#warning for light ns//fw talk

[whatasmoothgardener]

Me and the T&B Discord discuss Kaede’s Birthday Warning for vomit and pregnancy mention and speculation on when a character was conceived

[blushblushbear]

Quiet in the Library

One shot Cashew NS/FW

Cash and the reader fool around in the library ;3

uhhh content warning for public stuff and dirty talk! GN!Reader!

The library was always such a weird place.

Sometimes it can be a quiet haven full of pages upon pages of adventure, mystery, romance, and all manner of daring do all for you to explore at your leisure.

But other times it was a stiflingly quiet prison where you were to make little to no sound and try your best to focus without falling asleep.

Right now it was the later...

You and your boyfriend had made your way to the campus library late that night to partake in a study date-- getting through the more boring subjects would be easier together, yeah? And the need to keep quiet would mean that you two wouldn't end up just talking about book series for hours upon hours without getting a single thing done, right?

Wrong.

Both of you had different classes to study for, and the need for silence meant that there was nothing to keep the boredom and deary tedium from turning into tiredness.

So now you're sitting here next to your adorable little nerd of a boyfriend who can not help you with your work and whom you can't even talk to as a distraction.

Ya know for bibliophiles, you both really didn't think this through. I guess being well read didn't translate to good planning...

So now you sit here, eye lids feeling heavy as your focus begins to drift yet again. Your vision goes dim for a moment as your eyes begin to close, before you start awake in your seat, shaking your head as you straighten yourself upright.

You look over at Cashew, whose attention as been wrapped in his textbook for the last hour or so. You don't know how he does it... how can he keep such focus? He didn't even look up when you jumped a little just now.

'Must be nice...' you think to yourself as you lower your textbook and rest your head on the edge of the table, pouting down at the boring gray carpeted floor. You look at your own feet, then to Cashew's-- and that's when you notice something out of the corner of your eye.

Wait.

You sit back up, taking a good look at Cashew's face, his attention fully wrapped in his text book, a light blush sprinkled across his face, and a smile teases the corner of his lips as he bites at them.

You lean toward him to read over his shoulder, and you're almost gobsmacked when you see a second book nestled into the crook of his textbook.

"Dude, seriously?!" You whisper into his ear. That got his attention. His face snaps toward you looking all flavors of embarrassed. "We're supposed to be studying!"

"I-I am." He whispers back. "Or, I was... but then I started to get really zoned out-- so I thought, hey, a one chapter wouldn't hurt! But then that chapter ended on a cliffhanger and well..." He looked away shyly as he closed his book(s) part way, "I-it's just a little break... a-a little break never hurt anyone."

You leaned in closer and got even more quiet as you said,

"You're hard in the library."

Cashew blushed even harder and continued to refuse eye contact as his glasses started to fog,

"It got... spicy..."

You glared at him for a moment-- or well, at least the back of his head. He was practically hiding his face in his shoulder at this point as his blush spread visibly to his ears and his body shifted in shyly.

"D-don't look at me..." he muttered in an embarrassed little whine.

You paused for a moment, feeling your face grow warm too.

'He's lucky he's so damn cute...' you thought as your scooted your chair closer to him.

A small squeak escaped throat as he jumped slightly at the sudden feeling of your hand on his thigh. Leaning in casually, attempting to give away nothing, you pressed your lips to his ear.

"Want me to help you with it?" you whispered smoothly.

His eyes went wide as his gaze snapped back toward you. He could feel his body shaking as he took you in-- your body pressing close to his, your hand rubbing lightly on his thigh, the warmth of the contact, your sly smile, that sultry look in your eyes... He felt himself twitch weakly has he gasped out a,

"Yes please."

Your smirk tweaked as your hand began to rub up and down his thigh, sliding higher. You ran a finger teasingly up the front of his pants, and he let out another squeak as he gripped the books in his hands tightly.

"Shhhh," you soothed into his ear as you began to undo his belt. "Just keep reading..."

He felt as shiver run up his spine as your voice echoed through him. With shaky hands he reopened his book. He couldn't help but gulp as he felt you unbutton and unzip his pants. His eyes were looking at the page but he wasn't able to read a word. How could he? When he was already living a way better spicy scene.

He closed his eyes for a moment and gasped as he felt your finger run up the length of his partially clothed cock.

"So hard..." you purred against his ear. If his legs were shaking before they were practically trembling now.

He loved when you did this. When you played into fantasies he didn't even know he had. Little quirks and kinks and fetishes you always managed to find in the best way possible.

Touch me more.

Precum stained his boxers as you lightly ran your finger up and down the shape of his erect cock. "That's it... stay quiet Love..."

He also loved THIS. The teasing! This moment of building arousal where you bring him to the brink while barely even trying. He almost wished he wasn't such an easy mark for you-- that he had a higher tolerance for your voice, your touch, your eyes...

He glanced over at you. Cheeks flush, mouth smirking, eyes on fire. You know exactly what you do to him, and you loved doing it almost as much as he loves having it done.

You could knock a man dead with that look.

Or make a man cum.

There was another little spark in your eye and he looked back toward his book in a sudden pang of shyness. You let out a little chuckle into his ear and yep-- that's another shiver down his spine.

"I've barely touched you..." god every time you spoke he melted a little bit, "Why do you look like your ready to blow?"

'more teasing...' Cashew thought dreamily as his cock twitched and he leaned slightly into your touch.

Please please please please please...

"Hmm... you like it that much?" You grazed your hand down his length, starting to rub slowly as you palmed him over his underwear, "You like when I touch you?"

Oh GOD yes!

How are you barely making any sound and yet still completely tearing him apart??? It would be maddening if it wasn't so AMAZING.

"Y-yes..." Cashew responded with a shaky whisper. You let out a little pleased hum against his ear as you moved your hand faster.

"You don't even care where we are, do you?" Cashew bit his lip as he tried his best to keep his gaze on the book in his hands. "Just so long as I touch you." You leaned in a little more, moving your hand even faster as you whisper into his ear, "I bet you'd let me pin you to the table and fuck you right here. You'd let all these people watch as I made you my little play thing."

Yes yes yes yes yes YES!

Cash let out a stifled whimper that boarded on being loud.

"Hush, Love. You don't want to get caught do you?" You let out another teasing chuckle as you steadily stroked him stupid through his boxers. "Be too loud and I stop." Why are your threats so hot?? And then as a cherry on top, you bit his ear.

Cashew willed every muscle in his body to stay as still as possible, swallowing every sound. Why was this so hot?? Why were you so hot??? No. No he couldn't! He was at his limit! He damn near bit through his lip as he dropped his books on the table, leaned his head back and made the biggest mess of himself in his pants.

And after a beat of silence, and after coming down for that amazing high, he pulls up his pants in one shift motion and legs it to the bathroom so fast he's almost a blur.

After cleaning himself up he returns to you reading his book.

"H-hey." He says shyly as he plops back down in his chair. You looked back up at him with a playful smile and HOLY SMOKES you're so attractive.

"Hey."

Cash clears his throat.

"O-okay that was amazing... You're amazing..." He leans over and kisses your cheek. "Thank you."

"Anytime." You say with a wink.

He looks over and sees you reading the part he was just at.

"Hey is that--?"

"Mhm. Gimme a minute to finish this chapter," you said slyly, "and maybe you can return the favor."

GOD he loved you.

[babyhatesreality]

The Sinner and the Saint Ch 11

Pairing: Mob!Boss Bucky x f!reader

Warnings: NSFW, f!reader, language, reader is referred to by her stage name of Angel, pet names, post and morning after pillow talk, oral (f and m receiving), playful banter, everybody has secrets, reader is insecure, reader is an extremely flexible exotic dancer.

YOU ARE RESPONSIBLE FOR YOUR OWN MEDIA CONSUMPTION. MINORS DNI. THIS IS AN 18+ STORY ONLY AND IS NS/FW. I DO NOT CONSENT FOR ANY OF MY WORKS TO BE COPIED, REPRINTED, OR TRANSLATED ONTO ANY PLATFORM EXCEPT MY OWN. Likes, comments and reblogs deeply appreciated.

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

You both lay in the bed next to each other, gasping for air as you came down from your respective highs. The sweet smell of arousal and sweat permeated your senses, and you managed to turn your head to look at him- you weren't entirely sure that you could move until you did. As high as he had gotten you, you couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same way...

The look of wonder on his face was completely unexpected- and made you feel like the goddamn Greek Goddess of Erotica. He sensed your eyes and turned towards you as well, both of you still breathing hard.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to gasp out before you could stop yourself.

"Nope, Bucky Barnes, but we already covered that earlier. Also, told ya you'd be calling me that."

The shit eating grin on his face made you burst out laughing. He snickered, pleased at your response, and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you in to snuggle on his bare, warm chest. You gently inhaled his musky scent, letting out another sigh of absolute contentment at this life-altering night.

"Go to sleep, baby," Bucky whispered gently into your hair. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, and you felt his metal fingers tracing your arm lazily as you immediately drifted off.

*****

You were way, way too comfortable to wake up. It was deliciously warm and soft, and your body felt like you'd just received a massage of the highest caliber. You hadn't felt this good in a long, long time.

You felt consciousness tugging at your eyelids, and you grumbled like a child, just a little. It was only when that sound was met with a low chuckle did you remember...and you were no longer upset about waking up.

You opened your eyes and without meaning to- and to your horror- let out a huge yawn right in Bucky's face. What if he thought that meant you were bored with him? What if he took that as a bad omen? What if you had horrid morning breath?! You snapped your jaw shut as fast as you could.

But to your ultimate surprise, he leaned in and kissed you reverently. "Good morning to that gorgeous mouth," he murmured against your lips, making you giggle in relief. That was all the invitation he needed to roll on top of you and press his tongue gently into your mouth. The feeling of his exquisite body on yours, holding you down, worshipping you with his lips, made you get all hot and bothered all over again.

Definitely worth waking up for.

You made out like teenagers for at least ten minutes morning breath be damned. You could feel his cock stiffening again, and the idea of round two with Bucky Barnes nearly made you orgasm. He finally pulled his lips off yours, but looked down on you with that menacing grin that shot a thrill through your veins. He rolled onto his side, his blue eyes never leaving yours as his fingers traced up and down your torso.

"So you should know something..." Bucky said, cocking one eyebrow challengingly at you.

"More personal revelations? You didn't get them all out last night?" you teased back, tilting your head and feigning innocent while reveling in the feather light touches you were receiving.

"Not even by half."

"Not sure I can take another 'I'm a dangerous gangster' secret this early in the morning."

"Oh, you'll take it. You'll most definitely take it."

"Oh really? And what exactly am I taking?"

"Well, as a Mafia Don, I am entitled to a certain level of....friendship."

"If what we did last night was 'friendship' to you, I'm going to have some follow up questions about your relationship with Steve."

"Har har. What I mean is that, when you're with a man like me, and you spend the night...I'm going to require payment the next morning."

"...."

"Every time you spend the night, you owe me one morning orgasm."

The delightfully wicked grin on his face called to your inner sassy pants. He thought he had one on you. Fine. Two could play at this game.

"I see," you said carefully, letting your eyes wander over his head as you pretended to think about it. "Well, guess I have to pay up then," you said cheerfully, and before he could do anything, you suddenly dove under the silky purple top sheet, rolling over and trapping his legs beneath you, and grabbing a hold of his morning wood. He couldn't do anything more than splutter before you licked a long, slow stripe up his impressive length.

"Wha-whoa, that's not what....ohhhhh," Bucky moaned suddenly, as you drug your tongue over the head, before gently cupping his balls. "Angel, I-" he suddenly let out another erotic cry as you suddenly closed your lips around his tip and gently sucked. He seemed to give up talking after that, resorting to the most filthy sounds that you'd ever heard. You took your time, aching to make him feel even a tenth as good as he'd made you feel last night. You sucked him for another moment or two, before pulling off. Before he could protest, you gently ran a fingernail up his cock, causing it to twitch violently and him to arch his back. You dove back onto him, relaxing your throat as much as you could to take as much of him into your mouth as possible. You teased and suckled and licked until he just couldn't take it any more.

"Angel, I'm cl-close, I'm so close," Bucky panted. "If you don't want me to cum in your mouth, then-" He never got the rest of that sentence out as you began sucking his huge cock with a fervor. Of course you wanted him to cum in your mouth- what kind of a question was that? You bobbed your head faster and faster as his breath grew more and more ragged, until finally he came down your throat with a scream. You milked him for all he was worth, swallowing all he was giving you, and it was only when you could feel him stop that you gently slowed down and pulled off, giving him one last kiss before you emerged from under the sheet and got a good look at your man.

Bucky Barnes, the huge, dangerous mafia boss, was actually pale and shaking, his body beaded with sweat as he tried to recover from your amorous attack. His blue eyes rolled to your face, a wild look in them. "Jesus. Fucking. CHRIST," he moaned out.

"I think we've already established that that's not either one of our names," you said nonchalantly, making a big show of wiping the corners of your mouth with one finger, then licking it devilishly. His eyes snapped and sparkled at that. "So did I pay up, Godfather?"

"You saucy little minx," he growled playfully, the mischief growing in his own eyes. "You know damn well that's not what I meant."

"Huh?" you asked, all piously innocent. You squealed as Bucky suddenly put his huge hands under your arms and flipped you effortlessly onto your back. You'd never been manhandled like that before, and quite frankly it was one of the hottest things that had ever been done to you. He threw back the bed sheet before trapping your legs beneath him like you had just done to him. He leaned down to kiss your stomach.

"Don't you 'huh' me, you little brat," he growled, his lips never leaving your skin. "Oh, I'm gonna have fun taming you."

"If you think you can 'tame' me, you've got another thing coming, bub."

"Challenge accepted. Now lay back while I collect what I'm owed."

You honestly didn't remember much past that except overwhelming and wild intensity. Bucky's tongue and lips performed their magic between your thighs, and you were an absolute mess of a human being under them. He seemed to find every little spot that made you bow and arch, delighting in drawing out every cry and gasp that you made for him. He found just the right place on your clit and sucked so hard that your legs actually shook. He was just as relentless and unmerciful as you had been, and when you came you swore later that the heavens split open inside you.

As your vision cleared and your ears stopped ringing- yeah, it had been THAT good- you became aware that he was nuzzling your lower abdomen with his nose and feather light kisses. He finally looked up and caught you staring at him in wonder.

"Don't you look at me like that," he teased. "You deserved that, and I always get what I aim to collect." He grinned as your mouth dropped open. "With the blowjob you just gave me? Your name may be Angel, but you, madam, are no saint."

"And anyone that can make me see God like that, sir, is no sinner, even if he is a big Mafia Don," you quipped back playfully in between breaths. He chortled a bit, then scooted back up beside you.

"Tell me again how 'big' I am," he said cheekily, before kissing you hard. You sighed into his mouth and let your hand travel down again, gently teasing. He shuddered with delight, then pulled away just a bit, forcing you to stop before you could make him come again.

"So, seeing as we're both apparently fantastic at oral," he said frankly, turning his wicked grin on you. "You ever tried to sixty nine?"

You laughed, delighted that he was already thinking about the next time. "Always wanted to, never done it," you said honestly. "I think we have quite a few things like that to talk about, don't we?"

"You bet your sweet ass we do," he said triumphantly, making you giggle again. "God, that's a conversation I can't wait to have. We definitely cannot have it at the club or at the restaurant."

"Why not?"

"Why not? You think that I'm not going to tear the fucking clothes off your body after we get through just the first point and fuck you until you've got no voice left to scream my name? You're insane."

"Okay, when you put it THAT way." A wicked thought popped into your mind at that....oh, you knew what song you were going to dance to tonight...But before you could tease him any more about it, he suddenly sprung from the bed.

"Come on," he said, walking around to your side and holding out his hand. "Come shower with me, then I'm taking you out to breakfast."

Well. Who were you to argue?

Chapter 12

[helsafterdark]

since you tallked about it in one post 21 for thee smut promots?-cwanon

Hell yeah thank you for giving me an excuse to indulge in my silly little ideas

( for this )

// ns/fw , light cnc, free use, light somno, semi-public

Hels didn't notice it until the metal clinked against their glass.

The inconspicuous silver band on Ex's middle finger.

She wondered how long it had been there. Ex had obviously been waiting for him to notice, when their eyes met again they smiled innocently.

Ideas surged through Hels' mind, his fingers drumming against the table and her tail not so subtly flicking about of its own accord. He wouldn't do anything right now, she quickly decided, no - he had to wait until they least expected it. Maybe even until they'd forgotten all about putting on the ring in the first place.

Things were more fun that way.

It was hard to sit through the rest of dinner, especially pretending they weren't the real meal he was sizing up the whole time.

By the time it was finally over though Hels knew exactly what he wanted to do to them.

He continued chatting with them casually as the two left the bar, keeping up the act all the way until they had rounded the corner of the back alley.

Only then did she stop and pin them against the brick wall.

Her tongue was in their mouth faster than they could say anything muffling the noises they made as she unbuckled their pants and shoved them down to fall around their boots. He pulled away watched their face intently, seeing them swallow as his fingers traced back and forth over the skin under the waistband of their boxers.

“You better be quiet,” she warned as she dragged the boxers down, “wouldn't want anyone to come see you all…exposed like this, that's my privilege only.”

Obediently, they didn't utter a sound.

Hels unzipped her pants, finally getting some relief from how painfully hard he'd been on and off all dinner. Briefly he squeezed Ex's inner thigh, before immediately shoving her cock into them all the way to the hilt.

He had been hoping to fool them into thinking he'd finger them first and obviously that had worked judging by the shocked gasp they let out.

“Don't make me gag you,” she cooed sweetly, the back of his hand brushing their cheek with the same condescending sweetness.

For once he chased only his own pleasure. He pulled all the way out, briefly frotting the head of his dick with theirs before sliding back in deep as he could get it. Of course they were completely wet, they were probably fantasizing all evening about being used like this. It made it all the easier to thrust in and out of them.

As he continued Ex's legs shook, tears in their eyes from the pure restraint it took not to make a single noise other than heavy panting. They could barely support themself while being fucked into so roughly but Hels' hands were occupied finding new ways to grope them, not hold them up.

“Good, keep taking it just like that,” she groaned in their ear, speeding up and getting rougher by the second, blunt fingernails digging into their thighs, “I'm gonna fill you up and make you walk home with it dripping down your legs as a reminder of what a good slut you were for me.”

Ex couldn't hold back a heady moan.

That was all it took to push Hels over the edge, burying himself in them and releasing with a sharp hiss.

After a second she pulled out and zipped up her pants, pulling up Ex's clothes after. They were still shaking and dazed and - from the way they squirmed and rubbed their thighs together - desperate.

She waited for them to redo their belt then started walking again like nothing happened.

They went home like usual, showering to clean up the mess Hels had made, talking late into the night. No doubt Ex thought Hels was done now.

But she had only completed half her earlier formed plan.

Later when they were finally in bed he waited until their eyelids started to droop, breathing evening out and slowing.

Then she detached from them and sat up. He brushed his fingers feather light from their bare chest down their stomach. It was light enough not to stop them from continuing to fall asleep, their body relaxed and receptive to the touch.

She leaned down and kissed all over their body, their neck and collarbone, chest and stomach, this making them stir slightly.

They only started to wake up when she got between their legs, his breath hot on their crotch through boxers.

“Mm?” Ex made a sleepy hum, starting to sit up as they felt Hels' mouth on them.

Hels shushed them gently, one hand pushing them back down. They moaned still half asleep when he slid off their underwear and licked their dick agonizingly slowly.

Quickly ditching the slow and gentle she manhandled their thighs, spreading their legs and lifting their hips before going down on them again. He shoved his face into their cunt, his tongue moving with the sole purpose of making a mess of them. And that it did.

Ex's noises were soft but unrestrained, not having the energy to do anything but lay back and take it, everything Hels had to offer.

One moment her mouth was around their cock and the next his tongue was filling their hole and pressing against their sweet spot in a way that made their eyes roll back. They couldn't keep up with the pace and delicious pleasure, couldn't even give a warning before the intensity of their long awaited orgasm washed out any scrap of wakefulness they had left.

They were only vaguely aware of rolling onto their stomach, drifting in and out of sleep as Hels' tip slid against and eventually into them, using their hole again just like he had in the alley. At least this time he had the sense to pull out and cum on their back so they wouldn't have to get up and clean off again.

Hels knew they were too deep in sleep to hear his praise as he cleaned them off but that didn't stop him, murmuring their perfection and wiping the sweat and cum from their thighs.

Then he laid behind them, holding them against him and using them to keep his cock warm - after all, they hadn't taken the ring off yet.

[phoenixtakaramono]

2, 12, 26

<3

Re: Questions for Fic Writers

Thank you for the Ask, anon! So sorry it’s taken awhile to respond but finally I’m on a brief break from writing so I can finally answer this! (๑˃̵ᴗ˂̵)♡

I do have to give everyone a warning. After Question 2, I do get a bit nitpicky and kinda specific of what I personally do not like. Please don’t take offense, luvs. <3

2) Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

I had to lol a bit looking at them. So disregarding the Fanart and Illustrations tags (I usually make a cover art for my long fics), what we’re looking at are:

Developing Relationship: You’re talking to a slowburn romance writer. By nature, I am also very much demisexual irl. And I am an avid consumer of light novels and danmei where 100-300 chapters in, they finally hold hands or kiss, and I have to scream into a pillow and kick my feet in delight upon reading it (the number is an exaggerated hyberbole, haha, but you get the gist). It’s the developing relationship that makes the experience special imo so I like to spend more time and effort showing how these characters can come to fall in love with each other in my own works.

Possessive Behavior: So, irl, I would hate this. Dear lord, I would run for the hills if a man showed an ounce of possessiveness and has essentially revolved their life around me to a disturbing degree (it’s not cute being love-bombed and isolated from friends and family, etc). But since this is fictional and the love interests tend to be canonical d*ckheads whereby possessiveness is very much in-character for them, and especially if it’s for a dark fic, I will serve you psychotic yanderes or clingy, obsessive Male Leads who love only the Main Character and would end the world just for them. I am so used to wholesome healthy cookie-cutter relationships irl, so I like to explore the opposite in fiction.

S*xual Tension: Same as the developing relationship. I mean, yes, I can write the NS/FWs and can churn them out with a straight face, but it’s usually not the focus of my works. It’s the s*xual tension where it’s at. I wanna see chemistry. I wanna see it sizzle. I want to see them pine. When I write a romance, I want to make it clear from the start how well-matched these two characters are for each other and, why, yes, you should continue to read my super ultra long fic if you want to see how I will make them kiss and make love to each other.

Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence: Alright, this one is especially indicative of my writing habits and the stories I tend to write, aka Post-Canon AUs. It’s very much What-If scenarios that keep me up at night and inspire me to write what you read. I don’t think there exists a fic of mine which is not either an AU or an AU - Canon Divergence. For me, after I finish a source material, usually I want to see a continuation of the same characters—with their core essence and personality kept as true as possible. And that is also indicative of what I write. What I like to read myself extends to what I like to write.

Fluff: I like fluff as much as the next person, but I like it when it’s earned. When that coldhearted Love Interest who’s grown embittered gradually warms up to the Main Character and entwines their fingers to slowly bring their hands up to their face to softly plant a kiss to the back of their hand, or the Main Character who’s grown to be besotted with the Love Interest and nuzzles their face into their chest as their arms wrap around them, sharing body heat as their bodies spoon up against each other—you see what I mean? It hits better when it’s earned (when you see their journey). Since my fics tend to be long, I also like to inform my readers that, yes, there will be fluff in the story. They’re coming.

Character Study: I do use a lot of my fics as an opportunity to do a character study on some characters that fascinate me, whether it be a character introspection or their POV, etc. Some fics are more obvious think-pieces and character explorations disguised as stories. It’s exploring my love for a character, seeing what makes them tick, and condensing their essence down to mere words on a page.

Canon-Typical Violence: I’m a detail-oriented writer. 99% of the time, what I write is on the graphic end. I go lush with the sensory details and descriptions. And for the source materials with canon-typical violence, I feel obligated to include violent scenes in my own works so it feels like you’re reading an extension of the universe. I also tend to put this warning up just in case, just so readers have been forewarned.

The last tag is pretty self-explanatory I think, considering the fics I write are 🔞 queer literature between two consenting adult fictional men, haha. Nuff said.

12) Are there any tropes you used to dislike but have grown on you?

So, funny thing about me and my love-hate relationship with tropes…. In the spirit of honesty, this is a bit of a landmine to navigate for me, haha. I’d answered an Ask about this (if you do read it, skip down to the Contrarian Tendencies section), as why I tend to develop an aversion to tropes and clichés that’s affected not only what I consume as a reader but also affect the content I write. So if my brain happens to identify a pattern of tropes or clichés or popularly used words or even popular fanon nicknames for characters, I will instinctively dislike the fad 90% of the time on sight and I will go outta my way to avoid any fics/ stories/ shows/ manga/ manhua/ manhwa that even mention them—unless the creator is intentionally satirizing a classic cliché or reinvents the wheel to breathe new life into a tired trope. As an analogy, think of how fatigued some of us have become of the generic superhero movies being pumped out via DCU and MCU—and then think of how The Boys (TV) is like a breath of fresh air. It’s the execution and originality for me. I like it when there’s a clear attempt on the writer’s part to be unconventional. I love trope subversions and deconstructions. That’s kinda how my brain operates with tropes. I can’t exactly explain why my instinctive aversion to fads exists for me. It’s probably the predictability/ unoriginality and sensing a popular fad that kills it for me. It might be because as much as I am a bibliophile (person who loves reading books), I only have a limited amount of free time and don’t like to spend it on something that’s completely unoriginal with the usual tropes that come with the premise/ genre which comes across like beating a dead horse with a stick to me, and it shows me that the writer has put little to no effort into trying to come up with something new. So unless it’s intentional or satire, it’s pretty much become a compulsion for me to dislike clichés, fads, and generic cookie-cutter writing on sight.

This is just me though! It’s not a measure of what I think a writer’s skill or creativity is! I’m just an eccentric contrarian with hipster tendencies, haha. I just typically don’t like following trends in writing, and prefer to pave my own path to do my own thing. This aversion is similar to how I am as a writer. As an example on the smaller level, while not a trope, sometimes in fandoms I see a character affectionately being given non-canonical nicknames. For me…if I see it, chances are I will likely just drop the fic I’ve been reading, no matter how well-written it is and how amazing the plot and characterizations are. If I think a nickname has overstayed its welcome, I have reached a point where I won’t even come ten feet of it in my own stories. When it has reached that level of nausea for me, I have essentially developed an allergy to the nickname—that if I see it in any other franchise I have yet to check out but know that name exists for a character, I will avoid that other fandom like a plague just so there’s no cross-contamination of my writing or reading material. (So I’m not gonna name names because I don’t want writers to think I’m calling anyone out—because this aversion is only specific to me and is not a metric of the true quality of a writer’s work—but as a general example, it’s one of the reasons why I don’t like “Johnny” being used for a certain character in The Boys that have shown up a handful of times across various authors’ works already—because my brain associates that with another well-known character from CoD (🧼) who coincidentally shares the same first name (John) who also canonically has a certain nickname they’re known by (Johnny)—and what a funny coincidence that it’s the same as their nickname for a character I’m reading about in this different fandom. It could be very well that it’s cute so that’s maybe why some writers use it (which, I have to say this: don’t let me stop you; it’s your fic so do whatever you want; I encourage you to continue so in fact; this is just me being nitpicky to a fault) but there are writers I know who are in the CoD franchise as well as The Boys. So I just cannot remove the association my brain has made and that’s personally why it’s not my cuppa tea.)

“A-Yuan” is a good example, for the character Shen Yuan from SVSSS, where I saw it everywhere in the fics I read, disliked the fad because my brain strongly associated “A-Yuan” with a character from MXTX’s other work, MDZS, so it was incredibly jarring to me on principle, but over the years—and especially engagement with my cute readers—it has grown on me. A-Yuan though is probably the one exception I’ve made so far where I will read works with that fanon nickname while also include it in my own work myself. No other fanon character nicknames for other fandoms so far have pierced through the barrier of my initial dislike to the other side. If you ask me for reasons of how this manifests for me, it can differ. 1) It’s too cutesy and can be immersion-breaking if it’s not done right or if it’s out-of-character (especially if no one would call them that in the source material). Or 2) the nickname reminds me of another character from a different franchise, which makes me feel like I’m reading about an entirely different character from that franchise than the character I want to be reading about. Or 3) it makes me feel like I’m reading about a writer’s Original Character and not the actual character I’d wanted to read about so I feel like I’ve been misled by unintentional false advertisement. Other examples are (in no particular order of which fandoms they come from): Hanni, Dray/ Drake, Johnny, Tommy, Sesshy, Sev, Jimmy, BeiBei…I could go on but I already feel my soul has shriveled just mentioning these. In my opinion, just a made-up fanon nickname or petname being mentioned once or twice or a handful of times is okay, or if it’s said mockingly or if it’s like an earned thing to show relationship growth, but dear lord if that cutesy nickname has replaced the actual character’s first name for, like, 90% of a fic and has become their go-to. This also applies for Original Works. If I have to read a character calling someone by something corny like “Little One,” “Goddess,” “little lamb,” “cub,” or “kitten” for the 3,000th time in the same work and it’s not the writer trying to be ironic or funny, I will take a fork to my eyes.

As for actual disliked tropes that have grown on me…gosh, there are none. None, zilch, nada. It’s either A) I dislike it wholeheartedly and will go out of my way to avoid my pet peeves, or B) I like something and will continue to read 100 iterations of it because everyone does it differently so it’s refreshing to see everyone’s different take (I will read any dark fics revolving around a villain or antihero or hero-turned-ruthless with a scheming mind and twisted motives; I eat that up for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and will love it till I’m in my 90s or buried in my grave). There’s no coming back once I’ve become fatigued by something. And if I have come to dislike something, I will loathe it with every fiber of my being and nothing can convince me otherwise once I have put it on my Do Not Like list. We’re talking about tropes I find insufferable like unnecessary miscommunication/ misunderstandings leading to a fall-out/ unnecessary poor communication leading to unnecessary drama, fake-out deaths (if not done right), love triangles (if not done right), damsel in distress (if not done right), unnecessary and undeserved character assassination character bashing to make way for a ship, etc. Now can there be exceptions to this? Yes. God, yes, they exist. But these are the tropes I rarely see executed well. And if it’s not executed well, it grinds everything to a screeching halt for me and I notice its existence even more. I will however make a strong attempt to persevere and patiently read on despite so in hopes that it gets better to see what the hullabaloo is all about, but even I have my limits for how long I can keep holding on.

26) Would you rather write a fic that had no dialogue or one that was only dialogue?

First of all, why? Hahaha. Secondly, I guess I’m going to be nitpicky here as well. So unless it’s a satirical fic where there’s only one character (lmao, y’all recall that infamous Groot masterpiece?), I would rather write a fic that had no dialogue because at least I can differentiate everyone’s introspection and thoughts, interspersed with descriptions and other storytelling elements. Maybe instead of dialogue, they communicate via telepathy or body language. I’dunno, but it’s certainly more flexible. It’s just a small pet peeve of mine where I read a story where there’s a large chunk of dialogue—but I have absolutely no clue who’s speaking. It’s frustrating. And is a surefire way to break my reader immersion and take me outta the story.

[luvliewriting]

❦❦❦

Imagine: First Kiss

Warnings: Mostly just fluff, maybe some hints of ns/fw for some

Notes: I'm willing to turn any of these concepts into actual fics if requested

Includes: The Gallagher siblings

❦❦❦

Fiona <3

You worked with her at the diner and it was time for closing, it was just you two cleaning up before you turned the lights out. You kept eyeing her from across the diner; seeing her bend over the tables, tuck her bottom lip under her teeth when she would scrub a stubborn spot, pushing back strands of hair that left her ponytail. It was torturous watching her like that. You knew she just got out of a relationship with Jimmy/Steve so you worried that maybe it would be too soon to tell Fiona how you felt but it was getting more to be harder everyday that you had to watch her and see her. Eventually you couldn't take it so you "accidentally" dropped one of the coffee cups and Fiona immediately offered to help you clean it up. When you two ducked to the back to toss the pieces of the cup, you pulled her back before she could return to cleaning and kissed her. To your surprise, she didn't try to push you off and even stayed back a bit longer after closing at the back of the diner with you

❦❦❦

Lip

It was the same as Karen, you were a little behind on history and Lip needed some extra money so he decided to tutor you. The first couple lessons were innocent enough, it stayed strictly as tutoring. But as the lessons went, you two got closer. He would scoot his chair closer to you, he would stay behind after the lessons for a bit to have a smoke and chill with you till it happened. You were scribbling on the paper aimlessly while Lip read the textbook to you and explaining what it meant in more detail not that you were listening, you were too busy admiring him and his voice but you tried to pay as good attention as you could. Your pencil slipped out your hand and rolled to the floor between you two. You both bent down to grab it, smacking your foreheads together as he groaned and you laughed. He was rubbing his forehead when he looked at you with those eyes, those eyes you could stare at for hours as you began to lean in, as did he till your lips touched. His hands snaking down to your butt and thighs, pulling you off of your chair and into his lap.

❦❦❦

Ian

Childhood friends, you two had grown up with each other and knew each other better than anyone else. He was your first crush and you were his but you were both two stubborn to admit. After Ian dumped Mickey, you were conflicted on what to do; you had a chance to either make your childhood fantasies come true or completely ruin a lifetime of friendship. It started with leaving little crumpled notes in places that he would find eventually, than turned into leaving articles of clothing at his place when you would sleepover till you eventually just flat out said that you wanted Ian in that way. You braced yourself for the rejection, turning to the door to leave his room till he grabbed you and smashed his lips against yours passionately finally admitting what he had wanted to say for years.

❦❦❦

Debbie

You met Debbie through Franny's school where you worked, she was by far your favourite of the mom's to converse with when they would come to pick up their kids. Debbie was typically the last parent to come pick up their kid, not that you complained. You absolutely adored Franny and you liked getting to catch up with Debbie. But one day, it was a Friday so you sat with Franny at one of the little tables waiting for Debbie to come pick her up while you ate lunch with Franny. Franny was eating her typical peanut butter and jelly, her mouth was full as she said "mommy keeps talking about you Mrs/Mr L/N". You weren't sure if you heard her right but she continued when her mouth wasn't full, "she says your name when she's in her room for private time." Okay you were sure you heard Franny right now and when Debbie came to pick up Franny, you decided to follow the two out to your car which was parked beside Debbie's. Debbie was in the car, Franny in her car seat and Debbie's window was rolled down as she talked to you. Eventually you just leaned in and pecked her lips, leaving Debbie flustered as you winked, "I'll see you tomorrow Miss Gallagher."

❦❦❦

Carl

You were at an arcade and challenged him to a game of basketball, Just for the fuck of it. You won of course, by pure dumb luck because athletics were not within your department. Carl tussled for the ball, demanding a rematch and you refused, screaming that he was being a sore loser. He chuckled and reached for the ball that your arms stretched to the back of your head, as it you really could evade him. It was like he planned it yet it also felt so improved, smug bastard. It was fast, his arm snaked around your waist and planted his lips on yours. You could be imagining things, but you could have swore Carl took a second to inhale you, taking you all in. For what felt like an eternity was over in a flash when you heard a thump on the floor. He got the ball and you were subjected to a rematch

❦❦❦

Shameless Taglist:

Thank you for reading

Please reblog because likes don't help with reach at all

❦❦❦

[chainsaw-trash]

Listen this is just porn, nothing more, reader sucking Aki on the balcony as he smokes. That’s it, that’s what Ihave to offer today. Also it’s gn!reader, no descriptions. Pairing: Aki x gn!reader Word Count: 1778 Warnings: NS//FW, 18+, smut, oral m!recieving, slight face fcking, cum eating

smoke

The dark of the night sky engulfed the city in its shadows, the sliver of moon left today barely shone anything on the small balcony. A warm light painted Aki’s face in the deep darkness as he lit another cigarette and breathed in the smoke, the yellows and oranges of the fire caressing his skin. He felt lucky a cold wind hadn’t put out his fire. Slowly exhaling the smoke in his lungs he relaxed, a hand coming to caress your hair. Fuck, it was late, he should be asleep, but there was no way in hell he could sleep with just how fucking good you were.

Aki inhaled the smoke with a rumble from deep within his core that he was sure you could feel. Your pretty lips sealed tight around his cock, sucking on the swollen tip as you gripped the base with one of your hands. He exhaled with a grunt, the hand in your hair pulling slightly as he rested his other arm against the balcony. Fuck , your mouth was so warm, so good that he’d probably even stop smoking if you asked him to now. He flicked the cigarette on the balcony wall, ashes falling to the city below, before he pulled it back to his lips again.

“Fuck,” he looked down at you, you looked just too damn perfect on your knees, “so good.”

His words were more moaned than spoken, smoke being exhaled as he talked. Your eyes met, gaze locked together as you let his cock slip from between your lips, Aki already missing your warmth. You smiled, a mischievous thing, more of a taunt than the warm smile he was used to from your daily life. 

You tightened your grip on him, kissing along the underside as you took your mouth all the way to the base of his hard cock. Aki felt the wetness of your tongue touch his skin, right above a particularly sensitive vein. Damn. You licked his erection from the base to the slit, painfully slowly. He couldn’t stop a groan, the smoky sound coming from deep within as his hips bucked instinctively.

Aki inhaled deep the cigarette smoke again, flicking the ashes to the side in a fluid motion, feeling the hush of the nicotine heighten the sensations. You took him into your mouth again, swallowing his thick cock a good two thirds of the way. You felt so good, so perfect, so warm and wet and he moaned, a bit too loud for his own liking. This was already risky he didn’t need to make it worse - but the adrenaline, oh the adrenaline was even better than the nicotine.

You shot Aki a questioning look, lips still around his dick. He wasn’t gonna take judgment from you, not while you were in that position. The hand in your hair grabbed harder and pushed your head into his dick - back to sucking with you . His hand quickly pulling the cigarette back to his lips. 

You took more of his erection in your mouth, you could already feel the salty taste of precum in his slit. He was thick, he knew it, but you always struggled and took it all in. You felt the enlarged head of his cock hit the roof of your mouth, it was so hot, so big, you couldn’t help but moan, the vibrations going straight to his erection. You heard Aki moan out your name, the smell of tobacco, strong as it escaped his lungs. 

Aki’s grip on your hair loosened again as he lit a new cigarette. Now free, you bobbed your head up and down, controlling your breathing as you moved to take more of him in. You felt his cock twitch in your mouth as his hips bucked again, hand pulling strong at your hair once more. The groan that escaped his lips was enough to make you feel your core tighten, excitation heightened by his strong pull on your hair. His voice was just sinful .

“Good,” he moaned out, voice roughened by the hot smoke, dripping with a desire that bordered violence, “that’s it, but I know you can take more.”

His praise made your core tighten again, and how could you deny him? The hand on your hair caressed you approvingly as you started moving once more. It was something deeply intimate, the praise, the voice, the caresses to your hair. More even than how his fat cock twitched, stretching inside of your mouth, precum leaking vigorously now. He tasted good, so good, and he smelled of the citric soap in his bathroom, skin so warm it heated you wherever it touched. 

You took more of him in, gagging slightly as his cock came closer to the back of your throat. Aki murmured more praises to you, letting you set the tempo as you moved your lips in slow and deliberate movements along the length of his dick. It felt so damn good and he wanted so much more but he’d let you go slow, let you set the pace for now. He knew that you’d always find your way to the base of his cock.

Aki felt himself twitch, fighting the desire to move his hips as he felt you gagging on his cock, coming closer and closer to where he wanted you to be. He murmured to let you know to take your time. Dirty praises, laced in desire and cigarette smoke. He didn’t want to choke you, not really . He wanted you to accommodate his length, his width. He wanted you to be the perfect fit for him.

When you finally took him balls deep in your mouth, when he finally felt himself fully sheathed in you, his head so close to the back of your throat, Aki shuddered. The hand in your hair held your head in place with a firm grip as he took a long drag from his cigarette. 

“That’s it,” his voice was laced with smoke and lust, with words spoken in a growl, “so perfect .”

Aki used the hand in your hair to start moving your head up and down his cock, slowly at first as he let you get used to his size. But it didn’t take long for him to start moving you faster. A torrent of curses spilling from his lips as he felt your wet mouth dragging along his hard cock, pressing just right the thick vein on the underside of his length. He was bucking his hips now, and to you there was nothing more than the salty taste of him. He was almost using your head to jerk off and you felt fire burn in your core at the thought.

You could feel his cock throbbing between your lips, the head hitting against your cheeks as you sucked. His hips starting to buck freely as he started fucking your mouth, the only thing you could do was try not to gag as he buried himself to the hilt again and again . You could feel his heavy balls hitting your face every time he fully sheathed himself.

Aki watched with a burning desire as your head easily bobbed up and down on his dick, slobbering down his heavy erection, the mix of saliva and pre cum making it all easier. You were a mess yourself too, red swollen lips, saliva dripping from your mouth and eyes closed in bliss. Fuck, you made him crazy, balls feeling painfully heavy as he felt desperate to empty them in your mouth. He was coming so fucking close he could feel it. The shortened breaths making it harder for him to smoke but fuck he wanted to. He wanted the high like he wanted you.

You started to feel his heavy cock throb and twitch as his hips started losing tempo. You had to brace yourself on his legs as Aki’s movements became erratic. He started to lose himself in moans and praises that spilled out of his perfect lips like sacred prayers. His voice was husky from the cigarette and filled with desire. He was fucking your mouth like a pussy and he’d cum in it like one.

Aki was panting, knuckles white as he gripped your hair tight. Ah you were so perfect , so sinfully wet and hot and you took his cock so well. His movements were shallower now, hips bucking uncontrollably. All he could think of was how good you felt, the grinding of his hips into you, the throbbing of his length as it rubbed on your mouth and it was so much, all so much . 

Aki inhaled one last time before letting the cigarette fall to from his fingers. Both his hands now desperately engulfing your head and holding you into place. He was buried to the hilt, the sensitive head of his cock almost hitting the back of your throat when you felt it. You felt him twitch intensely as thick ropes of cum spilled from his slit. You could feel it hitting your tongue, the taste so fantastic. 

He exhaled the smoke from his lungs with the breath he was holding, pulling his hips back as you started to gag and cum spilled from your mouth. No, Aki couldn’t have it, he wanted you to swallow his thick cream. Rocking his hips back and forth he rode through his orgasm. Yeah, he wanted to fill you up so good.

“Take it all,” his voice was strained, pulled  tight as he spasmed on your mouth, “just like that, take it. ”

Aki made sure to milk himself to the last drop before pulling his cock out. You felt one of his hands touching your face as his cock withdrew. Fuck, you could feel his cum on your mouth, it was so thick you found it hard to swallow. But you always did, gulping down and savoring the taste. Aki used his thumb to open your mouth, rubbing it on your tongue as you moaned, eyes locked with yours.

“You fucking swallow so good,” he sounded labored and very much sinful.

Aki wished for a smoke now. Oh , he remembered now his last cigarette had fallen down to the city below in his ecstasy. Ah, it was for a good reason. He moves the hand from your mouth to your head, caressing you as his other hand found your own.

“Fuck, I love you,” his voice was quiet but so full of honesty, just as his smile.

“I love your cum,” you gave him that taunting, mischievous smile again as you licked one of your fingers.

He snarled at you before giving a low laugh, you had to ruin the mood.

[dear-mrs-otome]

A Sheep in Wolf's Clothing - IkeVamp (Theo, NSFW)

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire Characters: Theo/Female MC Rating: E - explicit Warnings: 18+, NS/FW, biting, dirty talk Summary: After a bad day, the only thing he wants is her. 5k words of absolutely no plot - just the smuttery that happens when Theo's woman wears his shirt. (This is my BELATED part of the exchange set up by @ikemenlibrary for the lovely @princessranran - life threw me for a crazy loop this week but I'm happy to finally get this to you!)

It wasn’t the door’s fault, Theo had to remind himself. Staying his hand before it slammed the broad entrance of the manor shut in what he knew would have been a thunderous crash, and instead closing it with a soft snick of sound. Not the door or the house or his own or anyone’s fault that there still existed pigheaded people even in this so-called ‘enlightened’ day and age.

The sour dregs of the failed meeting with his latest client still sat bitter on his palate as he shucked his long jacket and cap, shaking them out and hanging them meticulously as if seeking some measure of calm in the rote ritual. His urge to murder someone barehanded had faded by the time he finished, but his foul mood still persisted.

He knew there was only one place, and one person in this house, who could truly do anything about that.

His long strides ate up the length of stairs and corridors that led to her room, feet unerringly finding the way after all these repeated trips, and by the time he’d lifted his hand to knock at her door the worst of his fury had banked itself and a different sort of fire was stoking deep in his belly. One born of anticipation and the intimate knowledge of just how divinely one woman’s blood gilded his tongue.

“Hondje,” he called as he rapped softly on the wood panels of her door, still not wanting to wake her if she slept. He wasn’t that much of an ass. “Are you up?”

There was a sliver of light beneath her door that had given him hope, and he soon heard the whisper of sheets being thrown back and the soft pad of bare feet on hardwood approaching the door. She opened it, only to lean against the doorjamb, her arms crossed and a crooked grin tilting her lips that made everything wrong with the world suddenly seem somewhat more right.

“Well hello, what a surprise,” she drawled playfully in greeting. “You’re back rather late.”

“Hello yourself. Nice sleepwear,” he rumbled back, one brow arching slightly as he took in her state of dishabille and the very familiar garment she wore.

The only garment she wore, he realized. His own button-up, looking comically large and more akin to a shift than a shirt on her.

Whatever warmly spiced soap and shampoo she had used in her bath wafted towards him, mingling with the lingering remnants of his own cologne that clung to the fabric she wore - the combination hitting him like a soft punch to the gut that had him stifling an involuntary groan. A streak of possessiveness that he’d be ashamed of on a good day rearing its head like a lion scenting blood on the wind, licking its chops.

The rational part of his brain told him it was a very, very bad idea to step past her into the room proper, not with this on top of how keyed up he was right now...but that did almost nothing to stop him from doing so anyways.

“You don't look in a state to be receiving company,” he observed pointedly, not bothering to hide the way his eyes lingered on the long bare line of her legs peeking out from beneath the hem of his shirt.

She laughed softly, leaning into the doorway, perhaps exaggerating a bit the cant of her hips as if knowing he would be watching. Or at least hoping he would be. “I wasn’t planning to go anywhere other than back to bed,” she answered. “Why? Were you coming by for a very late afternoon tea?”

His mouth went more than a bit dry at the realization that she actually did wear the damn shirt to bed. Rolling about in her sheets, leaving his scent all over the place. His response took longer to formulate than it should have, with that thought in his head and the way she posed in front of him, white broadcloth scarcely covering the pert curve of her rear.

“Something like that,” he managed finally, watching transfixed as she turned away. “Hondje...” Her growled nickname was a warning of some sort, although Theo couldn't have said whether it was for her or for himself. “You don't really sleep in that, do you?”

She blinked, stopping mid-spin to turn towards him, pausing for a moment before she lifted her gaze to his face. “Of course I do,” she replied, arching one brow up at him. A grin tugged at one corner of her lips, painting a wicked expression over her face. “Though… that’s not the only thing I do in it.”

He froze at that, eyes fixed on the sinful smile that touched her lips as what little scrap of sense and reason he had left died an ignoble death. It only took him one long stride to close the gap between them, turning her back around and closing the door of her room in a single harried motion, hands pressing against the door on either side of her shoulders as he crowded her back and made a loose cage of his arms.

“And just what else is it you do in my shirt, hondje? Rubbing my scent all over that pretty, smooth skin of yours?” The question was dragged almost reluctantly from him, already rough voice tattered even further by the mental images his unruly mind was conjuring. Bending his head he pulled in another slow lungful of the intoxicating combination, the breath leaving his body on a low rasp as he pressed his nose against the pale strands of her hair and pressed her even closer to the door behind her.

She tilted her head, leaning back into the solidity of the wall he trapped her against. If she wanted, she could break free - they both knew that. But running didn’t seem on her mind at the moment. Her hands came up between them, fingers snagging in the material of the shirt he wore now, pulling it free of the waistband of his pants to trace over the ridges of his pronounced muscles beneath. She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she skated her palms up the broad spread of his chest and then down again, leaving furrows of fire that seared his skin in her wake.

“When I wear this shirt,” she began, words snagged by the first burr of desire. “I think about you when I get myself off. I hope you’re planning to let me keep it,” She made a small sound like a purr, an impish light her eyes. “Although I’m sad to realize the smell of you has faded a bit."

Her words drew a muffled snarl from him that soon faded into a dark laugh. He curled one hand around the back of her neck with the barest flexing of fingers, and angled a grin full of fang down at her. “I could always give you the one I'm wearing now.”

Dropping his head he traced behind the soft curve of one ear with the tip of his nose, flicking his tongue out to taste her skin, feeling more than a bit drunk on the way she swamped his senses. “We should move this elsewhere,” he said against her neck, the sharp points of his teeth rasping over the fragile surface with each word. “Or I swear by everything holy I'm going to fuck you against this door, right where everyone can hear it.”

“I don’t care what they hear,” she replied, her voice a husky purr of sound that whispered against his ear. “But I want you in my bed. I want my sheets and pillows to smell like you too. So I can think about you when I have to sleep alone.” She closed her teeth against the tender lobe of his ear, tilting her head so the sharp points of his fangs dug deeper against her skin as if testing his willpower, drawing a tremble through her.

“Maybe…” she murmured. “We can trade shirts like you offered. That way you can wear this one now that it smells like me.” She grinned as she pressed the lone of her body tighter against his, inching his vest upwards to toy with the buttons beneath. “Whenever you put it on you can think about fucking me. Think about the way my hands felt on your cock.” Her fingers trailed back down, cupping her palm against him through the pants he still wore, and his breath stung as he sucked it in hard. “Or perhaps my lips,” she amended, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against his throat, breath hot against the riot of his pulse.

Theo barely strangled the groan her touch and words elicited, hips arching towards the stroke of her hand as the fingers behind her neck moved to tangle in her hair. Tugging sharply he pulled her from the kisses she was pressing to his neck, dropping his own head to capture her mouth before her parted lips had a chance to close.

Wine lingered sweet on her breath and he chased the taste deeper, tongue tracing the edges of her teeth and meeting her own, savoring the way it mingled with the sweet flavor of simply her. His free hand dragged her closer, hips grinding lazily against hers for a moment before he hooked his grip beneath her knees and hauled her up into his arms, walking them both away from the wall and into the room proper.

Theo gently tossed her atop the expansive mattress and toed his boots off quickly, peeling the vest over his head before climbing up as well to loom on all fours over her, a smirk tilting his lips.

“I'll take that trade,” he said in belated reply to her offer, smoothing a deliberate hand beneath the hem of her (his?) shirt and along the slim line of her thigh, lifting the fabric slowly as he went. “You go first though.”

She sprawled back on the cool expanse of the sheets, hair fanning out behind her as she reached for him in turn. Her fingers flew along the line of his buttons, opening them to spread the placket wide so that she could trace along the waistband of his pants. The skate of her nails along the ridged muscles of his abs as the other hand slid up his thigh where he poised above her drew goosebumps on his flesh.

The shirt his wandering hand inched ever upwards bared a wealth of smooth skin covered only by a scrap of cloth masquerading as underwear. She was forced to draw her touch from him to spread her arms so that he could fully remove it.

Once freed, she lifted her hands to frame his face, thumbs brushing over the line of his jaw. She tugged him close as she arched up off the bed to draw him into another kiss, teeth scraping against his lower lip until he parted them for her. She traced the points of his fangs with her tongue, deepening the kiss until his lungs burned for air and the hands clutched at his shoulders slid down his back to snag into the cotton fabric of his shirt, tugging it impatiently.

Sitting back on his heels, Theo grasped the shirt she’d almost entirely removed and and finished tugging it off, tossing the garment to one side before leaning over her again. The planes of his stomach knotted as he bent, her frame dwarfed beneath him as he reached down to trail rough fingertips up the silk of her leg from ankle to the lone bit of delicate fabric she still wore. It snagged on the slightly calloused skin of his hand as he cupped the heated mound beneath, working the heel of his hand in slow absent circles. The cool blue of his eyes heated, pupils going wide and dark as his gaze wandered the lines and angles of her bare body, dwelling on the perfect rise of each breast.

A soft rumble of anticipation shook his chest as he ducked down to lick along the sweet clean skin of her neck, pausing to rasp teeth over the ridge of her collarbone and linger on the fluttering rhythm of the pulse cradled in its hollow. Ten, a dozen, a hundred...he lost track of how many beats he counted beneath his tongue as the hand nestled between her thighs worked against her, dipping fingers just beyond the side of the satin and lace to tease them both with the damp warmth he found there and the intoxicating rush of her blood just below her skin.

Burying a soft groan against her throat he moved lower, past the faint valley of her chest to circle lazily around the dusky pebble of one breast, the barest hint of salt reaching his mouth as desire warmed her skin beneath him. Closing his lips over the tempting peak at last he drew on the puckered flesh, softly at first and then harder, until the points of his teeth pressed against her tender skin and he had to fight against the urge to bite down. To leave some remnant of himself in that intimate place.

She tipped her head back, lips falling open around the soft cries that ushered from between them. Her fingers dug into his back, nails raked furrows that only egged him on, her whole body shifting restlessly beneath him. The cool bedsheets had gone warm beneath them, but it was the heat of his body above that pulled a flush to her skin and curled the fine hairs at her scalp with sweat.

Her hips arched up off into the bed, pressing into the weight of his hand, forcing the lace harsher against her. The muscles in her thighs trembled in anticipation, and she let out a small whimper of frustration at the teasing brush of his callused fingers against her damp center.

Theo's lips curved in a gratified smirk against her skin as her mewling reached his ears, and the fingers worked beneath the edge of her panties curled to hook and slide them slowly down the line of her legs, before he drew them from beneath her to toss carelessly aside. Relinquishing his latch on the sweet rise of her breast he began kissing a path lower, nuzzling into the trembling flesh of her stomach as he passed, enjoying the way her muscles and body quivered beneath him.

His fingers slid through the slick folds of her cleft, circling the small spot hidden within as he moved far enough down to settle between her legs, raking teeth gently along the satin skin that lined her inner thigh. "You smell so sweet," he murmured against the crease where her leg and hip met, hands urging her knees over his shoulder before slipping beneath the curve of her rear. "Like honey. I bet you taste even better, though."

He flicked his tongue over the heat of her slit, just a whisper of touch that gathered the first hint of her in his mouth, and a quiet snarl rose in his throat before he bent his head further and laved the damp flesh again, eager for more.

He rolled his gaze up to see her lift her head, watching him settle in between her legs, eyes gone dark with desire until the first whisper of his breath against her had her falling back against the pillows once more, lips parting in a near silent murmur of approval. The fingers she'd wound through his hair tightened, urging him closer, but they soon fell from his head. Clutching and twisting at the bed sheets instead as she lifted her hips into each stroke of his tongue, each heated press of his mouth, each wicked scrape of his fangs.

Her soft desperate sounds tore at him, shredding his resolve to savor the experience. As the tip of his tongue traced the small swell of her over and over again he ran fingers through the slick wetness of her, finding her entrance and plunging past to curl within her impossible heat. A low growl of pleasure passed from him to her, shaking between them as his hips moved restlessly against the mattress beneath him. His cock ached, but it became a secondary concern as his eyes fixed up the line of her body, drinking in the way she thrashed and moaned, every heaving breath that shook her perfect breasts. His hands and mouth sped their motions - wanting nothing more at that moment than to watch her come apart with his hands and tongue buried inside her.

Like a bow strung too tightly she released, tipping over the edge with sudden furious force. His name fell like an incantation from her lips, fingers scrabbling helplessly at the sheets as her body trembled around him. Muscles were left twitching in the wake of her orgasm, ribs heaving as she fought to catch her breath and calm the heart he could see thundering in her chest.

Sitting up slowly, Theo dragged his tongue over her swollen spent body one more time before licking the last flavor of her from his fingers with a wordless satisfied hum. Swiftly he stripped what remained of his own clothes before crawling up to stretch out beside her, one large hand splaying over the nip of her waist as he propped his head on the other to stare down at her. There were few things as erotic as the sight of a woman coming back into herself, pleasure still glossing her eyes and flushing her skin, and he studied her for long moments before bending his head to nose at the strands of her hair, listening as her breathing finally slowed.

"I seem to remember you saying something about your hands, and my cock," Theo purred at last, lacing her fingers flat between his own and trailing their combined touch slowly over the rise of his chest, down the taut-ridged plane of his stomach to curl lightly against the lurid jut of his arousal. His own grasp fell away, leaving hers behind, and he arched lazily off the bed in silent supplication. Wanting to feel her small fist squeezing around himself. "Touch me, hondje."

She wrapped her hand around him, scooting closer on the bed, turning on her side so that she could better see him. She leaned in to press her nose against his throat, pulling the scent of him into her lungs as she nuzzled there, tongue darting out to taste his pulse. She pressed the pad of her thumb against the broad head of his erection, catching the first bead of moisture that had gathered there and spreading it over him as she traced a path back down to the base of him. Cupping the heavy weight of his balls she scraped her teeth against his neck.

"Lie on your back," she murmured, nipping down. "I want to wrap my lips around you."

The breath caught in his throat, fresh frissons of heat skittering through his veins with every slide of her grip along him, every wicked nibble at his throat and the added pressure of her hand against his already aching groin. He rolled onto his back, pillowing his head on folded arms, and stared hotly down at the sight of her small fingers wrapped around himself, anticipation singing through him.

Turning his head he pressed his face against the cloud of her hair before she moved away, drawing another sweet lungful of her spicy, intriguing scent.

On a wicked smile, she shifted down the bed to sprawl on her belly between his legs. She lingered there a moment, tracing patterns along the tensed muscles of his thighs, brushing teasingly over him, testing the thickness of him beneath her palm. Scooting up on her knees to get a better position she took him fully in her grasp. Her small hand gripped the base of him, fingers squeezing as she lowered her head. Her warm breath feathered against the tip of his erection as she poised there a moment, pale hair falling in silky strands around her, and he thought for one wild second that he might die with want of her. Before she spared him, her tongue darted out, pressing firmly against the broad head of his cock and gathering the flavor she found there.

She mapped a path over the soft velvet of his skin with her tongue before closing her lips firmly around him. The air hissed between Theo's clenched teeth as she drew him past the pink bow of her lips, far into the hot wetness of her mouth, tongue flickering along his shaft like a flame.

His fingers wove through the locks of hair that trailed like skeins of silk over his thighs, winding a length of it in his tightly clenched hand as he cradled the back of her head, fighting the urge to do more than arch gently into the intoxicating warmth of her. Squeezing his eyes shut, her name fell from his lips in a guttural moan.

It was too much, and not enough. The temptation was strong to let the last frayed strands of his control unravel, to spend himself right here and now, but he wanted to reserve that for the pleasure between her supple thighs he'd taunted himself with earlier. Choking back another snarled iteration of her name he twisted his other hand into the thick rope of her hair and tugged her mouth gently up and away from himself, aching at the loss of her warmth.

“Wicked woman. Any more of that and I'll be useless to you.” One swift motion had her flipped beneath him, a hand hooking under one knee to spread her legs as he settled between them. He stared down at her for long moments, hips working slowly against the cradle of her own, the moisture she'd left on him and her own dewy heat causing them to slide against each other tortuously. “So beautiful. You’re priceless, shatje, do you know that?”

He drew back far enough to plunge home on a hard surge, dropping his head with a groan into the crook of her neck as the wet velvet warmth of her closed around him. The breath he drew was heady with the scent of him cologne all over her skin, and he licked at the pulse that had fluttered against his cheek, dragging the points of his fangs over her again and again as he began to slowly thrust. “You smell like me. Like us,” he growled against her, face still buried against her throat, the words more instinct than conscious thought. “Are you mine?”

The words he murmured into the air between them, sounds full of snarl, had her meeting his dark gaze with her own. Her eyes blurring and unfocused when he pressed snug against her. She lifted her hips to meet his thrust, body closing eagerly around him. Her hands drifted over his back, threading into his hair as he spoke, tilting her head to bare more of the tender skin to the scrape of his fangs and lips.

“I’m yours,” she agreed, the words breathless, lashes fluttering shut at a particularly deep thrust. She dragged her nails down his back, digging them into the muscles there, curling over his backside eagerly. “Harder,” she whimpered, part plea, part demand. “I’m all yours, Theo.”

Her soft moan of assent and the way she panted his name tore through him, eroded what little restraint he still clung to. On a ragged groan he took the ridge of her shoulder between his teeth and bit down, the sweet tang of copper that touched his tongue speeding the steady pace of his hips as he drew greedy mouthfuls before laving the harsh marks left behind. Savoring the way her breaths ratcheted up to near sobs. Rearing up he wrapped broad hands around the elegant wings of her hipbones, lifting her backside off the mattress and tilting it up towards him, the new angle forcing him further inside her with every harsh thrust.

“Mine,” he reiterated, eyes boring hotly down into her dazed stare as he churned against her. Fingers wandered over the shallow hollow cupped by her pelvis, delving down into the first parting of her folds to curl again and again, desperate to feel her shatter before the waves of pleasure that rippled up his spine stole his release from him.

He made it scarcely a handful of fitful thrusts more as she trembled around and beneath him, the sound of her breaking as bewitching as any siren’s song before the cord of his own control snapped, the reverberations of his sudden fierce climax shuddering through him for long breathless moments. Catching himself on one hand he slumped forward, heavy breaths stirring the tiny curled hairs at her temple before he rolled to one side, drawing her slight form half-atop him so that their pounding chests pressed together.

Twisting a lock of hair idly around his fingers he circled her waist with his other arm, holding her against him as he hummed wordless satisfaction, nose against the top of her head. “No sugar is ever as sweet as you,” he grinned, stretching slightly beneath her for emphasis as he worked tight muscles loose again.

She smiled against his shoulder where her head had fallen, the muscles in her thighs still twitching as she laid bonelessly against him for long moments, warm breath stirring against his skin. Sliding one arm across him, fingers twining into the hairs at the base of his skull, she propped herself up to gaze down at him appreciatively. “I like the way you look in my bed,” she said, leaning in to feather her lips along the line of his jaw, the corner of his mouth, nipping at his lower lip.

He watched her slow assessment with a lopsided smirk, her evident approval stoking his male pride. Chuckling at her proclamation he turned his head far enough to catch her mouth in a slow kiss, smoothing a hand up the satiny stretch of her back to curl over a shoulder. “I like the way you look in your bed,” he shot back with a grin, letting his own gaze and fingers wander the expanse of her flawless skin and delicate features idly.

Closing her eyes she kept one hand tangled in his hair while the other drew idle patterns with her fingertips over his shoulder and down his arm. “Do you mind me using you as a mattress?” she asked, opening one lazy eye to peer up at him.

Stroking a hand down to the curve of her hip, Theo laughed at her cheeky reply and hauled her more firmly atop him, reaching down to snag the bunched covers and pull them up over their shoulders. “Not if you don't mind me using you as another blanket.” He let the strands of her hair slide between his fingers, spicing the air with their fragrance, and his breath slowed with each inhale.

He wondered if she knew just how much these moments meant to him. The solace she brought. The words to tell her rose in his throat and then died again at the sight of her lashes curved into perfect dark halfmoons on her cheeks.

Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he’d tell her how he could brave anything the world threw at him, as long as he had this space inside her arms. As long as she smiled, it would all be okay.

And…if he didn’t manage then, that would be alright. He’d spend the rest of his countless, miraculous days making sure she knew. It seemed, if anything, a worthwhile use of forever.

[cinnamonest]

Genshin Boys - Sleeping HCs

Sleeping hcs for the boys that literally no one asked for bc the Xiao post gave me spontaneous inspiration and I can't stay focused on the things im supposed to write and this history paper im on rn is literally the most boring academic piece ive ever written and i need distraction. Thank you.

UPDATED 11/30/22

The most recently updated version, edited some older characters and added Tighnari, Itto, Cyno, Al Haitham, Ayato, and Heizou. Sorry for the length, for some reason (maybe bc it’s an old post I’m editing?) it won’t let me insert a readmore/cut, although hopefully if you’re seeing this on your feed it’ll cut most of it off automatically.

Also looking back that paper I originally mentioned still really WAS the most boring academic piece I’ve ever written. Sigh.

//mild mentions of yandere content, some very slight mentions of ns/fw things.

======================

Childe is a side sleeper, one of those people that has to be holding something. Before you he had a body pillow. Now you're the body pillow. But like, it's not super pleasant, boy has an IRON grip and sometimes you have to hit him and wake him up because he's suffocating you from holding you so tight. Also unfortunately for darling, he doesn't snore but he's a heavy mouth breather. So basically you're always spooning but you can feel him breathing on the back of your neck. Also, sometimes he turns over to his other side and he will take you with him, he doesn't even wake up, our unnaturally strong boy keeps his grip so tight that when he turns over you get flipped over with him and land on your other side, and again he doesn't even wake up in the slightest. Also mumbles every now and then, but its incoherent. He falls asleep very quickly, is usually pretty exhausted from his day.

Also sleeps naked, and you will too, whether you like it or not. Makes things easier when he wakes up in the middle of the night with needs, so he doesn’t have to bother pulling things off. At least he bothers to give you a shake and warn you a few seconds beforehand. ----------

Zhongli doesn't sleep a whole lot, a few hours less than most. He's something of a morning person, but if you're not, he's very understanding of that, and will stay quiet and let you sleep for a while. When he does sleep, he likes to sleep on his back, and because he's so broad-shouldered and firm he can sleep perfectly with you laying on top of him, which he likes a lot. He's a fairly silent sleeper, might utter a word or phrase, but not a lot, only once a night at most, and breathes quietly. Funnily enough, it always seems to be work-related when he does talk. The way he sleeps is rather nice though, because you can be lulled to sleep by the rising and falling of his chest as he breathes. But he's a very, very light sleeper, wakes up several times a night for no real reason and just goes back to sleep, thankfully usually softly enough it doesn’t wake you. He keeps an arm on you, but it's not too heavy or tight. Tends to have a very neutral, straight face while he sleeps.

That being said, there is a recurring problem that presents a challenge to the otherwise peaceful nights. Sometimes, illuminated beasts will subconsciously revert or change forms in their sleep according to their dreams. He is not an exception to this, although thankfully it’s only once a week or so. You will wake up to getting clonked in the head with a horn at least once. Otherwise, sometimes you get woken up by the sudden feeling of being cold, only to find a sprouted reptilian tail wrapped around your body, cold scales pressed to your skin, and if a particularly unfortunate night, gripping you far too tightly. At least he wakes up easily if you tap him a bit, and will revert back, but may often do it again in the same night.

Also, he’s very strict on bedtimes. No, you can’t stay up past midnight, it’s not good for you. In fact, he will most likely demand you go to bed far earlier, and if you don’t comply, he always sighs, says you’re being immature, and takes matters into his own hands by forcibly carrying you to bed anyway. ----------

Venti has a cute sleep? Its like. Knees curled up to his stomach, hands tucked against his chest. Likes to be the little spoon but can go either way, he just likes spooning. He talks a bit in his sleep, muttering random things, but its mumble-y and while it's better than Childe it's still hard to make out. Sometimes he even sounds like he's humming or singing, and his little fingers twitch when he does. He's also a very light sleeper and wakes up at the slightest movements or noises. He can feel your absence and will wake up immediately if you're no longer in bed. He sleeps a bit less than most people as well, maybe 6 hours or so, but he doesn't seem to have a problem staying energetic. Also a morning person, but way more annoying about it than Zhongli, will be loud and in your face at like 5 am. You have to ask him to please let you sleep, and he does try, but he often forgets. ----------

You can have full-fledged conversations with Kaeya in his sleep. He'll listen and respond to the things you say and not wake up the entire time, he's a moderate sleeper, he'll wake up to touch/light but not sounds/talking. Of course it's usually nonsensical and weird random things, so you can have some rather funny conversations, BUT he'll also admit to things he wouldn't while he's awake, so if you ask him where the keys to your locks are he'll flat out tell you. Poor thing doesn't know how you keep managing to find the keys, he hid them so well this time! Also tends to be a sprawler, will definitely hit you in the face from his arms flopping around every now and then. Always tossing, turning, moving around. It can get annoying if darling is a light sleeper, or even a medium sleeper, because the movements will definitely wake you up. Likes sleeping facing each other, one arm under your head and the other wrapped around you. Sometimes can be a stomach sleeper, but keeps an arm latched around you still. On a soft note, he has a tendency to have nightmares, and will jolt awake sometimes, only to pull you in closer for comfort. He's used to functioning on a few hours of sleep, too.

However, it’s a bit different if it’s a drunken sleep. In which case, like most people, he sleeps very heavily, barely moves at all, and is very difficult to wake up. Due to the frequency of late night drinking in his life, he often gets bad hangovers in the next morning, and will be groaning with the headache even if you manage to wake him up during the night.

Also, especially if he goes to bed intoxicated, while he usually manages to take everything else off, he sometimes forgets the eyepatch, which results in it getting moved all around his face, you'll wake up and it'll be over his nose or mouth or something, which is kind of comical to look at. Sometimes it comes off completely and he has to go looking for it if it fell under the bed or got lost in the covers somehow. ----------

Diluc is a heavy sleeper, to an extreme. This man could sleep through a literal siege on his estate. He wasn't so much when he was younger, but he works harder now and his work can get exhausting. This is actually kinda beneficial if you want to plan an escape while he sleeps, by the way. He's also a big spoon all the time, also unfortunately breathes down your neck, because he kinda buries his face into the crook of your neck. Also can be very grumpy in the morning, especially if woken up early. Unlike Kaeya he needs the most sleep time wise out of all the guys, if my boy doesn't get his full 8 hours (or more) he's not gonna function properly. Also, he can fall asleep anywhere and under any conditions. Sitting at a desk doing paperwork, standing up, in broad daylight, surrounded by loud noise, doesn't matter, he can fall asleep and do so quickly. He's actually kind of embarrassed by it sometimes. Doesn't sleep talk, he sleeps too deeply for that. ----------

Razor mimics what he's observed all his life so he kinda curls into a ball, which to be fair a lot of people do too, legs curled up, but his is also kinda hunched over, however, he lets his arms stick out. But he's a restless sleeper (bb has dark circles y'know) and tends to come out of that position in his sleep and sprawl out. Also, before he goes to sleep he does the dog thing where they kinda curl around in a circle on themselves a few times before they plop down. Canines also sleep really physically close in groups and touching in some way, so he curls up against you, but actually prefers to cuddle up face-to-face rather than spooning in any way. Let's hope you're not a touch sensitive sleeper, because you'll also definitely have a very large animal sleeping against your back... And one touching your feet... And one breathing directly above you... You get the idea. Kinda terrifying getting woken by being hit in the face by a twitching paw the size of your head. Also, it's something he doesn't do around people when he's awake bc its embarrassing to him a bit when people stare at him and make weird faces in response, but he actually does communicate with his family with barks and growls and the like sometimes, so he does that in his sleep a bit. ----------

Albedo sleeps like a robot turned to an “off” setting. On his back, still, folds his hands perfectly on his stomach, fairly quiet, you could almost think it was a corpse if you couldn’t see the slight rise and fall of his chest and hear him breathe. But once he has you, he likes to be cuddly, so he kinda changes to being a side-sleeper. 

He also sleeps like a rock. Worse than Diluc even. He either wakes up on his own, or it takes a lot of effort -- you will have to really shake him hard for him to wake up. It's kind of funny, it seems to contrast his personality a bit, since he's soft-voiced and a light eater, you'd almost expect him to be the same with sleeping, the traits sort of logically follow that he’s be a light sleeper. But nope, he's out light a light when he sleeps. But also it's not a wise idea to wake him up. He's not a morning person, can get in a really bad mood and grumpy over it. Definitely a "don't talk to me until I've eaten/had coffee/whatever thing he uses to wake up" kind of person. But he never sleep talks or even mumbles, doesn't even really move or toss or turn or fidget or anything like that. He sleeps, again, like a rock, completely still, but is also a heavy breather. Also can create dead weight as a result of his heavy sleep -- for most people, their subconscious when sleeping keeps them from this, but his limbs really turn into deadweight when he sleeps and can be too heavy for you to breathe (or you might want to use his heavy sleeping as an escape opportunity), in which case you have to peel them off, because he won't wake up.

He doesn’t sleep naked like Childe does, usually just in a plain sleeping shirt and shorts, but perhaps surprisingly for him, he does have a tendency for dreams of a specific nature. This can result in rather uncomfortable prodding against your back or stomach or thighs, and since he’s difficult to wake up, you’ll have to just try and sleep despite it. ----------

Xiao is a twitchy, uneasy sleeper when he chooses to sleep. Always twitching, jolting, tossing and turning, making irritated facial expressions, mumbling and huffing. Easily woken up. He normally chooses not to sleep, sees no point in it, but it becomes a comforting activity with a darling to hold. As time goes on and he starts to get a real sense of comfort from a darling, he kinda becomes the opposite, starts to sleep more still and more heavily. He eventually comes to depend on his darling and can't actually sleep without their presence, needs the warmth, the comforting knowledge of their presence, and something to latch onto and grip, although it's not as firm as Childe he still has a pretty firm grip. He just likes to hold, whether being big spoon or facing each other. It can get bad if it's facing each other because he usually sleeps in that way so that he's higher up than darling horizontally, to where your face is right at his chest rather than his head, so he might accidentally nearly suffocate you that way, but he wakes up with a few taps.

And you know that whole avian past thing? It's been thousands of years since then, so he doesn't really show it when he's awake, but when he's asleep, those long-since-buried tendencies come out a bit. As he dreams, his arms bend at the elbow and press against his sides for a bit, toes all curled up. Only to sprawl out later, accompanied by an ever-so-slight movement of said arms every few moments, a faint twitching. Sometimes, every now and then, you swear you've heard a high-pitched whistle-like sound come out of his mouth. You tell him it's cute. He just buries his face in his hands and asks you not to talk about it. ----------

Xingqiu also sleeps kinda like Albedo position wise, on his back/side, and very oddly perfect posture, but he's in contrast a light sleeper, will wake up fairly easily. He's another sleep talker as well, though, he might respond to some things you say, and the words are coherent, but his answers don't make any sense, and attempts at conversation will wake him up. Also, being the spoiled rich kid he is, not a morning person and very much needs a lot of sleep in order to not be grumpy. He tends to keep his hands curled into fists and close to his chest, but he still snuggles up against you. He's also one that needs perfect conditions to sleep -- complete silence, complete darkness, a perfect amount of blankets to be comfortable with the temperature, etc. He's also one that has a lot of bad dreams, sometimes nightmares, sometimes just weird, and wakes up a lot in the middle of the night. ----------

Chongyun is a stomach sleeper, but he kinda keeps one arm latched in some way -- sometimes slung over your body, sometimes in his sleep he grabs hold of your arm, clothes, or even hair. He tends to grip like that in his sleep, rather than just slinging his arm on something he holds things with his hands, and will also grab at the sheets. He still gets very close to you and snuggly, which is good, because you're going to be cold otherwise -- he sleeps without blankets, windows open if it's good weather, so you'll be grateful for the body heat if it's cold. Poor bb talks in his sleep, and it's always him reciting his little exorcism chants, it's actually kind of adorable. He takes a while to fall asleep, can be kind of annoying because he's the type to pull the "hey... are you awake?" just to ask you some sort of weird question at like 3 in the morning. ----------

Bennett is such a light and short sleeper, it's amazing that he manages to stay so energetic all the time. He sometimes takes naps, and sleeps in intervals, because he's got so much energy he literally can't stay asleep at night for longer than a few hours. He's not a sleep talker, but sometimes groans and grunts and such. Position is... all over the place. Sometimes he sleeps on his back, sometimes stomach, sometimes on his side, it just varies, and he switches positions multiple times throughout the night. Kinda cutely, he tends to smile, even lightly laugh sometimes, while he sleeps. Although he's a much lighter, shorter sleeper, he's a bit like Diluc in that he can fall asleep anytime, anywhere, no matter the conditions. Can be very twitchy as well, his legs twitch more than his arms do, like he's still running around on adventures in his dreams. ----------

Much to his embarrassment if you ever tell him, Scaramouche sleeps with you like a koala to a tree. Like, he starts off falling asleep just next to you, maybe barely touching, but once he's asleep he moves closer and latches on tight with his arms AND legs, chest pressed against your back, face on your neck, wraps an arm around you, wraps a leg over your leg, grip is incredibly firm, there's no escape, and boi does NOT let go unless you physically force him to wake up. Which can be difficult, as he's another heavy sleeper. He won't wake up to light or touch, but he'll wake up to noise, so you have to shake him and talk to him loudly. Doesn't talk, if you try to talk to him in his sleep he just wakes up. Also very much not a morning person and characteristically unafraid of being a dick to anyone that dares to wake him up. One nice thing is that being asleep is one of a very few times you'll see him look very... peaceful. He doesn't seem angry or annoyed in his sleep, his face is very neutral and soft. Opens his mouth a little bit when he sleeps, which can even be a bit cute. ----------

Kazuha moves around a lot. Always wiggling and shifting, tossing and turning. He has a tendency to cling to you with not just his arms, but hands too. Back when he slept alone, he would often curl his hands into fists and hold them close to his chest. Now, that manifests as him clutching at your clothes, or a hand around your arm or wrist. He's also an incredibly light sleeper, he has to be from his sort of on-the-run lifestyle, and can wake up at the slightest motions from you, despite constantly moving himself, so you have to remain still as a rock while he's tossing around. He's gotten used to gentle lulling motions after being on a ship so long, but not little motions right against him. 

He's also, like Kaeya, prone to nightmares, but unfortunately those alone don't wake him up on their own -- he'll groan and fidget and jerk around when he's running and fighting in his dreams, and will likely need you to shake him awake. As far as time, he's gotten used to the lifestyle demanded of him and has learned to adjust to a short sleeping schedule, often needing to sleep in short intervals and constantly being woken up for this or that, sometimes only getting a few hours before having to get up again. But, if given the opportunity, he can sleep like a rock for hours and hours, if you'll let him, and if he feels safe enough when drifting off.

Also, while he sleeps clothed due to often needing to be up at a moment’s notice, he does, similarly to Albedo, have a tendency to get hard in his sleep. It’s not so much because of dreams, it’s just a sort of involuntary reaction his body has. And unfortunately, much to his embarrassment, it usually takes a while to go down in the morning too.

----------

Thoma is another member of the "needs his sleep" club. He tries to maintain his good nature, but if he can't get at least about 5 or 6 hours, he'll end up a bit easily irritable, gets dark circles around his eyes pretty easily. He's a moderate sleeper, pretty average in terms of how easy it is to wake him up, but that's highly dependent on how much sleep he's had -- if he's well rested, it's a lot easier to wake him up, but if he has had a few days where he'd been deprived of a good sleep, it's much more likely that he'll sleep more heavily, and be harder to wake up. He kinda lazily latches an arm over you, so it's a bit easier to get away, but he does wake up pretty easily to the absence of your presence in particular. He also prefers to sleep with you facing him, which can present a problem as you might wake up to feeling smothered when he will occasionally pull you in close to his chest, but he'll certainly wake up to you beating on him, poor thing. He's also pretty adamant on bedtimes -- he's fond of routines, and unfortunately goes to bed early. He gets tired at a very specific time, usually around 9 at night, and even if you whine about not being tired, he'll just drag you to bed with him, insisting you will be once you lie down, so it's unfortunate for night owl darlings. ----------

Gorou's tail swishes in his sleep. You can generally tell what kind of dreams he's having based on the movements -- in nightmares, it stiffens out, in pleasant dreams, it lazily wags back and forth. His hands and feet twitch a bit, running and fighting in his dreams. He has a tendency to sleep with his mouth open, and breathes rather heavily and loudly. He tends to sleep in intervals rather than straight through, much like a shiba, and gets to where he needs your presence to sleep, so you'll have to adjust to the routine, usually three naps a day, three hours each or so. He's a heavy sleeper, won't wake up too easily, especially not to light, seeing as his animalistic side is used to sleeping at night or during the day. It usually takes shaking him pretty roughly to wake him up. While this might sound like it presents an escape opportunity, it... really doesn't. His grip is like iron. Much like Scaramouche, he clings to you with his full body, arms and legs and hands, spooning you with your back pressed up against him. An arm under you, an arm around you, a leg around you, hands clinging to your clothes. It's pretty much an inescapable grip. ----------

Tighnari is a very light sleeper. His instincts are to wake at the slightest of noises or movements. See, in the wild, among his kind, Papa Fox must be ready at any moment to defend his den, and thereby protect his mate and kits. Tighnari retains some of that instinct, so when a noise or movement wakes him up, he snaps to full alertness within a single second, heartrate spiking, his eyes will go wide and he sits upright and looks all around for the source of the sound. It takes him a moment to realize it's nothing, and you telling him everything is fine certainly helps, but even then, he has to wait for his heart to calm down before he can fall asleep again.

Otherwise, his sleeping is quite cute, especially as it's uncharacteristic of his usual stern, dignified personality. He sort of curls up around you, wraps his tail over his hips where the end of it drapes over yours too. You can tell what kind of dreams he's having based on his tail movements. He doesn't rapidly wag his tail quite like a certain dog boy, but if it's slowly swishing back and forth, it means it's a pleasant dream, but if his tail suddenly stiffens and does more of of an occasional jerking, twitching movement, and his ears start to twitch too, it's a not-so-pleasant one. Sometimes, though, with pleasant dreams, he even gets some memory-based dreams from when he was just a little kit, and kneads at your chest and stomach with the heels of his hands, burying his face against your abdomen. Yes, you can tease him about this, and yes, he finds it very embarrassing. Use this to your advantage. ---------- 

Ayato's manner of sleeping depends on how his recent days have been going. When things are fairly easy and slow-paced, nothing much going on but the usual responsibilities, he's very easy to sleep next to. Stays perfectly still, very quiet, always seems very peaceful. He's also very warm, which makes him very comforting to snuggle up to, but be sure not to get too many blankets or you'll get a bit too hot. Still, with how still and quiet he is, it's like having a warm body pillow. He also tends to wear a traditional silk robe people (at least rich people) in Inazuma wear to sleep, which is also a very nice feeling against your skin. If things have been very busy and stressful lately, however, he's more fidgety. His eyebrows will furrow in his sleep, he'll toss and turn a bit, his fingers curl up into fists. When that happens, along with the occasional mumble, he also grinds his teeth really badly, which can get very annoying very fast. Thankfully, he wakes up very easily, you can just sort of tap him lightly and his eyes will open. Thankfully, out of necessity over the years, he's also the type of person that somehow manages to completely wake up in an instant, no grogginess or brain fog, so he just gives a soft hm? and an apology when you tell him he was preventing you from sleeping. Usually, then, you can get back to sleep before he himself falls asleep again, and hopefully the grinding won't wake you up when it resumes. That being said, having your presence is so comforting, so even under stress, those nights become far less frequent than they used to be. The only other potentially negative thing, depending on the conditions you prefer, is that he sleeps better with some white noise in the background. Thus, he usually leaves the window open, to let in the sound of waves in the distance. If you prefer that too, it's good, but if you're the type that needs silence, this can also become irksome very fast. ----------

Itto sleeps very heavily. This man could sleep through a literal tornado, a siren, anything. This becomes very problematic when combined with the fact that he has a tendency to nearly suffocate you in his sleep. He sleeps on his side, latches his arm around your waist... and squeezes. The squeezing gets progressively firmer, tighter, and eventually it wakes you up when you can no longer breathe. This means you have to start squirming around, banging your fist down on his arm until he finally stirs, mumbles something or another, and shifts back a bit so the grip relents... until it starts getting tighter again. Repeat this process about 3 or 4 times per night.

Even worse than this is a few other aspects: one, he falls asleep very quickly, usually only a minute or two, always falling sleep before you do. Two, he snores at the volume of a motor engine. Three, he insists on having Ushi in the same room (he gets lonely if he has to sleep alone!! What, would you be so heartless as to put him outside, you monster?). The only thing worse than sleeping with him, is sleeping in the same room as Ushi, because much like him, the bull snores. That sort of snore some animals have where he breathes out through his mouth and makes that droopy part of the bovine upper mouth make a flapping motion and sound. It's cute when you're watching him nap in the sun during the daytime. At night when you're trying to sleep, it is significantly less cute. So now you have not one, but two very loud snores in the same room, somehow always managing to get into this perfect rhythm where when one exhales, the other inhales, so the snore sound is literally constant. That's not even getting into the moments where Ushi occasionally decides he wants to sleep with you two and not on his mat. Given that Inazuman beds are on the ground, this means it is very easy for him to waddle his way over, decide that you are very soft and warm, and then rest on top of you to sleep. And yes, you get hoof directly on your limbs when he's climbing onto you, only to have the breath knocked out of you when he flops down on your stomach. Try to move him and he will immediately crawl back onto you. It's always you, too, no matter how many times you whisper no no no, get on him instead!, he fails to listen. He just likes you.

And then the bastard has the nerve to ask why you keep nodding off during the day. What's that look for? ----------

Heizou has a bit of an issue, ever since he was a kid: he sleepwalks. Like, it can get really bad, there's been times he's wandered outside even. It's honestly incredible, he can complete tasks, has eaten food in the past while asleep, and so on. However, the telltale sign that he's sleepwalking and not just getting up in the night is that he staggers and stumbles when he walks, and eventually falls over, which always wakes him up.

With you there, though, it really helps him out quite a bit. When he wakes up and gets out of bed, you also stir and notice it, and can usually quickly get out of bed, grab him by the shoulders and shake him a bit, and thankfully he wakes up pretty easily, usually disoriented and a bit startled. He yawns, mumbles a quick apology, and takes you back to bed. Thankfully, it's not a super repetitive thing, so it almost never occurs more than once in the same night. It does happen a couple times a week, though. Sometimes you think it's a miracle he's never accidentally injured himself somehow.

Other than that, he's very easy to sleep with: no snoring, no tossing and turning, he sleeps very quiet and still, tends to lie on his back, but pressed up against you still. If you intentionally try, though, you can get him to talk in his sleep, but his replies are usually nonsensical, if not unintelligible. He also is very difficult to startle awake -- he's used to waking up by falling down hard in bizarre places, so nothing really fazes him. He also takes teasing very well if you tell him he did something embarrassing while sleepwalking, he finds it funny and doesn't get upset or anything. ----------

Al Haitham is... undignified. Much like with Tighnari, it's something you can absolutely get him flustered over if you tell him about it when he's awake. His sleeping habits are a total contrast to his waking self's demeanor. He sprawls out, limbs going everywhere, often flopping down awkwardly over your face or shoulders. Mouth open, snores horribly, like the classic "Dad snore," loud and obnoxious. Drools all over the pillow (and unfortunately you if you let him get his face too close to your neck). He doesn't sleepwalk, but he does occasionally, for whatever reason, sit straight up in bed in his sleep, only to soon fall back down. It's nearly impossible to sleep through a full night when he's next to you.

His roommate has had to put up with this over the years, and has frequently made fun of him for it, but he still gets very embarrassed about it anyway. However, it's much worse for you, seeing as you're not only in the same room, but the same bed too. So for you, it's often less playful teasing, and more genuine irritation, seeing as it detracts from your own sleep.

Also steals covers. Absolute thief. Nor does he relent; if you try to pull the covers back to you, he somehow manages to keep an iron grip on them. Usually he ends up turning around so much they get wrapped around his body and you can't pull them off even if he isn't holding onto them. After your complain about this, though, he buys some extra blankets just for you... just hope he doesn't manage to steal those too and completely cocoon himself in all of them (yes, it has happened a few times). You find that you begin subconsciously developing a habit of clinging to the blankets in your sleep so that he can't take them from you. ----------

Cyno tosses and turns quite a bit. He can't seem to stay still. It's not so much that he has bad dreams or anything, he's just one of those people that needs to have specific conditions to sleep, and is easily stirred by the slightest of discomforts. If the temperature isn't quite right, too cold or too hot, he wakes up. If there's the slightest of sounds, he wakes up. If the room is too bright, or too dark (he needs just a little bit of moonlight), he wakes up. If he's thirsty, awkwardly positioned, etc, basically anything causes him to stir and he has to fix it or he can't fall back asleep.

The unfortunate thing is that this also means you will wake up. He moves around enough that it's bound to pull you out of sleep, especially if he has to get up out of bed. And his measures of achieving required comfort levels to sleep also often involve latching onto you in ways that are very uncomfortable and awkward for you. He doesn't have a crushing grip like some, but it's suffocating in a different way -- rather than spooning you, he manages to get to where you're facing each other, and pulls you into him so that your face is buried in his chest, and you can't breathe. Thankfully, though, he's pretty easy to pull away from, his sleeping grip isn't too strong, but it still wakes you up, and he'll go back to it when you fall asleep again.

Only about half the time, though. He alternates. Whenever he's not doing that, he's doing the opposite, pulling himself close to you so he can press his face into your chest. It's very comforting. There's no real consistency to which one he'll do, usually alternates within the same night, even.

Although perhaps the most amusing aspect of it is the next morning. Not only is he a bit of a grouch when he's still groggy and just waking up, but all that tossing and turning means that when he gets up, his hair is tangled and sticking out all over. These two things combined mean that he's very easily put into a bad mood when you start making fun of it when you wake up and see him. Stop laughing. Ugh. He gets no respect.

[multiplefandomsblog]

[Trigger Happy Havoc] Byakuya x Fem!Reader (one shot)

request; hiya, mods! great to see requests being open again. if it's allowed, can i request Byakuya and Fem! S/O about to be in their sexy time BUT their daughter had to interrupt it? HAHA thank you!

warnings: no explicit description of sex but still sex, nudity, reader uses female pronouns and names, sex toys(unused, just mentioned), mild crack fic, overall very wholesome, not ns//fw but if you’re not comfortable with any mention of sex, don’t read.

With the quick ignition of a match and the flicker of a small flame, candlelights began to burn. The fresh scent of honey wafted throughout the dark room as the shadows retreated, casting a dim light across two bare bodies. They beamed with an array of emotions; excitement, lust, desire and fear as they left themselves exposed to one another. 

Here, there was nothing in the room but the flow of the honey smell and the tension of their primal urges to one another, something nothing could ruin. Well, nothing other than the result of their previous “deed”.

The only heads up they had was the quiet fumbling of someone messily picking the lock. The only thing they could do in time was hide their shamefully exposed bodies under the covers. Within a moment both expressions were plastered with horror as the air became still, and suddenly the flat aroma of pungent bodily fluids became scarily apparent.

“Mommy? Daddy?” A young voice innocently asked as the door creaked open.

With the best inconspicuous voice she could muster, her mother replied a simple “Yes sweetie?”

“I had a nightmare. C-can I sleep with you?”

Byakuya couldn’t help chuckle at the irony of what she said, but he quickly replied in desperation once he noticed his daughter start to make her way towards the bed.

“Uh- your mother and I are busy! Very busy. Can you give us a few minutes?”

“Okay.”

Byakuya sighed in relief, until he noticed she remained there unmoving, watching and waiting silently.

“Er- can you wait outside please, horny- I MEAN HONEY?”

She planted herself where she stood. “B-but there are monsters out there!”

Byakuya sighed, “There are no monsters out there.”

“No, really!” She squealed, “I heard screaming! And- and creaking, and banging-“

Byakuya laughed at these silly remarks, until realization struck light a bolt of lighting and in a flash he understood exactly what she was talking about. Had they really been that loud?

“Alright. Can you just, uh, turn around, sweetie? And close your eyes?”

“N-no! The-“

“Monster, right.” Byakuya grumbled. “Why don’t you grab one of your toys? They’ll protect you from the monsters while we finish up.”

“What if they attack me in the hallway while I walk back to my room? Can I bring one of your toys?”

“One of our toys?”

“Yeah!” She squealed in glee as she held up a buttplug (thankfully unused).

“H-how did you get that?!? Ugh, you know what? Yes. Just- get out of the room.”

“I can’t wait to show all my friends!”

“NO- er, daddy needs his toy back after you’re done with it.”

“Kay! But, please don’t take too long. I had to wait outside for you to stop talking before I came in.”

Simultaneously the two parents had a heart attack. There was no telling how long she was standing there before she picked the lock.

With an adorable grin she made her way out the door. Before closing it, however, one last statement escaped her lips. “Also, mommy- I never knew you called daddy ‘daddy’ too!”

[roguish-gallery]

Reader has just been captured by Arkham Riddler's goons! They're gonna be used in Nygma's next plan to beat the Bat! They must've been captured after failing one of his traps. Except they didn't. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Actually reader LIKES riddles and puzzles. They test out and play Nygma's traps for fun and survive. Looks like Eddie's new victim is smarter than they look. And it looks like they may actually have a fondness for him. After all, they DO admit to admiring him.

Arkham!Edward + Reader That Refuses to Die

Oughhhh anon,,, I had so much fun writing this and it kinda sorta turned into a giant experimental shitpost I’m so sorry,,, I hope u enjoy it in spite of this. Everything is under the readmore because this thing is massive. Slight warning for light ns/fw mentions

He’ll entertain your survival for maybe an hour, maybe two, before he realizes that he probably won’t be able to kill them through his puzzles. His mild bemusement is turning into annoyance. God damn it, these traps are supposed to fucking kill Batman, and some rando he picked off the street is solving them with ease? Is he off his game? Are his games not as clever as they’re supposed to be? Jesus Fucking Christ, now he’s got a migraine on top of everything else.

“Okay, that’s it!” Deathtrap turns off. Lights turn on, and a goon shuffles into the hallway to escort you out of the building. Edward’s voice crackles over the intercom- he’s not even going to give you the decency of showing his face over the video monitors. “Game’s over. Get out.”

“This is about stroking my ego," He says. "not about you having fun. You’re probably cheating anyway.”

You try and reason with him, mentioning that you've admired his past works.

“Okay??? I like me too. So does everyone else. What does that have to do with anything???”

This bickering goes on for a surprisingly long time. You obviously cannot see it from where you are, but Edward is like this *this* close to having a tantrum and needing to furiously jack off to get rid of this pent-up energy.

“Here’s a riddle for you, jackass- what refuses to die, unchubs my dick, and is a pain in my ass?”

“An STD?”

“Wha-?! N-no!! Shut up!!! Shut up shut up shut up!! I was talking about YOU, you- you troglodyte! Get off of my property.”

You hear the victim in the adjacent room ask if they can leave too.

“No, I need you to get your dick chewed off by those feral eels to make me feel better. If anything, the fact that I’m giving you an extension to solve that 17X17 Rubik’s cube is more than generous. If you somehow still fail to solve it and fall into my pit filled with dick-eating feral eels, well, that’s on you.”

You wake up on the floor of a Waffle House with a splitting headache. The goons must have given you chloroform so you wouldn’t be able to find the hideout. The employees and the other patrons take no notice of you because they are too preoccupied with their own headaches. Checking your pockets, you realize that Edward had given you some change to order some hashbrowns- that’s the closest you’ll get to him begrudgingly recognizing your ability to solve his puzzles.

Meanwhile, Ed is beside himself in anguish. How could he ever hope to outwit Batman now? He needs to lick his wounds and take time off to bounce back to his usual self.

_____________________

Okay! It’s a new day, and Edward has refitted his hideout with a ton of new, zesty deathtraps! These will surely kill Batman!!!

….. Right?

Well…

Hmm… there’s only one true way to know if these will work or not.

You wake up on a platform suspended above a pit filled with twice the amount of dick-eating feral eels. There is an 18X18 Rubik’s cube at your feet. Edward is polite enough to turn his video monitor on when he’s addressing you this time.

“Okay! I have kidnapped you to run through my gauntlet of genius to see if my traps are of any actual value. Your compensation will come in the form of your survival, this bottle of half-used ringworm mediation that I don’t need anymore, and a pack of peanut M&Ms.”

When you beat them again, Edward doesn’t throw a tantrum, he just slouches in his chair. He’s not mad, just disappointed in himself.

Should you say something? You apologize, just to be safe.

“No, no. You didn’t do anything wrong, it was foolish of me to assume that these traps were actually worthwhile.” He sighs, and rubs his temples in frustration. “You can go home. I’ll find you when I’ve made more traps, okay?”

You suggest going out to get something to eat and to blow off some steam- a Waffle House, perhaps.

He lifts his head from his hands, and slowly nods his head. “... Yeah. I guess I could go for some hashbrowns. Okay, I’ll get my wallet.”

Eventually, this turns into a regular thing- Edward kidnaps you, you solve his puzzles, and you go out for hashbrowns after. Kidnapping is kind of a loose term at this point, too- Edward eventually gives you his address (in riddles, obviously) because it saves him money on chloroform, and he didn't want anything in your system that could potentially hinder your performance in his death maze.

After a while... the death traps just kinda stop altogether, and he just invites you over to play touhou or to vape- Edward even apologizes for calling you a troglodyte the first time he met you, and admits that of all the people he's ever met, you come pretty close to his own intelligence. You're also... kind of his type. He's uhhhh... free for dinner next Saturday if you wanna talk about setting up traps for Batman or if you just wanna talk about your interests btw...

[sugarvamgar]

kinda long but important <3

hii as i am starting to post more original content as soon as i get this next art done within the next few days, i feel the need to make a really heavy clarification: this blog is not meant for the especially faint of heart, as i’ll be handling potentially upsetting concepts. while i don’t intend to romanticize situations nor go in depth into them, they will still be present. my intention isn’t to upset people with these concepts. i do not strive for shock value, i honestly just want to portray these themes in a realistic light - presented as fact to a character’s life in context of a much larger story. also i generally don’t intend to like, heavily explicitly show stuff like abuse and death bbbut if something does go into it i’ll make sure to state that fact beforehand. these stories aren’t gonna be a goddamn downerfest of unpleasant content but like. it’s not gonna be ignored. like pretty much i genuinely don’t want to spring any of this onto people with absolutely no warning, even if already known this blog will carry these topics. everyone has their own comfort zone even if content isn’t explicit. 

uhhh kinda vague list as example ig? - mentions and semi-vague portrayals of various kinds of abuse - implied, referenced, or generally joked about sexual content. i’m not gonna be like drawing straight up ns/fw or anything but like. the act simply exists. it’ll sometimes be mentioned, but not shown. - uhhhhh trauma. like hopefully realistic portrayals of (c)ptsd and i don’t mean JUST flashbacks nd Typical Media Portrayals(tm) (although that might happen in addition) - substance use, sometimes unhealthy (won’t be demonized, though) - sometimes explicit mentions of death of varying kinds, often bordering onto literally inhuman ways (ie. being controlled by a thing called the ‘brainjelly’ which then essentially kills you by digesting you but leaving your brain left over for it to use for itself.) - unreality in general, bbbut in context to the stuff in the near future, there’ll be lab documents that talk about various types of creatures/objects/humans/etc that aren’t. typical. (i guess think scp/lobocorp-esque?) so some are upsetting. some aren’t. some are hateful microwaves. some are the brainjelly. i will be tagging everything as needed (especially if requested to do so)! also more less important info but still info in the tags for those interested

[angelharness]

ns/fw tag is junkbox, blacklist that tag if needed

somehow this evolved into. frank getting railed. was just thinking about how there’s virtually no sub frank content and then this happened. gender neutral reader, could be interpreted as a strap-on or otherwise. 

WARNINGS: smoking, brief descriptions of blood

FRANK MORRISON / THE LEGION

When Frank picks you up for your typical Friday routine, he’s tense. More so than usual, enough that you can notice it, despite being so acquainted with his usual taut air. You’ve just come from dinner with Susie and Julie at the only karaoke bar in the area, still a ways from Ormond, cheeks bitten by the cold and the crescents of ice caught on your lashes.  

Stuffed on crisp fries and more than one refill of Shirley Temples, you’re a little groggy and just want to get to his house to pass out in bed, but through your coma-esque fogginess you see Frank’s fingers tighten on the steering wheel. His eyes are almost unfocused, and you feel his dad’s old Ford Mustang begin to veer slightly as he begins down the route to his place.

You’re staring at the highway in front of you, but as the car inches over the dotted white line of the road and reaches well into the next lane over, you grab for Frank; a bad idea, he snaps to reality with a jerk in his shoulders, and the wheels screech and whine when he tears the steering wheel suddenly to the side. You gasp for a moment.

Frank swallows, readjusts his grip, and redraws into the proper lane. You look over at him, worried, and though he glances back fleetingly, his focus still resides elsewhere. 

“Frank, do we need to pull over?” you suggest, somewhat meekly. Frank was never a good driver, liable to concerning cases of road rage, but it’s out of character for him to be so out of focus. As you expected, he takes offense to your comment, as well meaning as it was intended.

“Fuck, I’m fine, okay? Can you just—” His grip tightens further, you can hear the stiff creak of the worn leather furrowing intensely between his fingers.

He twitches when you reach a hand to rub his shoulders. As you graze down his side with a gradually increasing pressure, he jolts beneath his heavy denim jacket. He careens inward, retreating from your touch, but in the moments after, falls back into the space between you two. 

You rub his hip comfortingly; Frank begins to loosen up, though his hands remain rigid, defined by furrowed veins across his straining knuckles. Your hand rests on his thigh, where you rub gentle circles. He tightens up again once more, then finally relaxes, and though there is no audible indication you can feel an exhale of relief as his limbs unstrain. 

He slouches back into the driver’s seat chair, but you still see him spare you glances, less frantic but still with meaning.

It’s been a period of fluctuating silence now. Only taking his eyes off the road to struggle open the center console, retrieving a suspiciously brown box of his favorite Classic Filter Kings cigarettes, he rummages further for his lighter but resigns his attempts, the unlit cigar fixed between his fingers as he returns to the wheel.

“What’s wrong, Frankie?” you push. Your hand moves inward on his thigh. You can’t tell if it’s a gasp, but his mouth snaps open then shuts just as quickly, eyelids fluttering in fluster. 

“Can we talk about it when we get back to my place?” he replies. His voice comes out smaller. 

When you pull up in front of his foster parents house, the sprawling display of Christmas lights across neighbor’s lawns projects in smears of color down the windows of the Ford Mustang. His house is dark, an unfitting, unwelcoming silhouette between the neighborhood's jolly spectacles. Its windows stare back like dark, unfeeling eyes.

Frank draws into the empty driveway. His parents are always out at night, though you never borrowed to ask, thankful for its convenience. He alluded to them being out of town this weekend, though. 

As Frank is now newly-nineteen, they don’t especially care much for whatever pursuits he undergoes in the privacy of his room, as long as that means he isn’t out late and getting into trouble with the law (which still makes up all of his time otherwise). You’d barely talked to them at all, actually—when Frank first brought you home, of course with the intention of sex, they hadn’t said anything at all, despite his foster mom spotting you as he rushed you up the stairs to his room. 

He practically kicked you out afterward, just in time for dinner, which you guess had saved you from any uncomfortable introductions. You would rather not spend an awkward evening at the dinner table, shifting under the judgemental, wordless glares of his parents. 

The car doors slam and the two of you trudge up the driveway to the door. Despite his parents' evident indifference, he’d always insist on entering from the back door closest to the stairs when they were home to ensure as minimal confrontation as possible. It’s in their absence that he hurries inside, eagerly pulling you along, breath heavier in cold plumes of crisp winter air. 

The door shuts, he flips on the living room lights, a sad Christmas tree blinking to life wearily in the corner by the front window. 

“The usual?” you start with a slight smile. Sex was never routine, actually, but you can tell when he needs to destress. Your relationship, never technically made official but by all other means definite, started with a teen-aged, carnal fiercoity. These escapades mellowed out and became sparser in your months together, now your time is spent in a more intimate, personal affection. To an outsider (such as Joey), they might think that that flame has lessened, but in fact you prefer the genuine romance that has developed in sex’s absence. 

He’s rolling the cigarette anxiously between his fingers, gaze fixed elsewhere. 

Frank is not shy. He feels so rawly and with a strengthness that wards off those who have not developed the acquired taste of his intensity. 

Here, though, in the doorway of his house, breathing deep first, then shallow, he is small. 

“In the car,” Frank mutters. His brows lower, frustration forming between his eyes. It’s an incomplete sentence but said with finality. He wants you to figure it out.

In the car.

You step forward and slide your hand down his arm. 

“Frankie?” you say, and while it is said with understanding it comes out teasing. He parts his lips. He grabs your shoulders and pulls you into a vigorous kiss. Parting for desperate breaths but still so fervent. It’s not the intensity you are familiar with. It is, in some aspect, resigned, from a place of surrender. He’s warm, despite the December night you’ve entered from. 

You’re starting up the stairs even as his hands clench at the fabric of your shirt. There’s the cold slide of zippers as you shed your jackets and stumble into his room. Blind, preoccupied with heavy kisses, he swats at the doorway to his room, finding the end of his door and slamming it shut after you. 

The lights come on next. His room is as messy as usual; what clothes he couldn’t manage to cram into his drawers he’s instead kicked under the bed. It smells of old weed, never a smell you would get used to. His collection of army and pocket knives remain perhaps the most organized aspect of his room, mounted on his bedroom wall in a thick frame. Torn magazine pages are plastered about on the wall; various models in bikinis, and though a joke (he claims), it’s still the subject of teasing from Julie. 

Frank tugs you along, falling back into his bed, guiding you to straddle him. His face is so red. He looks away, worrying his lip between his teeth.

“Please,” he manages.

It’s the first time you’ve heard that from him, in any context. It’s so bizarre you nearly laugh, but this is also just so rare of an experience you don’t want to risk embarrassing him, in which case surely this occurrence would never present itself again. 

He’d always been the one in control. Perhaps steered by his own collecting frustration, he fucks roughly and uncaringly. That is not to say he’s ever hurt you, but he’s never entirely there in the moment. He’s there for the feeling, but his mind is so many places at once you’ve never felt so alone in an inherently mutual act. His intensity carries over into his hands and touches, strokes which barely pass as such. Bruises and scratches are expected, though they heal fine enough on their own. Biting, too, wherever on your neck he can sink his teeth into it while fucking you. 

Your hands must be cold, or he’s just nervous (both, you decide), as the muscles in his chest twitch when you run your fingers firmly down his bare chest. There are plenty of scars, varying in color, in recency. Old, faded scars juxtaposed by those more recent and a painful red. There are dark bruises up his forearms where he scratches subconsciously when anxious. You kiss up the bruises there, caring, sweet, but intensifying when you rise to meet his lips.    

Frank was never treated kindly. Beyond that, he never opened himself up to kindness; paranoid by a history ridden so distinctly with hurt and mistreatment from those expected to care for him. 

In your time with him you’ve slowly introduced intimacy. Genuine intimacy, loving kisses and compassionate touches. You like to think he’s calmed down over the years. You see that in your time alone, where he’s come to allow himself to relax and trust you, your intentions, your love for him, but you never see it otherwise. With others, he’s still Frank, still ambitious and self-destructive, careless perhaps in the desire for hurt, for what he thinks is punishment. You wonder how much of it is an act. He keeps it all hidden well behind unyielding eyes.

You run your fingers through his short hair, moving your kisses to his neck. Instinctively, his hands claw at your back, nails sinking in bare skin for security. If he’s so jumpy at just this, you’re not sure if he’d be able to handle much more.

“It’s okay,” you promise, murmuring into the crook of his neck. Somehow, it’s hot, even as snow gathers on the outside ledge of his bedroom window. Your skin is pricked with goosebumps but your neck burns up to your cheeks. 

He says your name, eyes squeezed shut, a shy request for more. The kisses on his neck escalate, and you graze your teeth on the sensitive flesh experimentally. He pulls you closer. More. You sink your teeth in. Dark blood beads around the marks, and when you retract you gently dab away the red. More bites, he yelps shortly but his breath becomes distinguished and desperate. He’s still pulling at you.

“Is this ok?” you pause to ask. He nods his head and moves impatiently beneath you. 

He usually is relatively silent when you do get around to fucking, and in the times when he’s not he rambles on and on, names, some degrading and others loving and some both. Teasing, too, the most relentless teasing.

Seeing him so oddly vulnerable, your hands clasping his wrists to the bedsheets, that almost drunk blush bright across his cheeks. It’s weird, so weird, but it feels incredible, too. 

Pants come off, his boxers you pull down. He’s making the faintest whining, but you can’t tell if it’s out of anticipation or anxiety. You check in again and he responds a little annoyed, urging you on with rising impatience. 

“Fucking christ, come on,” he finally spits, grinding pointlessly against nothing, and yet there’s immediate regret in his eyes when you grip his thigh in warning. His foggy eyes lurch to look down at the hand inching up his inner thigh. Frank is taken aback, but still you feel him move against you, pushing into your touch to ease the burning want even if slightly. You let him go.

He shoves the cigarette on his cluttered dresser, sitting up to stretch past his nightstand, but when he turns back to you you guide him to lay back down. He lays expectantly and swallows his nervousness. You take his cock in your hand. Another taut intake of air and dizzy mumbling. 

“Yeah,” he urges in response to your inaction.

You start at a steady pace but quicken soon enough to meet his impatience. Hearty strokes, he pushes into your touch, needy and hot, the whimpering now very much audible. He jerks his head back across his pillow and looks down at you through half-lidded eyes, a twitch to his lips. You stop to admire the piercings on the underside of his shaft. He snarls, you jerk him sharply and he shuts his mouth with a surprised sound. Faster now, his mumblings evolve into barely restrained moans. 

“Good boy,” you say encouragingly, “Such a good boy.” 

“Fuck. Fuck!” His hands slide from your back, marked with the red imprint of fingers, and instead he tangles the sheets tightly in his fists, twisting them. He’s panting.  

“Oh,” you muse. He groans shakily. “Do you like that? Being called ‘good boy’?”

He can only make a sound in reply. Possibly above admitting it, but when your strokes slow, he nods. You stroke faster.

Internally, you store this revelation in your head to tease him about later. Right now, you find yourself oddly warm at this nickname. 

Again, “Good boy, what a sweet boy.” 

He ruts into your palm and you see the glint of what might be tears stinging his eyes. He’s burning, so flushed, so needy. He relents and falls back into himself. It’s an entirely new intimacy to see him like this.

He releases with an audible shutter, chest heaving an extraordinary amount for such an act. You’ve jerked him off before without a fuss, though again in those moment’s he was still demonstrating complete control, usually with a hand knotted in your hair. Exploring that loss of control you just find so exciting, though. You’re incredibly turned on and possibly more embarrassed than he is. 

You both take a moment, his breathing evening out again. You cup his cheek and run a thumb along the frame of his face, rough with scars and bruises. You kiss the light scar that runs through his lip, humming sweetly. He exhales hotly, eyes heavy and half-lidded, murky with lust.

“Fuck me,” he says suddenly. You think for a moment he’s regained his signature brashness, maybe previously lost to emotional exhaustion—no, though. He grinds against your thigh, searching so urgently for relief. You like withholding it, like watching him squirm and sputter for words, to flounder in this new sensation, flustered and aching but also groggy in his own befuddlement. But lost to an overwhelming yearning, he severs contact with the shame he’s constructed to keep him from intimacy and vulnerability, concepts still very new and scary. 

Funny how new emotions manage to be Frank’s greatest, most incapacitating fear; you’d more readily believe he would kill a man before he would ever let himself be emotionally vulnerable. 

“How do you want me to?” you ask. You are incredibly nervous but manage to function with the rush of acute longing thrumming sweetly in your veins. 

“I—I dunno,” he mumbles hotly to the side. The unpatterned fabric of his bed sheets furrows in his clenched fingers. He glares needles at the wall, far too embarrassed to look at you as you move above him.

“What if you just relax and I’ll take control this time?” you offer, dropping the teasing note in your voice. You gently rub his shoulders, unwinding the muscle there, coaxing him into relief, the unclenching of self where he had not realized he had been tensed. He releases a breath, closing his eyes, and says with it, “yeah.”

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” you remind him. He stares at you almost timidly, eyes angled through his blond eyelashes.

Shifting to a fitting angle, you lean in to kiss along his jawline, then taking his face in your hands, kissing up the bridge of his nose, at his chin, at his cheek, at his lips once more. 

He makes a sound beneath you. 

“Mmph.” Though short and exhaled almost bluntly, it’s content. A moan comes after but he silences it, drawing in his bottom lip, squeezing his eyes closed again.

Properly pushing into him, rocking up against him. He squirms briefly and resituates himself before unclenching again and following your slowly building thrusts.

He brings an arm up over himself, to shield the bedroom lights or to avert the further embarrassment of seeing you stare. Frank tucks his face into the junction in his elbow. 

“You don’t have to be so gentle.”

He manages a glance your way. It’s not a dare, not said to badger you or push buttons he knows all too well.

You sink in further and watch his chest hitch, testing broader thrusts. When his breathing normalizes, you push the remaining width deeper, now comfortably situated snug in his hips. You let the both of you adjust, then return thrusting with newly-realized confidence. Moaning, his fingers seize the sheets again and twist them. 

Mumbling incoherently as you fuck into him, he shakes, jerking. You lose yourself in the feeling, tight pleasure in your belly. He encourages you even as his face burns red ear to ear. 

“More,” he asks, and more you give him. It’s almost too much. Like winding up a chain with a crank, the ecstasy tightening his core wrenches him suddenly into undoing; pleasure, striking and raw, racking his body in release. 

If he could have been any redder his face might have well been solid crimson, already stained with pink and a few stray tears. You catch your breath with him, staring at him, beautiful and unraveled. 

You lay down beside him and somewhat hesitantly ask, “Did I do ok?”

“Yeah,” he says with the mildest smile. He still glances away, scrambling to recover his composure before looking at you again. 

Frank cleans up and retrieves a new set of boxers and his discarded pants. From his nightstand he withdraws another pack of cigarettes, this one nearly empty. You give him a look when he reaches for his blocklike lighter, cups his hand carefully around it, and lights the cigarette, taking a long drag. He returns to your side, laying next to you and shifting to allow you to rest your head on his chest.

“Your room’s a fire hazard, Frankie,” you joke. He pinches the cigarette between his fingers, exhaling a gray-white ribbon of smoke. 

He stares at the undecorated bedroom wall across from the bed, the only wall in his room not graffitied in some manner. He seems to contemplate speaking, turning the words over in his mouth with his tongue. 

“It—it felt good,” he admits, and the dark flush reappears at his ears and cheeks.

“Oh?” You scoot closer. “You looked really cute,” you tease, “I wish I could’ve taken a picture.”

You throw an obvious glance over at the clunky camera that he tossed uncaringly onto his desk. It looks virtually unused, but now certain thoughts start a smile across your face.

He shoves you but is smiling. He presses the cigarette into the ashtray behind his bed-side lamp, the smoke eaten suddenly away.

You take the moment to kiss up his neck again. Squirming, he bites back a laugh. You cradle his face with a loving hand, guiding him to look back at you. 

“I love you, Frank,” you remark, suddenly serious. Frank, for a second, looks worried, but is reassured by more kisses on his cheeks. 

“Yeah,” he replies—returning the gesture in his own manner. His lips meet yours, though a moment later you part and laugh, nose wrinkled. "What?” he shoots back, seeming confused. You only shake your head. Smoke just really isn’t a palatable taste. 

Eventually, you pull away and maneuver over him on the bed to stand, snagging your own clothes.

“You leaving?” he asks, and it might be disappointment. You shake your head as you ball up your shirt and pants. “No,” you reply. You push your hair from your face; “I need to wash up.”

“Unless, ah, you want me to leave,” you say, too nervous to turn around and look at him. You were completely prepared for him to kick you out after the fact, an expected conclusion but never one you looked forward to.

There’s no response, despite the shuffling of sheets, then he speaks.

“You can stay if you want to.”

It would sound displeased to anyone else, but you, fluent in his terminology, know it’s a genuine invitation. 

“Can I take a shower first?” you ask with a well-meaning laugh. “Yeah, that would be nice,” he replies. You doubt he meant it, but it came out as an insult, and you cackle back at him. Confused at first, he realizes, opening his mouth to clarify, but you’re the one to speak first.

“So that’s what you think of me, got it,” you joke further. He grabs a pillow out from under him and launches it your way. You retreat from it and take cover in the hallway, still giggling to yourself, and almost prance to the upstairs bathroom.

You look away from your own reflection in the mirror, flustered again, suddenly, by the image of him beneath you still recent in your thoughts. 

God.

[shewillreadyou]

Haven’t met you yet

As always. I hope that you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing.

A/N: This is a TRR AU. Liam is already married, but see’s Riley and wants his cake. If the readers are receptive this might turn into more than a mini series.

Disclaimers: Most characters are property of Pixelberry

Warnings: NS*FW (+18) don’t read this fic if you’re a minor; period.

Word Count: 1887

Prompts: @wackydrabbles prompt #88 “I meant every word.” will appear in BOLD

Pairings: Drake & Riley

Song inspiration: Haven’t met you yet -Michael Buble

Be Kind: Hit the heart button, leave a comment or reblog. It makes a writer so so happy. 

A replay of the Royal wedding of King Liam and Queen Carsyn of Cordonia was playing in the background as she packed her clothes in the small carryon. She giggled when they kissed. Although it was rumored that the king was into black women, something seemed off when he kissed his bride. She had watched this wedding a half dozen times and still couldn’t really put her finger on it. She was headed to New York to stand up in the wedding of one of her sorority sisters. After landing her dream job in Dallas, Riley couldn’t wait to meet her sorors in New York to celebrate. After all, Norah was about to marry the man of her dreams and Riley was truly happy for them. 

There was currently no man in Riley’s life and no prospects. Maybe she’d meet someone in Dallas or maybe she was destined for the life of a career woman. Maybe there would be no happily ever after for her. She turned out the lights in her new downtown Dallas apartment, and grabbed her carry on dragging it to the door as she headed to the airport. 

She opened the door to see her latest amazon purchase on the door mat. She took a moment to retreat inside to open the box. She was hoping it was delivered before she had to head out. Her pink Bedroom Kandi toy was still packed away lost in the sea of boxes crammed into her guestroom. She knew that she would not survive this long weekend in NYC without some form of sexual entertainment. She was disappointed when she opened the box to find her new toy was smaller than the picture made it look. Her flight left in 2 hours and her uber was downstairs so she shoved the disappointing toy in the side of her bag and headed down.  

After the uneventful three hour flight, she finally landed at JFK. Mack was supposed to pick her up from the airport. She stood to the side as people herded to baggage claim to send a quick text. A group of men came from the opposite direction. One was this tall, very attractive Asian guy who looked alot like King Liam. He was with a few other men but there was one in particular who caught her eye. He was beautiful, he had dark hair and the most beautiful blue-grey eyes. The guy who bore resemblance to King Liam smiled and winked at her, while his brooding friend who definitely glanced at her, kept moving. She was snatched from her day dream when Mack texted to say she was outside. 

They checked into the Crown Plaza in Manhattan, freshened up and changed into their little black dresses before meeting the girls at a local rooftop lounge for appetizers and drinks before the bachelorette party. 

The sounds of Dua Lipa’s “Don’t start now” played in the background and encouraged a slightly inebriated Lauren to shake her body on the empty dance floor. Still licking the wounds behind a very fresh break up she intended to use this weekend to drink her troubles away and vowed to nail a stranger. 

The hostess seated a group of gentlemen at the table directly behind the ladies giving Riley, who never sat with her back to the door the best look at the group. It was them. The men from the airport. When they were settled, Riley’s eyes met with the Asian guy’s who was smiling and licking his lips. She rolled her eyes and turned to Kourtney. 

“So, how is Gabrielle, is she two now?” 

“Yes, she’s great. Busy, but great. That was real smooth. You have an admirer.”

“Ugh, I saw those guys in the airport when I landed. He smiled at me then too.”

“But now there are two of them looking at you like you’re a steak.”

Riley coyly glanced at the group again, this time noticing the dark haired man looking. She blushed and turned back to Kourtney right as the server approached with a whiskey sour, complete with a phone number written on the cocktail napkin. 

“How did he know what you drink?”

“Girl, I have no idea. Should I drink this?”

“Sure, they wouldn’t have served it if it had been tampered with. But the real question is are you going to call him?” 

“Me? Noooo. What would I say?” 

“What do you have to lose?”

“Wait, you have never dated a white guy before have you?” 

“Well, no. Not that they aren’t attractive. I just never had one interested. Not all of us find our Prince Harry.” 

“You do now. Besides, Chris is no Prince Harry, but he does treat me like a queen. I have always wondered if there are people who would rather be alone than to date outside of their race. Chris is the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“I definitely would date outside of my race if it were the right person. He is gorgeous, I’m still not calling this guy. He’s going to think i’m desperate.”

“You are!”

“I am not!”

“When was the last time you got laid? Mack told me about your toy.”

“Remind me to kill her later. It’s been 8 months, 3 weeks and 5 days. But who’s counting?”

“Exactly,” Kourtney cackled, drawing the attention of the men at the next table. 

Maroon 5’s, “Moves like Jagger” started to play as they continued to chat.

“May I have this dance?”

Riley was disappointed to find the King Liam look alike.

“Thanks, but my feet are killing me.”

“That’s too bad,” he said as he flashed her a sexy smile.

Just then she glanced across the rooftop to see him whisper something to his brooding friend. In an instant the guy with the beautiful eyes headed over and slipped the DJ a tip and whispered something in his ear before heading Riley’s way. 

“Kourt, shit! He’s coming over here what do I say?”

“Don’t. Let him do the talking.”

 He held out his hand and smiled at her and she was sure her panties were ruined.

“Hey, did I get your drink right?” he asked placing her hand in his.

“Actually, yeah you did. Impressive.”

Just then the DJ changed the song to Silk Sonic’s, “Leave the door open.”

The stranger pulled her to her feet.

“Let’s dance.”

His scent was intoxicating, his arms where strong and she could get lost in his eyes. He held her with a familiarity that made her feel at home in his arms.

“So are you going to tell me your name?”

“Drake. And you are?”

“Riley.” 

“We don’t have to talk right now. Let’s just dance. Just use my number when you’re ready.”  

“Their bodies swayed slowly to the song before her friends pulled her away to the next leg of their night.”

Two weeks later

After a very long weekend in New York, Riley was back in Dallas. She had been there for almost a month and hadn’t met anyone at all. Well, there was Will from work. But she doesn’t date co-workers and she is pretty sure he is gay. In her freetime she goes to the gym, and eats at new restaurants  a few times a week, which leads her back to the gym. After a particularly long work day, circuit training and an hour on the treadmill Riley came home and poured herself a very large glass of wine. She filled the tub, lit some jar candles and grabbed her toy and the romance novel that she was currently reading.

She was soaking in bubbles up to her neck when her phone rang, it was Kourtney. Out of all her friends she probably checked on Riley the most. She dried her hands and pressed the speakerphone button.

Hey Kourt,

Hey Ri, what’s new?

Not a thing, work, the gym, dinner, wine repeat.

That’s sad. No human interaction?

Not really. I’ve hung out with Mack and Ben twice but I always feel like a third wheel. 

Remember when I told you to call the guy from the rooftop?

Yeah. 

I meant every word.

I will think about it. I gotta go. Early morning. Love you.

Whatever, I know when I hit a nerve. I love you too.

Three days later

Riley was as lonely in Dallas as they come. She thought about online dating but wanted something more organic. Kourtney’s words lingered in the back of her mind. Maybe she was right. Riley had nothing to lose by reaching out to the handsome stranger who sent her the drink in NYC. She decided to take the plunge.

The next morning Riley sat on her balcony reading the paper and sipping amaretto flavored coffee when her phone rang.

Hey Mack! 

Hey, I am running into church and I know it’s short notice but Ben is out of town next weekend and my college roommate is getting married down in Waxahachie. Please tell me you don’t have plans and you’ll be my plus one.

I’ll have to check my planner. She laughed.

Who am I kidding? I don’t have plans. Free booze, food, and maybe a groomsmen to have a fling with. Count me in…

Yay! She squealed. I will pick you up Saturday morning and we can ride down to the ranch together.

Saturday

The doorbell rings and Riley grabs her clutch and the wedding card she got for the newlyweds before heading down to meet Mack. They catch up while they take the 30 minute drive out to the Walker Ranch where the ceremony is to be held. Mack talked about feeling like an after thought when it came to her boyfriend. Riley mentioned the need for human interaction, more specifically from a man and how the one man she met in New York lives in Europe. When they arrive Riley takes in the vast land and the beautiful event space. 

“Savannah’s family owns this ranch? Wow, it’s massive.”

“Yeah, I know at one time they were really struggling to keep things afloat. But it definitely looks like they are doing well for themselves now.”

“Right? I love when family businesses do well. It’s really a gorgeous day for an outside wedding. But we should probably take our seats. The ceremony will be starting soon.”

Mack led Riley to a couple seats on the bride's side. Before long a very serious looking groom and an officiant that Riley could only describe as a King Liam look-a-like stood under a wedding trellis decorated with blush colored blooms. The violinist started to play a beautiful arrangement as the attendants began to descend the aisle. 

“All rise and receive the bride.”

They guess all stood and turned to receive Savannah. She was a stunning bride. Then Riley laid eyes on those hypnotic blue-grey eyes. She instantly broke out into a sweat. She couldn’t ever mistake those eyes for someone else’s. He was as beautiful as the first tine she saw him. She swallowed hard and her mouth went dry. Her heart seemed to be pounding out of her chest, she was shaking when she gave Mack’s hand a firm squeeze. 

“What’s wrong Ri?”

Before she could answer, his eyes met hers, he bit his lip and her knees buckled. 

“Um Ri?”

“It’s Drake from the rooftop in New York..”

@txemrn​ @pixie88​ @secretaryunpaid​@khoicesbyk​ @blackkingliamstan​ @mom2000aggie​ @shannonwrote​ @hopelessromanticmonie​ @fanjessfic​ @rideordiechronicles​ @lucy-268​ @dcbbw​ @darley1101​ @maurine07​ @burnsoslow​ @sfb123​ @bbrandy2002​ @kingliam2019​ @schnitzelbutterfingers​ @lem-20​ @choicesficwriterscreations​​ @wackydrabbles​​

TRR: @twinkleallnight​  @bebepac​ @mainstreetreader​ @romereadingshop​ @romewritingshop​ @lem-20​ @texaskitten30​

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

an angel on my shoulder and the devil in my heart (yandere!hawks x reader) ch3

Summary: You train a bit with Hawks and ask some serious questions.

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, ns///fw-ish, more tags to be added

Note: thank you all SO much for the love and support on this fic! i’ll try to keep updates pretty regular. btw, this one is a bit longer than usual, so i hope you enjoy :)

Chapter 2 here!

This is so awkward, you think as you ride the elevator with Hawks, your back pressed against the corner. He looks at you, slightly bemused.

"Be honest," he says, pulling himself back together and giving you one of his signature smiles, "were you a fan of me before this?"

"Of course," you don't even have to think about it, "isn't every hero student a fan of yours?" His spot on the leaderboard paired with his constant publicity in magazines and news, it's hard not to find yourself interested by him. Hawks laughs, unamused.

"As if," he stares down at you, his gaze shifting over you like a machine reading a barcode, "but why do you say that?"

"Isn't it obvious? You're the number three hero for a reason, and it's not just because of your good looks."

"You think I'm good looking?" He smirks and you wave it off, cursing the heat you feel on your face.

"You know what I mean; you've got your persona down pact. Teenage girls like you because you're pretty, teenage boys like you because of your quirk," he tilts his eyebrow at you but you avert your gaze, "the adults like you because you tell the truth, even if it hurts," you finally look him in the eye, "and anyone who says they don't like you is just afraid because you say exactly what they're thinking when they'd rather ignore it." He looks almost... shocked. He knew you were good, or at least that you had the potential to be, but he realizes now that maybe you're a bit smarter than he gave you credit for in the first place.

He takes a step forward, and another, and another until he's in your space, too close for comfort and too precise to overlook as an accident.

"You really know me, kid," he says, and you're almost tired of how many times his breath against your skin has made you shiver, "but what do you think that persona covers up?" He asks. Your breath is caught in your throat- he looks scary. His eyes are big, pupils blown wide as he stares down at you, that grin of his turned into a smirk as he watches you flinch back slightly. He's intimidating, that much you're sure of, but you can't understand why a thing like that would make your stomach flip like it does or ignite a flame somewhere deep inside you, an itch you can't scratch.

Either way, you really have no idea how to respond to his question. When he's Hawks, he's straightforward but witty, charming yet provocative. You can't pin him down as one thing and he doesn't play one role more than the other. He rocks the boat, but just enough to let in a bit of water, remind the people of the ocean underneath, but why? Who is he when he isn't being a hero?

Thankfully, you don't have to answer him. The door to the elevator pings and they slide open, letting Hawks step away from you and out the door, presumably leaving behind whatever the hell that conversation was as well. You follow him wordlessly, obediently.

"This is one of the training floors in this facility," he gestures to the room around you. It's a basement leveled floor, so any light in the room comes from the overbearing white light of the LEDs above you. Two of the walls consist solely of mirrors, while the others house practice weapons, benches, and informational posters. The floors are tile, almost completely masked by padded mats. The whole room looks so pristine, you wonder if it's ever been used.

"Does anybody else even work here?" You finally ask. You've been in the building for almost a half an hour and you've only seen a single person other than Hawks. Floor after floor of office space, yet not a single desk or work station was taken by a person. Frankly, it's unsettling. Hawks just laughs.

"Of course they do, (Y/N); I just gave them the day off," his brow furrows in annoyance, like it's such a stupid question for you to ask.

"Why?" You don't bother to call out the casual use of your first name.

"Didn't want anyone getting in our way on your first day." He shrugs. "This doesn't really matter though, does it? We're wasting training time." You know Hawks is right; there's no reason for you to be upset by that- he just wanted you to have an easy first day. So why do you feel so unsettled?

Hawks sends you away to change into your hero costume, taking a seat on the bench as he waits for your return. Oh, how he'd love to accompany you, slowly slide your uniform off of your perfect body, let his hands caress your smooth skin. And your feathers- immaculate little things- soft as cotton and silky smooth, perfect for running his hands through. Of course he noticed the way it made you shake, your breath coming out in shallow puffs as you tried to stay calm. Really, you should just give in to him; he knows you must have a crush on him, what, with that speech you gave him in the elevator practically professing your love for him. 

Would you like him, he wonders, if you knew the real him? Hawks would never think the things Keigo does, would never watch you through your window or follow you home. But isn't it endearing to know how much he cares about you? Would you think so? He really just wants what's best for you, and the best thing for you is to be by his side.

This isn't really like him, though- he's never latched on to someone quite like he has with you, but you're special, he rationalizes; you're kindred spirits, his angelic pair, his soulmate. Your gold and white wings were crafted by God to carry you to him and no further. You're not Icarus, no, your wings won't melt away, but if you fly too far away from home, away from Hawks, they certainly might break. Or, at least, he'll have to break them for you.

"Hawks- uh, Mr. Hawks?" Your timid voice pulls him away from his thoughts. You're standing in the doorway, arms crossed over your chest, and Hawks can't help but give you a once-over. Your hero outfit is a bit odd, in his opinion- it's more stylized than most he's seen. Your top consists of what looks like a golden breastplate, and your shoulder pads, elbow pads, and knee pads are all fashioned in the same greek armor style. Underneath your armor top is a white tunic, which moves downward towards your skirt and cuts off in the back, leaving the front a bit shorter than the rest. Your legs are protected by a chainmail pair of leggings. On the top of your head rests a golden laurel wreath, with a white wing protruding from each side. 

Cute, cute, cute, Hawks thinks to himself, a smile back on his face, my own little greek goddess.

"I'd tell you it's just Hawks, but hearing you stumble around 'mister hawks' is almost too entertaining to pass up." You have the audacity to look annoyed at him; it's hardly intimidating, "hey, if it's that upsetting, you could always call me Keigo." His smug face stares up at you from its place rested in his hands and you scoff.

"Thanks, but I like to keep the professional titles for at least a day."

He shrugs, "your loss," and stands up from his bench. "I think we should spar first, just to give me an idea of your skill." He wrings his neck and stretches out his shoulders, giving them a little shake.

"Sounds good to-" your cut off as a red feather whizzes past your face and you duck to the ground. It lodges itself neatly into the wall behind you. "Are you kidding me?"

"What? I said we're sparring." Okay, maybe it's because he's a little upset you won't call him Keigo, but he did technically give you a warning.

"That could've hit me!" You reply as you push yourself back up and into a fighting stance.

"Yeah, but it didn't," another feather shoots past you and you easily move out of the way, circling Hawks, "and do you think a villain is gonna give you a heads up? No," another, and then another feather and you barrel roll, one of them narrowly missing your face, "so now you're more prepared! You should be thanking me."

"I think you talk too much," you reply simply. You move up into a crouch and push forward, aiming to get close enough to at least get a hit on Hawks. He watches you, slightly bemused and launches another feather, this one sticking into the ground and effectively pinning your skirt, pulling you face forward into the floor with your own momentum. Two more lodge themselves into the sides of your hero suit, keeping you against the ground.

"Well I think," You can hear the smirk in his voice as he comes and nudges you with his foot, "that I just kicked your ass in three seconds.”

"Definitely not one of my best matches," you agree, and he lets up his feathers. 

My poor hero suit, you sigh as you eye the holes, big enough to fit you hand through. Only one day as an intern and you'll already need a patch job.

"I can't say I'm impressed," Hawks offers you a hand and pulls you to your feet, "but I didn't expect you to do well." He laughs at your indignant 'hey,' and continues. "C'mon, you couldn't have thought you'd win against Japan's best hero."

"I didn't know I was fighting All Might." 

"Yeah, yeah," he waves you off. "Do you only fight hand-to-hand?" You nod.

"My quirk isn't built for offense like yours is." Hawks looks you up and down, a hand on his chin as he contemplates.

"Have you considered using a support weapon?" Your eyes go wide. That's actually really smart. "I could talk to our support department about getting something together for you..." he pauses again, thinking, but exclaims, "I can get you a sword and train you; we'll be one of those dynamic duos!" He grabs you by the shoulders and shakes. He wants you to be as excited as he is, wants you to at least smile for god's sake. If you've got wings on your back, his sword by your side, and his agency under your belt, there'll be no mistaking who you belong to.

"I'm not sure I'd be any good at that," you look to the ground, a stray hand coming to nervously scratch at your neck. 

"With me as your teacher? You'll be an ace," his hands don't move from their place on your shoulders and he gives them a possessive squeeze, "plus, it'll match your costume."

"...I guess I can try it, then," you comply and he beams, white teeth shining brighter than the sun. You know you'll make a fool out of yourself, you're certain of it, but the way he looks at you makes you feel like it might not matter how bad you are; he'll help you through it. You can't stop yourself from smiling back; you think you made the right decision choosing Hawks as your mentor.

You spend the rest of the afternoon practicing hand-to-hand combat, having your ass thoroughly kicked by Hawks every time. Every time you thought you might beat him, you ended up face first on the mat, Hawks sitting on your back and pinning your arm. 'I win again' he whispered, a little too close for comfort before letting go and helping you up. By the time Hawks elected that you had been beat enough, the sun was already down outside.

"Let me walk you home," Hawks holds the big glass door open for you as you exit, the lights flickering off inside and obscuring his face, "it's a gentleman's duty." You let out a chuckle.

"I don't wanna trouble you-" he raises a hand to silence you.

"It's really no trouble at all, kid," you feel like the conversation is over- Hawks has already made up his mind; he's going to walk you home.

“...alright, then,” you compromise again, following him like a dog down the road.

The streetlights illuminate the both of you as you stroll down the empty roads, your voices carrying in the silence of the night. Hawks has elected this as no-work time, so he asks you silly questions about yourself: what's your favorite color, favorite food, things like that. He seems happy to get to know you, and indulges your own questions about his interests.

He likes when you smile, he decides, as you laugh at one of his jokes. Whenever you notice him staring, you cover your mouth, but your laugh is so pretty and genuine; he can't understand why you would be embarrassed by it. Although, he can't help the twinge in his gut that wants you to save your smiles and your laugh just for him, or the anger that bubbles up when he thinks of someone else getting to see you like this, lit up by the yellow glow of the streetlights. So pretty and all his.

He says goodnight to you at the door, waving to you like he won't be outside your window for the rest of the night.

If you like my work, please consider supporting me on ko-fi!

[painted-piggy-ships-archive]

He’s a Vampire!

[~]

Half-Demon!Medic x Vampire!Bill - Monster AU

Word Count: 707

Tag List: @heavenshipped @cherry-bomb-ships @fangedwife @the-rocknroll-cryptid

Summary: Medic’s first encounter with Bill’s fangs~

Warnings: Blood and blood consumption mentions in some detail, suggestive scenarios that have little to do with actual NS/FW topics, conspiracy of murder as our main troupe are monster hunters.

REBLOGS > COMMENTS > LIKES - Thank you for reading!

"That guy has been following us for a few nights. And only at night." Spy commented as he and his fellow huntsman took an open carriage through foggy woodland, coached by the head of the group, Medic. He busied himself by sharpening his knife, but kept looking back over his shoulder at the road they left behind.

"He hasn't killed us yet," Medic spoke with an air of finality, uninterested in talking about the stranger.

"He's obviously a vampire, Medic." Sniper added, "why haven't we killed him yet?"

Medic said nothing, keeping the horses at a steady pace.

"You could be wrong."

Spy snorted. "You've gone soft!"

"Do you want to get out and walk to the nearest inn?"

"No," Spy grumbled under his breath in French, rolling his eyes and shutting his mouth.

When the group reached the inn, the fog had given way to a bright moon. Medic checked the men in and immediately went to his room. He was tired, yes, but also anxious about this vampire problem. Spy was right… maybe he had gone soft… but it was only for that one monster. He'd get over it.

He startled when his window opened on its own, aiming his loaded crossbow in the direction of the disturbance. A bat flew in through the opening, circling Medic's head before flopping on the bed and poofing into a person. They sat up and grinned, blushing a little bit, too.

"Hi.~"

Medic lowered and eventually set aside his weapon.

"Guten Abend. You frightened me." Medic spoke flatly and awkwardly.

The vampire giggled.

"Sorry… I'm just excited."

"Oh?"

The vampire stood and approached Medic, who backed into the door absent-mindedly.

"Tonight, I feed on the greatest monster hunter this side of the Redd Kingdom, all because he can't lift a finger against me!" The vampire giggled again and Medic's eyelids drooped… he'd never been good at shaking off vampiric charm. The vampire took his hand and drew Medic back to the bed, forcing him to lay down.

"You're looking awfully sleepy.~"

"Wait…" Medic pushed himself into a weak sitting position as the vampire unbuttoned his collar. "What is your name?"

"Bill. Now lay down, and try to relax… you don't know how much blood I lose on strugglers." The cutesy act was dropped as Bill grew ravenous for Medic's blood, which they had smelled only once before… it drove them into a frenzy. They had to taste it. Their tongue absently traced their fangs as they exposed Medic’s thick neck, prodding gently with their fingers to find the perfect vein to suckle from. “Turn your head slightly, dear.”

Medic could just barely follow the action, starting to slip into unconsciousness. Bill made a satisfied sound when he found the vein, and bit down with no hesitation, puncturing Medic’s soft skin and drawing his rare blood. It was like nothing Bill had ever tasted; it gushed hotter than the normal human’s, and was sweet and tangy, like lemonade, and had a subtle aftertaste of fine wine. He had to mentally remind himself not to drain his poor meal, it was that good.

He released Medic’s neck, using the hunter’s shirt as a napkin and peppering light kisses to the still oozing puncture wounds. He retrieved a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it against the bite to soak up excess blood, before leaning back and admiring Medic’s sleeping features. He looked feverish from the feeding, his hair sticking to his forehead in strands that Bill lovingly pushed back into place.

“It is forbidden… but I could not stay away if I wanted to,” Bill mused quietly, deciding to tuck Medic under the covers and curl up beside him, above them. He was used to sleeping in a cave and required much less bedding than mortals, in fact finding the inn bed much too hot for his tastes, but nonetheless wanted to stay by Medic’s side. However, a knock would jolt him from peaceful slumber.

Hesitantly, Bill got up and answered the door… he’d play himself off as another person in the inn Medic decided to get frisky with, he supposed. When he opened the door, mostly hiding himself behind it, he was surprised to see a familiar face.

“Spy???”