. “does the idea of having my children get you off?”

you nodded frantically like a maniac, his words combined with his teasing tone making everything feel just a bit more fuzzy than it already was, your eyes threatening to flutter shut. but he wouldn’t let that happen, not yet anyway.

in seconds he pulled himself back up, his arms caging you in, his dick hitting your lower stomach. he lifted his right hand, spitting on it, (which somehow made you much more wetter, if that was even possible), bringing it down to pump his dick a few times, holding it against your pussy lips.

“look at me,” he spoke, stern and dominating. and so you did, bringing your eyes to his, his brown orbs filled with hunger and love, his adoration for you never fading. “are you ready, baby?” his features held concern for your sleepy state, fighting off the feeling of his pulsing dick for just a few seconds to check your head, clear your mind. you nodded. “i need to hear you say it.” his brows furrowed.

“yes, yes, please.” you begged, wrapping your soft arms around his neck, pulling him down, closer to your frame- and that was all the conformation he needed. seconds had never felt longer than they did now, the quick slip of time before he pushed in agonising for the both of you.

and with a mutual moan, he was in, slotted perfectly into you like he was your missing piece, your puzzle finally completed. he didn’t waste any more time before he started to thrust, slow at thrust, getting deeper as he took his time with you. by the 4th thrust of the in and out motion he had acquired, he was fully in, filling you to the brim, his balls flush against the smooth slope of your ass, your whimpers starting to fill the along, along with the stench of sex that was starting to quickly take over your senses.

“i wanna pump you up, all nice and full,” his words could hardly catch up with the speed of his thrusts, your whole body jerking at bouncing to the rhythm, everything about him sending you into a cacophony of melodic infatuation, words beyond comprehension, a sonnet of love. “you want that too, baby?”

and when you thought he possibly couldn’t get any deeper, he made it happen, his dick practically impaling you.

“m’ gonna breed you, make you my wife,” it was like he wasn’t even thinking before speaking, all these words falling out and escaping his lips, all the truth. like a fantasy he had dreamed for, for months beforehand, all these confessions piling up and making it hard for you to do anything but whimper, but moan and beg for more, to please him, because god knows that’s there’s nothing you would want more to be his wife, and eventually one day mother his children. “you’ll look so pretty, full with my babies.”

his thrusts became more erratic by the minute, and you could sense him nearing his release, his words spurring the both of you along to that sublime heaven, that gushy feeling in your stomach beginning to bubble up, fizzing as it nears its burst- and dave knew this too.

“you want me to come inside you, fill you up until you’re leaking?” his balls slapping against your ass made you just want to close your eyes and succumb to the bliss, though his harsh movements weren’t making it very easy. “my dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“uh-huh, mhmm,” you moaned, profanities spilling from your lips on repeat, unable to stop yourself, or the squeaks and whimpers that he found oh so delightful.

somehow he was able to grin through the immense pleasure, his lips curling at the sides, his face wrinkled with his eyes half shut, beads of sweat dripping down his face, rolling down his arm due to his languid efforts to please, his arm propping himself up growing shakier as he neared release.

“my sweet girl wants me to come inside her, all nice and deep,” he grunted out, breathing heavily as his thrusts became sloppier, your thighs sticky and wet with the combination of your juices, and his sweat, a thin layer adorning his whole body, his chest olied and faint abs clear as day. “i’m gonna give you what you want.” his thrusts became ever faster, his hips moving at incredible speeds as he spurted his cum out inside your gushy walls, a guttural groan escaping him.

his orgasm had him pulling you down with him, your own making you see stars, crashing down on you like a malicious wave, your vision going white as you held your eyes tightly shut. he rode you down out of your orgasm, his thrusts becoming slower and more controlled, his breathing shaky and unsteady, your own chest rising and falling uncontrollably, completely spent. he realised this when he finally pulled out, the look on your face telling him all that he needed to know, your shut eyes then proving it.

his expression was filled with love as he admired you, bringing a shaky hand to brush your hair out of your face and tuck it behind your eyes, smiling down at your exhausted form. “always so good for me. i know i was rough tonight, honey, but you did so well,” he begrudgingly lifted himself from your body, admiring your features as he kneeled beside the bed, stroking along your arm as gentle as he possibly could muster up. you had made him soft. “i’ll get you all cleaned up, you just rest now.”

he leaned over, placing a soft, wet kiss to your forehead, before standing up. he hesitated for a few moments, until he knew you were okay, and only then going to the bathroom to retrieve clean up supplies, wiping you down with a lukewarm wet paper towel. “goodnight, baby.”

[elljayvee]

Genuinely don't know what it's called but there's a particular way of violating reality that doesn't work. For example, I am willing to accept an omegaverse university AU of nearly any fandom you care to name (except, for some reason, Sherlock, because I have an inexplicable hatred for unilock). However, a lot of Star Wars university AUs specifically fail on this aspect: they make Anakin an engineering PhD student and Obi-Wan something like literature or classics, and then they make Anakin his TA or GA.

You can't do that. Absolutely not. Anakin is unqualified for that and a university would not do it in any case. A university would literally hire a junior or senior undergraduate workstudy student to do as much of that work as possible first. They would do NOTHING other than do that and make the prof do all his own grading.

Is there a name for "I will accept [wild fantasy premise] but not [ordinary wrong thing]?" Please tell me there's a name for this. Probably someone who studies lit will know? I'm a systems person I don't know from lit theory just like Anakin

[foldingfittedsheets]

One time I was ringing up this sweet older gentleman at the sex shop. I no longer remember what he was buying, just that he was in his fifties and radiated a bumbling gentleness that I had enjoyed.

He was chatting with me as he pulled out cash to pay, “You know, I always thought it would be so much easier to meet ladies. But then you meet a girl and you start chatting and they’re never as impressed that I know Captain Kirk’s middle name as I expected them to be.”

I took his payment with a grin and said, “I dunno, Tiberius is an amazing middle name, it was their loss.”

He looked at me with utter awe, radiating a disbelieving joy that I’d parried his quip so effortlessly with Trekkie lore. “If I were thirty years younger…” he’d said, absolutely delighted.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I was gay to boot, so I just beamed and wished him a good day. He went out the door with a spring in his step and I still smile to think about it.

[foreststarflaime]

Sure sure romantic pairings are fine and all. But more people should perhaps consider two characters loving each other to the point of incomprehensibility. To the point that there is no simpler way in english to define or describe it than just to say those characters’ names together, joined eternally by the vague conjunction ‘and’. There’s so many types of love and dependencies and emotions in general thrown in there that you can’t tell what colors they are anymore, they’ve just joined into a giant blobby mess that’s almost black, but when you look closer glistens with more colors than there are names for. Just a thought

[timetravelsong]

𝐈 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈’𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫.

excerpts from a book I’ll never write

[philtstone]

feel like psych deserves more credit for manifesting guest stars from almost every single property it referenced. i know plenty of shows have pop culture relevant guest stars but none of them make references that are so very specific and none of them get 99% of their references to actually show up. like psych will throw out a name exclusively for the bit and then an unpredictable number of episodes/seasons later that person will literally show up as murderer/victim/random extended family member of the week with no comment. george takei. william shatner. cybill shepherd from moonlighting. almost every single actor from the breakfast club (one of them recurring!). biff and doc brown from back to the future. dr frankenfurter himself. literally carey elwes. john cena??? john rhys davies. half the cast of twin peaks. the original "come on son" guy. alan ruck. michael rooker. both leads from she's all that. winston from ghostbusters. bud's mom from the cosby show. curt smith from tears for fears (who also sang live with them at an event, like, twice). they mentioned billy zane and val kilmer so many times per season that through sheer willpower they got billy zane and val kilmer to both show up in their series finale. those guys committed to their bits so hard that they ended their show with one of the most diversified and stacked cameo rosters in tv & thats honestly so funny and iconic of them

[bluelockmaniac]

thinking about how your husband changes drastically when he’s had just a little too much to drink. his faint, whiny hiccups would escape his quivering lips, filling your ears with his intoxication as he leans against you. he reaches out to play with your hair, gently tugging at the strands and trailing undirected kisses along them as you bite your lip to suppress your giggles. he then brings his unsteady hands to your face, squishing your cheeks before pulling you closer, looking at you with glossy eyes—small hearts seemingly etched into his pupils.

"i wish y-you hic were mineee...."

"pftt—" you burst into a fit of laughter at his uncharacteristic neediness—you’ve always enjoyed it when he'd get drunk. after all, they say a drunk man's words are a sober man's thoughts. so, although he loves you an awful lot, he would never admit, while whining, how much he actually wants you. 

"i am yours though, sweetheart," you reassure him softly.

“oh, really? you are?” he raises his brows questionably, “well, that's good... i couldn't bear the thought of some other loser having you all to himself."

unbeknownst to him, however, is that you had recorded him during his moment of vulnerability. he was absolutely embarrassed and ashamed of himself when he had sobered up.

—

"y/n. delete that."

itoshi rin, kaiser, MIKAGE REO, barou, XIAO, kaveh, alhaitham, wriothesley, neuvillette, CHILDE, geto, megumi, BLADE, dan heng, dr ratio, aventurine, scaramouche

© 2024 bluelockmaniac — do not repost, copy, translate, modify, etc my work on any platform !

[blanc-ci]

Captain!! Saying stuff like that only enforces that mindset!!!

[tossawary]

This is petty fandom salt, BUT... I've been chewing on this phenomenon that I've been calling "Fandom's Darling". It is related to things like "Author's Darling" and "Mary Sue / Gary Stu" and "Protagonist Halo" and all that jazz, where one character gains a peculiar narrative weight in a story.

"Author's Darling" is when a writer has a favorite character, and the world and all other characters sort of get... warped to put the Darling in the spotlight. It's most noticeable in TV shows with multiple writers, when a character you personally like suddenly has their previous characterization destroyed to make another character look good somehow. Every other character might become weirdly incompetent. The Darling's feelings are treated as The Most Important Feelings in any given situation. The logic of the fictional world seems broken past suspension of disbelief in order to validate this one character's beliefs or skillset or some other fantasy. And so on.

"Fandom's Darling" is what I've been calling the pattern where a fandom essentially crowns a New Protagonist for their fanfiction stories (it's often a side character rather than the original protagonist, but it can also happen to protagonists). This character becomes the self-insert for all sorts of indulgent fantasies, gaining special powers or backstories, and/or becoming the focus of extreme whump, and/or hooking up with all the various hotties, starring in all sorts of tropey AUs, and so on. They're not always an obvious Mary Sue version of themselves, but the character's original personality and interpersonal relationships tend to get warped or dropped completely, and other characters tend to become a little flat around them. I call it "Fandom's Darling" because it's not just one self-indulgent fantasy fic (you do you! Have fun!) with characterization choices that I don't vibe with (I have neither the time nor the desire nor the authority to police anything, I am just venting), but rather a prolific mini-fandom of sorts revolving around this empty doll / fanon version of the chosen vessel character, so it becomes a little unavoidable.

I am salty about this (mildly frustrated) (imagine a soft sigh of disappointment before I just go do something else) because you are FUCKED if you actually liked the canonical version of this character and their interpersonal relationships. It's almost worse than liking an obscure character that no one cares about. There's about a thousand fics starring your fave, but maybe only about a dozen of them are actually rooted in any kind of recognisable canon.

[feral-ballad]

Taylor Byas, from I Done Clicked My Heels Three Times: Poems; “To the city I wish to get to know”

[Text ID: “tell me, / which constellation / looks like me? Which star / should I follow home?”]

[all-my-ocs-are-evil]

[insert poetic title here]

fun fact: this did not start out as isat fanart

(rambling in tags)

[mirkhammett]

die, die my darling (vampire!kirk)

summary; recently, you’ve realised that your roommate kirk has been acting different, inhumane. and you soon find out why.

warnings; blood drinking, light gore?, smut <3, a teeny bit of angst, fingering, non-protective sex (though baes a vamp so i believe it doesn’t matter :3)

w/c; 3.9k

the vamp kirk isn’t my idea, inspired by a great writer, @orions-choker!! pls go check their work out, it’s sooo addictive :p (not yet proofread so expect mistakes!!)

to say your roommate had been acting different would be an understatement.

his timid responses were the first signals that something was off- and then it was the lack of eye contact. the boy you knew to be once so smiley, couldn’t even luster up a few seconds of direct contact as you bid him off on many on his nights out, that had become much more common recently. he never said were he was going, and you never asked, but you had an inkling that every time was the same- he’d go out for a smoke, and a walk to clear his head (most likely). that would explain the faint stench of tobacco that always seemed to arise in the early mornings.

some nights you wouldn’t even wave him off- but something was the same, every single time. not once had you ever heard him come back, nor even the sound of the heavy wood door of your shared apartment clashing closed. nothing. and it wasn’t you were an early sleeper either, no. most nights you spent up into the early hours, an opened book resting on your duvet covered lap, your head only hitting the pillows when your neighbours would finally stop arguing and hit the hay. (which was never before midnight on a good day.)

but sometimes, only sometimes, you’d wake up after feeling a harsh whoosh of air through your room, rubbing your eyes in confusion and glancing to locked window. weird. you’d always blame it on your cheap, hardly working fan, and in a daze, go back to the land of dreams.

it wasn’t the first time he had acted like this, though. every couple of weeks he’d slip out into the night for these walks, and you’d take no mind of it, until now.

it was different this time. in the many months since kirk had moved in with you, you kept him close and considered him a friend. so why was it that he would avoid physical contact with you like the plague, hell, why was he so hesitant to even have a conversation? why was he always fully covered, wearing long trousers and thick sleeves in this scorching heat? and why were his eye bags so prominent, so much that his reddened veins were peeking through the thin layer of skin?

still, your feelings for him never once faltered, neither did the immense concern you felt for his wellbeing. maybe tonight was the night, do to something. to just say something, make sure he’s not struggling too much.

tonight you hadn’t heard him leave, and you hadn’t been in the living room, so he must’ve felt no need to announce his whereabouts. you couldn’t deny it, the division you felt between you and him hurt. -and tonight, tonight you were restless. kirk, he plagued all of the thoughts in your brain like a disease.

you yawned, setting your book down onto your duvet covered lap, just like every other night. the (un-happily) married couple next door had finally decided to give it a rest, but your whole body felt an immense itch, that wouldn’t go away no matter how much you scratched it.

you sighed as you slipped from under the covers, using one hand to rub your eyes and the other to mindlessly clutch your book. just as every night before, you checked the window was closed and locked, the moon shaped like a fingernail, the cheshire cat grinning down at you in irony. in irony of what, you didn’t know yet. you made your way down the hallway, passing kirk’s empty bedroom, not even bothering to check. you knew if he was home, there was no way his light would be off, and his door would be open, not even by an inch. he appreciated his privacy, and you couldn’t be mad about that.

the couch was where you decided to reside- and you didn’t care if it took even mere minutes or hours, you were going to get to the bottom of this. the thin blanket you draped over yourself didn’t provide much comfort or warmth, the coolness of the brown leather beneath you overpowering the heat, the shitty air conditioner on blast.

not even a full hour had gone by before you starting to hear it. the clatter of heavy combat boots walking down the hallway, the noise getting louder and louder as they reached your door. his combat boots. you immediately sat up on the couch, wiping your drooping eyes as you twisted around on the couch, so your body was resting against the backrest, your eyes studied tightly on the door.

he opened it with the firm gentleness that would radiate off of him, the gentleness that you knew so well. he fumbled to shove his keys back into his book, kneeling down to untie his shoes.

you leaned further over the couch, watching him with your mouth open. “kirk?”

he immediately stilled, raising from his bent position and turning to slowly, slowly face you. so much looked wrong with him, with so little explanation. you felt yourself straightening your back up. “i..” he whispered, like a deer caught in headlights.

his once muscular arms now looked much more frail, with such prominent veins, like a red rash covering his whole body as they pulsed wildly, thrashing with a hunger for blood. the rash continued up his bare arms, up to his pale neck, and through to his lifeless face. he looked tired. so, so, tired.

and without thinking you rose from the couch, stepping towards him with pure concern and worry in your features. your voice came out a soft, comforting whisper, as you reached your arm towards him. “what’s wrong with you, kirk?”

he winced as soon as your soft skin came in contact with his arm, his expression a grimace as he shut his eyes as hard as you could, almost as if he could escape this situation. you were hurt by his sudden moment, and you didn’t fail to show it, no matter how hard you tried to mask it. “you look so sick,” your eyes trailed down to his figure, “is there something i don’t know about?”

he shock your arm off of him, wrapping his arms around himself in a protective manner. a low grunt of pain escaping from his lips.

“i don’t want to hurt you, please..” it was the most you had heard him speak in days, and while you should’ve been happy, the tone of his voice was so heartbreaking, so shaky and frail.

you looked up at him, eyes full of concern, brows furrowed. he wouldn’t look at you, not fully. his eyes were either trained on the ground, or glued shut. he couldn’t bear to look at you, not at a time like this. he couldn’t bear to think of the consequences.

he had been putting of his weekly feed for a while now. infact, he hadn’t fed in weeks. whether it was the guilt or hurting another that consumed him, or self hatred, he didn’t know. all he knew was that he didn’t want to hurt you. the smell of tobacco was present on him, but you hadn’t even realised it. and if you had, you really couldn’t care less, not with the state of him.

his fingers were so pale, and the effect it took for him to press them against his own skin made you wince. even more so, did his response.

“why would you hurt me?” you slowly closed the gap between the both of you, bringing a gentle hand to burns against his cheek. “you could never hurt me.”

“but i could, y/n.” he spoke seriously. it took all of the strength in him to not just take everything he wanted from you, drain you dry. but with anyone else, he wouldn’t have even made it this far. your touch sent shivers through him, the strong scent of your sweet, warm blood rocking through him.

suddenly it all became too much, his chocolate brown orbs turning a dark, sinister shade of red, his mouth opening as he gasped out a grunt of pain, clutching his cheek.you flinched, pulling your hand away and stepping back away from him. if he was in a better state than he was know, he would’ve noticed your fear and reassured you. but he couldn’t, with the growing pains in his gums.

and once you recovered from the shock of his sudden harsh movement, you saw it. where two of his teeth once stood, were razor sharp canines, the gums around them enflamed and bloody- and that was when he finally looked up at you. with the look of horror in your eyes, he knew he couldn’t hide it anymore. “i…i’m not human, y/n.”

“you’re..a vampire?” you voiced wearily. he nodded, his exhausted eyes catching onto yours. “why do you look so…so ill?” you spoke with caution, fear in your voice, and kirk could tell, no matter how hard you tried to cover it. kirk felt his heart break at that.

“i haven’t fed..in a while,” his hand was still clutching his pale cheek, his voice filled with pain and despair. he coughed shakily, his legs buckling slightly. in a state of panic, you immediately held him up straight. he sucked in a harsh breath at your touch. “i can’t..i can’t risk hurting you.”

you shushed him, leading him to the couch, your book left discarded, the blanket now kicked to the floor. he sat slowly, still wincing his features at your gentle hands. your touch felt good, too good, and that was the problem. your touch had his undead body pulsing and throbbing, like his heart was really beating again, when he knew it.

that was how it always was with you, and he had no explanation for it, not until recently. why was it he felt so strongly for you, and no one else? it wasn’t just his heightened senses, no, no..that was for everyone else, too. it couldn’t have been his bloodlust, thought he found it so much harder to spend time around you when he was on a fast. it was more than that. there was no way for him to explain it, not truly, other than that when he was around you, he felt alive.

he didn’t even feel it when you sat down next to him, occupied by a whirlwind of thoughts circulating around his brain, going through to his empty lungs. all he breathed in was you.

“do you need blood?” how you still seemed to remain so concerned for him after what you had just found out, he couldn’t fathom. he continued to stare at the ground, and you know his answer. “okay,” you hummed, coming closer. “feed from me.”

his eyes widened, his hands coming to push you away, his voice a pained ramble, “no, no, please, i couldn’t..you’re the only person i don’t want to hurt.”

he looks like a kicked puppy, his eyes so wide you were afraid they could pop out of his head. he voiced pure denial, but you knew he couldn��t deny it for too much longer, the bloodlust taking over.

“it’s okay,” you bared your neck to him, your warm breathe sending shivers through you. “take what you need.”

he grimaced, though he leaned in, his guilt so clear on his face. you brought a hand up to his hair, ruffling it so gently he felt he could cry.

“i’m sorry,” he whispered, resting his cracked lips against your smooth skin. he hesitated for a couple seconds, until you tightened your grip on his black coils, and he lost it.

his sharp fangs broke the barrier of your gentle skin, your warm blood intoxicating and filling up all of his senses. he growled into your neck, your whimpers going unheard by him in his blood lustful state. he sucked your neck with force, a bruise already forming around, what would soon be, a bite scar.

he didn’t take much, because it was you. and if it wasn’t you, he feared he would’ve drained them dry, sucked them of all their life and soul, body turning paler, and paler, until their skin was tinted grey and he had no choice but to pull away, as they held no use to him anymore.

but it was you. so he pulled away, his mouth gone just as quick as it arrived. you whimpered as his fangs retracted, his rambled words drowning out the pain. “thank you, i’m sorry, i love you,” these words flowed from his boyish voice like a river, talking before he could even think properly again.

he wiped the loose droplets of blood from your neck with his thumb, which suddenly didn’t look so lifeless anymore. his eyes had returned to their normal shade of brown, his veins no longer visible. your body relaxed against the couch as it was now his turn to dance his hand through your hair, kissing your forehead lightly, and then pulling back.

“you love me?” you grinned, your eyes half shut, but still gazing upon him.

he returned a soft grin, his black curls bouncing as he nodded down at you, regaining his strength back. “how could i not?” he mumbled.

your body felt like a million fireworks had just gone off in your stomach, butterflies zooming around at the impact- and no, your giddiness was not from the blood loss, but kirk’s admission of love. their had been an undeniable tension between you and kirk for the many months you had lived together, confessions of love always wanted to be released, but remaining to hang lowly in the back of your minds.

for when you would grocery shop for your shared apartment together, and he’d go off and gather all of the snacks he knew you loved, without you even asking. or when you’d have a movie night, and he’d pick whatever movie he knew you were dictated on at the time. but neither of you ever said anything.

and now with his vampirism so clear to see, you knew things should have changed. you knew your feelings towards him should’ve changed. but they didn’t. “i love you too,” you whispered sweetly. you rolled your body closer to him on the couch, sitting up and using your hands to steady yourself, bringing your face towards his. “kiss me?”

he complies quicker than the speed of light, his hands gripping on your waist, softly, but firmly, his touch electrifying. he shuffles his hips, urging you to straddle his lap as his lips take place on yours.

he’s soft with it at first, becoming increasingly sloppier with time. “fuck, you’re so pretty.” he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck, his lips back on yours.

and then it’s happening all too quick. your hands are dragging down his back, clawing even as he dominates the kiss, one of his hands now on the back of your head, keeping you steady and pulling you into him. he’s much more vocal than he was before, your blood giving him more energy than he’s ever felt before. you tasted different to everyone else. sweeter, he thought.

he’s quick to reach for the buttons of your sleep shirt, his nimble fingers slipping the bonds between the buttons and the holes of the striped material, the silk shirt hanging loosely off your shoulders. he takes in the sight of your bare chest with widened eyes, your perky nipples hardening under the shitty cool air radiating off the fan, and kirk thinks you look perfect. he leans in, leaving soft, wet pecks all over the bare skin, leaving imprints in their tracks.

you giggle, shimmying yourself out of your matching pair of shorts that complete the set, the silk material easy and complaint to slip from your body without much hassle. you mentally thank yourself for choosing this set for tonight. he quickly rids himself of his own shirt, leaving nothing to the eye.

his chest is like a sculpture from the gods, and you wonder if his figure has always been this good, or improved when he became undead.

his hand trails down your thigh to lightly graze your panties, then he stills. he looks up at you with a serious expression, his eyes soft and thoughtful. “is this okay?”

you nod with urgency, grabbing his hand firmly and pushing it into your crotch. “more than okay.” you mutter, catching your own breath.

“someone’s eager,” he mumbles under his breath, chuckling softly. he doesn’t mind though, as he’s already lacing a finger under the lacy material of your thong, hooking it and yanking it down your legs. it bundles up around your ankles, and you kick it off with ease. “there’s my girl, so pretty.”

you whimper as he trails a finger over your bare pussy and he experiments, rubbing it lazily over your clit. he whispers praises that you can barely hear, adding another finger to the mix. he uses this one to rub up and down your slit skillfully, all your arousal accumulating up just from the touch of his gentle hand. he speaks again, this time loud enough so you can just about hear him. “tell me if it hurts, m’kay?” you hum and nod, squirming on his lap.

he pushes a finger into you at the arrival your consent, slowly and gently, as to not hurt you- once he’s fully sure that you’re okay, he slides another in, this time firmer with his movements. he doesn’t move them yet as he lets you adjust to the new intrusion, just curling them inside of you.

“more, more,” you whine breathlessly, and he complies wordlessly. without warning he starts to thrust them, not quite reaching a fast pace yet, but not slow either. he uses your whines and whimpers to his advantage, finding the pace that he’s figured you enjoy most, deep thrusts of in and out, in and out, the sounds of your wetness and his palm slapping against your pussy with each thrust creating a cacophony of passion.

and it’s not long before your muscles start to contract more often, your gushy walls tightening around his calloused fingers like a vice, when he knows your getting close, and without a second thought, slips his fingers out- with absolutely no struggle, even with your tightened walls, your arousal a perfect homemade lube.

he silences your whines before they even start with a messy kiss, and it’s right then when you realise- when did he take his pants off? you don’t spend much time pondering over it, instead over his muscled legs, and his, oh my god, perfect dick.

it’s not the longest, but it’s girth makes up for it, and you can hardly even think about it before his whispering into your ear, bouncing you on his lap. “can you lay down f’me, baby?”

“y-yes.” you manage to pull squeak out, trembling of off his lap as he arises to stand, getting comfortable with your head resting on the armrest of the worn out couch, you bought way before he even moved in. you never imagined in a thousand years it would be used in this way.

it’s not long before he’s back above you again, his face just above yours as his curls coil down to brush your skin, his front strands tickling your face, causing you to giggle. you smiles at your response, opening your legs apart with a single hand. he rubs your clit, holding his dick in the other, like he hasn’t prepared you enough already. and then he’s pushing in, and it’s oh so good, and it’s nothing like you’ve ever felt before, still feeling slightly dazed from the blood loss, the tingles from your wound sending signals all the way down through your stomach and electrifying the butterflies, down to your pussy.

it takes him a good minute to fully emerge himself, taking his time by looking at your facial expressions, waiting until the pain of the initial stretch has fully dismissed before continuing to push further in. he’s situated inside you comfortably, like the missing puzzle piece, and it’s so disgustingly loveable, the air thick with the stench of sex and cigarettes lingering from his discarded jacket laying on the side.

slowly he begins to thrust experimentally, whacking your face immensely for any signs of discomfort, to be greeted with none- so he continues, his thrusts gradually growing in speed and deepness. he uses one hand to hold himself up, propping it up beside your waist, shadowing over your figure. he uses the other hand to rub your overstimulated clit with agility, knowing all the ways to make you tingle in just mere minutes.

the way his balls slap against your smooth skin with every thrust is addictive, the way your hands grip loosely onto his forearms powering him on- just knowing how good he’s making you feel all the motivation he needs. “you’re so fucking perfect.”

“thank you.” you respond airily, your whole body bouncing with each thrust, your words changing in pitch, becoming higher as you move up and down. he lets out a small chuckle, his thrusts slowing just slightly, before returning to their normal pace.

he’s breathless himself, sweat beading up along his hairline, his chest covered in a thin pearly layer of sweat. not enough to drip onto you, but enough to show the effects you have on him. he’s grunting himself now, his thrusts becoming more and more erratic. that’s when he feels that familiar tighten of your wall as again- thought it feels so much better this time, so much warmer, so much tighter. he’s grunting softly, more and more with each and every thrust, becoming more wild by the second, your bodies moving up and down in unison.

“i’m, im close..” you manage to mutter out, thought there was no need, as he could already tell himself, your not so subtle tighten around his length giving you away. he nods repeatedly, his breathing heavy and heightened.

“i know, i know baby,” his thrusts are so sloppy, and it’s so addictive to both parties. you’re not sure if you could ever live without him. fuck, how did you go so long without him before? “are you gonna cum f’me?”

and all you can do is whine in response, a whiney and whimpering mess for him, all sprawled out on the couch, your hands no longer on his arms, but laying uselessly beside your body, to weak to grip onto anything. your walls contract even tighter now, and kirk knows it’s any minute now. your soft moans don’t stop though, no. infact, he’s almost sure they’ve gotten louder as you encounter release. “come for me, okay?”

it’s almost as if he’s controlling you like a puppet, for the way you release immediately after he’s told you too. he doesn’t stop yet, not until he’s reached his own peak- and when he does, he still doesn’t slow, riding his, and your orgasm out to its full extent. and then when you’re fully spent, that’s when he finally pulls out, his body relaxing on top of yours. he doesn’t still for long though, and after a minute he’s up again, rising from the couch to kneel beside your body.

“you tired, baby?” he peers out the window, seeing how the suns just barely, but still beggining to set, and he feels guilty for the long hours he made you wait for him earlier. you hum in response, causing him to smile softly. “okay, lemme carry you to bed.”

maybe feeding isn’t so bad after all.

[star-struck09]

Do you think of me as often as I think of you?

[effemira]

follow-up to my prev post

[sttoru]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. you show your husband some affection, thinking you two were alone - only to be interrupted by your son.

tags. dad!toji fushiguro x wife!female reader. fluff, suggestive. mentions of toji developing / having a dad bod. & reader having a mom bod. reader gets called ‘princess, mama (by gumi)’. baby gumi waking up bcs of a nightmare. excuse me - not beta read bcs i was half asleep when writing this rt_t

“tooooji,” you smile as you enter the kitchen. you’ve put megumi to bed - finally - and have the chance to spend some one-on-one time with your dear husband. both of you deserve the rest after a hard day of work.

toji has been putting the dishes back in their designated spots whilst you were away. the dark-haired man turns his head to the side once he feels a pair of arms wrap around his waist. a small grin tugs at his lips, “missed me, princess?”

you roll your eyes. even if years have passed since your marriage, toji has not stopped using that specific nickname for you. he loves calling you ‘princess’, because that’s what you’ll always be to him. in his eyes, at least.

“mhm,” you decide to indulge him. you bury your face into his broad back, feeling the muscles he’s worked so hard on obtaining. after megumi was born, toji did let himself go for a bit, but that is a good sign.

it means he’s content with his life - this peaceful life that he’s settled down for with no regrets. no more being reckless, no more battling for money; he’s now got a family to come back home to after all.

“is the little brat asleep?” toji asks while putting the last dish away. he’s visibly enjoying your warm hands that have slid under his shirt. your skin is so soft to the touch compared to his.

you chuckle and nod to his question. “gumi’s sleeping like a baby,” you rub your husband’s stomach gently, feeling the little bumps of his fading abs. you’re loving his new body - just as much as toji loves yours.

toji turns around to face you, desperately needing to return the favor. he can’t get enough of being with you. his rough hands grab your waist and bring you closer against his body, until your chests are nearly touching. he lowers his head to your neck, “that means i can show my wife how much i love her, yeah?”

you shiver at how toji’s voice turns from soft and gentle to sexual and husky. big hands find their place on your tummy, massaging the loose skin with its stretch marks. you can hear your husband’s breath hitch. “fuck,” toji swallows his spit, his fingers moving to grasp your hips.

toji loves how your hips got wider after you’ve given birth to your child. every change in your body, whether big or small, is completely welcomed by him. your body has blessed toji with a son he loves and he’ll forever be grateful for that fact. the least he can do is take his time to appreciate you.

“so beautiful,” toji sighs as he leaves soft pecks on your neck and throat. his fingers are working their way down to your thighs and ass—not leaving a single patch of skin untouched. his lips eventually find yours and you melt into his embrace.

it’s getting heated and the tension is palpable. toji’s about to lift you into his arms when you catch a glimpse of a short figure in the doorway. your eyes widen and you immediately detach your lips from your husband’s.

toji quickly catches on and sighs. he cocks his head to the left, the sight of his toddler standing at the doorway coming into view. “damn kid,” he whispers, nearly pouting because of the interruption. you playfully slap his bicep—a warning to fix his potty mouth in front of megumi.

“h-hey, gumi,” you say with an awkward giggle, walking towards the child. you fix your shirt in the meantime, straightening the material. you crouch down to megumi’s level and pat his head tenderly, “what happened? why are you out of bed?”

megumi stares up at you with teary eyes. he’s clenching onto his dog plushie, hugging the stuffed animal to his little body. you can easily guess that he’s scared—probably because of a nightmare. he’s been getting those more frequently.

though, instead of explaining himself, megumi searches for answers to something else. he points at his dad who’s leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. the toddler then looks back at you like he’s made some big discovery;

“mama papa kissing!”

you nearly choke on your spit. megumi’s a clever little boy and it shows through his advanced vocabulary. you’re surprised that he’s learnt what that meant already. you try to deny what your child said, “no, uhm, mama and papa were just hugging!”

toji snorts at your half assed excuse. he lazily walks over to you two, hands in his pockets. he bends forwards and looks megumi in the eyes with a huge smirk on his face. “yeah, we were. ‘n you totally ruined it,” he utters without any shame and menacingly sticks his tongue out at the little boy.

you hiss and lightly shove toji—he cannot take anything seriously. you’re trying your best to distract megumi’s attention from what he’s seen his parents do, to what his reason is for waking up.

“did you have a nightmare again?” you coo and pick your son up. he instantly snuggles up to you and presses his face against your chest in search of comfort. you smile and can conclude that your assumptions are right.

you pet megumi’s head whilst softly humming one of his favorite lullabies. toji watches your interaction with his son and his mood softens once more. he silently hugs you from behind—also wrapping an arm around megumi—turning it into a little family group hug.

“y’re all right, buddy,” toji mutters to megumi and the little boy sniffles in response, “mama ‘n papa ‘re right here.”

after a couple minutes, you carry megumi back to his room before putting him down in his bed. your husband stands next to you as you make sure your kid is tucked in properly.

megumi stares up at you with a sniff and you nearly melt at the adorable sight. you brush his bangs out of his eyes and kiss his forehead, wishing him a good night. the toddler nods and hugs his plushie to his chest again, still a bit shaken up from the nightmare. however, he’s doing a lot better after he got comforted by both his parents.

“sweet dreams, gumi,” you whisper and rub megumi’s cheeks with a fond smile on your lips. toji simply stares at you conversing with megumi—his face showing little to no emotion. though, from within, toji is absolutely in awe at your motherly personality. you’re the perfect mother.

megumi gets drowsy and tosses onto his side so he could be more comfortable. he struggles to open his eyes, but manages to look at toji. the little boy pouts and points another finger at his dad, this time drowsily warning him, “papa no kiss mama, ‘kay?”

that comment catches you off guard. you’re embarrassed by the fact that megumi still remembers what he’s seen in the kitchen. you try to clear your throat and explain yourself, but toji’s one step ahead of you. he silently mimics megumi’s words and rolls his eyes—

“yeah yeah, whatever. i won’t,” toji promises his son. the toddler clearly inherited your husband’s protectiveness. you chuckle at the playfulness between the two, enjoying the jokey banter the father-son duo have each time.

megumi huffs in victory and nods. he can sleep in peace now, knowing his dad won’t try anything funny with you. he closes his weary eyes and is asleep within just a few seconds.

you stretch your arms and sigh in content. you can’t help but chuckle once you notice how megumi’s fallen asleep with a tiny smile on his lips. you give the child one last forehead kiss before leaving the room in silence.

toji follows right behind you. now that his son is sound asleep, he doesn’t have to keep his promise. technically— he wasn’t planning to anyway.

“c’mere,” your husband mumbles and grabs your hand. he pulls you into a tight hug, hands instantly roaming your body which he admires so much. he plants his lips onto yours not a second later.

you smile into the kiss, finding it funny how toji couldn’t keep his (fake) promise for even one second. he would die if he actually couldn’t kiss you, and that isn’t even an exaggeration.

toji pulls back after a moment and smirks at you—those bedroom eyes of his very telling.

“so, where were we?”

[autumnillustration]

"Perhaps a lesser-known gift of Kenobi's was his ability to listen."

(AU where post-banishment Ahsoka gets zapped back to TPM, strapped with a fundamental distrust of the Jedi, an apocalyptic vision of the future, and a mandate to help Anakin Skywalker. So, in all this, it's nice to have a confidant.)

edit: link to the fic