#wrote this on a whim it's not edited

[railingsofsorrow]

summary: based on this scene or in which you can't deny going to a film festival with the resident genius.

pairing: s.r x gn!reader

w.c: 615.

warnings/content: none just fluff.

navi

masterpost

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

“I'm going to a Korean film festival in Georgetown.” Spencer quipped as they finished off the paperwork from the day.

You looked up from your phone as soon as he let out those words. If there's something that irked you to no end was when people interrupted Spencer Reid during his ramblings. Personally? You could hear it all day. Wasn't a problem. But something that pissed you off was when nobody acted excited for the plans he shared with everyone. “A lot of the entries probably aren't subtitled yet. But I can do a simultaneous whisper translation while we watch.” His lips formed that tight-lipped smile known to be his signature. He wasn't expecting anybody to say yes. He's been used to the team's declines to his invitations; it was okay, they didn't share the same interests outside work.

“I'd love to go,” You said more quick than you planned, sticking your phone inside your purse. “It is tonight?”

Penelope and Derek shared a compliance glance that wasn't unnoticed by Aaron, who started dispersing them all to leave to get some rest for the night. Emily could dare say he was smiling a bit as Spencer shared the details of the event with you. JJ smirked behind Spencer and you, mouthing a you seeing this? to Emily, who tried to steal a stealth glance at them as they walked to the elevator before everyone else.

“Would you really?” Spencer halted in your way to the parking lot. “You didn't just say that out of politeness? Cause if you did, then it's fine, we don't have to—”

Out of politeness? That would be the most precious time you'd spend in your boring nightlife.

You might not understand Korean at all, but you certainly didn't mind him whispering in your ear the whole night.

“I'd love to spent time with you. And no, I wasn't just being polite.” You cracked an awkward smile when the realization that you talk too much came. “I mean, I've heard about this festival, I just never— You mentioned it and I—” You groaned, shifting in your feet. “I'm sorry, if you don't want me to go—”

“What? No!” Spencer takes a few steps towards you with widened eyes. “I don't— That's not what I meant. I'd very much like for you to come with me. I just don't want you to feel pressured to do it because... no one else wanted to come.”

“Oh.” You blink up at him, nodding shortly. Embarrassment dying down but the blush in your cheeks was still present given his proximity. “Okay. It is alright if I accompany you then?”

“More than alright.” He let it slip, causing your smile to widen. He cleaned his throat, shifting in his feet as he focused his full attention on his shoes. “So,” He mustered the courage to look up and meet your eyes. They have something like a fond gaze going on, he could be wrong, it was dark and you were in the middle of the parking lot, not much to illuminate your features. “Shall we?”

You agree with a happy skip to your step, walking by his side. You requested for him to tell you a little bit about the Korean culture and what you should be prepared to see there. His rambling making you feel a warmth in your chest.

“You don't mind translating it to me, do you?” You said after a moment of silence between you both, casting him a timid quirk of lips. “I haven't the faintest idea about the language, although it's interesting.”

Spencer beamed at you, you could see a glimmer of excitement in his eyes. “No, no, I don't mind.”

ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

A/N: take ME to a korean filme festival Spencer, i dare you. (I will kiss you)

[purenguyening]

A short piece inspired by a line from the Kimetsu no Yaiba fanbook where Giyuu brings Nezuko gifts with regular frequency to the point Zenitsu thought of Giyuu as a rival.

Warning: This contains giyutan and is unedited. Proceed with caution.

Giyuu arrives in front of an isolated cabin in the mountains. With the wrapped gift in his left hand he marches forward.

On the other side, from the corner of Nezuko's eyes, she sees her former benefactor. She drops the vegetables she was washing for tonight's dinner and runs towards him.

When Nezuko jump and hugs him, Giyuu briefly loses balance, but recovers just as fast. Nezuko squeezes him during the embrace, in response Giyuu tilts slightly and lets his head rest against the top of her head for a beat.

A moment later Nezuko lets go and they both take a step back. Familiar with this song and dance, Giyuu hands the wrapped gift in his hand, and Nezuko accepts. No words were exchanged.

One blink later, they curtly nod at each other.

In another blink, Giyuu starts running towards the back of the cabin towards the smoke.

Zenitsu walks up and stands by Nezuko side. He shoots a dirty glare at the former water pillar.

"Do you really think it's like that, Zenitsu-san?" Nezuko asks, quirking an eyebrow up while she turns to look at him.

Even without hyper-sensitive hearing, she can hear Zenitsu's teeth nash, clearly muttering at the one-sided rivalry.

When Giyuu is out of Zenitsu's line of sight, he finally turns to her and softens his expression. Nezuko's expression shifts as she turns to look at him, too.

"It's not what you think, Zenitsu-san," she says, smiling with a hint of mischief in her eyes. "How -" Zenitsu stutters. From his eyes, it's as plain as day. "How can you be so sure of that, Nezuko-chan?!" Nezuko grips the wrapped gift with her left hand and starts to head toward the same direction Giyuu went off to. "Over here," she gestures, "You'll see what I mean."

Zenitsu pauses for a moment, but, ultimately, decides to follow her. The two walked in silence and stand at the corner of the cabin, out of view.

Nezuko sets the gift by her feet. She then takes her right index fingers to her lips and uses her left index finger and points to her ears. Zenitsu stares for a moment, and scrunches his face, skeptical. But another moment passes before he decides to indulge in his Nezuko-chan's wishes. He then turns with her to look at the former water pillar and Tanjirou. The Giyuu is listening intensely and watches Tanjirou char the morning's freshly cut wood, preparing for the following day's sales.

Zenitsu perks his ears, using his sensitive hearing to his advantage. And then he hears it. The former water pillar was laughing. If he were to put an image to describe the sensation, it reminded him of a warm pond, sitting in the sun in the forest. A quiet scene that holds a deep feeling of tranquility.

There's a soft crinkle in Giyuu's eyes as Zenitsu watches the former water pillar cover his mouth, trying to hide his teeth while he chuckles. Tanjirou, even while preparing tomorrow's charcoal, finds the time to take his hand and move Giyuu's hand away from his face. He can catch Tanjirou lightly whining at Giyuu to "stop that."

Zenitsu stops listening closely after that, it felt like he was intruding.

He, then turns to Nezuko.

"I understand now, Nezuko-chan."

She finally looks away and tilts her head and giggles. "You know, Zenitsu-san," she starts.

Zenitsu doesn't know exactly what else to expect after this. There isn't that same feeling of dread that crawls up his spine and up his neck in the same way when he was a demon slayer out on a mission. Yet, he finds the weight in his feet shift uncomfortably. Despite this feeling, he allows her to continue.

"If you tell Uzui-san that Onii-chan's oiran days never ended, he bursts out laughing." Zenitsu's eyebrows twitch at the mention of the former sound pillar, but he eyes focus at the gift by Nezuko-chan's feet. He glares at it with the same intensity as he did with the former water pillar, before he finally softens and smiles.

He chuckles for a bit before finally responding. "I suppose they haven't, huh?"

[alienaiver]

"that's it. i'm removing you from the roster until you've stopped by the doctor."

you look at midoriya in disbelief. unable to keep yourself poised at his final decision, your shoulders slump and the exhaustion washes over you like a wave. he's seen through you.

it's been a year since your near-death experience with an all-too-powerful villain and while shinsou took great care of you during your recovery, something's been off ever since - you haven't been able to put a finger on it, though, so you decided to do what every self-sacrificing hero does: you powered through. until there was no power left to muscle your way out of it. and now it's become visible to others too. you have a feeling shinsou might've ratted you out, but you don't blame him. you'd done the same if it were him.

you get home in a daze and fall face first onto the bed. you don't wake up until you feel the weight shift and the warmth of shinsou's lips touches your cheek. but you don't have the energy to react with more than a hum. your eyelids are so heavy. there's a ringing in your ears but it's so constant that it just feels like a persistent buzz. shinsou says something as he settles behind you, arms wrapping themselves around you. for a while, you think there's silence but he says your name sternly in a voice he only uses when he knows you're not entirely listening to him. huh. you're mostly used to hearing it on the battlefield.

"i'm worried about you."

you sigh and hum, pushing yourself weakly back onto him, "'ve got a doc's appointment..... tomorrow."

he kisses the crown of your head, "okay... okay, good."

he's drawing soft circles into your arm and you drift away again. he wakes you when there's dinner and you perk up again slightly, but not enough to make him stop worrying his lip between his teeth. you fall asleep fifteen minutes into a movie later that night.

you put on your shoes and lock the door behind you, putting the keys in your pocket as you turn for the stairs at the end of the hall. you really wish there'd been an elevator in your building right now. as you walk down the steps, your feet feels heavier but you chalk it up to be your shoes. it's the sneakers you don't wear that often, but it's too cold for sandals today. you shrug it off and just concentrate more on walking.

the doctor goes through your symptoms with you but there's hardly any, you reassure her. you're just so exhausted no matter how many hours you sleep. she warns you that you may be sleeping too much. you agree with a laugh - you don't remember ever sleeping so many hours, having been an insomniac your entire youth. she does some blood tests and sends you home, saying you'll be called in when the answers are back.

the days that pass are all a blur. without your shifts at the agency, time becomes fuzzy around the edges. you don't have to get up, so you just stay in bed, since you've been told you need to rest anyways. on the third day you wake up to several notes on the bedside table, the bathroom mirror and the kitchen counter and fridge from shinsou with various reminders about eating and drinking properly and where he's stocked some snacks and prepped some food for you to reheat easily. you chuckle and shake your head at his antics. you're just tired, is all. the headaches comes with the job, you remind yourself as you try to gently massage out the tension in your neck to relieve your pounding head. he might be right about the water intake - you grab the cold bottle he's put in the fridge for you and brings it with you to the bed.

"i think you should call and ask if they've gotten the answers yet." shinsou says matter-of-factly and you nod, "yeah, it has been a few days. but it's the weekend, right? i'll call on monday." and that ends the conversation.

monday comes but you forget to call, even if you've been determined to do so. by the time you remember, the office is closed for the day. you sigh heavily and fall back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. you prepare the apology for shinsou on your tongue before you drift off.

tuesday morning your phone rings - several times. you finally reach out and pick up, thinking it's shinsou.

"i do apologize for the wait. the doctor unfortunately had to take some time off last week, but we have your results. will you be able to come in today?"

you agree, dragging yourself up. there's more energy in you today, but it should've been way more given the intense rest you've been having. you put on one of shinsou's hoodies and a pair of sweats before you drag yourself to the kitchen to grab a bite.

turns out, you suffer from anemia. an intense, prolonged form and need medication as soon as possible. shinsou's livid when he comes home and gets the news, angry that it has been missed when the agency periodically keeps an eye on their heroes' health. you sit on the chair with your hands folded like a child being scolded and try to laugh it off, "come on now, hito. i just need to take some medication and i'll be fine. the usual blood tests the past year haven't covered that - even if they should, i know," you hurry to add, "but i'll be fine, i promise."

shinsou sighs and his whole body slumps, leaning against the table you're sitting by. you take his hand, "i'm okay."

he visibly relaxes but there's something he's holding back. you've been together since high school, so you can read him like a book. you squeeze his hand, "open up."

he clicks his tongue with furrowed brows before he opens his mouth, "you've had these symptoms for months. why didn't you tell me?"

you look at the ground, guilt written on your face. mostly, because you don't have a proper answer to give him. you don't know why you didn't - the symptoms had all been sneaking up on you, snaking their way into your body quietly and suddenly it'd just become so chronic that you'd normalized it. you let out an apology and he squeeze your hand back, "it's okay to not have an answer. but please, can we be mindful of things like this in the future?"

you smile at him, "only if you continue to make the little post-it notes. they're adorable - especially your small doodles of dogs."

shinsou hides his face in his hands with a groan, "they were cats."

[bimboothefool]

𝐎𝐮𝐫 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐬 𝐀 𝐋𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐚𝐦𝐞

𝙎𝙪𝙜𝙪𝙧𝙪 𝙂𝙚𝙩𝙤 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

After all these years of being apart from each other, you reunited under unfortunate circumstances. Deep down you and him desperately wished things were different.

I wasn’t feeling well mentally, so I’m gonna use my writing as an outlet. Hopefully the next jjk fanfic I write or jjk x reader art I draw will be less sad. Hope you’ll enjoy! If you like my work consider giving me a tip on kofi! Any amount is greatly appreciated.

This story contains the following subject matters: Mentions of murder and angst w/ a hopeful ending.

After being defeated by Yuta, Suguru was boiling in his wrath, vowing to get Rika next time. But as he limps pathetically to escape. You stand in front of him.

You’ve changed, since you last saw eachother. The light of the sunset made your matured beauty radiate more. His wings were clipped all because of his failings. While you seem to flourish and fly with no restrictions.

He didn’t want you seeing him like this. But fate had always ruled against him. The black swan and the white swan were never meant to love one another. Their love was a defiance of conformity and order.

“Hello Suguru…” Suguru dryly laughed, fate was indeed a cruel mistress. “On time before Satoru? Still attentive as always.” He reminisced aloud, you have changed after all this time. still aware of your many patterns even after many years passed.

Your lips trembled as tears cascaded down your cheeks. As much as you wanted to hate him with every fiber of your being. You know even after all these years, you still had some love for the man before you.

Suguru saw a sight that made his heart ache and crack at the seams. You tried to put on a mask of professionalism, but he guessed even after all these years. You could never truly part yourself away from him.

“I wanted to return to you, with a world only of Jujutsu Sorcerers. We’d rule together, no one would—”

“Please stop.” His words got clogged up in his throat. “I know what you did was unforgivable. But I understand that Jujutsu Society failed you and thousands of others. I understand why you’ve lashed out that day. Killing those villagers. You thought death was a proper punishment. I should’ve known better, you were suffering in silence.”

You took a seat beside him on the rough ground, your tears never stopped falling. Both you and Suguru sat in the serene quiet.

The chaos had been put to a halt and the black swan was defeated. But the white swan doesn’t get a happy ending either.

“I should’ve done more, but I can’t dwell on that. Now can I?” You looked to see Suguru groan in pain. Holding his left exposed shoulder. It was quite the grotesque sight.

“Guess not, maybe in another timeline…” You looked at him like he was beyond crazy. More than he was before. “In another timeline what..?” Suguru gently held your hand as if it was glass. You stared at him in disbelief.

“Maybe in another life or time. Things could be different. We could’ve had something better. A true happy ending. Just like we’ve wanted.” You croaked out as tears waterfall down your cheeks. Turning your head away from him.

“You’re so selfish…” Suguru laughed. “Of course, I always have been.” Satoru finally arrives as you get up from your spot.

Suguru confesses to everything. Satoru asks if he has any final words. Satoru’s sapphire eyes looked over to you. Your back was faced away from the two men. But he can tell from the sniffles and soft cries, your heart was bleeding. Now more than ever before. The wound that Suguru inflicted upon it had reopened.

“One last thing.” The raven haired man called out your name, your head perked up. He’s got your attention. “I love you. I always have, but never had the courage to say it. I’m sorry for the mess I’ve caused for us… You deserve better, please go out there. Don’t let the weight of me hold you back.”

Finally you crumbled, you ran. Ran as fast as you could. Knowing you can’t bare to see him get killed in front of you. The Suguru you’ve come to love and care for was always there. But those shadows that swallowed him whole have successfully buried him. His trauma had broken him.

' I could never find another like him. ' You told yourself, with instinct carrying you. You ran as far away as you could, not wanting Suguru, Satoru or any of your beloved students seeing you cry a geyser in front of them.

' Maybe in another life or time. Things could be different. ' His words haunted you, but you knew somewhere deep down. It was his final promise and his last words were his only wish.

✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦

You stirred in your sleep as a velvet laugh and soft kiss upon your cheek awoke you from your slumber. “Morning sleeping beauty…” You woke up to the sight of Suguru looking down at you with such adoration in his eyes.

You couldn’t help the smile forming on your lips. “Morning to you too.” You laughed as you pecked his cheek back.

The sunrise shone on the both of you. It was your fourth year anniversary of you two dating. He helped you up and walked you towards the kitchen, the fresh cooked food filling up your senses. The drowsiness melted away, his hand never left you as you both sat down.

This wasn’t just a happily ever after, it was merely the once upon a time to the next step in your romance. Completely unaware of the velvet box in his pocket, holding an engagement ring.

One that will be the many physical forms of your undying love for one another.

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝

[bucks-daddy-issues]

Thighs and Eyes

3.5k | Explicit | Read on AO3

Listen I wrote this in four hours because the idea got stuck in my head and now it’s 2am and I’m too delirious to know if it’s even any good.

Bone appetite.

-

Licks turn into soft nips and nips into bites and then Eddie is sucking a hickey into the side of Buck’s thigh. The sharp sting overpowers every single thought and feeling Buck could previously comprehend, shooting straight to his dick. Eddie lets off only to find a new spot to clamp his teeth into, marking Buck again as the first hickey continues to darken.

Buck feels like a puddle of goo, the only words out of his mouth either a series of curses or Eddie’s name on repeat. He attempts to lift his head up to watch Eddie work but meets the other man's dark eyes as he bites again and Buck falls back down, too overwhelmed to do anything but feel.

"Dios, I fucking love these things.” Eddie grasps at the soft flesh, pressing into new bruises until Buck is mewling and twitching away. Eddie dips down to bite another mark into Buck’s skin.

[dateamonster]

Wisps of smoke were sifting through the gap in the supply closet door, and Coach knew well enough what that meant. She opened the door and the girls inside startled, nearly upsetting the censer filling the space with the thick scent of sandalwood.

She took in the scene: four juniors surrounded by assorted sports equipment and spare jerseys, crowded around a channeling board in a circle of tea candles. It wasn't one of those cheap mass-produced boards with the characters only printed onto some varnished slab of plywood either. If she were to guess, Coach would peg it as belonging to one of their parents.

"Girls, we talked about this," she sighed. "No séances on school grounds."

One of the girls, a blonde wearing what appeared to be an homage to a Victorian mourning dress complete with black veil, began to whimper and the others flocked to her side with crystal pendants all a-jingling to comfort her.

"Have a heart, miss, her boyfriend just died."

The begrieved wailed, "Danny!"

"Shaunee, sweetie, we've been over this. Daniel isn't dead. He just changed schools."

"Same difference," a witchlet with a severe purple smokey eye muttered under her breath.

"He hasn't answered any of my texts in weeks," Shaunee sobbed, eyeliner already streaming down her face. "Something must have happened to him. I'm a quarter banshee, I know about this stuff!"

Coach repressed the urge to roll her eyes. "Okay, everybody out. And put out those damn candles, that's a fire hazard. This is your final warning, ladies. If I catch any one of you using magic unsupervised one more time, it's a week's suspension for all of you."

The young witches cried out their collective complaints.

"And I'm confiscating that board, too."

"Miss, no! My mom'll kill me!"

Called it. “Well luckily if she does I’ll have this handy board so I can make sure you're attending detention from beyond the grave."

"Detention?!"

"Yes, detention. You're lucky I'm not sending you straight to the principal's office." A collective shudder went through the group at the thought, Coach included. She didn't prefer to subject anyone to that, no matter how deserving. "You brought an unauthorized magical object into school and now my basketballs smell like a Bath and Body Works."

A couple of the girls smirked at one another with badly repressed laughter. "Smelly balls."

"What's that?" asked Coach. "You want to run ten laps?"

"We're not even in class right now!"

"Twenty laps it is. Hop to it."

Another collective groan as they trudged out to the track. Coach gathered up the channeling board, the candles, the incense, and took them to her office. She unlocked the bottom drawer of her desk and tossed the lot in, to rest with the confiscated bounty of semesters past. Firecrackers, vape pens, a compact grappling hook launcher, several softly glowing amulets of various ornate designs, a petrified severed lamb's head with taut leathery skin and haunting glass eyes that followed you around the room, and a couple accumulated grams of weed. And now this, of course.

Certainly, Coach thought, she had gotten into her fair share of trouble at that age, but back in those days she would have never dared talk back to a teacher like that. This generation was a new breed. Or maybe she was just going too soft on them.

The lamb's head distended its ragged jaw and emitted a low gurgling string of Old Arabic.

"Oh what would you know about it."

[boltlightning]

20 questions for fic writers

tagged by the wonderful @starsuncounted; thank you muchly <3

1. how many total works do you have on ao3? 54!

2. what’s your total ao3 word count? 362,814. oy vey

3. what fandoms do you write for? these days, potc and final fantasy and assassin's creed now and then, though i generally write for whatever grabs my attention. remember when i wrote a fallout fic? wild

4. what are your top 5 fics by kudos? oh dear. let’s see:

a house, a hearth, a (s)holmes — the great ace attorney, 6k. a collection of missing scenes about iris watson and her silly little family.

good company — fullmetal alchemist, 9k. pre-canon, roy mustang recruits people for his team. (i wrote this when i was 19 and there's still a lot i like about it, but boy is it humbling to reread.)

benchfellows — final fantasy vii remake, >1k. a drabble about cloud and aerith fighting in the wall market colosseum.

heart & home — fullmetal alchemist, 5k. roy and riza visits roy's home both pre-ishval and post-canon.

sun hits the water — potc, 8k. james and elizabeth get married after the fact, and fall in love some. at the time of writing this post it's got these beautiful round numbers i am SO pleased

5. do you respond to comments? almost certainly. sometimes i won't on really old pieces or comments that don't really necessitate a reply, but i do my best :—)

6. what is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? i trend more bittersweet than angsty; o sleeper (ff7, cloud/aerith) is one of the only ones i'd classify as TRULY angsty, everything else ends much higher.

7. what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? showing their versatility: slowly (ff7, also cloud/aerith) ends a little bittersweetly but the climax of this fic remains the sappiest, gushiest thing i've ever written

8. do you get hate on fics? i don't think i've gotten hate since the ff.net days and i'm grateful for it

9. do you write smut? a little, but nothing wild or worth posting. otherwise we're always fading to black or describing sex vaguely babey

10. do you write crossovers? what's the craziest one you've written? it's not my forte, per se, but the potc/temeraire universe is over 50k words and still will not let me go, so you could say i've dabbled.

11. have you had a fic stolen? / 12. have you had a fic translated? / 13. have you ever co-written a fic? no to all the above 🤪 (or...at least i hope, in the case of 11)

14. what's your all-time favorite ship? 8-year-old me was really onto something when she latched onto cloud/aerith with passion unrivaled to be honest. there is no use denying it

15. what's a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will? i have been working on a written version of the trespasser DLC for one of my dragon age characters for like.............three years now and it will never evolved past the five scenes i have scribbled down i'm afraid. the quarantine brainrot was real but it did not last

16. what are your writing strengths? i like to fancy myself good at description! and i'm very particular about flow and tone. there's nothing i won't do to maintain tone, even if it hurts to cut segments that don't fit

17. what are your writing weaknesses? alas, describing shit well means that i am terrible at stepping back and letting a scene breathe. i feel the need to explain stuff that doesn't need it, to my own detriment. and lately i just Cannot thread the needle with any transitions between scenes. someone come cure my yips it's extremely annoying balking at this

18. thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic? it CAN work but the only time i'm ever using it is if 1) i know someone who speaks the language, so i'm not making an ass of myself, or 2) it adds to the confusion of a scene in a meaningful way. rarely does it come up and rarely do i employ it

19. first fandom you wrote for? i'm sure it was kingdom hearts. the more things change, etc.

20. favorite fic you've written? the aforementioned potc/temeraire crossover aside...i could play coy here, but you KNOW it's steadfast & dependable (6k, potc, norribeth. but. it's complicated). she is my beautiful girlfriend and the concept continues to compel me on rereads

tagging @johnbly @thesumdancekid @graysongraysoff @antique-romantic if you're feelin it??? and also 🫵 you, the girl reading this

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[capt-mactavish]

i dunno how to say it properly but i stumbled on your drabble with werewolf Soap called Teeth just as you posted it and ever since then i haven't known peace, it lives in my mind rent free and i loved it thanks for posting those last few lines... "were something else" hehe

i'm so flattered thank you so much for this ask!!! i'm so so so glad you enjoyed it!! i'm glad at least one person did lmaooo thank you again this means a lot to me

[zhan-he]

and if it don't get better until december (you can leave me there) [HEAVY WIP]

it was awkward the first night, strange the second, abnormal the third, and so very _lonely_ on the fourth. and then he settled in, getting used to the barn and not living in fear of tigerclaw and becoming friends with barley. tonight was a new moon, though. ravenpaw may not have been a clan cat anymore, but he still knew everything. how could he? how could he abandon everything he once was, even though it never quite fit him and he was chased out of it? so he sat on the roof of the barn, watching the moonless sky, looking at silverpelt, his warrior ancestors, at their brightest. did they care for him at all anymore?

[thegempage]

thinking about. the sheer amount of stuff i make that no one will ever see

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[obamousse]

"Keep talking and you'll end up in the streets. Like how it was back then isn't it? So miserable, isn't it?"

Osamu had a fair share of experiences arguing with Atsumu, which was nothing pleasant. They yell at each other, casually fight, and in the end, reconcile. Osamu does not hesitate in smacking his brother in the head while giving him the title of "a tyrannical pig". But it was in situations where they were both sure they would stick by each other's side again, and little did anyone know, that was only the mildest of Osamu's anger.

And now, having heard Suna's words, he froze.

Not one inch in his body moved. Only his eyes. Bulging, larger, larger, until his pupils disappeared behind the color white. The eyes of a monster, yes. Of a beast unleashed. Suna was surprised: he expected him to, like many others he had argued with before, to start crying, become angrier or start slapping his face. He did not expect Osamu to stare straight into his soul, and for the first time, things felt different. Osamu was going all out, and Suna then truly realized how angry his lover could be and the scale of catastrophes dangling on his head. And for the first time, Suna regretted everything he said.

Suna was gifted with a sharp, piercing tongue. One that keeps inventing new and scorching insults, that he freely used. He knew, once he was successfully angered, he would do anything with that tongue of his, accuse, insult, gaslight, or even weaponizing secrets people have trusted him with, to push his opponent to the edge, have them crying, speechless, taken aback from how caustic the Suna could actually be. Mother said it was a weakness of his, not that he cared about, because all he ever did that too was people who hurt him (and who would hurt his friends, if he ever had any).

Osamu knew too well that weakness of his. Osamu knew, that there is a tiny chance, Suna would do this to him.

Suna still kept his smirk on, mind you. He still kept on that prideful, sarcastic and brazen face of his as usual, devilishly reveling on how he had angered Osamu.

And Osamu slowly said, slowly:

"Piece of shit. You want another secret to use? I used to hate you so much back then, I thought, for no reason." - he breathed, staring at Suna's face still unstirred, - "I knew I should have kept hating you with my guts, now that you showed me that disgusting dogface of a man."

He glared at Suna's wicked grin for one last time, before storming outside and shutting the door behind him.

And that was when Suna slumped down against the wall, unable to breathe, clutching onto his own shirt. He felt his eyes sting. No, he won't allow himself to cry. He's a man, and sharp-tongued, sarcastic men like him don't cry.

How ironic, he was supposed be the one pushing Osamu to the edge. How ironic, he would now be rendered speechless, crying, taken aback on how hurting Osamu's words could be. Mother might be right - it was his weakness, and he realized it the hard way the moment he saw that wrath in Osamu's eyes, how that caustic tongue of his only destroys him in the end.

He held his shirt with trembling hands and buried his face in it, trying to stifle any sob and dry any tear coming out.

And he cried.

Fight

[jigeuminunbich]

sleep tight | jung jaehyun (m)

synopsis in which you and jaehyun are forced to sleep on the couch of your family’s intimate, budget-friendly vacation home and just can’t seem to find comfortable positioning— that is until he climbs on top of you.

genre nonidol!au, fem!reader, established relationship, mature (smut), and a bit of comedy

minors dni, please ! (nsfw tags under the cut)

warnings edited to the best of my abilities lmao, pretty public sex, unprotected missionary, hair-pulling, and pet names (babe)

word count 3k

a/n i literally wrote this on a whim and have not written smut in a hot minute (so please tread carefully lol)

If it was solely up to you, you and Jaehyun would be comfortably cuddled up in a King sized bed with the appropriate privacy every adult couple should have. But it unfortunately wasn’t up to you— your Mother’s desire to have everyone squeezed into the vacation home she rented and her sheer joy at the fact keeping you from doing what was clearly logical, so you two squirmed for the closest thing to comfort which you were soon realizing was far from happening any time soon.

“Babe,” Jaehyun gritted out, his breath fanning against your neck. His grip on your hips tightened in an effort to ease you but your need to find an actually pleasant position overpowered his hold on you.

You angled your neck, flashing him an apologetic pout. “I’m sorry, but I’m not trying to wake up with a crick in my neck tomorrow.”

Your sympathy for your boyfriend was fleeting, beginning to rustle around in your shared space one again, much to his dismay.

Jaehyun let out a breathy chuckle, still trying to get ahold on your frame as you wriggled around much like a fish out of water. “I think that’s gonna happen no matter how you lay, so just stay still.”

His broad frame engulfed your’s in his endeavor to stop you from moving around, and unbeknownst to you, to stop you from absentmindedly grinding into him. You huffed, already attempting to flounder out of your boyfriend’s arms. “That’s easy for you to say.”

“Easy? Do you not see my feet?” On cue, his sock clad feet wiggled over the armrest on the opposite end of the couch and you fail to bite back a giggle.

“It’s not funny.” Jaehyun muttered, a hint of humor in his tone.

“It kind of is,” you manage to get through his hold, sitting up for a moment. “maybe we should sleep opposite ways—“

A large hand is pressed against your stomach, Jaehyun’s attempt to pull you back down next to him. “No, no. Just stay right here.”

With your body too tired to fight against his strength, you oblige but not without clear suspicion written on your face. “It would probably be more comfortable, Jae,”

“Well, you’ve already started something in this position that I think you should stay and finish.” Jaehyun murmurs lowly, his front pressing further into your side until you realize just what he means.

You sputter out a laugh in amazement, taken aback with your boyfriend’s sheer audacity.

“Are you insane?! My family is literally on the other side of this wall.”

“Yeah, I can hear them snoring. It’ll be quick, promise.”

You scoff, shuffling onto your side in a way that you hoped would tell your boyfriend his idea was perilous and downright deranged. But he only takes it as an opportunity to wrap his body around you once again, his hardened cock pushing into the plush of your ass.

“Jae,” you warn. He only responds with a hum that comes across almost pained, and you screw your eyes shut at just how desperate he sounds. His lips are pressed into the side of your neck, beginning to try and egg you on by layering soft kisses over your skin. Your argument falls short once you feel his tongue swiping against you, and instinctively your neck cranes to allow him to do more.

“…just be quick, okay?” You muster out, falling to your boyfriend’s charms. You can sense the victorious smile that plays on his lips, though it only lasts for a brief second as he takes no time to alter his posture for the first time tonight. His stature suddenly hovering over you, with his knees situated on either side of your hips.

“Shit. You waste no time, huh?”

Jaehyun snickers. “I’ve been thinking about this for the past two hours and every time you moved only weakened my patience, so yeah, I don’t.”

Before you could counter him, his lips were on yours, swallowing any argument you had. It was unusual but thrilling, just how greedy Jaehyun was. A typical night like this between the two of you would flow a lot slower and way smoother than what was currently transpiring. But it was clear in the way your boyfriend’s large hands familiarly roamed the expanse of your body and from how sloppy your kiss was, that he had in fact been dwelling on doing this since you both had been shunned to the couch together.

A melody of teeth knocking, wet pops, and soft but frequent sighs of pleasure began to emerge from the three-seater couch in the middle of the living room. In the middle of your family’s respective rooms, but that fact had quickly traveled to the back of your mind, especially after Jaehyun’s hand had found home underneath your nightgown.

Somehow you managed to escape the hungry lips of your lover to speak, “Don’t tease.” You threaten, just as Jaehyun’s gentle fingers had begun to strum at the fabric of your now dampened panties.

Completely aware of the advantage he held at the moment, Jaehyun chuckled into your mouth, amused. He leans his face back and away from you, but only to the point where the tips of your noses are inevitably able to touch.

“And what if I decide to?” He challenges, two pads of his fingers disobediently playing with your clothed clit. You jolt at the feeling, struggling to keep your authority from wavering.

“Well, you said you wanted to keep this quick, no?” You reverberate your boyfriend’s exact choice of words. Jaehyun’s defiant ministrations stall as he considers his options. Thankfully, the pressure between your legs is lightened and you’re able to relax a bit.

“True. Maybe tomorrow night then.” He sneers before closing the space between you both and abusing your lips. The thought of you both going at it for a second night in a row, and risking the same thing over again welcomes back the reality of the situation.

Driven to get this over with as soon as possible without running the risk of your family peeking their head around the corner, you reach your hand out to grip Jaehyun through his sleep shorts. A guttural groan pushes its way from his throat and down your own, and you're more than happy to keep them coming. Your hand continues to rub the length of his hard-on for a moment before you’re reaching for the waistband of his bottoms.

Jaehyun catches on to your pace, pulling away to sit up in an attempt to help you pull his shorts down. You let him follow through with it, moving onto your own bottoms that took no time to slide down your legs and onto the nearby carpet.

“Ready?” You whisper, situating yourself under your boyfriend, planting your feet on either side of him to allow him greater access to hover over you.

Jaehyun giggles at your eagerness, his length heavy in his left palm while his right landed right by your head. “Mhm,” he muffles into a peck on your lips, “tell me if it’s all too much.”

You wordlessly nod, all too familiar with this string of events. You stiffen momentarily at the feeling of Jaehyun first entering you, shifting uncomfortably until your arms are around his neck, pulling him down into another kiss. It’s good that you did, as his length continues to stretch your walls, you start to emit moans that could thankfully be contained into Jaehyun’s mouth.

He steadily rocks his hips into your own, coming to a halt when he’s finally able to bottom out inside of you. His lips travel from your own, to your cheek, and finally by your ear. “Be good for me, yeah?”

The taunting tone in his voice riles you to respond but he interrupts you by dragging his cock through your walls just to thrust back into you. You gasp at the feeling, your eyes rolling in your head.

Jaehyun’s feverious behavior from moments earlier returns, his mouth coming back to silence you as he begins to find a rhythm between your legs. The sound of huffing and the repeated padding of skin against each other filters into the room, and you pray it doesn’t seep past the cracks of your family’s doors or through the walls.

You and Jaehyun play tug-of-war with each other’s lips, teeth snagging one another in between the greedy intrusion of your tongues. It’s a fight to try to keep up with him as he has the upper hand, angling his body in a way that you're sandwiched between him and the couch with little room to wrestle your way out. It doesn’t help that the feeling of his cock drilling into you has you losing your mind.

You’re riding on a high, the pace you’re going at is quickly allowing you to build tension in the base of your stomach, and you can barely focus with that sensation and the distracting muscle of Jaehyun’s roaming your mouth. Key word, almost.

Your eyes peel open momentarily when Jaehyun pulls away from mouth to deliver open mouth kisses on the available area of your neck, bruises threatening to form and tell a story tomorrow from how passionately he suckles on your skin.

“Jae—“ you begin, but pause abruptly at the slim, yet sudden appearance of light under the door frame that belonged to your parent’s room. “Jae!”

The hands that had tightened around your own arms for stability soon came to either side of your boyfriend’s head in a haste to grab his attention. Jaehyun stills at your sudden change in tune and lifts his head accordingly, allowing you to angle his attention to the door across the living room.

“Wha— oh,” he squints before realizing that the yellow light beaming from the floor definitely wasn’t there a couple moments ago. Eyes wide with panic, he turns back to you. Both of your expressions say a thousand words without having to exchange any real conversation. You begin to signal for him to pull out and roll off of you but he declines, shaking his head hurriedly.

“Don’t move.” He warns, so quiet that you could barely hear him. But he knows you definitely did when you glare at him incredulously.

“What do you mean don’t move?! If one of them walks out here and sees us—“ promptly Jaehyun’s palm is placed over your mouth, silencing your rant, following the distant sound of another door shutting.

Simultaneously, your eyes train on the door opposite of the couch. It was clear that one of your parents had woken up with the need to go to the bathroom but the chance of them deciding to wander out of their room to catch their daughter and their precious son-in-law in such a compromising position still pressed on in your mind.

Seconds ticked on like hours, and the longer you two sat like this you became more aware of your boyfriend’s dick that was still wedged between your walls and how you weren’t going to be able to take not moving much longer. Almost as if Jaehyun could sense your restlessness, his eyes flitted over to you, trying his best to swallow his laughter.

You warned him with your eyes the best you could, it could almost be interpreted as a curse from just how piercing your glare was. In retaliation, Jaehyun shifted his hips backwards and retracted out of your walls at an agonizingly slow pace. If it wasn’t for his hand doing its best job at quieting your sounds, you’re sure whoever was stirring in your parents room would be alerted that something was definitely going on outside their door.

Before Jaehyun could terrorize you any further, you both heard the sounds of a door closing again and what seemed to be your Mother murmuring to herself just before the poignant light under the frame ceased back to nothing. Cautious, you both remained still for a beat longer than probably necessary before returning your gazes to each other.

“That was close.” Jaehyun muttered, allowing you to swat away his hand bitterly.

“You think?” You bit, stunned that he could even manage to laugh at the moment.

“You love me,” he answers back, stealing a kiss. You shake your head in disbelief at him, masking your thrill that had boiled from the possibility of you two being caught.

“You’re sick.”

Jaehyun laughs at this, grasping your hips, lifting you up a bit, before leaning down till your face to face once more. This positioning only allows him to slowly ease his way back into you, chipping your anger away quickly.

“Still love me, don’t you?” He taunts.

“We’ll see—“ you interrupt your back and forth with the force of your own lips, Jaehyun’s hips ramming back into your own hastily at the need to keep up with you. It’s clear in both of your movements that you’re both eager for a release of some sort. Your hands find either side of your boyfriend’s face as he manhandles you— his knees sink deeper into the infamous couch from holding your weight up in his arms. The new angle allows you to rut your clit into his pelvis, welcoming a much needed rush that shoots through your body.

It’s damn near feral the way you two devour each other in search for a finish, and if anyone walked in on this very moment you would just have to pack up you and Jaehyun’s bags and never be seen again.

Your moans are ripping through you quicker and are resonating more high-pitch. A tell-tale sign to Jaehyun that you’re close to climaxing. He draws an arm from around your back to inch his hand into your hair, instinctively coiling his fingers in your strands and pulling to edge you on. The action only encourages you and you pull yourself as flush to your boyfriend as physically possible, leaving the span of his thrusts to shorten but your grinding to excel.

“You gonna come for me?” Jaehyun asks, his answer apparent in the way you can barely form a word to retort back. He finds humor in this, and is elated to encourage your hips against him to propel you to your near orgasm.

A pathetic mewl emits from the back of your throat and anything after is hushed by Jaehyun’s mouth. Your release is quick to wash over you while you allow yourself to rut against Jaehyun until your mind finds proper footing. Thankfully, he gives you that time, laying you down on your back once your hips still.

It doesn’t last all too long since soon Jaehyun’s face was in the crook of your neck as you were catching your breath, rocking his hips to chase his own orgasm. You withstand the overwhelming sensation of the continued stimulation, holding out till your boyfriend’s thrusts soon falter into an arrhythmic pace before his hips begin to stutter upon his release. You shudder at the repeated spurts of his come that lined your walls and soon your folds after Jaehyun finally pulled out.

The living room was motionless for a moment, Jaehyun collapsing his body weight onto you tiredly. Your frame follows suit, relaxing into the cushions of the couch beneath you while your eyes flutter shut. Only to reopen when Jaehyun’s head rises from the junction between your neck and shoulder to gaze at you.

You both exchange dopey smiles before his mouth moves to speak, “See, that wasn’t too bad,” he sneers.

Without even thinking about it, your eyes roll and you scoff at him. “We were this close to being put out on the street.”

Though still a bit weak, you’re able to shove your boyfriend off of you with a slither of his help. He lands in his initial position but not before situating his shorts back into place and assisting you by pulling down your nightgown.

“Yeah, but we weren’t.” He finalizes with a smirk, pulling your body flush against his. You decide you’re way too exhausted to bicker with him, mumbling something to the tune of whatever.

© jigueminunbich ‘24

[almostempty]

he knows (lucien x f!reader)

(lucien x f!reader) | wc: 3.2k | other fics | pic from here

UH HEY! I’m just gonna drop this here and scurry away to finish the other lucien one shot that i also started today, ….and then i’ll return to finishing divorced dad rock joel, and responding to all of the lovely people on here–but, like, i really just need this guy in the most emotionally unavailable and fuckable way, i hope one of y'all gets me

tags/warnings/thots: 18+/explicit, smut, toxic ex/fuckboy lucien, sex instead of communicating or processing emotions, angst but we fuckin’ and that’s the whole plot, we hit raw in my fics bc of my imaginary latex aversion or something, crying, biting, dom lucien vibes (? i never know when that’s the right tag), big dash of pls sexy man fuck the feelings away, tell me if there’s something i should add  

– no editing, no thinking, wrote this in a fever dream while staring at one of the new gifs all afternoon, idk his character! I haven’t watched anything! i just saw the chains and the face and let the horny devil in charge of my sole brain cell take the lead, aka he's my barbie, i was trying to challenge myself to just do something short like 1k- but, uhhhh it’s only 3! 

seeking feedback though (as always) so i can improve!! tell me all ur thots pls! 

“I know,” Lucien argues, “but I never meant to hurt you.” 

“I don’t care anymore.” You speak plainly. Small and quiet. Without conviction. Apathetic. Honest. 

“Anymore?” 

“Baby, please.” He looks at you with those stupid round eyes. He’s effortlessly put together like the wrinkles in his silk shirt were approved by a team of stylists to give him a hint of carelessness. Your incessant attraction to an emotionally unavailable man, it pulls you toward him like a bitter fate. Your therapist, Angie, says you need to learn how to find healthy attachment attractive, but if you shudder with disgust at the thought then what’s the point? 

“Just listen to me,” he continues, talking in circles. Apologizing without taking accountability. Explaining away everything. His behaviors, words, decisions. Apparently, he floats through life at the whim of others. Like one of those ugly deep sea creatures, he tempts you like a glowing lure in the dark. Your eyes glaze over, everything shifting out of focus as you dissociate in your living room. No matter how numb you are, he calls to you. 

You aren’t listening to the words. They don’t matter. It doesn’t matter if his tone is sincere or if it’s thick with flattery and empty promises. It’s more basic than that. Simple. The timbre of his voice. Unique to him. Imprinted in the chambers of your heart. A sharp ache spears through you, and something cracks. A fat, hot, tear escapes. With your shoulders drooping, staring at the ground, the tear falls, splashing on the floor. 

When you look up, meeting his eyes, it’s over. Lucien pulls you close, wrapping his heavy arms around your frame, bracing for the crescendo, keeping you steady. Tears stream endlessly, flooding down your cheeks, sticking to your face and his neck as you bury your face into his warm skin. He’s still trying to placate you, speaking nonsense, thinking he can comfort you. Thinking he knows why you’re upset. Thinking he understands you. 

When your therapist asked you to define love you had described it as being understood. Being seen. Being known. Being considered and prioritized. 

Lucien thinks he knows you. Thinks he understands you. Does he think he loves you? 

Following this line of thought hurts. Splitting you open, a raw beating heart, glistening, thumping, full of life, or a meal fresh and hot for a carnivore to tear into with its sharp fangs. Plump muscle, rich and dark, bleeding out, helpless. Snapping back into reality you shake, a violent sob racking your diaphragm as the pads of his fingers massage the back of your neck. Soothing. Coaxing. 

You want it sharper. Rough. Violent. Distracting. Painful. Anything. With wet lashes, swollen eyes, and ragged breath you become fixated. Licking the salty tears from the dip where his neck meets his shoulder, you can feel his muscles and tendons beneath the flesh. So human and alive. He strokes his hand down your spine, attempting to pacify you, but it sparks something lurid and ravenous, instead. 

You graze your teeth along his neck. “What are you doing?” he mutters the question over the top of your head. Maybe he does know you. “What do you need?” He growls, lowly, the hand he traces your spine with trails lower this time. He’s gluttonous and torrid. A hair-trigger to shift from his concern for your pain and the hole in your heart to a sordid desire to mollify you with his fingers and his cock. 

Maybe it’s a perversion, the tangled experience of despair and desire, the duet of anger and arousal, the sick escape using sex to skip over the emotional suffering. But it’s exactly what you want. It’s the root of the fucked up toxicity. Of everything wrong between you. He does know. He does understand. The same heat that flickers in your core sparks in his. 

Voracious and brash. You bite down, sinking your teeth into his neck, igniting a wildfire. An untamable beast. Again and again and again. Biting, sucking, kissing. His skin tender and raw, your lips wet and swollen. You run a hand along the back of his neck, tugging into his hair, anchoring your grip, and pulling a husky groan from his throat. 

“What do you need?” Lucien repeats, this time with a sharper edge. He detaches you from the safety of the crook of his neck. His two hands. Unnecessarily large, warm, and steady brace either side of your jaw, his fingers wrapping behind your neck. He holds you in front of his face. Vulnerable. Messy. Heat radiates from your cheeks. You release a shaky breath. 

“Don’t make me say it.” It’s a whisper. Pleading and demanding at the same time. 

The cocky smirk that spreads on his face is sickening. It makes you want to slap him, to hear the crack of your palm against his cheek. It makes you want to surrender. Soft and pliable, ready to please and earn praise. It makes you want to scream. To bite him so hard you draw blood. To fuck him until he can’t talk. 

You tell him all of it. Exactly what you need, what you want, what you refuse to say. You tell him all through your kiss. The hunger in your lips as you press them to his, the violence on your tongue, the desperate and vulnerable need to be cared for in the soft moans that rise from your chest, from your heart, from the blood in your veins. He chases all of it. The punishment and pleasure. 

He backs you into the kitchen, caging you against the counter like a scene from a movie. Impervious to whatever protest you make as he clears space, blindly sweeping his arm over the counter before lifting you onto it. The edge of the counter digs into your soft thighs, but it doesn’t matter. You’re ready to drown in the vanilla musk and bourbon-spiced scent of him. The bass in his voice that makes your eyes fall shut and your head tip back against the cupboard behind you. The bruising pressure of his grip that he knows you crave. 

“Baby,” he croons. His words are soft and gentle. As if he propped you on the counter to tend to your wounds. But his hands show no mercy. Roughly ridding you of your clothes. Dropping them into a pile on the floor. He’s ruthless with you. In ways you can’t be with yourself. In ways other lovers could never master. Harsh without being cruel. Deliberate without a plan. 

He lets you tug his shirt over his head. Skin to skin the intensity is primal. “Fuck,” is all you can manage to say. The heat is overwhelming, prickling your nerves and sharpening every sensation. Lucien toys with you like it’s his favorite game. Alternating. 

First, palming reverently at the flesh, sweeping his tongue over your hard nipples, and teasing the wet skin with his hot breath. 

You let him make the decisions. Take the lead. You’re done arguing, done thinking, done with the guilt of letting him in the door, done with acting like you’re any better than him. You brace yourself, one palm flat on the counter, the other resting on his shoulder. Taking whatever he gives. 

He switches up. Everything becomes pointed and precise. He sucks marks into your skin on the underside of your breasts. He pinches and flicks the pert bud of your straining nipples. The contact of his fingers, tongue, and teeth sends white-hot jolts of electricity straight to your cunt. He bites down hard enough to make you choke on a moan. Your whine fills the room, twisted with pain and pleasure. 

“You poor thing,” he purrs. Your face is still wet from your tears. But now they’re tears of frustration. “Just a mess.” You reach for his belt, impatient, but he stops you. He’s not done looking. He lifts one of your legs, propping your foot onto the counter and posing you obscenely in front of him. His gaze makes your pussy throb.

He’s torn. 

Studying your face. Everything unsaid in your eyes. The anguish and rage. The acerbic disdain. The nearly imperceptible longing. 

Admiring your sex, spread open for him. Shining with your arousal. Swollen, slick lips so sensitive for him. Your core, fluttering with anticipation, achingly empty without him. 

He holds your chin between his thumb and curled forefinger. His eyes swirl with lust and something you can’t quite place. “You have no idea,” he rasps. “No idea how much it fucking kills me to see you like this. And knowing I’m the reason why.” 

You don’t know if he means it breaks his heart to see the way you suffer or if he means the sight of you dripping on the counter has him so hard it hurts. You don’t know which you’d believe anyway. He’s not hard up to find someone else to torment or to fuck. That thought makes your throat dry. 

“I can’t stay away from you,” he traces his fingers down your soft inner thigh, closer and closer to where you need him. “How could I?” You tip your head to the side, your limbs and head feel heavy, drunk on a cocktail of everything you love and hate about him all at once. 

“Then don’t.” 

Your reply makes him smile again. He’s so handsome when he smiles it’s infuriating. “You could scream at me, kick me out, hate me–but you still let me touch you, you need me to touch you. Why do I love that so much?” 

“You like feeling important.” You let your snarky comment out without thinking. His question was definitely rhetorical. A few emotions flicker across his face before, a dark little smirk curls the corner of his mouth. 

He feeds off of your challenge. “There she is.” 

“I never left,” you snap, frustration spilling over. He laughs, loose and easy. 

“Listen to me,” Lucien says, low and velvety. Subduing you with the tension and proximity. “I know. You want me to use you. Like you’re my toy. Until you can’t keep those beautiful eyes open.”

“Yes.” 

“I know.” He echoes. Then he closes the gap, kissing you with affection. Holding himself back, but you aren’t reserved. You’re greedy; you want it harder. He just said he’d ruin you, why is he being so gentle? He pulls back with something sincere in his eyes. A whimper falls from your lips, pouty and baffled. 

“Gonna fuck you like I’m trying to ruin you, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Sometime soon, hopefully? You don’t snap again, answering with another yes. 

He leans in, breath fanning hot over your ear. “But, we both know that tonight you’re the one using me. Ruining me. I’m your toy.” 

Your breath hitches at that. You mouth I know in response, not even able to whisper it. He doesn’t need to hear you say it. He nips your ear lobe and you loose a surprised cry before gasping out his name. 

He’s swift now. Purposeful. Undoing his belt, shoving his pants down and revealing his cock. Reflexively your hips tense and shift. Just looking makes you salivate. He runs his thumb over the bead of precome, drawing it along his length. 

He knows how you want it. His fingers can coax you to an orgasm in no time, but you don’t want that. You want the resistance, the stretch, the dull ache, and intensity as your muscles work to let him in deeper. Nobody makes you feel the way he does. Full. Complete. Mindless. 

It could be pornographic, vulgar, raunchy. The way he pushes your inner thigh further open with one hand while he uses the other to languidly stroke himself. The way he grips himself so tightly like he’s punishing himself. The way his jaw hangs slack and he mutters under his breath about how badly you need him. 

To you, however, it’s a profound admission. A candid confession. The more he goads you the more it solidifies that he’s the one that needs you. That it flows so easily from him because he’s really talking about himself. 

“You say you don’t care anymore, but look at you now, baby.” He shifts closer, at counter height you’re aligned perfectly. He glides the head of his cock up and down the folds of your soaked cunt. You shudder and moan, mesmerized by the sight. 

“It’s almost sad how much you need me, like you can’t breathe without this,” he keeps talking. 

He demands that you watch, as if there was a chance you could stop, as he lines up and sinks into you. You groan in unison. You’re so tight, he draws back out. Repeating the same motion, feeding his cock into you deeper and deeper each time. Your hot, plush walls pulse around him, adjusting. When he finally meets the end of you, he hums, pleased. “You feel that?” 

You bob your head, nodding, agreeing. “Yes.” Your voice is breathy. “Perfect.” You grind against him as if you could take him any deeper, begging him to move with your needy display. It’s wholly overwhelming as is, every nerve within you alight as his cock kicks within you, tensing with the same craving to move. 

He takes your hand in his, nestling your fingers around him. Somehow he feels even larger than he looks, like he shouldn’t be able to fit inside of you, but here you are feeling it and seeing it for yourself. Slowly, Lucien tilts his hips, almost pulling out of you completely before plunging in with force. He keeps up the tantalizing pace, guiding you to touch yourself. He watches your fingers with rapt attention, bracing a hand on your hip to keep you in place as he drives into you with another snap of his hips that edges you closer. 

He gradually speeds up, a master at tempering his desire. Your hip flexor aches as you hold yourself in place but it doesn’t matter. You find your rhythm as he holds steady at a pace that has him landing brutal thrusts that force the words out of your lungs. Soft oh’s and fuck’s pour out of you, under your breath, adding fuel to the fire blazing between you. 

Lucien savors your chanting and the image of you fixed in place, taking him eagerly. Your fingers move with urgency, chasing the release that looms closer and closer. Your mind is blissfully blank, reduced to something animalistic, removed from the burden of your history. “Don’t stop,” you plead, “I’m so close.” 

He doesn’t stop. He fucks you at the same pace, all the way through it. As you contract around him, when everything pulls taut and snaps within you, crying out his name, when it’s too sensitive and you whip your hand away, and as you shudder and breathe deeper and deeper. As the ache in your legs from being spread wide open returns and your ass feels numb where the edge of the counter digs into your flesh. Another tear spills from the corner of your eye, but you can’t say what it’s from anymore. 

When you fidget, he stops moving, letting you readjust. A sheen of sweat glistens all over your chest and you’re suddenly acutely aware of how loud the slick noises between you are. How easy it is to get lost in Lucien's hot and heavy magnetism. You know you were falling apart before he propped you up on the counter, but you’re sure you’re a complete wreck now. 

Lucien pulls out but then leans against you, pinning the length of his cock between you, hot, slick, and messy against your sweat-damp skin. He floods your senses, all you can see, hear, and smell. Caging you in his hand find a possessive hold on you, one wrapped around the back of your neck, one wrapped tight around your thigh as you hitch it around his hip. 

“You feel good?” he asks. You hum in agreement. You do feel good. You know he’s not done yet, and smile wide, still hungry for more. “How good?” he asks and you know there’s something coming next. 

“So good.” You trail a hand between you, drawing a line down his chest and back up to cradle his cheek in your palm. Something about the prickle of his facial hair along your palm feels so natural, domestic, and sweet. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek, nuzzle against his ear, and ask him to take you to bed. But you can’t. You’ll never have that. Instead, you bait him. “I think you’re holding back though, I know you can fuck me harder than that.” 

He scoffs, unamused, blowing a hot puff of air between you. His fingers dig deeper into your thigh, applying the kind of pressure that stirs arousal low in your belly. 

The dark glint in his eye gives you butterflies. “I will, Baby,” his rumbling voice is innately sensual, but the condescension in his tone makes you tingly. You’re so close to him that you can feel his heart beating in his chest, you can feel the same pulse thrumming in his cock, still flush against you as he slants his lower half along yours. He’s all things heavy and firm, strong and sculpted, yet fitting so naturally against you. You need more, wriggling and squirming against him, you can’t contain the restlessness. 

“You know,” he says slowly, drawing your eyes back to his. “You can keep trying to move on, but no one else will ever know you like this. No one else will ever ruin you the way I do. You can tell me you don’t care anymore, but you’ll never let anyone else in the way you let me. They won’t touch that part of you, the one that’s mine—because it’ll always be mine.” 

It trickles through you slowly until your blood feels like it’s boiling. They’re tears of anger now. It’s like a sick double entendre. 

“I know,” your words are steeped in every emotion cascading through you. 

You don’t know if it’s worse that he’s right. That there’s a Lucien-shaped mark imprinted on your heart that will never fade. Or if it’s worse that he doesn’t even know it applies to him just the same. That he always comes back because he’s trying to fill the same void. 

Maybe he does know. Maybe he does know and this is all he can do to make it up to you. 

Maybe that’s why he leads you to your bedroom and lives up to his word. 

Why he fucks you so hard you see stars. Why he doesn’t stop even after he comes deep inside of you with a possessive always gonna be mine. Why he litters your skin with more false promises and confessions. Why he gives you so many orgasms you lose track. 

Maybe that’s why he’s still there when the sun starts to peek through your window. Why he fucks you slowly when you’re too tender and exhausted to take him any harder until you’re floating in limbo between a dream and reality. Why he stays there, just cradling your back into his chest and listening to the rhythm of your breath. 

Maybe he does know. 

PLEASE COME YELL WITH ME ABOUT THIS FICTIONAL GUY BC I NEED HIM IN A SUPER NORMAL WAY or tell me if my writing was incoherent or if you can't relate to the toxic ex that is still the best fuck of your life (cruel and twisted fr)

dividers by @/cyberangel-graphics

tags for the babes that let me annoy them with my thots <3

@lovely-vamp-princess @gothcsz @auteurdelabre @adoreyouusugar @swankyorange @itwasntimethatdidit40 @ivoryandflame

@magneticecstasy @indiegirlunited @syd-djarin

[summercreolefanfictioner]

all on my tongue I want it || ua! touya x recovery girl! y/n

(shoujo touya todoroki save us all)

summary: in which you saved your first kiss for a certain cremation quirk user

note: I didn't edit anything bcos I wrote this on a whim

Honestly, it was a miracle you got into UA in the first place. While there were probably more students who held more promising skills that could battle against villains, yours was just the typical. Well, not really; it could be a valuable asset in the least. After all, you inherited a healing quirk similar to Recovery Girl. Many people thought your healing lies with your kisses, but the truth is, it was a lot different than what people make it out to be.

You see, you can heal people with just a touch, hence why some would constantly try to take hold of a finger or two. This made you alert and conscious of people around you, though, because sometimes, some of them would just make an excuse to harass you. And it's so unfair considering how you're just a girl thriving in this world full of scums who apparently have no idea about invasion of privacy and spacial distance.

And on the topic of your healing kisses, well... let's say, it was your most powerful shot. Your healing kisses can heal people much faster than your touch can do. Heck, it can even stop someone from an almost death (depending on the circumstances, of course). You have only tried your kisses to your parents when you were young, so when some boys of your age would try to take your most precious golden kiss in disguise of a bruised knee or a bloody cut, you immediately back away and wish this wasn't the quirk bestowed upon you.

The downside of this quirk was painful though. You can't tell anyone that aside from healing the wound, you take the pain away when you heal them. So, let's say, if you heal your friend who scraped her knee from falling down the stairs, you manage to close up the wound. However, you will feel the pain she felt when she fell down and the sting of the bruise left on her. Some of the pain were minimal; some of them rendered you to sleep for days until you were also healed.

Todoroki Touya was another different story in your life, and you were foolish enough to like the oldest son of the number 2 pro hero, Endeavor. You two were in different classes (obviously) and the first time you watched him in the sports festival, you were captivated with the way he fought despite being so foul-mouthed and sarcastic yet nonchalant as he stood against his opponent and burned him in one go. In your head, it was all, "The movement was so smooth. He watched the opponent carefully before landing his mark without burning too much. He controlled his fire even though it's a lot stronger than his father's. So amazing." And that was how you found yourself, constantly trying to secretly regain your breathing whenever you pass by him in the hallway, pretending you didn't harbor those feelings of crush for him and how you got it so bad you swore you could die of heart attack if one day he touched you or stared at you so intense with those blue eyes.

Then come one day, you got involved with him. You were in the school garden, reading one of those books about enhancing your healing quirk when you secretly saw a fight break out between him and this one senpai with his friends. The reason? Touya was arrogant because Endeavor was his father, and apparently, kind of stole his girlfriend (or at least, according to his claim because Touya said he has no idea who the girl was anyway). Of course, Touya had the upperhand, but you could see how small patches of burnt skin started showing around. That's when you knew the downside of his quirk despite the fact that he still carried the same ice quirk that his mother had.

When senpai and his friends were distracted, you seized this chance to grab him and you two ran as far and as fast as you could despite his protest that you let him go, hiding in one of those empty science labs. Suddenly, Touya noticed the burns earlier were gone. It was like his skin was brand new. That's when you quickly pulled away.

"Sorry, I..." you stumbled for words. "I noticed your skin was burning due to your fire so I healed it."

Touya narrowed his eyes in confusion, scratching his head. "Healed?" he repeated, analyzing what you said before making a face of realization. He heard his classmates gush about this one cute girl from Class C with a healing quirk. They went on to say, "They said she can heal just by a touch, and her best power move would be a kiss." Of course, there were perverts who hypothesized, performing intercourse with her would be the best healing method. Gah, how disgusting they were.

"You didn't have to bother," he muttered in annoyance, gritting his teeth as he looked away. Touya was prideful, and he wasn't weak enough to let a medic girl like you help him.

You breathed out in pain, feeling the burning sensation he had earlier. Gosh, it was so hot you were thankful it didn't mar your skin. When he noticed your expression, he asked worriedly, "Did I burn you?"

You shook your head, assuring him. "N-Not really. This is just a side effect of my quirk. I can feel the pain you felt from your wound. That's all. I won't get your scars earlier or what," you explain with a smile. "I guess you endured all this before you could use your quirk, right? That's so brave of you, Todoroki-kun. I wish I was that strong."

That was how you caught his eye, and since then, he has been teasing you nonstop and trying to touch you like how a boyfriend does to his girlfriend (not because he was in dire need of healing.) You could even say he had claimed you publicly and made sure no one would dare touch you. He was a menace, and if he found out someone tried to take advantage of your quirk or you used your quirk on someone else, he will raise hell. Like literally. His cremation quirk wasn't made for him for no reason. He would go on to say that you were his, and you almost died of cardiac arrest when you heard him yell that for the first time at the hallway. Yes, the same place where everyone could spread gossip on how Endeavor's oldest son made the medic girl from Class C his girlfriend.

You liked the attention obviously. After all, you fell for him so bad that even his annoying cheap tricks to touch or hug you so close were getting you to have those heavy drumbeats in your chest and the way the butterflies would come swarming. He was a criminal, stealing your heart like that, and you were committing sin by just indulging this attention and meekly telling him not to tease you so much or let you go even though you yourself was not pulling away from his grasp. Your hypocritical self wanted more of Todoroki Touya that even his mischievous and cunning person was enough to make you swoon.

But mostly, he would trick you into kissing him just because he found out you purposely did not give your first kiss to anyone. You were quick to retort that first kisses were special, and you didn't want to give your first one just for medical reasons. "I want my first kiss to be romantic," you mumbled shyly, cheeks blushing. Gah, the ground should swallow you whole now. "I want it to happen while I'm on a date with the person I love, or even during our wedding."

"That long?" Touya complained. "You'd be a granny if you keep that up."

"I don't care! My lips are off limits until I say so."

Touya snickered, ruffling your hair and purposely messing it even though you spent hours doing it just so you would look cute for him. You were cute alright. You just didn't know his emotionally constipated teenage ass was jealous that the others were looking at you so much.

"T-Todoroki-kun! My hair!"

"Well, I wouldn't mind if you were a granny, Y/N." He stuck out his tongue teasingly, his silver piercing peeking through. "As long as you're mine."

You could only pout, realizing he wasn't that serious at all. You like him, but his teasing jokes aren't equivalent of real love confessions. You needed to hear him say he likes you in a serious way, not in this kind of joking way because if you could easily believe everything, then it would only be a recipe for a broken heart. You didn't want to nurse a broken heart, after all.

This charade went on until third year, and there were instances when you almost gave in, the cherry flavor of your lip balm fresh on your lips as he almost kissed you for many times yet you were interrupted. It was either one of you wasn't able to get the timing right or someone dared interrupt the romantic setting or you would suddenly get nervous and realize you weren't ready at all. You would miss your chance and get depressed you wished you could've went ahead and confessed first. This way, he would be aware because things were getting too real you were in this delusion like "maybe he really likes me too but is just shy so he jokes around?"

That was all until—

"Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist in [location]. Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist in [location.]"

It was the usual greeting of the intercom as you readied yourself for the worst case scenario. There's a killer villain on the loose, someone who had a grudge and wanted to destroy the world with him. As you prepared for the worse, you felt your heart grow heavy at the next words.

"Pro Hero Medic Girl. You are requested to assist Pro Hero Frost Flame. He doesn't have much longer."

Frost Flame. It was Touya's hero name.

You quickly rushed to his side and learned the villain stabbed him in the stomach as he made his final hit. Touya still got the victory, but at what cost? There was still a chance for him, but the thing was, the nearest hospital was far from your current location, and Touya already needed assistance or he won't be able to make it.

He was lying on the ground, almost lifeless as he tried to stop the bleeding in futile attempts with the ice quirk he has yet to master. You couldn't afford to lose him, not when you haven't told him your feelings. He knew you wanted the romantic first kiss, the fireworks, the warm sunset, the works, and everything. But what good would all they be if he was gone, though? Touya was more important than your romantic dream.

"I will kiss him," you announced to the pro heroes boldly. "My quirk will give him life, but we'll need to take him to the hospital quick afterwards."

They stepped aside to give room for you as you laid Touya's head on your lap, his consciousness almost fading away as he could only see a blurry vision of you caressing his face gently. A few teardrops from your eyes fell on his skin, and you tried to calm yourself. This was no time for sappy moments. You have to save him. You can save all the words later.

"Y/N..." Touya tried to make out your name, his voice hoarse as you took his hand in yours. "D-Don't..."

"It's okay now," you whispered. "Just let me."

It felt like time has stopped to witness this moment, your lips finally crashing down against his softly. You weren't given experience but you made sure to put passion in it so you would be able to convey your feelings for him. It made your heart race the moment you felt him try to reciprocate your deed but to no avail. It was fine for you, though. He's the one who needed healing, not you.

"Y-Y/N..."

"I know this is not the right time, but I had to," you explained to him, his head still on your lap as you kissed his forehead, "and it's because I love you, Touya-kun."

And after a few moments, you felt your vision going hazy, the stabbing sensation in your stomach growing deep as you felt the burning pain. It was completely draining your energy, trying to hold out as Touya coughed out to signify his sign of life.

Everything went black.

------

You woke up to a breathtaking, orange sunset view from your window after 3 days in the hospital, and when you look to your side, Touya was there, sitting on the couch and donning a straight and serious face. Judging from the way he moved towards your and sat on your bedside, it seemed that he has already healed from the damage he took from his previous battle.

"Todoroki-kun!" you greeted in relief. "You're okay now."

You expected him to smile and tease you as usual, but somehow, he looked kind of bitter and regretful. You were confused. Shouldn't be happy at least? You kissed him. You professed your love to him finally. Why was he looking at you like that?

Then it dawned on you. Perhaps he felt indebted to return it back. Maybe it was just you imagining things. Maybe he really didn't feel the same. Maybe he just went along because of the moment, not because of you. If that was the case, you would really be devastated.

"Shouldn't you be calling me by my name?" Touya corrected with an angry tone. "You called me 'Touya' back there."

You blushed so hard. So he remembered. "Uhh... I—"

"And your first kiss?" He finally mentioned the topic. Touya wanted to avoid it, but he needed to settle this once and for all. He knew there will come a time when you'll heal someone in need and experience the same thing over and over. The best thing he could do was take this chance. "I thought you said you'll only give it during a romantic date with someone you love or during your wedding."

"Yes, I—"

"Then why did you give it to me at the battlefield?" Touya winced at his harsh tone, reminding himself that he was speaking to you, and that the last thing he wanted was hurt you and let this drag on. "You could've made your dream happen. I could've made them all happen. You didn't have to—Fuck!" He loathed everything. Why did everything turn out this way? "You didn't have to share my pain and sleep here for 3 days!"

So that's what it was. He was worried you wouldn't make it out alive given how grave his wounds were. You bet he barely got any sleep and he wouldn't leave your side until you awaken because he was worried about your wellbeing. And deep down, maybe he was thinking he missed his chance to confess. You wanted to be delusional. That must be it. He was not giving his usual pranks. There was no sarcasm. He was being the boyish Touya that no one knew about.

You held his hand. "It's true. I've always wanted that romance dream," she affirmed then added, "but when I heard about your condition, I just couldn't—" the tears were now flowing, the waterworks you held back were showing itself to him, "I couldn't imagine a life where you're gone too soon. You can't leave me like that, not when I haven't told you how much I've fallen for you since our sports festival during our first year."

You felt his fingers wiping your tears, trying his damnest to be cautious or he might burn your skin. Touya hated it when you cry, after all. "Is that true? You like me? You love me enough to give your first kiss to me?"

"You idiot!" You pouted. "At this stage, and I even confessed to you!" You bet the other pro heroes at that time must have heard your declaration of love. Maybe Endeavor would find out about his son's love life sooner than expected, after all.

Now the smug smile was back on his face, and you wanted to wipe it off so bad. The nerve of him. "I just wanna make sure because there's no taking backsies, Y/N."

"Jerk."

"You love this jerk unfortunately," he joked, finally getting close to you as he kissed your forehead.

This wasn't the most picture perfect scenario. You were on your hospital bed and he was sitting near you, his hand caressing your cheek as the sunset turned into a more vivid orange in the background. It was warm, or maybe it was his quirk? You didn't bother knowing as you noticed how he flushed so hard but did not shy away from you like how you would expect a teenage boy in love would do. This moment would do. You just hoped for the best.

"I love you, Y/N," he whispered, leaning hus face towards yours as he rubbed his thumb across your lips. "Let me give you a taste of your own medicine."

Ah. You were in heaven when he kissed you.

PS. Fuyumi took a secret picture of you kissing Touya while Natsuo covered Shouto's eyes and mouth.

tagging: @rueclfer @crookedherringcolorclod @suksatoru @skiiyoomin @allurearia @m-4399 (bcos I wanna spread dabi love huhu)