#this is just something ive been seeing all over the place so

[bloodfiendarling]

𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓯𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓫𝓪𝓭 𝓼𝓽𝓾𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽

pair — rich student!reader x lecturer!ratio

wc — ~600

contains — dom reader, sub character, cock can be seen as a strap, written with mtf reader in mind, porn with little plot, college au, blowjobs (reader receiving), teacher x student (both adults), blackmailing, dubcon, power imbalance, picture taking

i cant get him out of my head all week .. oh my god . i need a hot lecturer to suck me off bad .. euhg ... gomen ... ive been staring at pics of him .. and now i cant sleep because of him . ratiosama , youre so pretty .. please let me hit . pleas eplease please please plea

also ..! my short requests are back open as of posting this ..!!! :D feel free to hmu on my inbox >_<

you flip through the pages lazily, looking bored out of your mind. the book you were reading.. agh, how boring. you couldn’t understand why ratio found it so interesting. and ah — seems like you found the page he left himself off on.

“so,” you used your leg to push against your professor’s head, making him choke a little before adjusting. as soon as your leg relaxed ratio finally slipped your cock out of his mouth, coughing — you made sure he didn’t move an inch. “what’s so interesting about this book, anyway?”

he stayed quiet at the question. not a talker, huh?

well, you understood his reasons. he’s been failing you for so-called incompetence. purposely screwing you over just because he didn’t like you.. well — at least you managed to get him into his position. choking on your cock in your dorm of all places. maybe not having roommates was a good idea.

all because you had some suggestive pictures of him you got.. with your own ways. not like it mattered how. “sooo, ratio..” placing the book down beside you on the couch, you lean down and grab onto his face, forcing those reddish-pink eyes into a death glare. “you gonna improve my grades or what?”

he just looked at you with that same, pissed off face. the one you’d see whenever you passed him by the hallways. yeah, he really wasn’t a talker. hah.

you sighed, waving your phone at him — showing off those pictures again. you swore you saw his eye twitch. “you want me to spread this, or, like —”

you turned your phone around, adjusting it onto his face — making sure the position was clear as day. dr. veritas ratio, between someone’s, no, his student’s legs to take cock like a good boy. it was almost amusing.

“what are y—” he almost wanted to lash out. but he knew better — not only was his entire career in your hands with just a few pictures, but you had daddy’s influence. you could most definitely ruin his life even more. only blackmailing him was probably a relief with what you could be doing to him. “you gonna comply or not?”

he nods — rather reluctantly. it felt horrible to obey. he wanted to do at least something to somehow defend himself, but it’s not like he can. “so be a good boy, will you, veritas?” prying open his mouth with one hand, the other was tangled onto his dark, purple hair, positioning it better so he could suck you off.

“you pissed me off, you m’gonna make you do more, yeah?”

with those words, you forced him to bottom out on your cock. he choked and coughed — but god did his throat feel good. you could see those pretty eyes rolling back with his brows furrowed, both hands on your thighs to push himself off only for you to get rougher.

you guided his head, bobbing it up and down your dick. even if you could tell he was inexperienced with his mouth — damn it still felt nice. that soft tongue of his swirling around your cock, messily coating it with his saliva. after you’ve gotten a good pace on him, he started doing it on his own accord. it felt kinda nice to be forcing him down your length, but this is fine.

finally — he was able to spit out your cock — coughing again. “aghck– hnnng..♡” suddenly, he looked like he was the one trying to seduce you. looking up with those eyes, drool running down his chin with his tongue lolled out like a pathetic little doggy. you didn’t know — nor care, if it was intentional or not — you could not just pass this opportunity and not snap a pic. was this a prestigious lecturer or a slut? you almost couldn’t tell.

oh you’re sure you’ll be seeing him like this more often.

hsr masterlist ♥︎

[nr1chaedickrider]

Jeongyeon college party fic or anything jeongyeon, there’s barely anything for her tbh 😞

i blame this idea on gossip girl (and the dreams ive been having)

“you look so pretty” she coos, spreading your legs and placing kisses along your inner thigh.

you can't see her face, her hair is dark, her hands delicate.

her tongue meets your clit, licking and drawing eights on it as your hand grips her hair and pulls her closer.

she doesn't stop, her fingers trailing down your naked body as she shoves two fingers in, thrusting them in and out of you as she keeps using her tongue.

you're already getting close, toes curling into the mattress.

just a little more and you would cum, pretty hard even.

but you open your eyes, and suddenly everything is gone.

your underwear is soaked and you sigh as you throw your head back.

it was a fucking dream.

-

“it'll be so fun” chaeyoung says, dragging you to the house of some (seemingly) rich kid.

“you just want to see your crush” you answer.

“oh shut up”

“you know….” she starts speaking, standing right in front of the door, the music inside so loud that you can hear outside.

“the host is really cute” you try to reply to her but she knocks and someone opens the door.

she's pretty, older than you, she smiles at the two of you - and the way chaeyoung gives you a look it seems like that girl is the host.

“come in guys” she invites you both.

so you walk inside, and before you can react, chaeyoung hands you a drink and tells you to call her if something happens.

as fast as it happens, she leaves you alone on one of the multiple couches in the living room.

you decide to drink a little from it, relaxing into the cushion of the couch.

you watch the people around you, they’re loud, partying, dancing, or making out.

your eyes travel trough the scene in front of you, landing on someone.

her.

her legs are spread, a drink in her right hand, her head leaned back, exhaling.

when she moves her head again - your eyes meet.

(you’re usually not good at holding eye contact, but something about this moment - it makes you only focus on her)

it's like everything went silent, you're only focused on her.

you feel your breath hitch, gripping the cup a little too hard.

you decide on being bold, finishing your drink as you put the red cup down, standing up and walking up the stairs.

she follows you, quickly. catching up to you and taking your hand, leading you to her room and shutting the door right after, kissing you with her hands on your waist.

“yoo jeongyeon” she breathes out, moving down to kiss your neck as you throw your head back.

“what?” you ask, voice shaky as you grip her shoulder.

“my name, im yoo jeongyeon” she whispers against your ear, hot breath hitting your neck.

you smile a little at her introduction, “y/n” you reply with your name, pulling her away as you walk to the bed, signalizing her to come to you.

she follows you, sitting on your lap as she kisses you again.

it's hot, messy and everything you need at this moment.

her hands move all over your body, squeezing your breast.

she moves her hands more south, unbuckling your pants and pulling them down.

your underwear is soaked, jeongyeon's fingers rubbing over it as you moan into her ear.

“don't tease me” you whimper, stuttering a little as she goes over the waistband of your underwear and shoves her fingers in.

you moan at the feeling, remembering your dream.

maybe she was the one you were dreaming about.

“please” your voice cracks, moving your hip so she can reach deeper, fucking you fast.

“you're so pretty” she coos, kissing your neck and leaving hickeys.

“keep going” your moans are loud, your breath hitches, clenching around her as she keeps kissing you.

“gonna cum?” she teases, you nod quickly, gasping as she adds another finger.

“cum for me princess” she says, her tone low, as if it would be a command.

you cum around her fingers, kissing her as you moan into her mouth and pull her close to you.

she kisses you back, watching you as you come down from your high.

you both smile at each other.

“my turn” you coo, kissing her neck.

[jzprncess]

the missing melody ♪

part 2 part 1

pairing : franco colapinto x singer!reader

faceclaim : various people!

summary: With the Grand Prix results in, Y/N returns home inspired, diving back into her music. Meanwhile, Franco, curious about the singer he met, follows her on social media. What begins as casual online exchanges soon hints at a deeper connection.

warnings : some singers do not exist in this au since i might take their songs!

note : MERRY CHRISTMAS!! here is your surprise, i know some have been waiting but ive been in a writing block. dont kill me bc its short! i suck at writing UGHHHHHH

     ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

 williamsracing just posted 

liked by yourusername, username2, and 535,290 others 

williamsracing TEAM 💙  10 POINTS IN BAKU 🔥🔥🔥

An incredible drive by both drivers and we secure P7 and P8. GET IN THERE! 👏  This is only the beginning.

view all comments 

username2 VAMOS VAMOS VAMOS 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

username4 this progress of williams is what’s giving me hopes for carlos next year 🥲

username6 🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷🇦🇷

username8 WOWWWW BRAVO 👏🏼👏🏼

username3 COLAPINTO2025 

username5 STANDING OVATION!!! 🔥🔥

username5 y/n was the good luck charm! i’m telling you! 🫵🏼

username7 simply lovely

yourusername grateful to be here and watch the team score some points. it’s amazing to watch, might just have to join for another race soon. thanks again for letting me join in the paddock! 🇦🇷🔥💙

↳williamsracing we’re glad to have you y/n, can’t wait to see you trackside again! wishing you luck on your future endeavors! 💙

↳alex_albon appreciate it! we hope to see you soon!

↳francolapinto glad you could be here! i would love for you to come to another race, let’s make it happen. 💙

↳username5 now i need her to go to another race this season

third pov

As the Grand Prix weekend drew to a close, Y/N felt a bittersweet mix of relief and melancholy. The weekend had been a whirlwind, filled with the excitement of the race and the unexpected attention she had garnered from her appearance. The crowded paddock and constant buzz of conversations had left her mentally drained, but as she walked toward the car that would take her back home, there was a certain peace settling over her.

The world outside the track seemed quieter, more serene. She could hear the faint hum of the engines in the distance as the final laps were being completed, but for her, it was time to leave the chaos behind. The press, the cameras, the questions—all of it faded away as she slid into the front seat, the doors closing softly behind her, sealing her off from the world she had momentarily rejoined.

She pulled out of the paddock, and stared out the window, watching the lights of the city blur past as she made her way back home. The city was still alive, but she felt removed from it, as though she were floating in a different space. Her mind wandered back to the people she had met during the weekend—the 2 william's drivers, the fans, the connections she made. She longed for the solitude of her room, a place where she could decompress and regain the clarity she so desperately sought. 

As the car rounded a corner, she caught a glimpse of the track once more, her heart stirring with a mix of admiration and uncertainty. She wasn’t sure what the future held, but for now, she was content to retreat into her own world and reflect on the moments that had left an imprint on her soul.

franco’s pov 

I stood on the podium, the aftertaste of victory still fresh as my team erupted in celebration. My first points of the season—it wasn’t much, but it felt like a significant step forward. The atmosphere was electric, and for a brief moment, it felt like everything was falling into place. But even with all the cheering and the congratulations, my thoughts kept drifting to something—or rather, someone—that had caught my attention this weekend. Y/N. I didn’t know much about her, but I couldn’t ignore the way she moved through the paddock with such quiet grace. It wasn’t just her fame, though that was undeniable; it was something about her presence. She wasn’t demanding attention, yet everyone seemed to be aware of her, drawn to her in a way that made me curious.

There was something magnetic about her. It wasn’t just the way she looked—it was the way she carried herself. She didn’t seem to be seeking validation from anyone. She wasn’t flashy, but there was an air of confidence, a mystery to her that intrigued me. 

I’d seen her throughout the weekend, but it was when I finally met her that everything clicked. We had a brief conversation with Alex, nothing too elaborate, just a few exchanged words, but it felt different somehow. The way she spoke, the way she listened—it was all so natural, so unassuming. She wasn’t trying to impress anyone, and yet there was something about her that made me want to know more. Her smile, the subtle warmth in her eyes—it was like she was letting me see just a glimpse of who she was, without revealing too much. It wasn’t anything dramatic, just a casual interaction, but it left me wanting to understand what lay beneath that composed, almost guarded exterior. There was more to her, I was sure of it, and that curiosity lingered long after our conversation ended.

The more I thought about her, the more I found myself wondering what had brought her to this point in her life. Here she was, standing on the fringes of our world—famous, yes, but still somewhat distant, as if she didn’t quite belong to this chaotic universe we all lived in.

I read her Instagram post after the race, since I was already in the car on the grid, when she posted it. She had opened up about the struggles she had been facing, about stepping away from the spotlight and the personal battles she was fighting. It was raw and vulnerable, nothing like the polished image the world saw. It made me realize that the person I had met wasn’t the confident star I had expected, but someone much more complex. She wasn’t just another celebrity navigating the chaos of fame—there was a quiet strength to her, a kind of raw honesty that made me want to understand her even more.

Back in my hotel room later that evening, after everything had quieted down, I found myself scrolling through my phone. I couldn’t stop thinking about her, about that brief moment when our eyes had met. I opened Instagram without really thinking about it, my fingers moving almost on autopilot as I searched for her name. Something inside me told me to take this small step. I followed her. There was no reason why I should expect anything from it, but I felt the impulse to reach out in some way, even if it was just this simple action.

I sat back on the bed as I hit “follow,” my heart beating a little faster as I did. I wasn’t expecting her to notice, but something about it felt right. I scrolled through her feed, each post revealing just a little more about who she was. There was an intimacy to her posts, the way she shared pieces of herself without fully letting anyone in. It wasn’t the usual curated perfection I saw from other influencers. Each photo seemed to tell a story, but only if you were paying close attention. I couldn’t help but be intrigued. Maybe it was the beginning of something, or maybe it was just a small, fleeting curiosity that would fade away. But as I followed her, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was just the start of something that could pull me into her world in ways I hadn’t anticipated.

y/n’s pov 

As I stirred the sauce, my phone dinged from across the kitchen. I wiped my hands on a towel and walked over to check it. When I unlocked the screen, I saw Franco had followed me on Instagram. I paused, staring at the notification for a moment, a little caught off guard. My mind raced as I thought about our brief encounter, and I felt a sudden urge to message him. Taking a deep breath, I opened the app, ready to start typing.

messages

third pov

Y/N stood in her kitchen, wiping down the last of the plates from dinner, the sounds of the quiet house filling the space around her. She had eaten alone tonight, a habit she’d fallen into over the past few months. The familiar hum of the dishwasher was the only noise, but her mind was elsewhere. Franco’s face kept drifting into her thoughts—his easy smile, the way his eyes lit up when they spoke. They’d only met today, briefly, but something about him had stuck with her.

It had been a long day at the Grand Prix, full of excitement and noise, but when their conversation had veered into something personal, something quiet, it had been like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them. She had felt a spark, undeniable and electric, even though she knew he’d be leaving soon. He was on his way to Mexico for the next race, already on the plane when she had sat down to dinner by herself, yet the connection lingered in the back of her mind.

Y/N sighed, reaching for her notebook that rested on the counter. As she flipped through the pages, her fingers brushed over old lyrics, half-finished songs, and abandoned ideas. She hadn’t written anything in weeks—no inspiration, no motivation. But tonight felt different. She had this restless energy swirling inside her, something she couldn’t ignore. She sat down and began to write.

The pen moved quickly, almost without thought. The words felt raw, like they were pouring out of her all at once. She wasn’t sure if it was the memories of the day or the faint pull of something more, but she couldn’t stop herself. The chorus took shape, the melody forming like a whispered secret.

“It’s all in my head / I’ll keep it to myself / I know that you’ll never see it / I’m just looking for a reason..” (the bottom by gracie abrams)

Her mind wandered back to Franco, and she found herself replaying their brief encounter over and over. There was something about him—something real and different from anyone she’d met in a long time. But he was leaving for Mexico, and soon enough, he’d be consumed by the fast-moving world of Formula 1. She wasn’t sure if she’d ever see him again, and the uncertainty gnawed at her.

But still, there was this quiet tug inside her, a feeling she couldn’t shake. Maybe—just maybe—this moment held more than she’d first realized. It was all in her head, she thought, but she couldn’t help but hope for something more.

As she continued to write, her hand moved almost instinctively, the words flowing faster than she could process. It was like the music was the only place that made sense, the only thing that could capture what she couldn’t quite say out loud. She smiled softly as the song began to take shape, feeling that spark of something inside her. It wasn’t finished yet, but there was a sense that this was just the beginning.

The quiet of the house was only interrupted by the soft scratch of Y/N's pen as she wrote, her thoughts wandering to the conversation she’d had earlier with Franco. Her phone suddenly buzzed, and she jumped slightly. Seeing Franco's name on the screen made her hesitate, but she quickly answered, trying to sound calm.

*start of phone call*

“Hello?” she said, her shyness making the greeting almost tentative.

“Hey, it’s Franco,” came his familiar voice, sounding warm and easy. “I just landed in Mexico. How’s your night going?”

Y/N felt a small smile tug at her lips, a slight relief washing over her. “Hi, Franco. It’s going okay... just writing. How about you? How was the flight?”

“It was fine, a bit long, but nothing I can’t handle,” Franco replied, his tone light. “It feels good to be here, though. Getting ready for the weekend.”

Y/N shifted in her seat, her fingers tapping nervously on her notebook. “Yeah, I’m sure it must be a bit overwhelming. But, uh, you’ve done this kind of travel before, right?”

Franco laughed softly, clearly amused. “You could say that. But every new race feels a little different. There’s always something new to learn. What about you? I know you’ve only been to one race, right?”

“Yeah, just today.” Y/N said, a little shy about admitting she was still new to the whole experience. “It was... a lot. But really exciting too. I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did.”

“That’s awesome. What did you think of the atmosphere?” Franco asked, genuinely curious.

Y/N smiled, remembering the energy from the day. “It was wild, in a good way. I didn’t really know what to expect, but the crowd was so into it. It’s different from anything I’ve ever experienced.”

“I can imagine. There’s just something about a race day, huh?” Franco said. “It gets under your skin.”

“Yeah, I think I get that now,” Y/N replied, feeling a little more relaxed as the conversation moved away from the work side of things. “It’s... thrilling. I can see why people love it.”

“So, what did you do after the race? Did you go back hotel?” Franco asked, genuinely interested in how she was spending her time.

Y/N shifted slightly, a little self-conscious. “No, I just came home. I haven't been, um... great with big crowds recently, so I thought I’d unwind for the night. I guess it’s a good thing I like being alone sometimes.”

“I totally get that,” Franco said, his voice softer now, almost like he understood exactly what she meant. “I’m kind of the same way. Traveling and being around people can be... draining.”

Y/N smiled faintly, feeling a little more at ease. “Yeah, exactly. It’s nice to just have a quiet night to yourself.”

There was a pause, and then Franco continued, “What do you usually do when you’re alone? Like, when you’re not writing?”

Y/N hesitated before answering, her fingers gently brushing over the edges of her notebook. “I, uh, watch movies sometimes. Old ones. And I read a lot too. Mostly books that... help me forget everything for a little while.”

Franco’s voice was warm, and she could tell he was trying to keep the conversation light. “I think I’d like some movie recommendations. I’ve been wanting to watch something different, but I don’t know where to start.”

Y/N smiled softly, appreciating how easy the conversation was flowing now. “I could definitely do that. If you like old films, I’d recommend some classic noirs. They’re... atmospheric, but in a cool way.”

“Sounds perfect,” Franco said, clearly interested. “I’ll have to try that when I’m not in race mode.”

“I’ll make a list for you, then,” Y/N replied, her voice lightening a little. “Maybe next time we talk, I can recommend a few more.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Franco said with a gentle laugh. “It’s nice just to talk about something that’s not... the race or the schedule.”

“Yeah, it is,” Y/N said quietly, feeling a strange sense of connection. “I didn’t expect it to be so easy to talk.”

“Me neither,” Franco agreed. “But I’m glad we’re talking.”

Y/N smiled, feeling a little more comfortable with the whole situation. “Me too. It’s... nice. I’m glad you called.”

“Glad I did too. Well, I’ll let you get back to your writing,” Franco said, though his voice didn’t sound ready to hang up. “But we’ll talk soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” Y/N replied softly. “Take care, Franco.”

“You too, Y/N. Talk soon,” he said before hanging up.

Y/N set the phone down, a quiet smile on her face. She didn’t know why she felt so calm after talking to him, but somehow, it felt like the beginning of something she hadn’t expected. A spark had been lit inside her, something she hadn’t felt in a while. Her mind was buzzing, and for the first time in days, she felt truly alive.

She glanced at the clock—still early, though not for long—and something inside her stirred. Without thinking, she grabbed her notebook and walked out of the room, heading down the hall toward her studio. The house was quiet, still, but her mind was racing. As she flipped the lights on in the small room filled with instruments, sound equipment, and all the tools of her trade, it was as if everything clicked into place

The walls, once silent and stifling, now seemed to hum with possibility. She set her notebook down, reached for her laptop, and immediately pulled up her music software. Her fingers hovered over the keys, and within minutes, she was in the zone, the melody flowing almost effortlessly. Ideas she hadn’t known were waiting to be discovered spilled out of her, notes and lyrics coming together like pieces of a puzzle she hadn’t known needed solving.

For hours, she lost herself in the music. The hours seemed to melt away, her focus unwavering as she crafted something new, something personal, something that felt like it was coming from the depths of her soul. She tweaked, arranged, and layered tracks, her mind guided only by the spark Franco had unknowingly ignited. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been this inspired.

By the time the sun began to rise, Y/N was still in her studio, headphones on, eyes tired but exhilarated. She hadn’t noticed the time slipping by until she glanced at the clock again. The song wasn’t finished, but it was close. She smiled to herself, realizing that the night had passed without her even thinking about the exhaustion she usually felt. It was as though the music had become the one thing that could make her forget everything else.

She leaned back in her chair, taking a deep breath, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she was grateful for this new, unexpected source of inspiration. And in the back of her mind, she knew this song was only the beginning.

━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━◦○◦━

taglist: @heluvsjappie @awritingtree @steamy-smokey

[starryhutcherson]

━━ BED HEAD

author's note: my christmas gift to my lovely followers and viewers <3 yes i am aware i've been M.I.A for the entirety of the second half of the year. forgive me! when the jhutch nation died a piece of me died with it. pls enjoy this apology fic, made it nice and sweet for my mike lovers (cough cough for me). enjoy!! ps. this is my personal favourite that ive written, boyfriend mike just hits different so expect a lot more of him coming soon wink wink! i mean it this time

'୧ ‧₊ pairing: boyfriend!mike schmidt x reader warnings: 18+ sexual content! oral sex (f!receiving), p in v, unprotected sex, dirty talk, swearing word count: 2000+ ⋆ ✩‧₊

Early mornings make for soft kisses. Outside, the streets are licked with hazes of morning fog, sprinkled with droplets of dew and not even ghosts wander the empty streets. In here, in Mike’s house, there’s no need to worry about the world beyond his peeling windowsill. You’re cradled into his chest, his arms which encircle your torso and his legs which tangle into a web with yours. The mornings are just for you. 

And Mike always wakes up before you. It’s not something he does intentionally, but rather the blessing of his eternal clock, stirring his soul before the sun has so much as nipped at the horizon – and yet he reckons this is the best part of his day. It’s the part where he gets to see you at your most vulnerable, your most unaware. Your lips are parted, carrying an imprint of yesterday’s smile, and your hair is sprawled around you too deliberately– like you were made to be perfect, even in your imperfection. 

He likes to trace each fault and flaw that may linger in unsuspecting places with the plush pad of his calloused thumb, to explore the way your body dips at its own will, to memorise each pathway of skin that leads to your heart, a map that’s solely his. He might pluck an eyelash oh so carefully of your cheek, he’ll watch as your chest greets his with each soundless inhale, only to part momentarily when you breathe out again. He likes it best when you’re slotted right between his heartbeat. You’re a dream he’s afraid to wake up from. 

Of course, these moments are only beautiful because of their status as moments. They aren’t eternal, they were made to be preserved. They fade when you wake up; when your big eyes blink up at him like a heedless doe. Like now. When you start to stir, your face scrunching up in a sleepy frown, Mike immediately closes his eyes. He rolls onto his back, one arm draped over his face like he’s shielding himself from the non-existent sunlight, like he hasn’t been watching you for the last ten minutes.

You crack an eyelid, admiring his figure as it soaks up the beginnings of a sunrise. “Morning bedhead,” you tease, grogginess and all. He grunts in acknowledgement, not shifting from his position of comfort. 

“Morning,” he grumbles back, not appreciating the teasing but not having the energy to send anything worthy of offense back at you. Your eyes trace over his messy hair, wild unruly ringlets of chestnut licking at his temples. 

You shuffle over to him, wading through the sea of tangled bedsheets, and ruffle those curls, making his face bunch up like crumpled fabric, in mild irritation. “You look like you lost a fight with a lawnmower,” you snort. He catches your wrist with a solid grip; sturdy as a tree is, down to the root. “Don’t even start. Pretty sure you’ve got me beat.” His voice is a baritone grumble as he references to your own head of locks, knowing full well that the cascading waves of pure velvet that are sewn into your head aren’t even close to looking messy. He teases anyway. 

“I dunno about that,” you murmur. Cocking a hesitant brow, watching his body flex into the sheets as each limb slowly begins to arise from slumber at it’s own snail pace. It’s then you pad out of bed, to go attempt to start the morning━ and he stops you. A dull grunt sounds from his lips and he tugs at your arm. 

“No,” he mumbles━ broken by a dull yawn. “C’mon. You can… you can stay. S’still dark. Nothin’ to do yet.” The sort of puppy-ish pleading that swallows his irises is too strong not to resist to. So you let him have his little ritual; he tucks you into his shoulder, thumb circling supple skin. You let him smell behind your neck and nip at the junction where your collarbone becomes your shoulder becomes your arm. Suddenly it’s turned into lazy tastings of your body. He’s drinking you in in the morning light, rolling you down and deep onto your back to make sure you’re imprinted on his fabric for later, lonelier nights. 

“Mike━” He cuts you off. He has a habit of doing that, when he gets like this. All agitated and croaking, like you are his eternal life source. 

“Shh, no, let me━ let me have this.”

And he’s trekking lower, still. Warm hands planted on your knees, he’s opening your thighs for himself with that look in his eyes. He’s a paradox, greed and yet utter selflessness as he buries his body right where you want him, idly tugging at the waistband of your cotton pajama pants.  

“Gonna make that bedhead worse.” He mumbles almost comically to himself. “Gonna, gonna give you some bed head.”

You roll your eyes, heat of the moment evaporating as you erupt in stupid giggles. “You’re such a dickhead,” you tell him, admiring the smug expression that spreads across his features. He looks like he’s where he belongs, nestled comfortably in that gap he’s made just for him, cradled by your legs. 

“Maybe.” He mumbles with a stupidly self-satisfied grin, delving into you like he knows best. He rolls the cotton comfort of your legs and exposes you to the chilly bedroom air, and knowing it must be unpleasant to be so cold when it’s so early, he’s latching onto you as quick as he can to try and maintain heat pumping through your system. 

And he’s a cocky motherfucker who knows that it works; molten fever rushes through every aching crevice of your figure and pushes to the surface as he flicks his tongue with expertise. He knows every spot, every stroke, every single way that makes you tick. He’s spent a lot of time practicing, exploring, just so he can be perfect. 

Every. Single. Time. 

You’re writhing already, with each motion. Calling his name out to nothing and nobody, the silence of the morning suddenly so obnoxious when it’s broken by the cracking chorus of your moans. Mike. You cry. Mike, Mike, Mike. 

And he’s all entranced by you, you, you, as you quake right into his palms, just how he wants. The perfect way to start the morning is by breaking you apart and dealing with the mess. He admires, awfully, every tremor, every sob, every time your eyes lock with his and you watch him worship you, even if just for a fragile second before they roll back into your skull. 

He plugs you up with one thick finger, reeling in the wet squelching suction of your cunt around his digit. Another follows, curling beside the first, resting snugly inside you. A few testing movements as he tries to find that place, and then finally you double over into yourself mewling like a lamb for slaughter. 

“Oh, that’s it? That’s the spot?” He mutters, baritone voice just so sexy when it’s the only melody spilling into your ears, your brain, you soul. You answer with a little hum, and he coos as your hips buck to meet his palm; catching your weight as you grind your clit into the heel of it. You need more━ you need so much more. 

So he mutters a brief apology as he severs your orgasm; saving it for later, the upcoming future. And leaves you for just a moment, carefully maneuvering himself free from his sodden boxers and pumping his angry length a few times, convulsing as he does so. He’s more sensitive in the mornings, every single goose-pebbled part of him. You bite your lip in anticipation, pink flesh billowing white under the force of your teeth. 

His eyes glance up to you; coffee and caramel stirred with a copper spoon, awaiting your command. “You... you want me, right?” He breathes gently. Shuffling himself closer, hoping to meld a piece of his soul into yours. To secure you to him, through and through. And of course you nod, with ego-inflating eagerness. 

“Course I do. And how about━”

It throws him off when your tender hands grip onto his shoulders; like a turning tide your body steers him of course, pummeled over so he can drown under your current as you position yourself ontop. “Let me,” you whisper, holding his cock so gently in your hands, a contrast of efforts in the way you stroke so slowly, so patiently. In all honesty, he hasn’t got much of that left. 

A salacious groan slips free from his throat. “Shit, can you just, uh, can you please put it in, I can’t━ I’m gonna blow right now.”  

He expects another mocking comment but all he gets is compliance. A gentle kiss, fanning across his freckled cheeks that glow so red in the heat of the moment, a slow and calculated sink of your pelvis against his, and a juggled handful of shared rugged breaths as the feeling of fullness branches across the pair of you. He’ll never get over your fit, it’s too hand-crafted, too cunningly created. His hands shakily struggle to make their way onto your hips, not so much for control as it is to keep himself grounded. Skin to skin to skin, as though to prove you aren’t just a fabrication from his desperate, delusional morning mind. 

When your hips begin to roll, it’s lazy. Grogginess permeates every part of you and there isn’t enough strength for anything more than gentle juts; back and forth, back and forth, a seesaw of sorts, but he appreciates the movement anyway. Mike’s head falls back into the pillow, framed by a halo of his own sweat and drool as he lets you do the work. It’s his own hazy heaven, the morning he wishes he could preserve. 

You suck his cock up deeper into your hole, clamping down on him in a vain attempt to try and keep him there, tucked away inside you forever like a pocketed memory of sorts. He begins to meet your thrusts, sending sparks through each wild thrust of his flying hips. 

“Want this every day,” he whines, deep through his throat like he can’t even contain his words as they bleed all over you in a wash of near orgasmic bliss. 

“Yeah? You do, Mikey? Wanna─ wanna just wake me up to fuck me like this? Right here on your bed?”

His eyelids flutter and unfocus, blunt nails severing the skin of your hipbones as he begins to forcefully drag you across his cock, faster faster faster until the headboard squeaks along with you and he’s completely wordless and wounded. “Wanna fuck you. Wann─ needa fuck you every day, yeah, jus' like that, shit, you were made for me,” he whines, pummelling into you with purpose. Force and purpose. 

He’s spearing you open on his eager cock, nudging your cervix, coaxing an orgasm out of it’s grave, the one he ended from earlier. You can feel it brewing and bubbling inside you, erupting it’s carnal desire like acid wash across your narrow cunt as you drink him in tighter, willing him to come with you. “Mikey, mmm, come with me, c’mon, please─”

And it’s your begging that sends him over. A saccharine flush melts across his entire body, bottom to top, and he’s moaning as he tugs his length from beneath your folds and showers your sweaty torso in a creamy wash of white ribbons, spraying buckets from your belly button right up to your chin.

There is calm after the storm. A tranquil quiet falls back over his modest bedroom, accompanied by heavy breathing and the rustling of sheets. The aftertaste of the morning is careful sponge-washing and coffee. He clears you off with a damp washcloth, love ebbs from every action from him to you, like an endless chain. A circle has no end because it has no beginning; Mike thinks he’s always been drawn to you, even before you both knew it─  because he’s always been looking for this. For the gentle fleeting kisses that he’s showered in before the morning, for the bed he returns to which smells like sex and sodden promises. He can’t wait for you to get home so that he can come back to his bed-headed girl. 

masterlist

[errorwarblesrr]

Okay I gotta rant, I'm going to state rn this post is neither pro or anti Zelink.

I wish people could stop arguing over the canonicity of BOTW/TOTK Zelink. Idk I've seen a lot of arguments on it, like both sides are trying to checkmate each other. It's annoying.

I remember back when articles twisted the words of Zelda's VA, and a bunch of people were rude about it. Both sides. Then, when she clarified what she actually meant, there was a whole fit about it.

These games are about player freedom. Nintendo also wants Link, this one especially, to reflect the player. They want to keep it ambiguous and up to interpretation, yes we know Zelda loves Link but we in fact still don't know how Link feels about her.

Even stuff that can be used as evidence still have some ambiguity to it, for example Link's old house. It can be used as evidence for both sides and be up to interpretation for whether they are or aren't living together. On one hand this was Link's old house and Zelda lives there now, Zelda has his hairband, she says he always remains by his side, he can sleep on her bed, the table is set for two, and she has to hide the new tunic. On the other hand no one recognizes the house as Link's anymore it's only referred to as Zelda's house and his belongings are gone outside of the champions picture, there is one twin sized bed with one pillow and it's also important to note couples in this game sleep in seperate beds, Link can get a house in Terry Town, people talk to him as if he also doesn't normally go there, and there's an npc that Zelda isn't one to turn people away from her house so Link has permission to visit. There is room for interpretation and to come up with different reasonings for both sides.

This isn't me confirming or denying this Zelink but to show there is strong evidence for BOTH sides because it is meant to be ambiguous and up to interpretation.

There's also Link just not emoting for any cutscene he is in with her. I believe this is so you can interpret him feeling whatever you want him to feel (though personally I would rather him emote). He doesn't show any emotion when he learns the truth about her, when they reunite, or when the sages pledge to serve her. This is a stark contrast to the Zelinks that are pretty much canon like in Skyward Sword and Spirit Tracks. In both of these games there are very clear feelings for one another with Skyward Sword even having a romance theme for them. These Link's will emote and show how they feel in the moment with Zelda.

The point is it's tiring to see arguments on it. Civil discussions are fine, but heated debates are pointless. Aonuma says he wants people to see themselves in Link, and Aonuma also wants things to be open-ended and up for interpretation (like botws placement in the title). I haven't even touched on people hating on other ships (like miphlink and what not). I just think we should all be mindful, you know? You ship this Zelink? Great! You don't? Also, great! Both can coexist because, at the end of the day, neither is canon.

[s0fter-sin]

soapghost

[mariemariemaria]

Does anybody else feel like mental health awareness has done very little to help them in material reality

[pens-and-paperbacks]

Endeavor is almost a perfect allegory for what the society in the mha universe does to people who can't be heroes or use their quirks in a way to benefit society, which is cast them aside or pass them over without over giving them a second glance until uh-oh! Suddenly they're worth being noticed because they're a threat.

He apologizes to his family, which is good! If you're a bad person and did terrible things, the first step in your own transformation and atonement should be to acknowledge what you've done and to apologize to those you've wronged. Great!

Thing is, Endeavor set off a chain reaction with his abusive, neglectful and downright irresponsible choices that it damaged everyone in his family for life.

I don't think someone who causes one of their own children to literally go up in flames, crying because they're finally getting attention from their father and family in the very end, ever deserves to be forgiven.

[spinecurlingmice]

being autistic in fandom spaces is like really miserable because iiiiiii miss social cues a lot. and text cues i either miss frequently or interpret differently than intended. which makes me analyze characters different and need things explained of what was like. Actually meant. but sometimes people are assholes and that always sticks with me a lot more than anybody calmly explainging it to me ever will

[nymphrasis]

I'll admit, I hecking love, love, LOVE villainous characters ( Close to that are me liking some certified sassy stinkers :3 ). I dunno, I just am always fond on villain-type characters. I like their lore, the way they act, and sometimes I root for them ( Or root for their ass to be beat by the heroes haha ) >w<. Note for just fictional characters and there are some actions I really am not keen to cheer for :s.

Not sure if that makes sense aaaa.

I only randomly brought this up because I am watching some videos that discuss their placement on who they consider to be the best villains :3.

[bmpmp3]

post ankle-twisting clarity

[skunkes]

very often ill see bears following my nsfw account and ill end up looking thru their profiles as i check for ppls ages in bio and theyre 99.9% bear4bear. That one anon lied to me.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[widevibratobitch]

took a bunch of clothes to my mom's to wash them since my washing machine is still down and she said 'ill do it dw about it' and threw my favourite white top in with the colours. i no longer have a favourite white top :)

[kohakhearts]

well folks its been a good two months of denial but i am finally ready to admit that the reason everything sucks is because of major depression relapse. if i werent so depressed id make this everyone elses problem by projecting it on to blorbo but alas

[gibbearish]

anybody else like. dislike the concept of putting the ways youre privileged in your bio in general