#the amount of goddamn PASSION

[escuerel]

vanitas doodles... BBS Stage Play took me out man. the actor playing him put their all into it and i was losing my mind

[pawsnread]

I have a strict policy in my class that we do not use genAI at all, for any reason. The only mention of AI is in a discussion forum about how its use adversely affects environmental issue (ecology section of intro bio class). Other than the environmental impact, the primary reason I don’t use it is because I want my students to know the basics of the subject matter upon which is base their further analysis and opinions.

“But they don’t need to memorize that! They can just look it up when they are in their careers. People look stuff up all the time!”

Sweet summer child, if you can’t tell me whether Staphylococcus aureus is Gram positive or Gram negative without looking it up then you have a serious problem. If you can’t tell me that tetracycline is a broad spectrum antibiotic that targets protein synthesis without asking chatGPT, then I don’t want you treating me in an urgent care clinic. This is the fundamental shit you NEED to know offhand without having to reference anything.

Furthermore, you are not learning how to properly analyze information if all you do is plug in a prompt to chatGPT and submit whatever it gives you. Unless you are dissecting what the output is to determine whether it was actually helpful or hallucinating, it is going to end up literally hurting someone at some point.

I am the only hold out in my department who refuses to use AI, but recently learned the entire English department is also refusing. So there are higher ed professors who are not blinded by the shiny new AI toy.

ur future nurse is using chapgpt to glide thru school u better take care of urself

[burningdevotion]

dbf!Joel who cant get enough of your taste and feel / headcanons

a/n: I literally only made this side blog to get this out of my system, so consider this me dropping off a present (smut) at the doorstep of your house (the Joel Miller fandom) before I walk away again lol, hope you like these!!

warnings: nswf, big age gap (reader in her early 20s, Joel in his 50s) it’s mostly filth but kinda romantic too because he’s just drunk on his girl’s juice and who can blame him for being an obsessive lover?

౨ৎ didnt wanna put it in the title but basically: he’s obsessed with your pussy. your cunt. whatever you prefer to call it. he is spell-bound and driven mad by it. every little thing about it.

but let me give you get a bit of backstory first:

౨ৎ your affair started during the last week of your first summer back home from college. you’d known him for years, since he lived right down the street and was your dad’s dearest friend, but only once you werent in high school anymore did you really start caring for him, talking to him like a fellow adult, joining your dad and him for a drink out in the garden every now and then, and soon enough you realized: oh. fuck. he’s hot. really fuckking hot. how did I not realize this before.

౨ৎ he had similar feelings. before you were off age, he’d never even considered your physique in any intense way, he was not the type of guy to leer at teenage girls, especailly not when they were his friends precious girl, but after you’d spent an entire year at college and came back seeming all grown up and confident in your own adult life far away from home, more mature and independent, something switched and he allowed himself to really take a good look at you when you were around, and then all of a sudden realized it: she is perfect. a goddamn dream. oh, I am fucked. I want my best friend’s daughter. desperately. lord help me.

౨ৎ for the entire summer the tension kept rising - you both felt it more each time you saw each other, even when you just passed each other on the street, that chemistry, that pull towards each other, the intrigue, the primal sense of need that no amount of repression could get rid of, like two animals who were destined mates circling each other while trying not to pounce. but it was helpless. a few nights before you had to fly back to your college town, you went over to his place and a harmless "I’m gonna miss you." turned into frantic, sloppy, needy kissing, making out, dry-humping and two hours of the most passionate mindblowing sex you couldve ever imagined, all that pent up need finally bursting out, first on the couch, then in bed, him worshipping your body in every possible way, kissing and grabbing and tasting you all over, making you come over and over without even worrying about his own orgasms, his cock leaking from the second he got the first taste of you, that divine first drop of the juice hed consider his life source from that point on.

౨ৎ from that first night, it blew your mind just how much he loved to taste you. he didnt just eat you out until your legs shook (which he did. merciselly so.) before even thinking of fucking you, he did it again and again during and after sex, whenever you switched positions he took a moment to lap up everything that had leaked out of you while being pounded by him, easing your pretty, swollen, raw lips with slow strokes of his tongue, playing with your clit, rubbing you, marvelling at the delicious sight of your pussy all glistening and pulsating, before putting his cock back inside, always making sure that you were turned on and ready, that he wouldnt hurt you no matter how hard he went - still, he didnt just do it to prep you, he always did it for his own pleasure, always, greedy as hell the way he´d hold you in place with your legs spread apart, making you wait and whimper from the emptiness until hed continue fucking you, cooing at you "shh, lemme get a taste baby, just a lil taste of that sweetness, gonna fill you up again, dont you worry"

౨ৎ from that point on, you ached for each other badly when you were away at college and then reuinted in the most heated, intense way whenever you came back home - for thanksgiving, christmas, spring break, etc. - it always went the same way, you could always tell that he’d been starving so bad for your taste that he nearly came in his pants whenever he started eating you out the first day you were back home, back in his bed. he always ruined you. fully. in the best possible way. he ate you out so eagerly and for so long that you thought you might black out from pleasure.. whimpering and shaking and sweating, drenching the sheets in more ways than one, while you were flat on your back, while you were on your hands and knees and he could eat it from the back, while you were riding his face and soaked his mouth and nose - he was always beyond relieved to finally have you back, the second he ripped your jeans and panties down he always moaned things like "you’ve no idea how much I missed this sweet lil pussy of yours, no fuckin idea, girl, lay back and let me taste you"

౨ৎ whenever he has your legs pressed up and gets ready to slip his length into you, he shamelessly stares down and feels his mouth water and his veins bludging when he watches his cock be swallowed up by your folds, its a sight that drives him fucking wild, that beautiful pussy of yours that he adores so much, always taking him in so easily and perfectly, taking it all without any resistence (because youre always eager, never hestiant or uncomfortable, not with him) - he will stare as he starts building up a ryhthm and struggle to tear his eyes away but your pretty face does the trick: the second you start moaning loudly from his deep strokes, he will look up to you, caressing your face, praising and reassuring you "good girl, taking me so fuckin well.. that feel good babygirl? yeah? like that?"

౨ৎ you told him from the beginning that you were on birth control and tracked your period so he could fuck you raw - especially when you werent ovulating - but he refused, too paranoid about even the slightest chance of getting you pregnant, but. it was only a matter of time. one time, in the middle of it, when you were already three orgasms in and a soaking needy mess, he couldn’t take it anymore and took the condom off before he begged you "come here baby, sit on my lap, ride it nice n slow, make a pretty mess, wanna feel it all” wayyy too eager, throbbing so hard he almost passed out when you took him in and he could feel every last drop of your juices coating the sensitive skin of his length, nearly losing his mind when you told him to come inside you a few minutes later, moaning like he was dying when he filled you with his cum for the first time and felt you squeeze him and drain him (he was a goner after that, couldnt go back to fucking with a condom, even when he knew it was unwise, the feel of you around him was just too fucking good)

౨ৎ other men might be turned off by the idea of eating their girl out right after a cream pie, but not him. he does not let his own taste deter him, not at all, so sometimes when youre done having sex and youre laying there all shaky and flushed and raw from it all, whimpering because you’re still riled up, he will ease you by playing with your clit a bit, helping your worn out body enjoy the aftershocks, whispering "look at you, gorgeous girl... real sensitive right now, hm? need a bit more, need some help there?" before he leans down and licks up the mess he made of you, your juices and his mixed together, eating you out more gently than before and giving you a final orgasm before he really lets you come down and holds you in his arms (takes every last chance to get his mouth on you)

౨ৎ whenever you leave to go back to your house afterwards, he tries to put off his shower for as long as possible because he wants his hands to keep smelling like you... he will sit there and zone out while he has his fingers pressed up against his nose, taking a few deeeep breaths in, savoring the lingering scent of your juices, maybe even licking his fingers to get a hint of a taste before he eventually has to take his nightly shower and mourns the loss of that reminder of your love-making </3

౨ৎ sometimes late at night when your dad is already asleep or busy watching tv/reading, you take the chance to get a quickie in before bed - you’ll sneak out through the back door and come over to Joel already in your pajamas, sleepy and needy, horny and in the mood for something sensual, not a full on hookup, but just a bit of touching, and he always oblidges, no matter if its 10pm or already 1am, he will let you sit on his lap or next to him on the couch and play with your pussy as you relax and sigh, moaning to you about how much he loves to feel you like that, his big fingers so gentle with it, so skilled, the tension of the day leaving you immediately

౨ৎ he will make you suck his fingers and then rub your clit nice and slow, dipping his fingertips between your folds and dragging them up and down to gather every last drop, filthy with it as you squirm and mewl, comfortable as youre pressed up against his side, one of his arms steading you as he tells you how fuckin good you feel, to spread your legs nice n wide for him, easing one, two, or sometimes three fingers into you, switching between the fingering and jerking off motions until youre drenched and quivering and come hard enough to be breathless from it - youll give him a few heartfelt kisses and touches before you sneak back into your room, all tingly and heavy from pleasure, put to sleep very fast by his actions (you feel safe doing it, coming over just for that when you’re not gonna stay for long, because he never demands anything in return and enjoys it just as much as you, he can jerk himself off after you’re gone, he just loves to see you on his doorstep looking all sweet and desperate and to know he’ll get to have a taste/feel for a few minutes, its become a ritual that he asks "need help with somethin, darlin?" knowing damn well what he needs to do to "help" you)

౨ৎ in general, he always makes sure you know that any touch or taste of you is enough to satisfy him, getting head from you in return or being allowed to fuck you senseless is just the cherry on top, he would die a happy man if all he ever got to do was eat you out and finger you <3

౨ৎ before he eats you out, he will press his face between your legs, his nose right up against the fabric, and stay like that for a few seconds to get an immediate heavy hit of your scent, the dampness of your panties enough to drive him wild before even getting a proper taste

౨ৎ one time he pointed at your panties that were crumpled on the floor next to his bed and said "I´m keeping those by the way. need a reminder of that sweet juice of yours until youre back here" so you joked and said he could keep them for good if he gave you money to buy a new pair, but he actually did it and told you to buy a color or fabric he hadnt seen you in before, to surprise him next time

౨ৎ hed never be weird about you using toys or masturbating frequently, even while youre back home and are having sex regularly with him, he wants you to feel as good as possible, all the time, so if you enjoy jerking off a certain way and he maybe even gets a front row seat to it as well sometimes? hes in heaven. you playing with your pussy for him to see, thats a night to his liking, doesnt even need to lead to sex, it usually does of course, but hed be glad to just let you go to town on your own and be an eager witness and supporter, stroking your back, caressing your hips and thighs, kissing you all over as you get yourself off <3

౨ৎ he loves to rub his tip over your wetness before he inches himself in. its never a long ordeal because he doesnt like to tease you to a point where it feels cruel but it just feels so fucking divine to him, having his throbbing tip gather up all that thick velvety wetness, also loveees when youre on top and just slide your folds over his dick before taking it inside, nearly loses his mind whenever you do it like that, grinding yourself over his shaft before you relieve him from the tension and sit down on him, he curses under his breath and shuts his eyes and groans like noboys business...

౨ৎ he gets so hard from giving you head that it almost hurts at times... so he might just pull his dick out and jerk himself off when it gets too intense, humping his own palm as he finishes you off with his mouth, pathetic as hell but so fucking hot the way he groans and cums right after you ride your orgasm out against his tongue

౨ৎ sometimes when hes over at your place to see your dad and you happen to be there, it takes all of his willpower not to drag you into the bathroom to touch or tongue-fuck you especially! when youre sitting there all pretty in your summer clothes with your thighs exposed, or your midriff/lower belly showing, not sitting like a lady but with your legs far apart and relaxed, in a way that would allow him to get on his knees and have his way right then and there... poor man struggles to string together a proper sentence when youre in the room like that, sweating through his shirt in a way that makes your dad refill his drink, you only grinning to yourself and torturing him for a moment longer before you say bye and head out of the day, already imagining what hes gonna do later on

౨ৎ to put it plainly: Joel always always always wants a taste. no matter where or when, the moment your affair started, he knew he’d never be able to get enough of it, and he is glad to live in that constant state of desire after years of being numb in that regard, you woke him up again and at his age it felt like a miracle to experience the kind of sex and passion he could have only dreamed of when he was younger

౨ৎ he sometimes almost fucks up and moans "fuck baby I love you so much" or something similar when he’s deep inside of you because it all just feels too good, the feverish rush of your sacred intimacy will push those words to the tip of his tongue, he always swallows them a second before its too late or kisses you to stop himself from blurting it all out

౨ৎ you can feel it though, that he loves you. deeply so. that youre not just a hookup for him, the same way he isnt just that to you, you can feel it whenever youre in the throes of passion with him: that even though you two are a secret and wont ever be more than that, Joel will always cherish you and care for you and be right there to please you if your future boyfriend/husband ever decides to neglect his duty of getting on his knees and worshipping his woman the way she deserves ;)

౨ৎ he’s already going to hell for sleeping with his best friends daughter, so he’d have no problem giving her exactly what she needs one more time, or a few more times.. if she ever decided to come back to him down the line, not his fault that tasting an angel like that might make him a corrupted soul - he’d take having your soft sighs in his hear, your warm lips on his face, your sweet honey coating his mouth and fingers, over having a clean conscience, any. damn. day.

[spatialwave]

just one more.

➸ ask: “Hey! How about “one more kiss, please” from the prompt list for Jayce. I just need him desperately yearning for reader” – ➸ pairing: jayce talis x gn!reader ➸ word count: 1.3k ➸ tags: mdni! fluff, kissing, yearning, mutual pining, gender-neutral reader, no mention of y/n. ➸ notes: tysm for asking! ask came from this prompt!

You couldn’t count on ten fingers how many nights you dreamt of Jayce Talis, the Man of Progress himself. The image of him rattled through your mind at every waking hour, that stupid smile you always wanted to wipe from his lips with your own. 

What you hadn’t known was how he reciprocated the sentiment. Jayce would find you at your workstation, dirt on your face and welding goggles on as you carefully put together pieces that would host the hextech gemstones for further research. You had become a treasure to him, someone he could rely on when his days were busy, which were more often than not.

There were plenty of times you hadn’t been aware of his presence, he would stand in the doorway watching you work. Hearts for eyes and forcing himself to turn away before his heart ached too much, knowing that you weren’t his.

He yearned for you each day, staying up into the late hours, wondering if you felt the same.

How could you? You were too…perfect. 

It was the night of one of Piltover’s illustrious charity events that brought in only the richest of citizens. Any and all who put in their well-earned money for the academy, and you, had been invited by Jayce himself. Viktor had decided against it, not so much inclined to spend his night at another event when he could be spending his evening in the lab with Sky.

So, you took his spot – and you did not belong.

With your hand wrapped around an empty glass which once held a darkened liquor, you stood off to the side in the large area that had been decorated so elegantly. The tunes of the live music and sounds of chatter filled your ears, eyes looking amongst the swarm of rich Piltovians sharing conversation about gods knows what.

Jayce had been everywhere and nowhere, the Golden Boy was easily the most important icon of the evening. Everyone wanted to talk with him, ask about his research and his plans for improvement of the city. 

It was irritating to be stuck alone, but at least the invitation filled your stomach with top-shelf food and liquor you wouldn’t be able to afford yourself.

There Jayce stood amongst a group of rich folk, eating him up, just like you knew they would. He was surrounded, a big smile on his lips as he moved his way through each conversation with his natural knack of charisma. You wondered what he was talking about, watching his lips move as he spoke so goddamn passionately, hands flying with each word. 

His eyes connected with yours at one point, lingering on you for a quick moment with that stupid smile, before his attention was enraptured by another generous donor.

After a few more minutes of watching, you gave up. There was nothing else for you here.

Footsteps clicked along the surface of the tiled floors, the empty halls more inviting than the gala ever was. Your fingers dragged along the surface of the brick walls, the liquor having left you in just the perfect amount of bliss as you made your way home, knowing you could sleep the next day away.

“Hey!” A voice called from behind you, startling you with a soft gasp.

You snapped your head around, eyes widening when they settled on Jayce hurrying down the hall behind you. He wore a smile, wearing too fancy of clothing to be chasing you down.

“Why are you leaving?” He asked once he reached a few steps away of you, breathing a bit heavy, “Sorry… out of breath,” he chuckled through deep inhales, “I didn’t think I’d catch up to you.”

The thumping of your heart against your rib cage didn’t go unnoticed, stilled in silence over the fact that he chased after you. A tiny smile spread across your lips.

“It’s not really my style,” you finally replied, hands landing on your hips, “why do you care if I leave?”

“Why do I care?” Jayce’s eyebrows furrowed together, “because I invited you here. I… I want you here.”

You hated how sweet he was.

“You’re a busy man, Jayce,” you smiled, offering a slight shake of your head as you stepped toward him, better seeing him under the dim lighting of the empty hallways, “I’m not too fond of just standing around watching you get swarmed by every wealthy person from Piltover. As inviting as that sounds.”

He snorted out a laugh, eyes watching you closely as you stepped directly below one of the overhanging lights. It illuminated your features perfectly, made you appear like a glowing angel.

“So, you’re just going to leave me here by myself?” He asked, those big eyes of his making you want to melt right into the floor beneath you.

You laughed in disbelief, raising an eyebrow, “you’re not alone.”

“But I want you here,” he was adamant, eyebrows furrowing again, “come on. It’s not that bad.”

“You’re annoying,” you groaned, trying to act like this was worse than it was. You had a flair for the dramatics when you needed to pull something out from your sleeve, “I’ll see you tomorrow anyway, it’s fine,” you brushed him off with a wave of your hand, “plus, you’re going to be busy all night, so if I stay, I’ll end up getting drunk by myself and that’s never turned out well for me.”

Jayce’s eyes flickered over your face, studying your expression carefully. Neither of you had realized how close you had gotten, close enough that he could tuck back some of your hair behind your ear. The movement of his hand made you both tense up, a fleeting touch that he hadn’t realized he’d done. Fingers brushed against the shell of your ear as he pulled his hand away, redness tinting his cheeks.

“Oh, uh–” he forced out an awkward laugh, eyes now looking anywhere other than your face, “you had some hair… in your face.”

Lips parted, but you couldn’t speak. His touched left you stunned in place, eyes big as you watched him. You watched as his eyes focused somewhere along the walls, hands balling into tense fists and teeth biting at his lower lip.

Maybe it was the alcohol, or the late hour of the night, but you hadn’t the slightest care in the world anymore. All you wanted was Jayce, and it was his fault that he made you feel this way, so you were going to pull him into the mess that was you.

Even if it ruined the friendship you worked so hard to maintain, all these years.

His amber eyes landed back on you when he felt your hands reaching to his cheeks, cupping his face oh-so delicately. They widened as he watched you lean closer, noticing the way your gaze flickered down to his lips he’d been habitually chewing on all evening.

Jayce’s heart fluttered, and he acted on what felt right. Meeting you halfway and sighing when your lips touched after years of imagining what this would feel like. 

Both hands reached out for you, resting on your waist as he pressed forward. The kiss developed slowly, lips moving together a bit clumsily as your patience wore thin. Hands explored each other, touching hips and shoulders, and your tongue slipped from between your lips, and that’s when you froze.

“Fuck,” you whispered as you pulled back, taking a slight step away, “sorry–”

“No, don’t,” he whispered, closing the distance with a forward step until your chests were pressed together. He stared deep into your eyes, his own full of love as his gaze continued to flicker down to your lips that he needed to taste again, “one more kiss… please.”

You smiled like an idiot.

“Just one more,” you murmured, rolling your eyes affectionately, before he pulled you back into another kiss that took the breath from your lungs.

Jayce would be the death of you.

[ot3]

lm sure a not insignificant amount of college kids Are stupid lazy pieces of shit but i also don't think that being a stupid lazy piece of shit is like, a crime, especially when you're twenty. and i certainly don't think speaking that way about people is going to convince them to develop a lifelong passion for learning that's for goddamn sure

[clover-the-awesomest]

And that’s why we need it

The real reason we’ll never get a another Turtles Forever is because if these three met then they would absolutely destroy everything in their paths.

Also they’d verbally eradicate any villain’s self esteem in like 10 seconds.

[smuttysabina]

The Office Problem

(Male Reader x Kiss of Life's Natty, 3.6k words) Tags: Office sex, Office gangbangs, Office relationships, More HR violations than your office handbook has room for, Vaginal sex, Creampies, Oral sex, Natty earns herself a fat juicy promotion, Also wow does she look really hot, Protected sex, Office politics, And a distinct lack of morals

Being a manager could be such a pain. When you were not busy fending off absurd requests from Corporate about the latest techo-babble, you were dealing with enough banal office drama to put a high school to shame. It was frankly surprising the amount of hijinks an office of a hundred workers could get up to, and if the company wasn't paying you so goddamn much you would have resigned years ago rather than deal with it every day. But alas, you always managed to stop yourself from hitting send on your two-week notice by glancing at your check, before sighing and carrying on. This past month had been especially grueling, with the arrival of a new hire named Natty, who had taken over as a clerk from Brenda in HR (who had retired and was now living it up in the Bahamas, and getting gangbanged by her "amigos" every night); and had turned out to be quite the slut...

The morning so far had been relatively tame, with only a handful of tongue lashings and praise to distribute. Frank from Operations had once more been reminded to stop pissing all over the floor, and Betsy from Sales had been firmly rejoined for harassing old mister Shultz about his supposedly monster dong (you had it on good authority that the man was in fact packing, provided you shove several viagra down his throat first). The accountants had been congratulated for somehow conspiring to pay everyone on time, presumably on accident, and the lead janitor consulted regarding the onset of stains appearing all over the office. You therefore had time in your schedule to ask your secretary to call in the newest problem child to grace your loveless little nest, and you idly mute the Teams meeting with the C-suite you were in and jot down some notes while you wait. Five minutes later and the Office Problem flounces in, all silken curves and bubbly youthful energy crammed into an outfit that would have gotten her sent to HR had she not been HR. She was also wearing knee-high heeled boots for some bizarre reason.

One Ms. Natty (nobody bothered to use her last name) languidly slides into the proffered chair in front of your desk, preening at your attention and wiggling her body to better present her assets for your inspection. No doubt her young mind was stuffed full of erotic delusions about what was going to happen in your cozy corner office, but you were quite simply going to fire her skanky ass. It had barely been a month and already it was an open secret that Natty was the office bicycle, which you ordinarily wouldn't have minded, free-use sluts kept morale up, except for the fact that she was unable to control her passions in the workplace. You had walked in on her engaging in sexual activity no less than nine separate times, with different partners during each occurrence no less! And the janitors were, in a word, growing more than a touch annoyed about having to clean up spilled sexual fluids as if they were working at a whorehouse or the like.

The first time, you had found Natty squatting down in the break room, stroking an employee with either hand while sucking them off with an enthusiasm that was dearly lacking in her workflow. Then you had spotted one of the Sales ladies munching on her cunt like she was starving, and the third time you had caught her next to the supply closet getting her shelves rearranged. Natty had also been responsible for the traffic jam around the bathroom last Tuesday, where apparently most of the male office staff had lined up to plow her nubile holes, and next you had eyed her grinding rather proactively on Mr. Shultz's lap (who coincidentally had no pants on for some odd reason). Things had only gone downhill from there, as you had observed her getting spit-roasted no less than twice in a row, before watching her getting made airtight near the printers by the interns, whose youthful gusto had resulted in a truly appalling mess on the floor. Finally, just yesterday you had found Natty elbow-deep in the head of Accounting, who was busy hosing the carpet down with streams of truly noxious squirt. Naturally, she was the most popular employee in the office, and had single-handedly caused a 28% drop in work efficiency.

So, leaning forward in your chair across the wide expanse of your desk, you stare Ms. Natty straight in the eyes, and calmly inform her that you were letting her go. Her reaction was, predictable. The girl starts babbling and bawling, her perfect makeup (god knew how she kept it up while getting fucked all day) smearing as tears run down her face, and she blubbers out a question, "But. But WHY, sir? It's only been a month!" to which you sigh and explain that her distracting the entire office was the issue, and also that her work was also noticeably subpar. Further tears follow, "Is-Is it because you've, um, caught me at work?" Natty sobs in realization, and you are forced to inform her that her promiscuity was not the problem, rather the sheer scale of it; nobody was getting any work done because they were too busy trying to fuck her! You recline back in your chair as your words bounce around her skull, Natty visibly pondering what you said before insight flashes behind her eyes and she gives you a sultry smirk, "Or is it because... I haven't given you any yet?" she beams as a slight flush rises on your face, "Oh, I'm so sorry, of course the boss should have priority! Let me..." Natty smoothly rises out of the chair and starts to saunter around your desk, her wide hips swaying from side to side. Sigh.

Natty perches herself on the edge of your desk, plumping out her bare thighs as she dangles one foot dangerously near your crotch, "So tell me, sir, is there anything I can do to keep my job?" She coos, seductively fluttering her eyelashes over her rose-tinted glasses, "I mean," she runs a hand down her chest to the clench of fabric obscuring her crotch, "You've seen what I can do, so," Natty licks her pouty lips, "What will it be, sir?" Nine times out of ten you would have simply laughed her out the door and told the little slut to collect her things on the way out, but you were feeling particularly... bored. It had been a year or so since you had gotten drained at the office, and you were curious to see if this common cumdump could match the costly escort you had brought in last time. So you roll your chair back a bit, and tersely tell her to try her best, and you will consider keeping her around. Natty's face lights up and she lets out a squeal before composing herself and hopping off the desk and sultrily kneeling before you, "Please, relax sir, I'll do all the work for you. You are the boss after all!" she giggles somewhat nervously before running her hands up your legs and slowly unzipping your pants, slipping a delicate hand inside to pull out your manhood.

With tender grace, Natty leans forward and kisses your cock, gently smooching every inch of it until she unlimbers your balls and gives them the same treatment as well. She looks eagerly up at your stony face for your approval, and when she doesn't find it she hurries along to the messy work of getting you erect. With your member barely stiffening under her demure endearments, she promptly pops your meat into her mouth and starts sucking on it like her life depended on it; which in a sense, it did. Natty's cheeks hollow as she strains to engorge your penis, her tongue lapping desperately at it as it slowly fills her mouth. Just as her head starts to bob though, your secretary knocks on the door and you hurriedly push your chair forward, forcing the young clerk to scamper backwards under your desk, where she retains enough of her wits to continue doing her job. Your secretary pops her head in, glancing around as she looks for Natty before raising her eyebrows in confusion. You maintain your calm as you ease your hips upwards, pining Natty's head against the underside of the desk as you force your length into her throat, causing her to gag as quietly as possible. You roll your eyes at your secretary, waving irritably at the closed door to your private bathroom and informing her that Natty was busy cleaning herself up inside after a substantial bawling. Your secretary snorts in amusement, as the girl in question snorts spittle onto your crotch as she struggles to breathe, tapping plaintively at your leg for you to relent, before telling you to call her when Natty needed to be escorted out and closing the door once more.

Natty was starting to use her teeth to communicate her distress, and so you relax, allowing her to pull up enough to gasp for air as she drools all over your genitals. After several moments mercy, you press upwards again, thoroughly testing her gag reflex as you lazily pump away at her face until her frantic coughing had subsided somewhat. When you finally roll your chair back, Natty stumbles out from under your desk, hacking up reams of spittle before looking blearily up at you, "I-I-Was that good enough, sir? I-I'm better at using my mouth than deepthroating, so can I...?" You flick her concerns away by telling her that it had been satisfactory, but that she needed to make you finish if she wanted to remain employed at this (laughably) prestigious company. Nodding frantically, Natty returns to sucking your cock, and was indeed better at using her tongue than tripping her gag reflex, until she abruptly stops and surges to her feet. She sways unsteadily before unbuttoning her short shorts and pulling them down to her knees revealing tantalizing hints of her dark vulva, "Um," she blushes, "You can use this hole as well, sir. But," she glances around, "Do you have protection? I'm not on birth control so..." You direct her to the proper drawer, and soon cool latex sheaths your erection before she kicks her shorts off and awkwardly attempts to join you in your armchair.

You refuse her however, telling her to clean herself out first, no matter what she claimed, you would rather not be fucking your inferiors semen out of her slutty hole, and she blushes as she leans back against the desk and complies. Shyly, she starts to rub at her clit, absentmindedly groping herself before remembering she still had her shirt on and pulling that off as well to reveal a lacy pushup bra that soon joins the rest of her clothes on your desk. Natty's body was classically curved, with much of her flesh going to her shapely thighs and ample ass, though her perky breasts were not unimpressive as well; even if she did constantly push them up to exaggerate their size. The girl pleasures herself in front of you, and once she has moistened herself up she puts her fingers to good use sloshing expertly into her slit. Judging by the sticky mess coating her fingers, Natty had indeed been truthful when she said that she always used a rubber, and soon she was gazing lustfully at your cock, "Mmmmph," she moans, "Can I sir? Please let me sit on it, I promise I won't disappoint you this time..." And when you nod in permission she hurries forward to straddle you, unbuckling and pulling down your pants as she reaches down and strokes some blood back into your diminished dick until it was erect once more. Then with a sultry groan, Natty sits on it.

Sordid heat douses your cock as it slips into the warmth of Natty's belly, her pussy devouring every inch of you until her vulva kisses your root. Her soft breasts press against your face as she wraps her arms around your neck, she looks breathlessly down at you, "Oh sir! You are so... big! You're filling me up!" Her body shudders as she slowly rises before sliding back down it again, her wet folds dragging along your rubbered shaft as she squeezes you tightly, "Please," she gasps, "Cum in me whenever you want, I'll ride you-Oh! Until you finish!" Natty bounces enthusiastically on your manhood, your crotch soon becoming soaked as her pussy drools down onto it, her hips plying the air as she does her best to work your load out. While her head might have been mediocre, Natty's pussy was snug and wet, and before you can stop yourself your hands move to grasp her cheeks, clenching her ass tightly as she rides you. She gasps at this sign of approval, "Oh, sir! Yes! Use me! You can fuck me every day I promise!" Then she cums on your cock, her whole body quivering as yet more cream splatters onto your skin, and with her face bright red, she leans down and kisses you hungrily. You were not entirely too enthused about it, but Natty certainly was, her tongue shoving its way into your mouth as she grinds needily on your dick.

Seemingly surprised that your cock remained unconquered, the young slut leans dangerously backwards, grasping your chair's arms tightly as she searches for the right angle to finish you off. Sweat shimmers on her tanned skin as Natty pushes herself in desperation, her stomach clenching as it grips your shaft for all that it was worth, "Just. Fucking. Cum already!" she hisses in frustration, before remembering her place and begging, "Please cum in me sir! I'm trying my best here!" And to be fair, her best was starting to work on you, your hands squeezing her butt tightly as your balls laboriously start to rise; until with a grunt you haul her back onto you and fully down upon your cock. Natty gasps in relief and pleasure as you finally give in and empty yourself into her, slamming her nubile body against you as you fill the condom with your load. You stifle a groan as her cunt tries to crush your manhood, squeezing it like a vice as it works out every drop of cum in your shaft. When you are finished, she collapses against your chest, breathing heavily as she recovers, her face nestled against your neck. Once she has recuperated enough, you slap her ass to signal for her to unmount you.

Natty scrambles off you, looking worried, but before you could rise she returns to her knees and starts pulling the condom off for you. She waves the swaying sack in front of her face before giving you a sleazy smile and emptying it into her mouth, swallowing every last drop. Natty grimaces slightly, before leaning forward and cleaning your crotch up with her mouth, her tongue lapping up her own juices, "Did-Did I satisfy you, sir? Please?" Her demureness returns as she looks meekly up at you, pausing in her washing as she awaits your answer. You muse upon it, while she had hardly been the best partner you had been with, it had been reasonably entertaining so... You nod, and grandly inform her that her position was secure, and Natty beams with relief, "Oh! Thank you, sir! Thank you!" and to show proper appreciation, she starts sucking you off again. Your dick was still sensitive from orgasm, so it was not long before the stimulation from her eager slurping has you rigid once more. You sigh in enjoyment, and make the sort of decision that you were paid six figures for. You idly inquire that having saved her job, what would Natty say about a promotion? At which the whore stops, and stares up at you in wonder before a grin breaks through her chaste expression.

Natty smoothly stands and bends over your desk, reaching both hands backwards to spread her cheeks to reveal her flushed slit along with her dusky asshole, "I would say," she purrs, "Pick a hole, sir. I'll be your fuck-slut any day of the week!" Fired by a lust that had been often diminished of late, you rise as well, shuffling closer and slapping your member against her sodden labia, causing her to moan eagerly. You grasp her waist to hold her steady, and shove your cock into her pussy until your balls kiss her clit. Natty groans, "Oh fuck, sir! I can feel you... wait!" She glances back in horror, "You forgot to put the condom on!" Whereupon you smack her rear, and cheerfully inform her that as your personal assistant, she would be yours to use exclusively, and so you would not need to worry about contamination from other employees. Natty's eyes widen as she processes this, before giving in and smirking, "Oh, so I'll be getting promoted from the office cumdump to the boss's personal cumdump?" she shudders, her folds moistening noticeably, "Cum in me raw then, sir. Use me however you want!"

And so you do. The clapping of her cheeks was thunderous, and it was a damn good thing your door was soundproofed for security reasons, otherwise the whole floor would have heard it. Natty moans loudly as you plow her from behind, her walls gripping you all the tighter now that you were fucking her unprotected. If anything, the risk of impregnation excites the slut, and you hear her muttering excitedly under her breath about getting knocked up on her boss's desk. Natty's pussy had been wet before, but now it was downright soaking, her juices running down your thighs as her lips slobber all over your shaft. With the added stimulation of her bare skin upon yours, it was not long before your balls are twitching upwards once more. Natty notices your thrusts deepening, and she eagerly urges you on, "Oh fuck, are you going to cum in me, sir? Please, do it! Make me your slut! Oh fuck I'm going to get pregnant!" she screams as you pound away at her curvaceous rear until with a groan, you empty yourself into her. This time your seed spurts directly into Natty's fertile pussy, slowly filling it with your semen as she shakes in the throes of an orgasm.

When you finally leave the warmth of her body, you stagger backward and collapse into your chair, thoroughly exhausted by your exertions. Natty looks winded as well, but she still dutifully plops between your legs and starts sucking her creamy leavings off of your cock, while your own gift to her drips out onto the carpet. Once she had done a reasonable job cleaning off the worst of the mess, she gingerly rises to her feet, grabbing her clothes from your desk and slowly pulling them on, "So...um," she coughs awkwardly, "I am getting that promotion, right?" You wave in acknowledgement, and Natty smiles smugly, "Also, were you serious about the exclusive thing? Because uh, I am kinda popular..." You consider this, the impact on morale would be significant if the office were to suddenly lose access to Natty's free-use holes, so... You compromise, she could sleep with as many women as she liked, but she could only use her mouth to pleasure men. Natty thinks about it, before shrugging, "Sure why not? Okay so, will you be needing me again today or...?" You dismiss her with some warmth, and once she has finished struggling into her tight outfit (her panties were no doubt soon inundated), she waves in goodbye and saunters out of the door as if she had not just been bent over and plowed like a cheap whore by her manager. Your secretary peeks inside thoughtfully, and when your eyes meet, you can tell she has inferred exactly what happened, and she winks knowingly, wiggling her tongue between two fingers to indicate your shared bond. Was there anyone Natty hadn't fucked?

With a tired sigh you roll your chair forward once more, and start mentally thinking about what excuse you could use to fit another HR manager into the budget, when you realize that while the executive meeting had been muted, you certainly had not been, and your camera had been on the entire time. Utterly mortified, you frantically unmute the call's audio as a dozen somber faces stare back at you from the virtual meeting room. But before you could muster any excuses they break into laughter and raucous cheers, congratulating you on your excellent performance! The C-Suite howl and pound at their desks in approbation, causing more than a few heads to quizzically pop up in front of them before being pushed back down again. You are shocked and more than a little relieved to hear that the executive team had extremely impressed, and were adding you to the fast track for promotions, they needed a man like you who could fuck on the team! After all, nothing was more tedious than having some prissy loser who wouldn't join in the weekly executive orgies! With that stunning information bouncing between your ears, the meeting ends, and you consider just what a morning it had been.

It seems like it would become even easier to resist hitting send on your resignation, mostly due to it being difficult to reach for your mouse while you were busy pumping Natty's nubile pussy full of cum.

[crow-perch]

"We both wear masks to hide the thing beneath. But I'm honest about mine." So uh... while datamining I realized there were an absurd amount of similarities between Hellen and the "Shade" type of enemies?

[my batshit headcannon/theory about Hellen's "curse" below do NOT take me seriously i'm just having fun]

SO: Hellen's mechanics all reside in stalking, causing mass panic and confusion, and just about trying to kill everything instantly. She's plagued with insomnia, and an insatiable bloodlust. Girl eats souls. She's become a mirrored version of her pre-visitor self, essentially. Going from nurturing life through gardening, to cutting down anything in her path, and leaving the land absolutely empty. What other type of enemy shares this narrative motif, both visibly and mechanically? Who appears when you, the player, are low on sleep and stressed to hell and back? The Shades. Look at these fuckers and tell me they don't look familiar

While the red eyes are common amongst shades, they're not mandatory.

And now, Hellen's unmasking animation sequence.

The eyes are completely detached from anything resembling a skull. Like they're just floating behind the skin of her face. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ In their combat abilities, they have a few similarities as well. Single Target/AOE Life Drain (Soul Drain/Feast vs. Life Drain) Mass Confusion/Debuffing (Unmask vs. Shadow Dance/Curse) Shades typically have an attack ranging from 20-40, going up the further you go down into the apartment complex. They have some of the highest attack stats in the game. Not to mention their incredible agility and luck stats making them very hard to land a hit on. They can have the same attack power as the final boss of the damn game, and out-speed it easily. To put it succinctly; they're murder machines. Hellen also has the highest HP and Attack stats out of any companion. Capping out at a whopping 356 and 14 without any modifiers.

Her attack multipliers also get ridiculous on paper. [Note: a.isStateAffected(67) is the ID for the "stalk" status effect] [a.level I presume is just raw attack stat, without the weapon modifier.] [a.atk is melee damage w/ the weapon modifier.]

This is Unmask's buff. The left formula is stalk damage, the second is normal attack. A goddamn x5 multiplier.

This is Stab's formula. Left again being stalk damage, right being normal. Her current attack multiplied by 2, then with 10 added to it, and dividing the enemy's defense by 2. What the fuck.

And this is Massacre. Again, dividing the enemy's defense in half w/ stalk.

Not to mention the increased crit chance she gets on stalked targets. This woman's built to set up kills in one shot. Buy yourself octocook, equip the sewer dagger, proc an acid burn, and let this woman go to town mowing down everything in her path. Seriously, it's fun. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[More into HC territory here] Hellen also hurts herself with her later game abilities. Attacking, healing others, and restoring her own stamina. As if her own physical self wasn't all that important to her in comparison to her companion's survival. Grim Harvest, Grafting, and Pruning respectively. All with naming conventions tied to her hobby. The Debuff she gains after successfully landing her more potent attacks, Fallow Will, also shares in the overall "harvesting" motif. To Fallow a field in crop rotation, is to let the soil rest between harvests. The visitor has completely taken her identity, her passions, her sense of self, and reversed it. How convenient then, that every Shade speaks in reverse as well. Unable to be seen in the light, as any room you enter with one present limits and darkens your sight severely. And now for more of a character analysis that ties in with the nonsense I've just spewed. Her dialogue with other characters implies the nature of her curse is almost like a kind of rot that's taken root in her heart, twisting her identity into something she isn't, and that it keeps her from sleeping. She's plagued with very vivid thoughts of committing brutal acts as well. [Papineau, Audrey, (stream comment I think?), and Hellen's very vivid description of killing the visitor.] Long-term sleep deprivation can have some devastating affects on people. Impaired thought, difficulty speaking, difficulty focusing, impairing your perception of time to be slower than it actually is, and hallucinations. Hellen's dialogue tends to be verrry brusque. She rarely EVER uses conjunctions, and has virtually no commas present. Every sentence is almost an individual thought. She replies only to the prompt given, and elaborates on nothing else. She has the lowest agility out of any companion, starting at a measly 8 when you first recruit her. She has a handful of interactions with other companions that just have her giving simple "Hms" and "Mhmms" in response. I don't think this is her showing disinterest, but possibly an inability to focus due to her sleep deprivation. She wants to remain polite, show that she's trying to listen, but isn't engaging with the other person verbally. [Ernest, Morton] But is Hellen's inability to sleep insomnia, or something else? Because, AFAIK, she's still affected by the sleep status effect. Perhaps she simply has trouble falling asleep on her own, or perhaps Something could be keeping her up? Being able to deal out death so easily, but denied sleep. (Which is a fun narrative to think about imo. I love you, mythology references.) What does that bloodlust sound like to her. Is it just an instinct to harm, or a dialogue? Is it something else entirely? God I hope I can figure out where the dialogue is stored so I can dig up more stuff because trying to find every little thing is difficult.

Anyways, I'm tired. I'll add more thoughts/explanations later if asked. I've been staring at this post for a whole hour, and my thoughts are incredibly disjointed about this. I'm cooked.

[beabadoobiefanatic]

I Want You (She's So Heavy) ✥ Remmick

Chapter 1 ✥The (Un)Welcome Mat

Other Chapters: ✥1 ✥2

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-chapter summary: In which Remmick lays claim to his new fiancée and sheds light on his cruel intentions. .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- chapter warnings: graphic depictions of gore and violence, male-on-female violence, female-on-male violence, mentions/promises of child murder

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- story summary: The Smiths have long borne sons and daughters of hunters for centuries, tracking and eradicating the cryptids that ran through the Mississippi Delta like blood roots; thus, it would only be assumed that [F/N] Smith should take the legacy on as well. However, her passion for music-- her gift and inclination of it ran within her, deeper than any blood and any 'fate', and so she took her bearings up to Chicago, indulging in the sin of the nightlife. But no matter how far she ran, Remmick couldn't get her songs out of her head-- he couldn't ignore a chance to once again be reunited with his own people, a chance only granted through the turning of a Smith girl. And thus, he sought out to take [F/N] as his little pawn, his little tool, and his little wife.

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ- major warning(s): explicit sexual content, mention of the Klu-Klux-Klan, graphic depictions of violence and gore, blood, blood consumption, minor religious imagery and symbolism, gaslighting, manipulation, rough sex, verbal degradation, very minor amounts of period-typical racism

.༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-tags: black! female! reader, F/M pairing, usage of [F/N] [L/N] instead of Y/N, crossposted on Archive of Our Own (AO3), erotica, vampires, southern gothic, angst, comedy, slow burn, forced marriage, strangers to lovers, roommates, (eventual) mutual pining, enemies to lovers, love/hate, awkward tension, Remmick is a cannon mix of offputting and charismatic, miscommunication, pre-canon, alternate universe - canon divergence, hurt/comfort, mental instability, vampire slayers, soul bond, sexual fantasy, rough sex, hate sex, cunnilinguis, irish language

chapter wc: 2,720

fic wc: 2,720

chapters: 1/ ?

chapter publish date: 5/7/25 story last updated: 5/7/25

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

That mojo bag wasn’t worth a goddamn thing; her mother’s roots were so thin you’d mistake them as hair. 

She panted heavily, rolling onto her side as she spat out a mouthful of blood. Her vision was blurred, her ears ringing heavily. No matter how much she wanted to convince herself that her weakness simply came from a lack of willpower, the unbearable tearing feelings of every little muscle in her chest said otherwise. It throbbed and amplified as she attempted to army-crawl away, greedy for air that only stung as it flooded her now sore lungs. Even her coughs felt like an attack, her whole body wincing and convulsing. 

Still, she’d born no tears. Claw marks, kicks, and punches, sure– but no tears.

And like a man who’d just finished having her fill, she too found her limit when her body entirely gave away and went limp beneath her, her cheeks smooshing against her apartment’s living room carpet, her breaths slow and ragged as her head thudded and pounded. 

Just as she’d found a moment of peace or perhaps a small sanctuary amidst chaos, her assailant came sauntering up, stepping over her with his feet planted on either side beside her hips. He came down and flipped her around with such effortlessnes that she almost felt silly for trying him in the first place. She backed up a bit with a great deal of pain, her lips and nose dribbling with blood. And stuck to her chest was a little baggie soaked in blood, unscathed, unlike the one it had been meant to protect.

He’d not gone unscathed. Deep, skin-severing gashes that were just beginning to heal littered his face, his neck split open and actively dribbling liquid that pitter-pattered down at his feet, wetting his good shoes. His left eye was nothing but a gaping hole that let you peek into the frayed, wet flesh of his socket. Despite what looked like man-killing injuries, he was no man, and thus he stood atop her with a smile. Not of perversion and not of amusement– fuck no, she’d easily proven herself formidable and for that she had his respect. So he smiled out of triumph, pride, in a sort of ‘I finally got you without outright killing you’ way. 

He looked to his left and down slowly, spitting a ball of pure blood as he cleaned the remnants off his lips with the back of his hand. He cleared his throat real hard.

“You yieldin’?”

She looked up at him in a hateful silence. She couldn’t properly speak until she’d swallowed the mouthful of her own blood, which ached her throat even further. Her eye had even twitched a little as she winced, but she spat back;

“What it look like?”

The calmness of her voice did not reflect the anger that bubbled to the surface. The giddy white man chuckled at her dry humor, though she was convinced he drew more humor from her misery and the pride he took in the success of his attack. 

He smiled and backed away from her, but not without a quick whim for pettiness. He swung his foot into her knee and watched her lurch forward, immediately regretting the motion due to how the rest of her body tensed. Once he heard what he called a ‘satisfactory’ noise, he nodded to himself with his own approval. He looked down at her and spoke with mock pity. 

“Ah, shit. Well, see– now would be the time to apologize t’ya. As a feminist myself, I don’t particularly believe in pullin’ punches– nor banjos– on perfectly capable women. ‘Specially you. I swear, I tried to take it easy on ya’--”

“Easy on me?” She repeated, scoffing as she looked to her right. The half-split remnants of the banjo lay there as a reminder of what had caused her injury, and it only made her boil more. 

“I know some grown ass men who can't even take a banjo to the head that fuckin’ hard, let alone a young lady” she spat mildly, touching the area of impact with her fingertips, bringing them back and inspecting the blood.

He put his hands up in defense, nodding as he accepted her criticism. He enjoyed his banter with the girl, and so he saw no reason to scare the attitude out of her. Not yet, at least; that always came naturally.

“I promise fo’ God that I did. However, I must admit, I got cocky n’ figured you forgot all that your daddy taught ya when ya moved out here so, I truly didn’t expect sucha fight. Perhaps I panicked a lil’-- overreacted?” 

“What,” she mocked, because mockery was all she’d had at the moment, “you was bein’ cautious? Thought I was hidin’ some kinda strength from ya til’ the last minute?”

“Mmmmaybe,” he chided, “n’ I’d expect you of all people t’know a thing ‘er two ‘bout caution, even though you left a welcome mat outside that there door. I mean hell,” he waved his finger around and gestured to everything– “house smelled like a muhfuckin’ field of garlic ‘fore I came up in here; and yet, you ignored the most important rule: makin’ sure I wasn’t invited in, in any way, shape, or form.”

He thought and stopped himself after a moment of introspection, making a funny face before he looked on apologetically. 

“Huh. Field, that’s a bit offensive, given your people’s history with the word… my apologies, I’ve been so rude, ain’t I? I do hope you know that despite this lil’ encounter, I do in fact happen to be a sympathizer to the struggle of colored folks– ‘specially black folk.” 

“Uh-huh… you a funny motherfucker, aintcha? You must fancy yourself a comedian?”

He thought with a fake and exaggerated ponder, shrugging as he scrunched his face. He broke a smile– 

“Lil’ bit, yeah. I’m glad you agree!” 

His voice was cocky with a deep, southern draw. It had a goofiness that [F/N] recognized in white folks from back home in the Mississippi Delta, except his had a bit of charm to it. 

She rolled off her back and onto her side, lifting herself off the floor to sit up a bit. The taste of copper was subtle in her mouth, but her voice worked just fine. She matched his southern drawl with her own, though her voice was a lot more proper, even if she was fuming. She managed to breathe with more regulation, her shirt clawed halfway to death. She could see a grimace in his eyes as he observed his damage, and although he’d been prideful of himself earlier. he rethought the amount of force he’d used. Now that the thrill of the conquer was over and he’d managed to win their little cat fight, he cursed himself for that fact. 

“Hope you know I coulda ended this a lot earlier,” he said, pacing around her tauntingly— observantly. “Coulda knocked y’out and bit ya, turned ya n’ taken the gift for myself. But nooo, I decided to be civil for once n come to you with a fair offer. I decided to be civil again by not snappin’ you in half like a fuckin’ twig n’ instead, gave you a chance to fight. N’ now, look at how you’ve treated me! N’ these is my good clothes, shit.” 

Her jaw went slack with enraged apallment, pointing her finger at him–

“You came up in my house talkin’ bout marriage– marriage! Holy matrimony with a goddamn demon, don’t that sound a lil’ crazy?! And– I barely even know you! What, cause you left a few gifts on my window when I was younger, I’m ‘posed to shack up with you?” 

The worst of her fate was all out in the open, and that didn’t make her any less horrified. She’d always assumed her family’s culture of superstition was based on nonsensical fairy tales, but because they’d been so scared of sending her off to the big city on her own, she’d taken that bit of culture with her and done everything they’d asked. And although she found the whole thing ridiculous, she too found fear in running away from home, and so she’d easily taken another step to ensure her safety, even if it was from something fake.

Now, that “fake” danger stood before her, clasped in blood and unaffected by all her precautions. She felt scammed, but most importantly, she’d felt scared. 

And now it only worsened; there was more to her fate than a bite. There was another stipulation he had more plans for her, which she couldn’t help but fear were worse than something as simple and (un)natural as feeding. It was a matter of being bound to him, for reasons she couldn’t place. He’d already told her he wanted her gift, but there was no logical explanation in his plight for her hand in marriage. 

He was awfully vague about his motivations, too. He was so nonchalant about the whole ordeal, likely because he knew he held all the power, and to fuss or try to explain himself was simply an unnecessary exhaustion of energy. He was going to marry her, he was going to turn her, and he was going to use her gift for himself. And what could she do? She’d already expelled her arsenal. 

“Well, you could say no,” he reasoned, “but then I’d just bite you here n’ now, and let your family find you and kill ya.”

“They wouldn’t,” she retorted quickly. Too quickly– it made Remmick smirk knowingly.

“Please, you didn’t even believe that one bit. They’d think it a mercy to just kill you rather than let you live as one of my kind. Gon’ tell me otherwise.”

She didn’t even have to think to know he was right, and bitterly she pursed her bloodied lips into a fine line, the blood from her nose dribbling off them and down her chin. She wiped her face with the back of her hand as a bitter silence ensued between the two of them– and when she didn’t respond, the man smiled with satisfaction; a knowing, cocky satisfaction.

“Smart girl. Except, you seem confused about my intentions. Allow me to clarify:”

He looked her up and down indifferently, almost analyzing her, before he spoke up.

“‘S deeper than flesh,” he said, plainly. “I did not go through the trouble that I did to find you just for pussy nor blood, ‘scuse my vulgarity. However, them is commodities I can get anywhere. But you, that gift– that voice?” he whistled. “I mean bea-utiful, truly; can’t find your songs anywhere else– your gift. N’ so, let me tell you how this is gon’ work–”

He knelt to her eye level, getting in close:

“You’re gon pack whatever you may need, n’ leave all the hoodoo-voodoo shit in here; you can gon’ head n’ keep that lil bag, though. Then, you’re gon’ climb in the car, and we’re gon’ pay your folks a lil’ visit.”

At the mention of Remmick coming anywhere near her family, her eyes had shot open. He clocked the fear upon her face and instantly shushed her, watching her face freeze in worry. He paused and almost laughed at how surprised she’d gotten.

“We’re not killin’ em– shit, calm down a lil’! They’re too well-versed for me to not feel a lil’ worried about takin’ em’ on. So, instead, we’re just gon show ‘em you’re in good hands; show em’,” he said, pulling something out of his pocket. When the light hit it just right, a little thin, gold band reflected, as he polished it with his shirt despite the blood. He took her shock-paralyzed hand and awkwardly put the ring on her, feeling reaffirmed in his decisions when he’d seen just how well the damn thing had fit. 

“Show em’ you’re engaged, so you won’t be comin’ round no more, so they can’t come lookin’ for ya when I turn ya, n’ they won’t get suspicious of me. N’ if you give em’ any reason to think the situation is anything but that…” he sighed, “then I’ll kill the youngin’s. Obviously, I know my chances of tusslin’ your whole goddamn family n’ winnin’ are awful slim but, the kids? They can’t defend themselves–”

[F/N] felt a brief second wind at that, the very thought of him even touching her younger siblings (when in fact, he could very easily kill them; they were all but 4, 8, and 12) put such a violent amount of fear and worry into her that hysterics had begun to claw at her. 

“Don’t you fucking dare–!”

“-- Then don’t put me in that position,” he interjected, sternly this time. “Neither of us want it to come to that, so let's avoid that situation, hm? You hear me on that?”

She ignored him entirely; “You trifling piece of no-good horseshit–”

“Are we clear?” 

He came again, more sternly this time as he locked his simmering-red eyes on her, scanning her face for any indication of understanding and thus, submission. He didn’t let up while he watched her chew her lip, and while he watched her eyes gloss over with frustrated tears despite her hardened, angry expression. 

And after a few seconds, without ever looking at him, she nodded slowly. The lump in her throat burned so much that she could barely muster the words, nodding half-heartedly.

“Fine.”

He cupped his ear in her direction. “Might be old but I ain’t hard of hearin’: I didn’t quite catch that?”

Smug motherfucker. [F/N] repressed the flurry of curses, tears, and insults that had gurgled and cooked in her chest, clawing up to her throat in an attempt to get out and attack the vampire. But, she loudly swallowed it down, her voice cracking a bit as she fought to be louder this time despite her restraint. She had to be smart; this wasn’t a personal matter anymore, and she had to be considerate with her words. Still, she couldn’t extinguish her anger entirely.

 

“I said fine. Fine, alright? Fuckin’ fine. The hell else am I ‘sposed to say, no? I don’t got no other options, do I?”

He shrugged, “Coulda’ left em’ for dead; not everybody’s fond of their kinfolk. Just happens to be my luck that you are.” 

She mulled over the gravity of her situation with bitter resentment.

 

She couldn’t stomach the thought, and it had all felt so fictional. For him to break into her little apartment above the jazz bar she’d worked at these past few years and immediately proclaim a wife for himself simply because she’d lost a fight. She bit the inside of her cheek and wondered, ‘Had I fought harder, would I even have to worry about this?’. What would it have taken to keep her out of this situation between a rock and a hard place? 

The restraints of her situation were not physical. She was not bound by the wrists with rope or rags, and she wasn’t paralyzed either. However, she sat before a man whose maw was soaked in nearly-fresh blood, his teeth razor sharp and his eyes bearing the red gleam of hot, simmering coals. She couldn’t overcome the lump of cowardice in her throat that would bubble to the surface if she confronted the situation for what it was– confront it as an extension of her failure to kill him for the second time. 

But her fate was so obvious; she didn’t even have to say it, and so she didn’t have to believe it either: it simply was. 

He could see the shift in her expression and nodded, unveiling those awful, jagged fangs. And although he would’ve appreciated a sob or a cry of terror, the priceless expression on her face was enough. He reveled in her horror-stricken silence. With a sly, smug eye, he reveled in her recognition of her hopelessness. His chest only brightened as he watched her painfully stumble up onto her haunches and lift herself off the ground, moving limply like a corpse. 

She turned towards her bedroom, almost swaying.

“I’ll do it, all of it– just.. I’ll..” She swallowed hard.

A morbid acceptance burrowed itself in her mind and heart. 

“I’ll start packin’.”

-ˋˏ ༻🎕°⋆༺. ✥ .༻⋆°🎕༺ ˎˊ-

a/n 1: first of all, PLEASE leave comments, them shits were so funny and so supportive when I had posted my OG snippet; I love engagement like that so much! brings me back to the wattpad days of giggling at the comments more than giggling at the story. a/n 2: finna update this bitch w/ a double feature this week (its 5/7/25 rn, let's aim for at least one of those being published by 5/9/25-- you're allowed to *respectfully* ask about updates in case I do fall behind); first, with a contextualizing chapter and then a chapter that gets back in the main plotline.

[fungifanart]

LGBT (Leona's Got Big Tits)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Male reader, Yuu!reader

CW: Smut, blowjobs, boobjobs, Leona bottoms, Reader tops

Word Count: 1K

Notes: Happy Pride Month, y'all! We're starting the month off strong with something short inspired by a certain animation I saw on Twitter. Enjoy!

-------------------------------------------------

When the day came that you and Leona announced your status as boyfriends to his dorm, it was met with a slightly mixed set of reactions.

Now make no mistake, the amount of respect the lion commands over his underclassmen and the respect you've garnered after all the trials this school has put you through meant that they were very supportive. However, there was a certain look that many of them gave you which all seemed to convey the same sentiment of ‘Oh, you poor soul.’

You were rather confused about this at first until you happened to overhear some of them talking about it afterwards.

“Guess we should pray for the Prefect’s asshole, huh?”

“Y'know, I gotta say that I respect the confidence.”

“Just remember, guys: Mum's the word if he has trouble walking in the morning.”

Heh, they'd be singing a different tune if they saw Leona the way you're seeing him right now: The strong, confident, dominant housewarden of Savannaclaw on his knees, both party’s clothes strewn about the floor, and bobbing his head up and down the full length of your cock like it's the only thing he's ever wanted.

“Y'know, I-*huff* I heard some of the others talking about how they're praying for MY asshole…*huff*...I wonder what they would say if they knew just how much you love having my cock in you…” You think out loud teasingly, causing the lion's tail to flick slightly in annoyance as he releases your cock from his mouth with a light *pop* sound.

“Don't see how that's any ‘a their business.” He drawls while lazily raising himself high enough to bring his face right up against yours, “And you should only be thinkin’ about me right now. I know that you're all I think about.”

You feel your face heat up from your boyfriend's sincerity as he brings your lips together, initiating a passionate makeout session while also frotting his hard dick against yours.

Several minutes of making out, frotting and eventually you groping Leona’s ass go by until you can’t take it anymore and push him so that he’s face-up on the bed, “God…seeing you like this…the things I’d do to you, Leona…” You say through heavy lust-filled breaths.

“Y…yeah, Y/n? Ya know I’d try anything once for you, so go ahead and tell me exactly what you’d do to me.” The lion responds provocatively, his voice dripping with equal amounts of lust as yours.

Moving to straddle his abdomen, you deftly trail your hands up his abs until you reach his huge pecs, groping and massaging them as you run your thumbs over his nipples, eliciting numerous delectable grunts of pleasure from him as you open your mouth to speak.

“Ever since I first saw these massive tits of yours, I’ve wanted nothing more than to slide my cock in-between and fuck them raw.” You confess, the vulgarity of your words only adding to the heat and tension in the air.

Leona blinks slowly for a moment and bites his lip at the thought before responding, “You’re really fuckin’ hot, ya know that?” He murmurs, just barely audible enough for you to hear.

Gaining confidence from his arousal, you tilt your head in faux innocence, “So is that a ‘yes’, my love?” You ask cloyingly.

“It’s an ‘I’m kickin’ ya out if ya don’t fuck my tits right goddamn now’, my love.” He orders, his stern tone hiding palpable desperation just below the surface.

With this response egging you on further, you lean down and kiss your boyfriend again, shoving your tongue into his mouth as he kisses back before you pull away seconds later and slather the extra saliva on your tongue all along his cleavage before positioning your cock right between it.

Finally, you let out one big drop of saliva along your shaft and squeeze the soft flesh of Leona’s pecs around it before beginning to slowly thrust your cock, ensuring that the saliva coats it on all sides, the sensation already filling it with intense pleasure.

“*huff* You’re really into this, huh? You’re already leaking down there…” Leona teases as you feel him reach his hands around towards something behind your backside.

“Mm…s-says the guy who’s jerking off as I’m…*huff* doing it…” You point out between moans as your cock continues leaking precum.

“‘m not judgin’, just wonderin’ what it tastes like.” He responds before leaning his head forward to lick the head of your cock whenever you thrust towards him, causing you to let out even louder moans as the pleasure builds higher and higher.

The minutes go by as your pace quickens and the rhythm of your thrusts grows more irregular, with every lick from Leona pushing you closer to your climax.

“Leona, I-I’m…getting c-close…!” You stammer out as the pleasure in your cock reaches its boiling point.

“Do it, Y/n. I want you to cum all over my face.” The lion insists, his voice a low growl that sends one last shock of pleasure through your body and causes you to let loose a loud moan as you shoot a massive load that reaches from his neck all the way to his forehead. As this happens, Leona makes a noise that sounds like a mixture of a roar and a moan as he reaches his climax as well and you feel some of his cum land on your back.

Releasing your boyfriend’s pecs, you scoot back to his abdomen, uncaring towards his cum that gets smeared under your thighs, so you can lean down and get a better look at your handiwork as you catch your breath.

In this moment, Leona makes eye-contact with you and runs his tongue around his mouth, licking up and swallowing the cum that had landed there, “You taste pretty good, Y/n.” He says with a sultry smirk that leaves you with no other choice but to makeout with him again.

—-----------------------------------------------------------

The next day is spent receiving some bewildered looks from the other Savannaclaw members, likely wondering how you’re still able to walk straight, but, again, they don’t know Leona like you do.

After all, you’re the only one who sees him pulling his dorm uniform shirt open to expose one of his pecs with one hand and making a jerking-off motion in front of his mouth with the other from the other end of the room.

[yukalovestopgungays]

Tired of pretending that Mav is the one in the relationship that cannot cook for shit and will burn water if trusted with a pot.

In my heart, Mav, who spent his whole life jumping from foster home to foster home, knows more than just cooking something edible for the sake of not dying of hunger.

Most times he doesn't have the chance to prepare elaborate dishes, so he sticks to the simplest stuff he can cook that will still be nutritious and delicious enough. He likes experimenting, and while sometimes shit doesn't come out right, some other times he learns something new he applies to other recipes.

When he became an adult and started living alone, he lost a bit of his passion for cooking—it became something he did out of need rather than enjoyement.

Then he met Goose. His RIO, Nick Bradshaw, callsign Goose, who could not prepare a singular piece of french toast to save his life—his wife Carole though, bless her heart, was indeed a good cook. It didn't take much for Mav to join her in the kitchen whenever he tagged along the Bradshaws for dinner (and never once during Carole's pregnancy he allowed the woman to cook. Mav took care of everything).

Baby Bradley loves his dishes, but the biggest fan of Mav's cooking isn't anyone else but Iceman. He doesn't know when they got so close—one day they had been getting on each other's nerves, and the next one Mav was cooking for him.

And no, it's not that Iceman can't cook either. He can, he truly can, but he hates it. If he can get takeout instead of making his own meal, he will. His fridge has just the right amount of food for a midnight snack and copious amounts of the booze that everyone in the Navy seems to drink (unlike the very expensive bottle of vodka Iceman has stored under his bed. Just for safekeeping, he says. Can't let Slider get a hold of it).

So when Mav actually cooks for him (and it's the best goddamn meal he's had in his life, but he'll jump out of the USS Enterprise before admitting it out loud; to Mav, no less), Iceman can't help but crave more. He tries not making it too obvious, but he keeps coming back to Mav when he's craving something appetizing.

And Mav actually cooks for him. Ice doesn't want to dwell on it too much, but he seems almost happy to do so. Happy to cook for Ice, if the cheeky smiles and friendly remarks he gets are anything to go by.

After each meal, Maverick asks him with an almost shy smile for his opinion on the dishes, and Ice can't help the way his heart skips a beat when Mav's smile widens into the brightest thing Ice's ever seen after he compliments Mav's cooking

[dreamsteddie]

Can't Take My Eyes Off You

Written for the @stmarchmm day one prompt “courting rituals” | Tags: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Courting Rituals, Alpha Eddie Munson, Omega Steve Harrington - Also on Ao3

Bat divider -@popmilky | Diamond divider - @inklore

Eddie knows he doesn’t have much going for him in terms of mating material.

Despite presenting as an Alpha early at age twelve, something that should have given him some kind of status in a town like Hawkins, there’s always been something about him that makes people turn their noses up at him, close doors in his face. He’s kind of wishy-washy when it comes to the things he’s not passionate about, he smells like wet pavement and cigarette smoke, and can’t for the life of him seem to graduate high school.

He also can’t grow a beard, can’t remember to separate the darks from the lights, can’t tie his shoes without using the bunny ears method, can’t hop in place and rub his tummy, can’t- 

Well the point is, there are a lot of “can’t”s in his life and never a whole lot of “can”s

The one thing Eddie can do without a shadow of a doubt is pursue delusions of grandeur with a single-minded determination. No matter how hard this shit-hole town and all its designation-obsessed inhabitants have tried to beat him into the dirt over the years, he’s never let go of his dreams. Some day, he’s going to play songs for the entire goddamn planet, making millions of dollars off lyrics inspired by all the games and books that have gotten his head shoved in the Hawkin’s High toilets over the years, and Mayor Kline will have to give him a key to the city while Eddie Munson, town freak, gives him the middle finger.

And, if all the stars align and the Big Guy upstairs he doesn’t believe in does him several solids, he’ll be doing it with Steve Harrington standing by his side.

The guys think he’s crazy—Eddie thinks he’s crazy—but Eddie is determined to give his all into courting Steve Harrington before their shared senior year ends. He’s, by and large, the most eligible Omega in all of Hawkins, even with his recent breakup with Nancy Wheeler under his belt. No amount of ditching the popular crowd, adopting a bunch of children, and becoming best friends with band geek Robin Buckley has been enough to deter the Alphas of Hawkins High, even if some of them won’t admit it.

Eddie takes great pleasure in watching every failed courting offer. Steve has always been picky about who he lets take him out, but he hasn’t taken up a single Alpha’s offer since Nancy and the rejections are getting more brutal by the day. Eddie suspects it’s Robin’s influence and if that is the case he needs to thank her profusely because Eddie goes a little weak in the knees every time he sees Steve literally turn up his perfect nose at an offer.

So, the odds aren’t looking good. Steve is picky and Eddie is famously a poor, nobody freak, not the kind of guy with the resources to properly woo a guy like Steve, but what Eddie does have is a lot of passion and a strong desire to prove himself. 

So Eddie has a capital P Plan.

“Hey Buckley,” Eddie says sliding up to the girl where she’s packing up at the bleachers after practice. She gives him a scrutinizing look and clearly finds him lacking, squinting her eyes at him like he’s a little bug landed on her shoulder. Irritating and suspicious. Which, rude. “I was wondering if a fine lady like yourself would happen to know what one Steve Harrington might be hoping for in a courting” Robin clearly wasn’t expecting him to come right out and ask, her blue eyes going wide.

“What the fuck, Munson!” She crows, clearly embarrassed by his lack of tact.

“What!?” He fires back, not understanding what the big deal is. He wants to court Steve and Robin is the best source of information on how to go about it.

“You can’t just ask that, you doofus,” she hisses, lavender scent going smokey like brush fire.

“Why not? I want to court him, like, publicly. Everyone’s gonna know in a couple weeks anyway. Shouldn’t you be glad you’re the first to know?” He huffs. He knows it’s not exactly the done thing to go around telling people you’re going to court someone. You’re supposed to be delicate. Hint at it and build up little courting gifts and don’t look anyone in the eye. It’s dumb as hell and Eddie wants no part of it. Besides, so far as Eddie has seen, that method hasn’t worked on Steve anyway. Eddie may as well go about this in his own way, which includes getting insider information.

Still clearly not impressed, Robin says “You? You want to court Steve? Resident anti-conformist, jock-hating, Eddie Munson wants to court Steve Harrington. Why?” Her tone is clearly disbelieving, which, again, rude.

“Uh, I mean, have you seen him with those kids? He’s wicked hot with that whole mom thing he’s got going on.” At that, Robin gags. “And, I mean, I know he’s a jock but he’s also an Omega and he pretty much said fuck it to Hawkin’s High when he presented and refused to give up his position as captain. That was super fucking metal,” he says all earnest.

“And I like the way he smells, like a fresh cinnamon roll. And we shared an English class once and he asked me about the doodle of a Beholder I worked on instead of taking notes. And I know I’m not exactly a prime Alpha but I don’t think that really matters. At least not to me. I want to kiss him and make sweet love to him and have babies with him and -” Robin cuts him off with a hand over his mouth.

“Ok, I get it. You like him.” She says that, but she’s still looking at him like she can’t figure him out. “Alright…I don’t know if I like you Eddie but I’ll throw you a bone. Just one, got it? And if you fuck it up, I’m not helping you again.” She says, waiting for him to nod before removing her hand from his mouth.

Eddie takes a deep, overdramatic breath in like he’s just breached water. “Got it.”

Robin takes a deep breath of her own. “Steve’s been propositioned for courting 19 times since he presented and he’s only said yes to one. One-off dates not included.” She hasn’t stopped looking him straight in the eye, making sure he pays attention. “Nancy gave him a set of handwritten notes for history because she noticed he was struggling. All the other Alphas got him fancy jewelry, useless house stuff, and generic valentine's day crap.” With that, she gives him one last, long look before grabbing her trumpet and leaving, the sound of metal clanging under her feet following in her wake.

“Thanks, Buckey!” He calls out, waving his hand wildly at her retreating back. She ignores him.

Well, no matter. He’s got a courting to plan.

The thing about courting when you have $3.45 to your name after rent and gas is that you have to get creative. Which isn’t a problem, Eddie breathes creativity. If he wasn't already “The Freak” he’s sure he would be Eddie “The Creative” Munson. Really, it has a nice ring to it.

The problem comes with making something with $3.45 that is also a worthy courting gift for Steve Harrington. Which, given Robin’s tip, might not be as big a concern as he would have thought. But even if Steve would be happy with a heartfelt love letter and those peanut butter brownies Eddie knows he likes, there’s a part of him that wants to blow every other Alpha and Beta that came before him completely out of the water. Maybe especially Nancy Wheeler.

Sue him, he wants to be the best.

Which leaves him with the option of a gesture. Eddie loves a gesture, but this one is going to require some help. Luckily, Eddie knows where every gang of geeks in Hawkin’s makes their dens, even if they’re not his gang of geeks. It comes with being Head Freak. It’s his responsibility, really.

Which is how he finds himself in the Hawkins Middle AV club room being stared down by a bunch of beady-eyed thirteen year olds on the verge of presenting. Jesus, these kids are intense.

“So yeah, that’s what I’m planning,” he finishes explaining. Would it kill them to look a little impressed? He’s pretty proud of it himself. Instead of sharing looks of awe, the six of them share looks of judgement between them, obviously having a silent conversation between them like some kind of hive mind. Eddie will never admit it makes him sweat a little bit.

“You want to ask to court Steve. Steve Harrington?” the tall, skinny one asks like he can’t believe it. Eddie doesn’t know if the disgust is for him or for the Omega. Either way, ouch.

“Yes,” he replies, sweating a little more. They all share more looks, the redhead in particular is looking at him like he’s gum stuck on the bottom of her shoes. 

“Why?” The curly one asks, firm and more seriously than any kid that dorky looking should have any right to speak. Seriously, he looks like a poodle in a Star Wars shirt and a trucker hat. But, Eddie knows enough about Steve to know that these are his kids, his pups, and despite how much it chafes him to have people continually asking why he wants to court Steve, like it isn’t obvious, he knows these pups are just looking out for their pack Omega.

With a deep sigh, Eddie explains for the second time in less than a week, everything he loves about Steve Harrington. At the end of his speech, the pups stare at him for a long moment before simultaneously turning their back on him to form an honest to God huddle. Seriously, the hive mind thing is looking more and more likely. Maybe he should use this for a campaign. Very Children of the Corn.

While Eddie is lost in his musing, they seem to come to some kind of conclusion, breaking up and returning to one solid, unbreakable line. It’s the other girl, hair short and at that awkward growing out length that Eddie knows all too well that steps forward. All these kids are intense, but there’s something especially severe about her, something Eddie only half recognizes.

“We will help you,” she says, quiet and solemn. 

This is going to fucking fantastic, Eddie thinks, wild grin splitting across his face.

It’s embarrassingly easy to sneak a band of six middle schoolers and one elementary schooler into the school after hours. The kids met him outside the building just at exactly 4:00 PM the Friday after their meeting in the AV room just as they planned. The addition of the feisty ten year old was unexpected, but she proved herself invaluable in charming the one teacher that stopped them on their way to the radio room, spinning some tale about being so excited for higher learning that they wanted to explore the high school. Eddie thinks Erica Sinclair should run the world.

The kids are a well oiled, if slightly annoying, machine. As soon as Eddie pops the door open they’re getting to work figuring out how the PA system works and how long the range is. Dustin and Lucas insist that they move the entire unit closer to the field, and Max and Will are quick to source a cart for the whole thing. In record time they’re all piling into the coaches office, the one with a clear view of the basketball court where the team is running their Friday drills. Honestly, it feels a little like they’re highjacking Eddie’s plan, but the smiles on their face and their puppy sweet excitement softens the blow a little.

“You ready?” The curly haired one, Dustin, asks while offering him the mic.

“I was born for this, Dusty,” he says, snatching the mic out of his hand and taking his place outside the main gym doors.

Despite what he said, Eddie is nervous. He shakes his hands and bounces in place, trying to shake it off. Before he’s ready, he hears the slightly crackly jazzy intro pouring through the speakers. He counts his beats, waiting for his que. He spent hours planning this, recording the background music with the band, turning the lyrics over and over in his head, even practicing his grand entrance. He’s as ready as he can be.

God, he hopes this works.

And there’s his que, that little pause in the music just enough time for him to push open the doors to the main gym with all his strength, relishing in the dramatic banging sound.

All eyes are on him. Steve’s eyes are on him.

You're just too good to be true,

Can't take my eyes off of you,

He sings as he walks. All the activity in the gym has come to a halt, everyone too confused and curious to stop it. He’s looking right at Steve, who turns his head like he’s expecting to see someone else behind him. He’s so cute, Eddie wants to eat him alive.

At long last love has arrived,

And I thank God I'm alive,

You're just too good to be true

Eddie knows he doesn’t have a lot of time, any moment now principle Higgins and his one security lackey are going to bust through the doors to find out who stole the announcement equipment. This is the moment, the one that needs to count. Eddie saunters right up to Steve like his heart isn’t trying to beat out of his chest and kneels down like a knight to their king. He takes his hand, and Steve lets him as he sings the next line looking right up into those beautiful hazel eyes.

Can't take my eyes off of you.

He turns the hand in his own over to expose the Omega’s wrist just as the music pauses and presses a soft, lingering kiss to the gland there. A courting kiss.

Almost like he planned it, the doors burst open a second time revealing the fuming face of Principle Higgins and his goon. He turns a manic grin Steve’s way just as the music picks back up, cutting straight to the chorus. He presses one last kiss to Steve’s wrist and takes in the way his pretty, pink lips are parted in disbelief, eyes wide and then he’s running.

I love you baby,

And if it's quite alright,

I need you baby,

To warm the lonely nights

Let it never be said that Eddie Munson, for all the ways he fails to be the ideal Alpha, doesn’t have a hell of a lot of stamina. He’s been a proud runner all his life, and he’s using it to his advantage today to put on a show. He’s singing and he’s running as Higgins and Officer Jerry chase his tail like they have any hope of catching him when he doesn’t want to be caught, when he can see the most beautiful boy in the world laughing at him in disbelief as he ducks and dodges around the court.

But even Eddie has his limits and, like he said, he planned this to a T. He can feel himself running out of breath but he refuses to call it before the climax. He’s stomping his way up the bleachers, making a show of going between the rows dancing like he’s in an old hollywood musical. Higgin’s is closing in, but there’s now way he’s getting caught. Not today. He puts in a burst of speed, leaving them in the dust and putting himself right at the top of the wooden stands, singing directly to Steve who is absolutely glowing on the court.

And let me love you,

Baby let me love you…

The music gives one last swell, the Corroded Coffin of two days ago pouring their heart out for the Eddie of today. The music comes to an abrupt halt, the gym very quickly filling with laughter and applause. The kids are screaming their heads off in the office, loud enough to draw Steve’s attention to where they can be seen through the large window. The joy and disbelief on Steve’s face makes all of this worth it, no matter what happens next.

Eddie wishes he could relish in it longer, but the goon squad is gaining ground fast and he has one last message to give before he hauls ass into the next phase of his plan. He starts inching his way toward the exit, not taking his eyes off Steve as he goes. He needs him to hear this.

“Steve Harrington, it would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating. Meet me at the lake at seven if you’ll hear me out.” And with that, he’s gone. He wishes he could stay to see his reaction, but he’s out of time.

He pushes through the emergency exit to the sound of hollering and clapping, all he can do now is commence with phase two.

Phase two mainly consists of picking everything up from the trailer, changing into his nice clothes, and heading toward Lover’s Lake to set everything up.

Eddie thinks this is the most nerve wracking part of the whole plan. In many ways, the whole big performance was the easy part. Eddie loves to perform, eats up the attention like a cat laps up milk. This, the full bearing of his heart to the Omega he wants to spend his life with, is far scarier than anything else. Here in the back of his van, the paper hearts and pillar candles, hand-picked daisies and hand-made peanut butter brownies, leave him completely exposed.

He wonders if Steve will show up.

He wishes he didn’t set up so god damn early. The waiting is excruciating.

The Alpha paces around, adjusts the blankets on the bottom of the van and then decides they were better before, and checks his watch every half minute like it will make time move faster. He sits and watches the hands turn from 6:59 to 7:00. Maybe Steve won’t come. Maybe this was all for nothing and he’ll have to go back to school on Monday and pretend like he isn’t heartbroken.

His watch continues to tick. 7:03, 7:07, 7:10. He’s getting ready to pick it all back up when he hears the muffled sound of tires on soft dirt. Suddenly, his heart is in his throat as he watches the distinct headlights of his favorite Beamer turn into the clearing.

Eddie scrambles to his feet, he has a plan to carry out.

He watches, heart in his throat as Steve parks. Watches as the door opens and Steve emerges, a sweet, sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry I’m late.” Steve looks like a dream. He clearly went home and had a shower and a change of clothes. He’s wearing light wash jeans that hug his thighs and a soft looking, deep red sweater, the collar of a white dress shirt peeking out from underneath. He’s dressed up for Eddie.

There’s a long pause where Eddie forgets how to speak and Steve just stands there, clearly waiting for Eddie to make a move. Eddie comes back to himself all at one, shaking his head hard like a dog, making Steve let out a startled laugh. “What the hell?” He asks, not mean, but bemused. 

“My deepest apologies my liege, I was simply stunned by your beauty,” he says with a half bow, extending his arm for Steve to take. “It is my pleasure to welcome you to Cafe Munson, the finest pop up restaurant this side of Indiana.” It’s goofy and a little ridiculous but Steve takes the offered arm with a little smile, sending a pleasant jolt through his body. 

Eddie leads Steve toward the open back of the van, watching him intently as he takes it in. He gets to see as the Omega’s eyes go wide, mouth parting in a little gasp. When he turns to look at Eddie, he’s already looking back. “You did this for me?” He asks, wonder coloring his voice. All of a sudden Eddie feels a little shy, a little sheepish.

“I know it’s not much, I’m not exactly liquid at the moment, but I wanted to do something nice for you,” he says, unoccupied arm reaching up to tug a piece of hair over his mouth. Steve looks at him for a long moment before turning back to the van. There are blankets everywhere, pretty much every one from the house plus a couple he nicked from Gareth’s house after practice. The emergency pillar lights from the pantry give the space a soft glow, paper hearts hang from string from the metal roof, and a repurposed laundry basket full of tupperwares and miller lites sits in the center.

“It’s perfect” Steve says, and Eddie can’t help but believe him. Not when his scent is blooming, cinnamon roll sweet, right under Eddie’s nose.

Eddie leads him to the van, gives him his hand to help him into the back. He takes a moment to take it all in, Steve Harrington settling into a date with Eddie Munson. It’s his biggest dream come true. 

He climbs in after the other boy and starts pulling out tupperwares. Steve has settled in to lean on the wall of pillows Eddie constructed for just this reason, pulling a blanket over the both of them when Eddie settles in next to him. Steve laughs with every overly dramatic introduction he makes for the food, and Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever been this warm. Neither of them brings up why they’re here, the underlying meaning behind it all. They dance around it, laughing about the kids, Steve’s sports and Eddie’s games, the look on Principle Higgin’s face when he burst into the gym earlier that day. The whole place smells like cinnamon and smoke, Eddie doesn’t think there’s a better smell in the whole world.

They don’t say a thing about courting or mating or scents until they polish off their cold pasta, courtesy of Wayne, and Eddie pulls out the last tupperware from the bottom of the laundry basket. “And for dessert, may I have a drumroll please….” Steve rolls his eyes but smiles as he complies, drumming a little beat with fingers on the side of the van. Eddie pulls out the container with a flourish, “The finest peanut butter brownies $3.15 worth of ingredients from Melvald’s can get you.” He expects laughter, maybe some light teasing as Steve has been shown to enjoy throughout the night, but all he gets is silence. 

He worries, for a moment, that he got it wrong. Maybe Steve doesn’t like peanut butter brownies. Jesus H Christ, maybe he’s allergic to peanuts and Eddie has just massively fucked this up. He’s getting ready to spiral and try to fix it when Steve speaks, voice soft in a way Eddie can’t place.

“Those are my favorites,” he says. When Eddie is brave enough to look at his face again, he’s met with wet, adoring eyes. Eddie doesn't know if anyone has ever looked at him like that before. Like he was something magical. Something special just for them.

Eddie clears his throat when Steve doesn’t say anything else. Just keeps staring at him like he’s waiting for something big. “Yeah, yeah I know,” he says, bracing himself for what comes next. “I uh, I saw you buy some at the club fair last year. You bought three of them and then came back for one more before they closed the booth.” It shouldn’t be such a big admission, but it feels like he’s just handed Steve his heart on a silver platter.

“Eddie?” Steve asks, turning toward him fully.

“Yeah?” Eddie asks, sitting up so they’re eye to eye.

“What you said, on the basketball court, will you ask me again?” He’s looking at him with so much hope in his eyes, Eddie almost feels like he could choke on it. Instead, he focuses in on the perfect scent of the man next to him, breathes steadily in and out.

“It would be the honor of my life to court you with the intention of mating, Steve Harrington.” As he says it, he reaches into his pocket for his last offering, his hail mary pass, his death saving throw. It’s a silly thing, cost his last 30 cents at the stationary store, but he was listening to Robin on those bleachers that day. Knows that the gesture and the picnic are all well and good, but what Steve has been missing with all those other Alphas is someone who notices the small details and holds them close. Someone who cares about his C+ in History, someone who knows his favorite brownies are swirled with peanut butter.

Someone who notices that he lost his eraser last week and has been meaning to pick up a new one.

Eddie holds out his heart one last time, it’s shaped like a 30 cent eraser. White and covered with a paper band. The best one on the market.

Steve stares at the little eraser like it contains the answers to the universe, and then he’s plucking it, oh so gently, out of his hands and cradling it in his own. Eddie waits, the ball is completely in Steve’s court now, Eddie has played all his cards.

Suddenly, Steve scent starts to bloom, even more than it did when he first saw the van. The smell of sugar, cinnamon, and yeast so strong it makes Eddie feel light headed. Eddie gets a glimpse of the most beautiful smile in the world just before Steve is throwing his arm around his neck, nudging his way into his lap to notch his head right at Eddie’s scent gland. Eddie’s arms instinctually wrap around his back, keeping him close.

“Yes,” Steve says, the sound of it muffled by the soft skin of Eddie’s neck. Eddie squeezes him tight, knows he needs to ask, just to make sure but worried he’s hallucinating. Scared to believe he’s getting everything he’s ever wanted.

“Yes?” He asks, lips trembling where they’ve found their own place at Steve’s neck, wanting to be as close as possible, just in case.

“Yes.” And Steve is pulling back, which Eddie hates, and cupping his face in is hands. “It would be the honor of my life to accept your courting offer, Eddie Munson,” he says, sure and steady and full to the brim of hope.

“Holy shit.” Eddie can’t believe this is happening. Despite all the planing and the performing and the putting his heart on the line he never actually let himself think that this would happen. Never let himself think about how it would end.

Without much though Eddie barrels forward to bury his head back into the Omega’s neck, his Omega’s neck, peppering him with fervent little kisses until Steve is giggling so hard he tips them over into the pile of pillows behind him. Eddie is full to the brim with joy, happier than he’s ever been and all of a sudden he needs to move. Needs to let the whole world know what he’s got in the palm of his hands.

He jolts up with one last kiss to Steve’s cheek, managing a quick “be right back!” before he launching himself out of the van. He hears Steve calling out in confusion, but it quickly turns into more joyous laughter as Eddie steps out of the van and starts jumping in place, punching the air and whooping into the night sky.

“Fuck you Hawkins! I’m courting Steve Harrington! I’m on top of the God Damn world!” He gets in one last double bird in the general direction of Main Street before Steve is calling him back in.

“Ok, you’ve had your moment. Now get your ass back in here and kiss me for real, you dumb Alpha,” he says, laughter still caught in his throat. And really? Who is Eddie do deny a request like that?

So excited for MMM, guys! I won't be doing every day, but I will be doing at lest a couple of full one shots and some of my normal ramblings. (Also, this is the longest thing I've ever written that wasn't an academic paper and I am low key very proud of myself)

[reignpage]

Fresher's Week

An introduction to Eden University and its students Welcome to your first day on campus!

Masterlist for: ❥ Gojo/Geto/Choso ❥ Toji/Nanami/Sukuna

Frat Boy!Gojo

Starting your 3rd and final year of university engaged to a guy you've never met before wasn't ever on your bucket list and yet this is very much your life. You have to make it work. You just have to. But goddamn it, the loser makes it so hard. Every conversation leaves you seething with rage because he's so fucking annoying. Why is he kinda cute though?

Forced engagement

Goth!reader

Frat president!Gojo

Somewhat enemies to lovers

Forced proximity

First Day

Piercer!Geto

You needed a job. The hot, tattooed, motorbike-riding enigma has an opening at his studio. You're surprised he takes you in and keeps you despite all the cups you keep dropping. This is supposed to be professional, boundaries must be respected, but why is he so alluring? Why can't you stop yourself?

Boss x employee

One year age gap

Receptionist!reader

Geto owns a piercing and tattoo studio

Soft!dom

Clumsy, sunshine!reader

First Day

Art Student!Choso

As an art student with a rebellious streak, the campus vandal, colloquially called Cursed Womb, is everything you wish you could be. Everything about his art, his free spirit, his passion draws you in. But you'll never know who he is so you just focus on your art project with your quiet, brooding classmate. They don't bear a resemblance, do they?

Secret identity

Project partners

One-sided pining

Love triangle

Fem dom!reader

First Day

Basketball Captain!Toji

Your boyfriend breaks up with you because you didn't want to put out. How unfair is that? If he was more significant on campus, you'd totally write a scathing article about him on the Bulletin, but he's some nobody. And unfortunately for you, you've got bigger fish to fry: the captain of the basketball team wants you to put him up higher on the Who's Hot List. You might as well get something out of it, right?

Revenge

Shy, quiet girl x popular jock

Friends with benefits

Gossip writer!reader

Campus whore!Toji

First Day

Physics Tutor!Nanami

He's hot, like super hot, and better yet, he doesn't know it. The fluttering of your heart, and something lower, makes you want to get to know him intimately. But he wants to keep things strictly professional. You'd totally respect that, except, you see the way he looks at you. So, whilst you both learn a thing or two, why not have a little fun?

Popular girl x nerd

Mutual pining

Both learning from mistakes

So close yet so far

Insecurities

First Day

Vice President!Sukuna

He doesn't remember what he did. You don't want to remind him. Everything you've done since then has been to forget it all, to prove you're above them, every single one of the people who ever thought you'd never amount to anything. You're ambitious, you're smart, and you're meant for more. You know it. So you can't let him drag you down with him. You won't. Even when his claws dig deep. But why does he make everything so difficult for you?

Most intense story here

Not cutesy/romcom

Revenge

Very dark/read warnings

President of student council!reader

Annoying saboteur!Sukuna

First Day

These stories are told via mixed media:

Smaus

In-between/behind the scene fics

Asks and answers (can be filtered on my page via #modernau)

No requirement to read all the series but recommended to read Toji’s to appreciate Gojo’s and Sukuna’s

All series are completed

Always happy to answer questions at any time

Happy reading!

[hunzzzzz]

OBX TWEETS: part 14 (Rafe Cameron x reader x John B SMAU)

“Stop manhandling the AC controls, you’re gonna give it whiplash,” Rafe swatted your hand away.

“I’m currently marinating in my own sweat over here,” you huffed, yanking your hair up into a messy ponytail that probably made you look like a wet rat. 

Honestly, summer was a mixed bag. Sure, the extra daylight hours were great for avoiding your responsibilities, but the feeling of your thighs doing the sticky-seat tango was a special kind of torture. And then there was your hay fever, that sneaky little bastard that lay dormant until the most inconvenient moment, like right when you were trying to look effortlessly cool on a first date with your nemesis. So far, the pollen ninja hadn't struck, but you were on high alert.

“You’re more dramatic than a daytime soap opera,” he rolled his eyes, though there was a smile playing on his lips. “Give it, like, two seconds to actually work.”

“Two seconds in this mobile greenhouse feels like two years in hell,” you sighed with exaggerated despair, fanning yourself with your hands like you were a Southern belle who’d just heard some shocking gossip. “You’re actively trying to cook me alive in this metal death trap.”

“You have the imagination of a caffeinated squirrel,” he chuckled, glancing over at you.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you scoffed, narrowing your eyes.

“Like what?” he asked innocently, though you could see the mischief dancing in his eyes.

“Like a goddamn pervert who’s mentally undressing me.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, shaking his head and laughing. “Time out. A fucking pervert? You seemed perfectly fine with my face squished between your thighs. But now I’m a pervert?”

You smacked his arm lightly, though you quickly looked away to hide the blush that was creeping up your neck. “You’re so fucking nasty.”

“I was going for ‘passionately persuasive,’” he pouted dramatically, reaching over and placing a hand on your thigh. At that exact moment, the AC finally kicked into high gear, blasting you with a glorious wave of icy air that made every hair on your body stand up in delighted shock.

You somehow made it to the bowling alley without resorting to actual violence. The fluorescent lights were as flattering as ever, and the smell of stale popcorn and rented shoes filled the air. Putting on those ridiculously oversized bowling shoes immediately elevated the whole experience to a new level of awkward chic. And of course, because you were both competitive psychos, a wager was immediately established.

“If I win,” Rafe said, looking up at you while tying his shoelaces with an unnecessary amount of focus, “you have to be… nice to me. For a whole entire day. No insults, no eye-rolls, the whole shebang.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoffed, trying to tie your own laces. “And if I win…” You paused, tapping your chin thoughtfully. “Hmm…”

“What’s your price, princess?” he asked, a knowing smirk on his face.

“…..if I win…… you have to let me have free, unrestricted access to your phone for a full hour.”

“What?” He looked up sharply, shaking his head with an incredulous scoff. “No. Absolutely not. Are you insane?” He dusted off his trousers, standing up with an air of mock indignation.

“Scared I’ll uncover all your deeply embarrassing TikTok dances?”

“No, but knowing you, you’ll probably post some truly heinous shit and get me cancelled so hard I’ll have to change my name and move to Antarctica to become a penguin whisperer.” He was sassier than ever now, planting his hands on his hips with an air of mock outrage. “People still think I’m a Trump supporter because of all the false shit you tweeted about me.”

“Fine, be a pussy,” your smirk faltered slightly when he leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine that had absolutely nothing to do with the questionable cleanliness of the bowling alley.

“You’re on, princess.”

“Okay, that’s enough internet terrorism for one night,” Rafe said, making a grab for his phone as you cackled maniacally, your thumbs flying across the screen as you crafted yet another tweet that would undoubtedly confuse and possibly enrage his followers. Something about pineapple on pizza being a human right seemed particularly inflammatory.

“Hey!” You slapped a hand against his chest, warding him off with a playful shove, your other hand still firmly clutching his precious device behind your back. “Loser keeps their hands to themselves! I won fair and square, remember?”

“I let you win!” he exclaimed, inching closer to you as you scrambled further back on his bed, a ridiculous grin plastered across your face.

“You're just a sore loser. Cry me a river and then build a bridge and get the fuck over it, princess.” you retorted, scooting back until your butt hit the headboard.

Rafe lunged, grabbing your legs and yanking you back towards him with surprising strength. You landed with a soft thump, your back flush against the sheets as he hovered over you, his forearms resting on either side of your head, effectively caging you in his arms. “Hand it over, you little menace,” his hot breath tickled your ear.

“Make me, baldie.” you dared him, your heart doing a little flutter-kick despite the compromising position you were in.

“Yeah?” His lips brushed against yours.

Taglist:

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@countryclubwhore @ayy1234567

If I forgot to tag someone, I'm sorry! pls let me know!

[keferon]

Was there any classes you had to take to be a storyboard artist? I’m thinking of going into a field like that!

I took an online course (Not telling which one because their whole thing significantly dropped in quality over time)

and that was pretty much it. But to be fair - I had decent amount of experience of drawing comics beforehand. It helped significantly because I was already familiar with the concept of visual storytelling through composition and expressions.

I was like. CRAZY passionate about learning to storyboard so I was doing all the homework and watching aaall the lessons and then they were giving optional homework for people who wanted to really lock in and optional-optional little things that no one even expected us to draw. But I was making ALL of them. All the time.

So when the course ended my teacher was like goddamn you got a lot of energy in you huh? And he contacted one producer he knew and basically went "hey I have one student who has zero experience but will work and learn really hard"

And that producer went "Okay I trust you" and hired me without interview haha

[anantaru]

DAY 29 — nipple play

𖧡 — including — neuvillette, childe, kazuha, heizou

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, nipple play, thigh riding, very messy, very teasy and a little mean but we forgive them <3 because they're also cuties

𖧡 — NEUVILLETTE

as if on cue, neuvillette keeps a steady spot on your breasts, flat and soft on top of your nipples as his lips find your neck immediately, passionately sucking on the thin skin before continuing to pinch your tits for a good ten seconds, his hand deliberately slow, teasing as he rolls his knuckles over the buds, featherlight.

you cling on to his chest for your dear life before you're whimpering out a breathy, "feels, feels so good," that slipped over your tongue so very sinfully that you truly accomplished to set him on fire from the inside, no amount of water on this world being able to quench his thirsts, your shallow breathing reaching his exposed collarbones and spurring him on even further.

"go ahead," he hums into your neck appreciatively, guiding his fingers to the spots he knew would make you see literal celestial bodies and determined to make you spiral into your climax, "enjoy yourself,"

neuvillette was quick to slide the flat of his tongue from your neck to your chest, one hand constantly wrapped around your waist so you wouldn't move too much while seated on his lap, however, the other was squeezing at your tits before he abruptly pulls one in his mouth, and you're looking at him with those impassioned eyes— broken pleas with your hips attempting to desperately ride his thigh.

it's frankly, downright impossible to contain your excitement when he circles the tip of his tongue over your reactive nipple now, squeezing the mound in with his hand before groaning into the skin, his voice a little rough, each drag of his hot and skilled muscle making your head spin and thrive off having him so close to you.

but you pull him even deeper into your chest now, it's futile, you fear— you just have to taste him now, you crave him so dearly but neuvillette just wouldn't let go of your chest anymore, smearing the mixture of his saliva across your flesh when he slowly, ever so wonderfully, pops your tit off his mouth with a wet snap before sealing his lips on top of your own, devouring those sweet, high pitched sounds of yours as he hums passionately into you.

𖧡 — CHILDE

"i'm gonna be quick, i promise, fuck— please," childe was turning himself mindless, and it urges him, clouds his eyes with succulent lust as he further loses all remaining composure when becoming one with you.

a continues plethora of mumbling out incoherent words into your neck as his cock pistols in and out, hammers over your ribbed, spongy spots that his skin easily melts into yours— and tonight, he craves all of you, drinks in the passionate whines and sobs and relishes in the way you were clamping down whenever he told you just how easy it was for you to make him lose his goddamn mind.

fuck, you're his singular weakness— childe was very much aware of that bothersome fact, and it was downright frightening to have someone so close be in possession of this much power over his complete mind— despite that, right now it's more exhilarating and pleasurable than actually terrifying, so he lets it go, he ponders, only for now at least.

childe groans into your neck— it's a little hasty, but pretty and angelic that when his whines follow next, you're absolutely done for. he trails his tongue from your neck to your collarbone before settling on his chest, his cock still buried but his pace turns sloppy, a little out of rhythm as he takes one nipple in his warm mouth.

"a-ajax," you gasp, and you're so close, it almost hurts more than it feels good, "ajax, please!"

shattering your nerves at once when he toys with it, moans into your breast and those noises, so heavenly sweet that you ruffle your hands into his hair, your weeping pussy clamping down on his erection as he kisses into your searing spots, again and again, hand in hand with his tongue stroking your nipple while his hand pulls on the other.

𖧡 — KAZUHA

kazuha leans over your lips with his body shadowing above you, your eyes widening when he carefully grinds his clothed erection into your heat before slowing one hand over your chest— and you shudder at the press of his hard length squeezed against your hidden folds, a slight undertone of feverishness battering across your bristling skin as goosebumps bolt all over your spine.

his face pinkens, nearing red when you screw your eyes shut to moan out in pleasure when his lips sealed tightly around your breast, and as tempting as it was to fuck you right here and there, skip this part of foreplay and feel you all warm and wet covering his shaft— kazuha ultimately decides against it, "go on, darling," he encourages you even, glances up at you while kitty licking your bud.

"make me listen to you.. please,"

you gasp quietly, "kazu—" you mewl, "m-more, need— more," squeezing out your trembling hiccups until you can no longer utter out a single word, mewling at the way the tip of his tongue drags over your tits to set the hidden tingles free and let them walk all over your body.

he chuckles darkly, "patience, love," and adds his sharp canines to tease the bud a little, comfortably pressing against the inflamed skin yet not to actually hurt you, of course, rather to spur you on a little, so you'd thrust into his aching erection a little faster, which now, you're more on to hitting his thigh and messily grinding on it.

it's all so messy when you notice your panties sticking in between your folds and his leaky tip almost visible peaking from underneath the waistband, standing tall and aching for you to touch and kiss it.

you mewl at the way the tip of his tongue drags over your tits to set the hidden tingles free and let them walk all over your body.

𖧡 — HEIZOU

"you're so pretty, yeah?"

heizou sighs at you with a cheeky grin, undeniably satisfied with your squirming body wrapped tightly around his waist— and it all happens before you can even register it as he targets your chest, pulling your legs apart further by slanting his complete weight on top of your own, so he could leisurely attach his mouth on to the mounds.

his tongue licks at your nipple, "you know it, right?" he mutters in a low voice, "that you're driving me so fuckin' insane," and before you could come up with an answer at all, he rolls his tongue over the hypersensitive flesh before his fingers sink into your other tit, catching you entirely off guard so your back would arch off the bed and basically squish your tits into his face.

beware, his lips are working slow, do not be fooled— attentively too, in fact, heizou knew what buttons to push to make you lose it, and he's quite mean about it too if you're being honest— you would totally lie to yourself if it didn't make you fume whenever he would overdo it, especially thinking back at multiple times where he had left you begging to fill you up with his cum, almost on the brink of tears from all his teasing luring out the worst, yet also most delicate reactions from you.

your mind was racing wildly when he bit down on your nipple, hollowed his cheeks before sucking up, letting it go with a lewd pop, his enraged erection throbbing painfully against your bare cunt when he thrusts his shaft into your folds hard and punctuated with your fingers scraping against his skull to keep him on your chest forever.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify