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byhees · 1 year

Text

young, dumb, and so in love.

엔하이픈 ・ female reader + word count 1000 genre fluff established relationship high school au warnings not proof-read skipping class — more

a/n. blank

heeseung

skipping classes together, just as a way to escape from the stresses and bore of life for a moment.

sneaking into unused rooms, or even classrooms that have substitutes covering for the lesson— it wasn’t like they recognised every passing student.

the adrenaline rush coursing through your veins, paired with the accelerating pace at which your heart would pump, would be sufficient to send you into a dreamlike sensation.

holding hands under the tables by the back of the class, simply relishing in the impulsive decision to scurry off without a care in the world.

basking in heeseung’s embrace and warmth as his fingers gently caress your hand, drawing little shapes on the surface of skin.

unknowingly giggling about something in a volume louder than intended, and getting scolded for it by the substitute teacher.

“shh, you don’t wanna get caught the second time, right petal?”

jongseong

doodling your name, or even your portrait in the margins of your notebook, during art class.

attempting to draw his special someone, or simply put, you, in an odd, neck-craning angle, all while trying to capture your surrealism in messy lines and smudged lead.

“being around you reminds me that happiness is a thing that just, exists.”

gently nudging you with his elbow to gesture for a sign of reciprocation to his drawings; you’d wind up filling his page with a somewhat mirrored version of your own— doodles of your lover, in all of their side-profile glory.

softly laughing about particular sketches that seem out of the ordinary— where did that fridge come from?

inevitably getting caught by an observant eye and panicking to cover up after the self-assigned break.

jaeyun

him offering his help with your homework as an excuse to spend more time together with you— but you’re better at the subject than he is.

silently watching in amusement as he attempts to explain the concept to you, only to stumble and hesitate on his words, eyes drifting off to land on random objects as a response conjures itself in his mind.

stifling a giggle when you see him blank out for a second, head tilting, eyebrows slightly furrowed at the confusing question.

you, very ironically, leaning forward to explain the solution to him.

a light pinkish-red hue dusting his cheeks, orbs glistening with a tinge of embarrassment, but you’d find him awfully endearing.

“i feel like such a big oaf, but i think i’m falling in love with you even more with every passing second that i’m around you.”

sunghoon

him fidgeting with your school tie, the collar of your uniform, and even the hem of your shirt; he claims that it’s for presentation purposes, since you’re a class president, but it’s just a silly justification to find spare time with you.

occasionally fixing your hair by tucking stray strands behind your ear— perhaps he enjoys seeing the way you fluster under the close proximity, or when his finger accidentally brushes against your cheek.

him finding it habitual to subtly sulk on a daily basis, just because you two don’t share the same classes.

going out of his way to see where you might be during break time; he’d often see you seated at a lunch table by the courtyard, or by the lockers.

poking your cheeks because he finds you incredibly adorable when dressed to the nines, not a single crinkle spotted on your blazer, hair tied neatly.

“oh gosh, you’re so cute, and i’m just… so in love with you..”

seonwoo

sharing earphones during lunch breaks, under the tree that you two established as a comfy spot, and on the public transport.

having different music preferences and playing your favourite tunes for one another to hear.

hands interlocked with one another as you two play the music to a volume above the recommended, just to drown out the surrounding conversations and mechanical-sounding brakes.

smiles painting your lips as you two share similar responses to the new and unfamiliar music styles— suppressing small gasps to particularly addictive portions of the songs.

feeling especially cosy in each other’s company when watching rain droplets race down the bus windows, the air circulating within the bus seeming more chilly than usual.

“do we really have to leave? … it just feels so comforting being here with you.”

jungwon

passing notes in class— short ones scribbled down on crumpled notepads, or longer ones written meticulously on a poorly ripped piece of paper.

being a nuisance to your classmates by constantly pestering them to relay the message over to one another.

watching the other’s reaction from across the room— gushing over how adorable they look when they flash a smile at the compliment, or silently wheezing over their flabbergasted expression upon laying sight on the comical note.

taking the time to decorate the note on special occasions.

him being teased by his friends for your sickeningly sweet relationship, and feeling the tip of his ears redden at the playful comments.

but always making it a point to act cool and composed in front of you, even flashing a cheeky wink down the hallway.

“you’re so pretty.. and so… incredibly ethereal… ahem! i mean you’re gorgeous, as always.”

riki

him intentionally scurrying for a seat next to you during group work, shoulder touching shoulder, as he flashes a wide grin.

making weird phrases like ‘seat soulmates’, when he’d obviously just ran half the classroom to get a seat beside you.

slipping some playful bickers and teases just to see you send a halfhearted glare towards his direction, his heart thumping at a speed beyond normal.

always buzzing to catch a glimpse of you.

purposely bumping into you in the hallways, or even having near-misses in the school library— the twist is that he never visits the library for genuine reading. just to simply see you and briefly wave hello or goodbye.

“stopppp, don't smile at me like that. you're making my tummy feel all weird.”

taglist open! @wondipity @yjjungwon @shysakuno @niktwazny303 @syrxiee2 @g4m3girl @minhosify @haechansbbg networks! @kflixnet

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blackopals-world · 1 year

Text

The Au(Yuus') bedrooms

Marine Biologist!Yuu

Has nautical theme on lock

If it's not blue it's not worth it.

Would live in a submarine

Smells like sea salt and lemon

Has a pet Dumbo Octopus named Florian.

Made imprints of the tweels hands in clay of their wall

Makes jewelry from shells, scales and teeth

Chef!Yuu

Just wants a place to cuddle when it's cold or rainy

Has warm milk and cookies while reat night night.

Smells like bread and fruit for some reason.

Cookbooks are scattered everywhere

The candles are fake because Yuu is scared of a fire starting

Keeps a diary under their pillow.

Immoral!Yuu

Making the change from their ancient style is like pulling teeth but Lilia managed.

It Is fea inspired and serves as Lilia's room as well. They are married.

You could sleep for a 1000 years here.

Smells like sage and camomile

Does this Yuu even sleep?

Silver seeks in to sleep in their bed.

The bookshelves are full of ancient texts (Yuu) and manga(lilia)

Maid! Yuu

French Country

It's fancy and clean

Laundry is done every few days.

Smells like lilac

The closet is full of cosplay and uniforms

Had to add a baby hammock for Cheka after babysitting so much.

Gardener!Yuu

The houseplants have taken over

It's humid sorry

Yuu is very pragmatic but a loves having pillow nests.

Makes pressed flower bookmarks at their desk.

The scent of mix herbs is everywhere

Special Forces!Yuu

Isn't into all that flashy decor

Rook asked them to hang something to lighten up the room. So a blank frame was put up.

There is a safe with weapons behind it. Don't guess the combination, it changes everyday.

Rook keeps getting in even though it is booby-trapped.

Do you want to know what's under the bed? You don't want to know what's under the bed.

Harpy!Yuu

Bald eagle nests are 4-6 feet wide but can be bigger.

OK IM JOKING! but they are still a bird.

They don't have a room as much as a nest.

The nest is a hanging bed that is moved all the time. Sometimes inside, sometimes outside.

They keep shiny things and hoards of blankets here.

The bed is waterproofed by magic.

Lined with feathers.

Yuu brings friends here to be used as substitute fledglings.

Tailor!Yuu

Well, they are Indian.

They like color

So...

They decorated it themselves and painted the walls

It's usually extremely messy with paper fabric and yarn everywhere.

The work desk can't even be used because of the clutter

Crewel's dog won't even go in except for their poodle, Georgette.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twisted wonderland x reader #twst yuu #chef!yuu #immoral!yuu #special forces!yuu #harpy!yuu #maid!yuu #marine biologist!yuu #gardener!yuu #tailor!yuu #rook hunt x reader #jade leech x reader #floyd leech x reader #lilia x reader #azul ashengrotto

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eyenaku · 6 months

Note

*sliiiiiides in* good evening

ooooo you wanna ramble about your pantomime au so bad ooo

I DO I DO I REALLY DO- here's a Very Long Ramble!!

let us meet our cast:

columbine (or columbina, as they're referred to in plays and promotional material)

harlequin (harlequin sun) and pierrot (pierrot moon)

Now these bad boys are the star actors (?) puppets! in a world renowned theatre specializing in Harlequinades, Melodramas, and other Pantomime-character-centric theatre.

(More accurately they're Commedia'dell arte characters, but people only know what pantomime is so. I'm calling it pantomime AU I guess LMAO)

The parent company (not quite a troupe due to their nature) also puts on other plays in other locations (with different characters and "tropes"/genres- like ballets, operas, etc. perhaps diff. fnaf characters in all of these).

The theatre is built like an opera house. The music is played by mechanical instruments- mainly a massive orchestrion housed in the back of the stage.

Now these puppets are entirely not sentient, manned by strings and puppeteered by a very advanced mechanical system of rails and the like in the ceilings (think similar to Moon's line thing in security breach- they move freely about a space, just with more lines to control each limb like a typical marionette). They're tall! Taller than the average human, Columbine included- they are very much life sized.

The characters are utilized much like human actors. They're used for meet and greets! They sign autographs! They gain fanbases and followings!

Columbine is marketed as Columbina the stock character. Female, with heavy make-up and vaguely promiscuous. Columbina is the target of affections. How attractive is she, in the eyes of the audience. How seductive. A soubrette- coy and cocky and conceited and saucy and a great deal of other descriptions.

However, just as the stock character was often the only Functionally Intellectual character in these plays despite all the not very demure connotations, Columbine, too, is multifaceted. Or perhaps single faceted, yet presented in a way that clouds the audience's perspective. Columbine is a puppet. Columbine is not female. People treat them as though they're female. People do not treat them well, especially in contrast to the followings of Harlequin and Pierrot

Columbine is pissed off.

Feeling a very strong emotion for the first time grants these puppets sentience. Why you may ask? Does it really matter? Its fiction.

Columbine's trigger so to speak was the issue of being perceived as female (and being treated in gross ways, thanks to the nature of theatre) when that isn't you. You are a puppet. Why is this happening? It's not so much being pissed off as being unbelievably frustrated. Columbine is frustrated!

So, in a huff, they carefully remove all their strings and just. Leave. Leave the theatre behind.

On the way to the exit they have to pass through a hallway with massive posters of the three of them illuminated. They see themself there and grimace.

So Columbine is gone now. And the theatre's management is sort of freaking out, after all this is one of the main three characters- arguably *The* main character. But they just try to cover it up, albeit poorly. Columbina is just under maintenance! Do not worry, audience! Harlequin Sun and Pierrot Moon are still here! Plays are still ongoing! They substitute in very basic clearly thrown together quickly "Columbine" stand ins for plays that are just. kinda sad. Blank dummies in an almost mockery of their costuming.

Speaking of sad, something is brewing within Pierrot Moon! Columbine leaving is kind of destroying him. He's sad, like really sad. Like... depressed. This is so strong that Pierrot, you guessed it, becomes sentient. Columbine being replaced is the final straw.

Moon becomes the kind of sad that drains everyone around him. He is not the only one suffering. It's not an uncontrollable thing either, he's just decided to not even attempt to manage his emotions, and everyone else has to deal with it. Anyone who is kind to him suffers for it. Moon's behaviour is not just disturbing to everyone, but is actively ruining plays.

Guess who this pisses off? Guess who else is sentient now? Harlequin Sun! He loves the theatre- a stickler for the rules and so very passionate about his plays. About his skills as an actor. Sun is incredibly unbelievably pissed off- Columbine is gone and Moon isn't doing anything right, and this stand-in dummy is godawful, and everything Was perfect, and now it isn't. and how incompetent! And so on and so forth. Sun is unabashedly pissed off. He is violent. When a play ends, he just about dismantles the stand-in dummies (more like rips them apart with his bare hands). A pile of "corpses" builds up, Everything is awful.

Moon decides it's all too much. He's going to leave. Maybe he'll find Columbine. He's desperate. He makes it to the exit hall, rips off his strings roughly with no care, and then!

Sees the same poster of Columbina from before.

Moon is just. stuck there looking up at it. Transfixed, he falls to the floor sobbing. He can't move. Sun finds him and *physically drags him* back. Hooray more violence 👍🏼

More plays, more Sun scrapping dummies, rinse and repeat. It just. Sucks. Human staff are quitting, it's too much for them. Dealing with either of them is just so horrible. Stage hands come and go and come and go and never stay.

Sun gets a turn to have a breakdown at the poster too!

He's not happy about everything sucking. Obviously he's not the issue, he loves the theatre, it's the other two. Why did you have to leave? It's not just anger but grief- he really truly misses Columbine, though he shows much differently than Moon. It's all too much.

(re)enter the new stage hand: totally not Columbine

ahaha what a nice welcome back! Columbine came back because they missed the two only to come back to. whatever tf this is that's going on. Violence from Sun, Moon's whole deal, The matter of the poster and littered approximations of their past self mangled about the backstage area. Yk how it is

Now at this point both Columbine and Moon don't have their strings (though Moon has stray bits still half tied to him). But Sun? Sun has his. They're Extremely Frayed though. His aggressive tendencies serve to have him work against the strings, even though he doesn't want to intentionally. Perhaps a lash at Moon mid-play, or pantomimed motions played out too rough. He's a touch too aggressive to be any kind of restrained. They're very close to just snapping- quite a feat considering they were made to support giant marionettes!

Anyhow, Columbine is back! They expect any sort of welcome but.. neither Harlequin nor Pierrot recognize them (and their dumbass didn't fkn think to... y'know... tell them? oh hey it's me?). They sorta assumed the two would recognize their face, or perhaps their oddly tall stature, or the remaining recognizable details (face paint, hairstyle (even with hoodie) eyelashes, etc) but nope! They're both blinded by their own selfish bitterness and can't see Columbine literally in front of them.

So the two are horrible to them, of course, since. Y'know! New stagehand! Ripe for Sun to be so passive aggressive to that it might as well just be aggressive to, and for Moon to be difficult and taxing towards.

Columbine is abhorred by this since, y'know. They missed them. And they take this as a sort of more messed up version of the silent treatment- surely they know it's them and are just acting like this out of spite! Fine, two can play at that game. Columbine can pretend they're strangers too.

They pretend they don't think Sun demolishing the faux-columbinas isn't a direct threat towards them. They pretend it doesn't affect them. They pretend Moon acting horrid and a type of sad so selfish it makes them want to leave all over again doesn't hurt. They, again, think Moon sobbing over heartbreak and abandonment is him rubbing their actions in their face. That him comparing them bitterly to themself is the same thing. They just do their job backstage. The two directly antagonizing them all of the time is hardly tolerable, but tolerable nonetheless since they do still care!

So it's horrible. At least it can't get any worse- WRONG! It can!

Sun went through too many stand-ins. The theatre can't just...get more. These are carved. They may have been simpler, and worse that Columbine, but they're still massive. You can't just get more like that. Management is freaking out- the public is getting even more upset. Where is Columbina? They need Columbina! A play is about to be put on, and the crowd is chanting for her. They're getting upset. They're demanding. But what can they do? There's nobody to put in the role- no human tall enough, no mannequins unscathed.

And then Management notices something- or someone. Columbine. Columbine is weirdly tall. Columbine would fit in the costume.

Before they know it, they're back on stage- stringless. In the same costume, the very thing they tried to escape.

The crowd goes absolutely wild- there she is! There's Columbina! The *real* Columbina! Columbine is distraught, they look around the stage for any semblance of help- Sun and Moon may be mad at them but they trust them! They know them!

And they make eye-contact with Sun. He's absolutely seething. He looks ready to rip them limb from limb. Does he recognize them? Nope! But this Stranger, this impostor is taking their place. A simple stagehand is taking Columbine's role, their spotlight, their fame, their cheering, their fans- He looks at them, who are identical in all but expression, and can't see Columbine. He's completely blind in his rage.

The bells begin to toll. The music starts to play. A final dance.

Columbine is passed between the two- spun in dizzying circles by Pierrot before being seized in Harlequin's crushing grip, and so on, and so on, and so on, again and again and again.

But then they see something change in Moon's eyes- recognition. It's actually them. He has no time to celebrate, to talk, to convey the overwhelming feelings bubbling in his chest. The dance becomes more fervor-ed- a true battle between Harlequin and Pierrot, one for Columbine's literal hand, for their safety.

The audience is oblivious to the ramifications, to the plight. They're mesmerized by the passion, the emotions so thick they can be felt in the air. There's tension, there's drama- it's a masterpiece of story and vehemence spinning and pushing and pulling and twirling about the stage.

Columbine can't tell if the snapping noises are from Sun's strings or from where his hands grip them in a stranglehold and splinter their limbs.

It's a struggle as entrancing as it is violent. The audience watches with bated breath- what will happen next? The three weave and lunge and with each forceful effort, Sun's strings making awful creaking snaps. The very system he's so desperate to maintain is working to subdue him, the two have a chance!

But just as Columbine manages to weasel their way out of his grasp-

SNAP

Nobody can do anything but watch in horror as Sun's strings feather limply at his sides, frayed like a violin bow gone sour. There's nothing stopping him now.

He's deaf to Columbine's pleas, to Moon's, to anything but the pure rage rolling through him. He lunges towards Columbine in a frenzied attack- a sickening crack ringing through the opera house.

And the audience erupts in applause as he realizes what he's done.

#pantomime au #ask #pantomime y/n #harlequin sun #pierrot moon #pantomime sun and moon #HI HELLO SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG ON THIS </3 #this au is rotting my brain tbh. been looping danse macabre #i wanna make an animatic to it #but idk how to make animatics #eyenaku #proudnaku #fnaf sun and moon #fnaf daycare attendant

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haeflmz · 9 months

Text

The Sin Eater.

Title: Was It A Dream?

Pairing: mark lee x fem!oc.

Genre: Horror occult, romance, fantasy, age-gap, slow burn, non-idol au, angst, fluff.

Summary: where an unexpected curse takes over baekhwa private school, jeong haelim gets involved into the world of occult.

Warnings: jumpscares, suicides, gore mention, hallucinations, mental health problems are spoken here, stress and strong language used.

Early morning it was an assembly. Everyday the principal holds an announcement but today was a particularly important announcement that every student has been dying to know.

Lining out in the courtyard, each young female student was behind another in a single file line. Each grade had the oldest lining in the front and the youngest at the back.

Haelim stood at the third youngest behind her friend. “Yeji are they doing the register?” She asked since it was difficult to hear from afar.

Her sharp gaze looks at the front seeing the class president coming down to do the register. One by one asking them to appear present.

Yeji gives a nod to her. “Yeah Ryujin is taking the names down.”

It didn’t take long for them to see the young girl wearing a blazer over the loose white shirt, the brown board with the piece of white paper with all the names on it being written down.

She looks at Ryujin but the gaze wasn’t reciprocated.

The register soon was done. The waiting was boring Haelim but nonetheless she was on the look out for the principal anywhere.

Eyes caught up on a handsome figure walking past. The groups of girls lining in the courtyard were wowing and awing seeing the new teacher that had recently enrolled and arrived to work here.

Replacing the biology teacher that fell sick suddenly. Everyone seems to like the new substitute teacher for his looks.

Black sleek back hair, glasses, clear pale skin and tall and slender body. The girls practically drool at the scent of his new shaven deodorant.

“You’re so cool Mr Mark!” One of the younger girls calls out in the crowd causing Mark to turn around suddenly and trip over his feet.

THUD.

“Oof…thanks girls!” Mark gets up from the floor dusting the clothes off with a heavy pant. That was a big fall and he seemed to be fine.

The girls giggle watching him awkwardly waddle away from the view.

Haelim’s gaze turns away when the new Professor disappears out of sight. For some reason, there was something very strange about him.

Microphone up in the front echos with a tap of the finger, the principal comes on the stage where the students go in silence looking up front. The courtyard resembles almost like a funeral with the way every student was present in single file. One behind the other.

The principal looks with a darken smile and expression that could tell it’s not the greatest news.

“Good morning everyone, I’m sorry but I don’t bring good news today.” She looks at the girls one by one. “The death of Park Sooyoung is indeed very tragic. However we must move on. I suggest all of you focus on your studies and refrain from commenting about the recent events.”

“Now go on everyone. These exam revisions won’t be done themselves.”

“Yes m’am.” Just like brainwashed sheep the students one by one go do the one thing they were created for. Study.

Until the very fine evening Haelim was studying in her own dormitory. Each student attending Baekhwa has a small dormitory to themselves. The rules were to not roam out of the dorms at 10pm. Curfew was needed and everyone sleeps and dines together mostly.

It is why this was so hard on Haelim from move on from Sooyoung’s death. They were in the same classes before and they expect Haelim to forget about her just because she is dead?

It felt cruel and selfish.

Sighing the blank ink on the pen suddenly stops working on the paper and Haelim throws the pen into the trash can, getting up from her chair to dispose of it in the room.

She wore a light and free white tank top with a pair of grey sweatpants. The hair was in a low bun, leaving the baby hairs out and the bangs to be free.

Looking back at the desk full of biology, history and mathematics books that she has been studying all day. Haelim looks away drained at the clock.

Midnight. Haelim always loses track of time whenever books are involved. In fact she loves reading the most.

She doesn’t have any particular hobbies. Haelim doesn’t have any interests that make her seem unique or extraordinary.

She was just the most basic, blank canvas that anyone could ever lay their eyes on.

Haelim doesn’t have any ambitions. She doesn’t have any goals in life that she wants to achieve by a certain age or period of time. Haelim actually has no idea what she wants to do with her sullen weak life at all. The only thing she was good at was studying.

Sounds pretty sad right? Haelim knows it herself.

That her life was nothing but sad and boring. It feels like a cage keeping her trapped inside it as if she were a humming bird.

Murmuring a few sighs, Haelim decided to go for a quick toilet break and then do some more studying just to be extra sure. You can never be too sure until you re-do it again.

Walking out of the dormitory gates outside the young girl made her way inside the school building again. Slowly she moves her hand to the toilets with the female sign on it.

When going in the toilets were brightly lit. Almost too brightly lit to the point it could burn someone’s eyes out. Haelim fixed the round golden glasses on her face and opens one of the stalls.

She sighs taking off the sweats and underwear then to do her natural business, the lights flickering take her attention from above.

“Stupid lights.” Haelim mutters when the lights kept on flickering, and flickering, until it sounded like footsteps were heard on the other side.

At first she thought it was probably another girl who was studying up late like herself; but then the footsteps kept on getting louder and louder by the time. It was eerie in a way. It felt like music approaching but it was just disconnected footsteps that she cannot recognise. The drops of her peeing was awkward too, Haelim felt nearly scared because there was silence and when the footsteps stopped. They sounded like it stopped right in front of the stall she was inside.

Her breath hitched. “Hello…?” Haelim asked out on the other side. Slowly pulling up her sweatpants and underwear back on. She flushed and then came close to the door opening it suddenly.

Nothing. No one was in the toilets.

She looks around each stall and they were empty. Haelim gives a small sigh of relief “Probably imagined it…” but then the lights went out in the bathroom.

The silence and footsteps were heard now outside, but they were running and Haelim quickly walked out of the dark toilets in fear and curiosity.

Who was messing around? The power went out everywhere and the entire school was now a dark, dark place.

Each corner was filled with nothing but blackness reeking the entire school. No sign of light. Haelim took out her phone putting on the flashlight while walking the terrifying corridors, alone.

Coldness reached her dainty arms. Wearing nothing but a white sleepwear tank top and a pair of sweatpants was not enough to keep her warm, but suddenly it became cold.

She kept her eyes in the front until a hand reaches to touch her shoulder.

Haelim screams and turning around to see who it was, as if preparing to attack the person or thing. She stopped midway.

It was the night shift janitor. “Whoa whoa misses. What are you doing up here? You’re meant to be in bed.”

She exhales in relief, pure joy on her face. “Sorry. I went for a toilet break.”

Haelim bows her head to say goodbye but then she stops on the floor and turns around back at the janitor who is watching her with keen eerie eyes. There was something weird behind them. As if they were hungry?

“Did you perhaps hear some footsteps… actually,” She paused when seeing the strange expression on the janitor. “Never mind. I have to go to bed.” Turning around to walk away.

There was this instinct inside her, screaming at Haelim to run, run as fast as she can. Something weird was going to happen…

The same footsteps were then heard, causing Haelim to turn around with her widen eyes. This time it was clearly the janitor following her with nothing being said but a weird smile; creepy reddish eyes glowing right before her body.

She flinched and starts to run for it with her phone flashlight making way for her around the school campus. The janitor giggles in many overlapped disoriented voices together that sounded of female: “Come back! I promise I don’t bite!”

Running out into the large courtyard in the middle, a launching body pushed her down enough to make Haelim roll down the many stairs in a dizzy composure. Shaken up vision and seeing stars from a single clutch. The man hovering above her with a face that looks nearly-demonic with a female voice taunting her, it felt like death was at the door.

Nearly, death was at the door.

“So pretty, but pretty dumb.” Said the janitor with a maniac-like laugh while running hands down Haelim’s cheek. “You’ll do great for my dinner.” The hand stops and raised up with massive animal claws. Something she could only imagine would be something out of a fantasy movie. The sharpness of the claws swish in the air,,

Only to make Haelim flinch screaming. “Stop!”

And a large shadow hovering above her body on the ground opening her eyes in shock to see the claw being stopped from a powerful grip. Burning the flesh of the person, lunging them away with a hammering punch to the fist.

Such a simple punch was able to launch a human across the courtyard and break the concrete wall making it have a crack.

Gasping. “Holy shit!” Haelim sits up on the ground with a dazed expression now that she sat up small blood drops down her forehead, must’ve been by the fall down the courtyard stairs.

Looking back at the strange figure, she starts to recognise the face. It was the new teacher.

Mark looked so much different. Differently dressed in dark clothing and the glasses were gone, hair was sleek back and the eyes look more, cold and serious. There was a different feeling of the aura he carries and now Haelim felt the touch of his hand on her head wound.

“Mr… Mark?”

Haelim felt her eyelids becoming heavy as her head collapsed into his hands. It feels like a bad miracle leaving a dark pity over her.

To what felt like a horrible dream, Haelim woke up in her dormitory bed. As if nothing bad happened, as if she wasn’t attacked by the crazy-janitor and wasn’t saved by her new substitute biology teacher.

Panting leaving with cold sweat, Haelim was checking for the head wound and it was like it never happened. Her head was spotless.

The next few minutes Haelim tried to tell herself that it felt too real, a little too real to be a dream. Something terrible was happening in this school and no one was doing anything about it.

Walking to the morning class which was literature class. On the way Haelim paused seeing the new teacher, Mark, leaving his office room that seems to be empty.

The opportunity to prove that everything was reality was revealing itself. The young girl walks over and looks around before opening the doorknob and entering it. Haelim looks around for a few minutes with her eyes. Then reaching over to the desk she would search for any clues.

It couldn’t be a dream, right? There’s no way.

For once, Haelim wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t caring if she will be late to class because this dangerous eerily familiar tale that keeps on happening to her was making Haelim excited but also terrified. She knows something wasn’t okay with Mark.

He wasn’t just a teacher, he looks like someone who has a past to say a lot. Haelim shifts down going on the knees opening up the desk cupboards. A reflective golden piece of golden ring shines, and Haelim saw a jewellery box full of weird-like occult symbols and equipment.

“Whoa what’s this…?” She breathes out heavily taking out a talisman. Why would her biology teacher carry a freaking talisman around the school?

The door started to open and Haelim was panicking. She puts the stuff back into the cupboard closing it shut and then crawling around to hide underneath the teacher’s desk. The voice of Mark speaking to one of the teacher’s was in a polite form.

Mark shows a smile. “Yes Doyoung i’ll get the biology papers marked and re-done by tonight.” Shifting back into his office he closed the door and sighs a little. He then walked up to the giant wardrobe in the room he had.

Haelim hiding under her desk never held her breath so much until now, she was afraid that if a single breath coming out could get her caught instantly; her eyes kept a stern watch over him until realising he was unbuttoning the white shirt, taking off the black tie.

Blushing at the bare-ness of his back exposed to her face. Haelim looked away immediately with red cheeks. She kept her legs tucked in front chest while underneath the desk, Haelim wasn’t expecting to see her teacher topless.

In the moment Haelim then made her eyes move to peak again only to see bunch of strange tattoos on his arms, biceps, chest and stomach. She didn’t understand what they meant. But last time she checked teachers were forbidden to have tattoo’s especially Baekhwa. Who discriminates against tattoos for both students and teachers.

Her eyes caught the glance of the mirror and Mark was gazing right at her as he saw her under the desk. He turned around quickly now pulling Haelim’s wrist and pressed the girl against the wardrobe door flat shutting it down.

She grunts. “Let me go!”

Mark raised an eyebrow. “What are you doing in my office?”

The sight of his topless upper body made Haelim incredibly uncomfortable by how close they are and she looked at him with a fearful expression.

Silence came out of her and she pants pushing her hands down on him. “I know what you are. You’re not a teacher.”

The sudden assumption scared Mark. What did she mean by that? He pulled away and glares over at her and he pulls out a shirt on his body.

“What am i then?”

It’s like he was challenging her. Haelim stares at him with two deep glares and fixed her glasses on the bridge of her nose.

“Because of you these deaths keep happening. Ever since you came to this school weird shit has happened to me. You’re the cause of not aren’t you?”

Haelim snapped, and Mark was watching her with an unreadable eye and expression on his face she couldn’t read whatsoever.

She wasn’t sure if she caught him or if he was laughing at her. Mark shifts coming forward. “Now calm down. I can promise you I’m not the bad guy here.”

The girl takes a step back breathing heavily almost like she were hyperventilating. “No? Then what is this?” Haelim rolls up her sleeve showing her wrist with a star mark possibly done by a sharp glass shard object deeply into her skin.

This morning when she had woke up, Haelim woke up to this mark impaled on her skin. Each victim that died had this on their body and Haelim knew, she knew from that moment that she was next and she had no idea what to do.

The mark on her body caused the teacher to furrow his eyebrows and he quickly looks back at her trying to remain calm.

“Haelim how long did you have this mark for?” He asked cautiously and Haelim cried stomping her feet, she couldn’t just stay calm. “Answer me! Are you the bad guy? Am I going to die? Give me an answer already!”

“Say something already!”

Knowing that she probably wouldn’t stop and become calm Haelim came closer to him to do something but Mark blew air on his face, brushing his hand over her eyes and immediately caused the girl to fall backwards in sleep state.

He caught her in his arms as she fell unconscious breathing lightly again in a calm sense. Mark looks down at her face and down at the star symbol imprinted on her arm.

Was It A Dream?

@haeflmz 2023 ©️ everything belongs to me.

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preciouslandmermaid · 2 years

Text

| best I’ve ever had | carmy x f!reader (curvy/vampire)

Note: All fics will be reader/canon-character with no use of Y/N. Generally, I don’t focus on many details about the reader because I want them to be as much of a “blank slate” as possible. So, this is my first ever time writing a curvy/body diverse reader. I would love to hear to your feedback. In this case—Reader is the vampire because that felt more fun to me. (Where ARE all the body diverse vampires tho???) Also – eat the rich. Literally.

prompt: vampire au/accidental stimulation/almost getting caught. | pairing: carmy berzatto/f!reader!curvy/body diverse | warnings: explicit sexual content. vampire!reader can do whatever she wants.

Bodegas and greasy diners, 24-hour gas stations and burger joints, nightclubs, and bars. Colleges, parks, and stacked-up apartment buildings. New York City thunders with life. The city that never sleeps. The hunting ground that never empties.

It’s all too easy to get a quick waitressing job that pays under the table and doesn’t ask you for a social security number. After centuries of immortality, you’ve learned to be careful. You don’t feed on anyone you work with. You’ve got your sights on bigger, richer fish. The restaurant down the block is blue-blood expensive, winning accolades and praise, with reservations that stretch six months in advance.

A few months ago, you followed a couple who had eaten there. After draining them dry, you were hooked. There’s a common misconception that the media gets wrong about vampires. You’re not wild, savage creatures. You care about what the blood tastes like. And quite frankly, the Uber driver you drank last week was a poor, poor substitute for the nutrient rich, expensive blood you drank from the restaurant.

Tonight, you changed into one of your finest dresses. It hugged your hips and inched up your generous thighs whenever you sat down; very nearly revealing the plush underside curve of your ass. The color complimented your skin. It’s a risky, attention-getting outfit considering its nearly December. You almost walk to the restaurant, but a whim draws you to the subway.

You enjoy the heat of bodies, their sweat, and pheromones, all packed within a metal tube like a sardine can. Your mouth tingles with anticipation. You shoulder yourself among them, a killer in plain sight, and grin—your canine teeth sharp—at the appreciative gazes that men and women throw toward you. The subway car crowds. Slush and mud slicks the floor into a workplace hazard.

Everyone sways backward an inch, bumping into each other, as the train pulls from the station with a hiss of hydraulics and a droning, automated voice advising all the idiots to stand clear of the doors. You are immovable. Your balance impeccable. However, whoever is behind you isn’t so steady on their feet. They catch themselves on the bar near your arm, but you feel the front of their jeans brush against your ass.

A scent wafts through the air—onion, smoke, and heat. Your nostrils flare. The smell is familiar. It’s the same scent that permeates the fancy restaurant. You adjust your position slyly and the next station stop makes his (it’s definitely a male) crotch bump into you yet again. You focus on his heartbeat amidst the fifty-or-more other humans. It skips when he touches you. If you close your eyes, you can imagine the blood traveling to his neck, his face, and below his navel.

Bodies shift as people disembark and shuffle around to make impossible room for the other travelers. You use the opportunity to nudge yourself closer. You are intimately familiar with every inch of these cars after decades in the city. The stranger is pinned into an awkward corner of space with no where to move.

He adjusts his weight from one foot to the other and you’re delighted to hear the hiss of breath he exhales through his teeth. Oh, he is tightly wound. You bite your lower lip. You never could resist a good game. But the game is only fun when it’s played by two people.

At the next stop, you turn around to face him. His face is bright, beautiful red, flushed and ripe for your fangs. Your full chest presses into his and there’s a soft, tantalizing sensation across your nipples when you dress rubs against them. He’s avoiding your gaze. Cute.

You stare at his pulse below his jaw. A few seconds pass before the train slows and an annoyed, crackled voice announces that they’re going to be stopped for a few minutes because another train is delayed.

“Rotten luck.” You say, sighing, “I thought the late-night trains ran express to avoid this type of issue.”

He blinks, confused, before realizing that you’re talking to him.

He clears his throat, “Y-yeah.”

You introduce yourself, suffusing your voice with temptation and honey.

“Carmy.” His voice is rough around the edges. You fall into a pleasant, benign conversation with him. He’s going to work. He’s a chef. He works at the fancy restaurant. He’s lived in the city for a few years. He went to school all over the place. You try not to stare at his pulse for too long.

The train resumes. Your hunt begins in earnest.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At your stop, you intentionally lose Carmy in the crowd (or rather, you make it seem like he’s lost you). In truth, you have his scent, you have his name, and his face. He didn’t know it, but he was underneath your claw, and he could squirm all he liked but would never be released.

You’re not going to poach for rich assholes drunk on expensive wine and excellent food tonight. Your plan has changed. You’re going to the source. You’re going for something lovelier. The hunger and passion you saw in Carmy’s bright, exhausted, and doleful blue eyes—that was your objective tonight.

You skip the line, the askance for a reservation, and seat yourself at the best table in the place. Your powers of hypnosis against the high-strung wait staff is mere child’s play. You could do it in your sleep. You order the most expensive dish, and a bottle luxurious red wine, and you…wait.

An hour passes and another low-effort hypnosis allows you to pass your dish along to another table (“Oh god, we’re so sorry, miss!” the waitress said, looking ready to pass out.) You wave her off with a delicate, fanged smile.

“I’d like to give my compliments to the chef.” You announce once another hour passed, “Directly.” You add with a soft nudge of your willpower. For a moment, the waiter looks confused, until their eyes muddle gray and wistful.

“O-of c-c-course. Yes.” The waiter nods meekly and scurries toward the kitchen. It takes longer than you like, but you’re immortal and you’ve got patience in droves. Carmy walks toward your table, dressed pristine in white a chef’s uniform, his hair slicked back and expression haggard.

He doesn’t hide his surprise upon seeing you. You circle the rim of your untouched wine glass with your finger. His pulse roars jumpy and erratic in your ears.

“When you said you were a chef, Carmen, I didn’t know you’d be The chef.” You say with a playful smile. You rest your arms on the table and lean forward. Carmy’s eyes dip toward your cleavage and your grin widens appreciatively. He recovers with a small shake of his head.

“You didn’t mention you were—” He licks his lips, “—coming here.”

“Should I have?” You raise a single eyebrow, “My apologizes. Would you have made me something special?”

That stuns him into silence. His hands fidget with a spoon between them, bouncing the metal against his palm, and you wish you could sink your fangs into the warm heat of his inner wrist. A low, pulsing desire throbs between your legs.

“I – um – “ He stutters, “I n-need to get back to my station.”

You nod and respond flirtatiously, “thank you for the meal, Carmy.” His eyes widen. Your lips did not move when you spoke.

He practically flees into the kitchen. You lean back smug and pleased into your chair. The waiter asks if you want desert. You tell her you’re going to have a cigarette instead.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t smoke. However, you smelled cigarette smoke on Carmy and for the second time tonight, you simply…wait. You hold an unlit cigarette between your fingers and ignore – or reject – anyone who tries to offer you a light.

The heavy metal door that leads into the kitchen pours fluorescent light into the empty, yet narrow alleyway. Carmy is briefly haloed by the light before it shuts. He leans against the door and sighs. You could trace the fatigue of his shoulders with a knife.

“Bad night or good night?” You ask from your spot on the opposite side.

“How did you do that earlier?” He asks instead of answering, “Are you like—” He swallows, and you raise your eyebrows. You’ve always loved this part. That moment when humanity tries to create answers for the supernatural. At this rate, you’ve heard every excuse, though their denial is charming.

“I don’t know. A ventriloquist or something?”

You reply, “it would spoil the fun to know the answer, wouldn’t it?”

He shrugs while attempting to light his cigarette. The cold, snow-touched December breeze keeps snuffing the flame out no matter how many times he shields it with his palm. You approach him and cup your other hand around his, blocking the flame from the other side, and Carmy peers up at you as the tip of the cigarette ignites and its ember burns inside his pupils.

Your fingertips gently glide against the thin, delicate skin of his inner wrist. A trail of smoke ghosts like a kiss over your cheek. He doesn’t flinch. He’s hardly breathing. A flicker of ash drops to your shoes.

“Your heart’s racing.” You observe passively. “Is that because of me or something else?”

“Something else.” His heartrate accelerates. You know he’s lying. You decide to be merciful and don’t call him out on it. Instead, your thumb finds that delicious, thundering pulse and you press into it. Your body hums with a pure, and powerful lust. For his blood. For something else. You bring Carmy’s hand to your mouth and drop your lips to his palm. You can smell every ingredient he’s cooked with. Every spice. You can smell his sweat and the sharp, underlying note of his arousal.

Your lips graze across the callouses on his fingers, never breaking eye contact from him, pulling him succinctly and powerfully under your allure. You draw his index finger into your mouth. Carmy’s knees buckle, his cigarette tossed and forgotten, something wild and desperate dominating his flushed features. His groan is quiet compared to the rest of New York City but to your ears, he is loud and intoxicating. You flex your tongue across the joints of his finger before sucking lightly and pressing your body flush to his.

Carmy’s hand lands on your hip and he fists the silken fabric, his hand is trembling. You release his digit slowly, savoring his hazy expression, savoring his heartbeat in place of your own. It would be so easy to lean in, to latch your fangs to his throat, but you resist. Not because you feel anything sentimental toward him. But because you want this to last beyond a few minutes. After centuries of being alone, you deserve that, you think.

He’s the one to close the distance and he kisses you with all the awkward, clumsy grace that can only belong to humanity. He squeezes your ass with both hands, hands bunching fabric, and brisk air teases every inch of your exposed skin. His tongue is warm and welcome, and you drink the filthy, raspy moans that he delivers like a prayer into your mouth.

You can taste his passion. Not only his desire for you, but beyond that. All his vibrant, beautiful humanity—his love for cooking, his love for creation. It is full of deep and robust flavor like black, strong coffee. His ambition tastes like citrus, sharp and biting. His exhaustion tastes heavy and coats your tongue like dark chocolate. Your eyes roll back into your head in pleasure.

You could kiss him for an eternity. But there are only hours before sunrise. You kiss the side of his throat—just for the hell of temptation—and your fangs throb painfully in your mouth. You do not often deny yourself like this. Carmen Berzatto is alone. He is enraptured by you. Yet, you refrain from draining him. You drop to your knees before him in reverent supplication.

Carmy’s breath hitches in his throat—“W-we—” You sense from his surface thoughts that he’s going to say something like ‘We cannot’ or ‘We shouldn’t’ or ‘We’re going to get caught’.

“Shh.” You soothe while pulling down his zipper, “I promise we’ll be fine.” You glance warily up at him through your sooty lashes, “Unless you want us to stop?”

“N-no. Please.” His throat bobs with a rough, agonized swallow. You hum in the back of your throat, pleased by his response, and the weighty warmth of his cock in your hand. Your tongue flattens against the vein pulsing on his shaft. Carmy’s head falls back with a ‘thunk’ into the metal door. You swirl your tongue around the ridges of his head before pulling him into your mouth. You moan around him. His hands turn to white-knuckled fists at his sides.

You draw backward, trailing salvia in your wake, and sink him further into your mouth during your second stroke. Your hand encircles him, squeezing lightly, following the path of your lips as your head bobs up and down over him.

At any moment, you could bite and have your satisfaction.

Yet, you don’t. You resist, and resist, and resist, all while listening to Carmen’s frantic heart and rushing bloodstream. He is muttering a mixture of curses and your name in a litany of praise and disbelief. He is close. You can tell by the spike of his heartbeat and a thousand other clues.

The door behind Carmen almost opens, “Hey Carm!”

You slap your free hand against it and slam it shut. You are not going to let some stupid, garlic-smelling human interrupt you. You groan, cheeks hollowing, taking Carmen’s cock as deeply as you can and drooling down your chin. He is panting above you and a single, tattooed, and calloused hand holds the back of your neck. His hips stutter and he is sweet enough to hurriedly announce, “’m about to—” before his words are lost in a bitten-off, soundless cry.

You are a creature of control. Yet something inside of you, something human and forgotten, unravels at the sound and sensation of Carmy coming into your mouth. Your thighs clamp together. Your own desire is slick and pooling between your legs. You spit his cum onto the concrete steps. If you were human, you would’ve made a different choice, but anything that wasn’t blood tended to make you ill.

Carmy looks down at you with droopy, bewildered blue eyes. You deliberately rise slowly to your full height. He tracks your movement as if in a daze.

You cup his chin between your fingers and tilt his face to the side so you can observe the glorious sweaty and flushed skin of his throat. His carotid artery beats like a drum. Your fangs prickle. Your eyes—unseen by Carmy—darken.

You can wait no longer. Your fangs penetrate his skin and his blood gushes hotly into your mouth. He shudders, grabbing you, holding you close and moaning shamelessly at the euphoria that overwhelms his mind and heart. You whine, one hand clutching the back of his skull, the other on his hip. He tastes divine. Everything you tasted in his kiss is increased by tenfold. His blood travels down your throat in pumping, warm spurts. You are drunk and delirious and frantic for more.

You drink, and drink, and drink, flexing your lips over the wound you’ve made. Carmy’s heartbeat is slowing in your ears like an ecstatic drumbeat losing its vigor. You clutch him closer as if you could fuse your bodies into one being. He tastes so good. You can’t remember the last time someone tasted like this.

You stop before his heart does. Your tongue laves over the puncture wounds, and they heal with supernatural efficiency. You lean back your head back, regarding him with a gentle curiosity, and find he’s semi-lucid.

“Tell me where you live, Carmen Berzatto.” You demand. Luckily, he tells you before passing out in your arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the nights that follow—you find yourself in his bed and his cock is buried deep within your cunt as you ride him. Compared to past lovers, he is eager to please and quick to learn. You never have to tilt his jaw. He does it willingly. Nearly begging. Offering you his neck or his wrist without batting an eyelash.

“Go ahead,” He tells you without fear. Like he’s giving you something. Like he’s created something for you. You always oblige. Somehow, it is better than the first time. Your walls clench around him, and your eyes roll into your skull when the surge of blood hits your tongue. Your control improves and Carmy only passes out half the time after you’ve fed on him.

You never go to the restaurant again. (Except for a single, secretive rogue trip to “meet” Carmy’s boss. But that little story is between you and the trash beneath the Hudson River).

~~~~~~~~~~

Tag List:

@wittyno // @comfortwaterbottle // @guyfieriii // @thebearinmind

@lafantasiaworld // @imreadingrespectfully // @jotarosasscheek // @buzzfrill // @man-johnnie // @reesespieces10123 // @a-wake-and-unafraid //

#carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto x you #kinktober2022comp #vampire au #kinktober 2022 #carmen carmy berzatto x reader

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kaiisers · 2 years

Text

TOKYO REVENGERS ꒰ misc ꒱

contains mature content, aimed for +18 audiences. reader discretion is advised. most of these works are f! or afab! reader. ALSO! minors + blank + ageless blogs will be blocked.

⌕ LEGEND

personal favorites : ✷

fluff : ✿ ┊angst : ❅ ┊ suggestive/smut : ⭑ ┊ humor : ❁

headcanons

I can hold the world in my hands.

one: manjiro “mikey” sano, ken “draken” ryuguji, chifuyu matsuno & rindou haitani

two: keisuke baji, takashi mitsuya, ran haitani & shuji hanma

⭑ how do you want me? ──── ran, rindou, chifuyu, hanma, kazutora

cw. f!reader, ig technically public sex in hanma's, mutual masturbation (kazutora), mentions of creampie

✿ pillow talk with them. ──── ran ・ mikey ・ ken ・ sanzu ・ rindo

❁✿ meeting their future kids. ──── izana ・ rindo ・ ran ・ kakucho ・ shuji

✿ holding their baby for the first time. ──── ran ・ takashi ・ shuji ・ ken

⭑ jealous sex. ──── shuji ・ ran ・ ken ・ mikey ・ sanzu

them being stepdads. ──── chifuyu ・ ken ・ inui ・ kakucho ・ kazutora ・ rindo

they did wake you up for a kiss. ──── chifuyu, ran, rindou

⭑ you’re a porn star girl. ──── ran ・ rindo ・ shuji ・ shinichiro ・ draken ・ sanzu ・ chifuyu

consolation. ──── ken ・ mitsuya ・ kazutora ・ hanma

he's usually strong, but sometimes, he needs somebody to be strong for him. needs some consolation. and thankfully, he's got you.

⭑ “use me to get off”. ──── izana ・ kazutora ・ rindou ・ baji

random fluffy bf headcanons. ──── rindo ・ shuji ・ kazutora ・ mikey ・ draken ・ keisuke ・ ran ・ takashi ・ hakkai ・ hajime ・ izana ・ kakucho ・ chifuyu ・ haruchiyo

heartbeat, heartbeat, heartbeat. ──── ran ・ mikey ・ kakucho ・ rindou ・ haruchiyo ・ hajime

them being stepdads. ──── chifuyu ・ draken ・ inui ・ kakucho ・ kazutora ・ rindou

crushing on his employee. ──── ran ・ kakucho ・ souya

free for all! / 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐉𝐈 𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆 & 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐑𝐘 𝐖𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐄 ──── haruchiyo ・ kakucho ・ rindou ・ ran ・ hajime ・ shuji ・ shion ・ mikey

lost in paradise.

in which they fuck you better than your lover does.

one ─── mikey ・ haruchiyo ・ kakucho ・ hajime ・ ran ・ rindou ・ izana (bonten + toman!izana basically)

heavy infidelity themes, afab reader, breeding, heavy degradation, dumbification, breath play, mating press, manipulation, unprotected sex, implied dacryphilia, choking, exhibition, rindou has the biggest dick in bonten

two ─── shinichiro ・ wakasa ・ shuji ・ kisaki ・ ken ・ kawata twins

heavy infidelity themes, afab reader, dom and sub, implied age gap (wakasa's part), all characters are in their respective timeskip ages, power imbalance, mindbreak (?), overstimulation, heavy degradation, light praising, manipulation, threesome, spit roast, face riding, oral receiving (f), size kink, unprotected sex, cum eating, dacryphilia, breeding, kisaki sugar daddy era

wiping off their kisses. ─── sanzu, mitsuya, rindo, taiju, kazutora

when they have a crush on you.

one: mikey, mitsuya, baji, sanzu, rindou, ran

two: draken, chifuyu, kazutora, shinichiro, hina

three: izana, wakasa, kakucho

୨ dad series ୧

having a kid with them ・ missing their kids ・ holding their baby for the first time ・ baby talk

drabbles & them ‹𝟹

⭑ substitute. ── sano manjiro ・ haruchiyo sanzu ── 0.8k

dom!mikey and kind of switch!sanzu, established relationship (w/mikey), consensual cheating, slight cucking, vaginal sex, dumbification, pet names (mostly ‘angel’), unprotected sex

your husband mikey hasn’t been able to take care of you as he should so he has sanzu step in.

୨ sano shinichiro ୧

busy.

୨ haitani ran ୧

none yet !

୨ haitani rindō ୧

✿ dating him.

❅ ✿ untitled.

implied female reader, use of mommy

୨ hanma shuji ୧

✿ 3:13 a.m.

✿ 07:14 a.m.

✿ sore loser.

୨ kokonoi hajime ୧

none yet !

୨ ryuguji ken ୧

11:42 p.m.

cash or credit.

untitled.

୨ mitsuya takashi ୧

biology 101.

implied fuck buddies au

୨ sanzu haruchiyo ୧

none yet !

୨ sano manjiro ୧

⭑ unfamiliar scents. ──── 1.3k+

hybrid au. possessive!mikey, biting, hair pulling, vaginal sex, pussy drunk!mikey, size kink, creampie, cockwarming

mikey can be a jealous puppy sometimes and he needs to leave his mark on you.

୨ hanemiya kazutora ୧

early mornings.

in which you enjoy another early morning with your beautiful lover by your side, you ready to start the day and him— well, someone is still a little sleepy.

୨ baji keizuke ୧

none yet !

୨ matsuno chifuyu ୧

none yet !

୨ shiba taiju ୧

wedding night.

cw. time skip!taiju, established relationship/marriage, size difference, creampie(s), virginity loss, overstimulation, premature ejaculation, mating press.

#⨳ 𓏲˖ 📓 ˖ ࣪ recs archive ָ࣪ 𓏲⋆.#﹙ 𖠇 ﹚ — tokyo revengers ´ˎ˗

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askglassanon · 1 year

Text

I made two versions

The first one

One I made on the fly. She's not very accurate to the original design I had in mind. The Picrew game lacked the ability to change the Sunglasses red.

I described a Human!Glass as having Long wavy. So while the dreads are cute and she wear them well. Not it. Now there are many the things I liked so those carried over to the next.

The second

I kept the dark brown hair and eyes, as well as the black lipstick

But I actually did remember her wavy hair this time. (But random but her hoodies lower sleeves are red)

She's 19 because that's what I have Glass' mental state down as.

She is not 4' 11.3" rather she's 5' 7"

Her birth name is Krystal but she thinks it's cringey so she goes by Prism (Treasure and his family) and Glass (By everyone else)

Krystal Beauregard.

The only ones who knows her real name are Treasure (He still needs a name) and probably Bee

I always imagine Glass blank and androgynous as other Anons just with slightly wider hips to differentiate. So she's flat as a board or close to it.

She isn't one one those people who just jealous of other women's boobs though. She doesn't really care.

Another note reads "Still doesn't wear pants does wear leggings" so because I think thinks a funny trait. She doesn't wear solely skirts, shorts and leggings (sometimes she only wears leggings)

I imagine she's a Substitute Teacher for Children Art Classes and specializes in Sculpting and Crafting.

She used to be a dancer but developed pretty bad stage fright as she got older and hasn't touched a stage since she was 7.

She works at an Animal Shelter for a more stable income and cries when the dogs get adopted.

The are some normal Glass traits she keeps like making gifts and presents for people she likes and getting into places she shouldn't be able to reach.

She also blushes real easy. When she's embarrassed or really happy (like her ringing or glowing personified)

She's still a bit of a people pleaser but that's more because of her nature. She also still has Hemophobia, but not for traumatized reasons but rather she's incredibly squeamish.

She's also pretty shy but really likes when people want to talk to her (Quality Time is still one of her love languages)

She has braces on her bottom teeth (which carries over for the other Human!Glass design I have) tho she has some on her top teeth too.

Because I think it's funny she doesn't know how to drive in this universe either. She well carpool to one of her jobs or walk.

Since her relationship with her Treasure didn't end in tragedy and they're both human, he's still alive with his wife and kids and she used to baby-sit for them. She's also the kids's godmother.

She's very aware of being flirted with and usually ignores the person doing it/pretends she doesn't know what they're doing, until they leave her alone or has to tell them she's not interested, (please) back up, or not to touch her. Confrontation makes her uncomfortable so she usually just leaves herself.

Because Bee's gonna to Bee in the AU, I think Glass would still get along well with them.

/ @kidswithautism & @bumble-bee-anon just on case

#Maus #Out of Glass #OoG #Sorry for any typos

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nefer-seshen · 2 years

Note

What is Rioaka's pokemon team?

Okay this is a long post so I'll put it under a readmore. I do have a doc on her pokemon au in my pinned post, if you wish to read more. I'll be adding another page on all the pokemon teams she'd possibly have in each region. But the main Team in he pokemon au is her contest Team and companions she has had most her journey. I included the moves she would have them know and such.

Pokemon Team:

◈Blaziken [Kasai]- Fire/Fighting ♂︎

Ability: Blaze- Boosts the power of Fire-type moves 50% when at 1/3 of max HP or less

Blazkick[Fire]: Power 85 | PP 16 | Acc 90%

deals damage and has an increased critical hit ratio. A 10% chance of burning.

Sky Uppercut[Fighting]: Power 85 | PP 21 | Acc 90%

deals damage and can hit Pokémon during the semi-invulnerable turns of Fly, Bounce, and Sky Drop

Earthquake[Ground]: Power 100 | PP 10 | Acc 100%

It deals double damage to Pokémon that are in the semi-invulnerable state of Dig. Hits all Pokemon, including the user.

Fire Blast[Fire]: Power 110 | PP 8 | Acc 85%

A 10% chance of causing a burn. The user releases a fireball that creates a star-shaped explosion after damaging the opponent.

Item: Blank

◈Decidueye [Fukuro]- Grass/Ghost ♂︎✧Shiny

Ability: Long Reach- uses its moves without making contact with the target

Leaf Storm[Grass]: Power 130 | PP 8 | Acc 90%

deals damage but lowers the user's Special Attack by two stages, minimum of -6 stages each

Acrobatics[Flying]: Power 55 | PP 20 | Acc 100%

deals damage and its power is doubled to 110 if the user has no held item

Phantom Force[Ghost]: Power 90 | PP 15 | Acc 100%

causes the user to "vanish" on the turn, it is used, making it semi-invulnerable, and then reappear the next turn causing damage.

Spirit Shackles[Ghost]: Power 80 | PP 14 | Acc 100%

inflicts damage and prevents foes from fleeing or switching out as long as the user remains in battle. Wimp Out, Emergency Exit, the Red Card, the Shed Shell, and the Eject Button can bypass this effect.

Item: Blank

◈Sylveon [Adlin]- Fairy ♂︎✧Shiny

Ability: Pixilate- causes all Normal-type moves used to become Fairy-type and receive a 30% boost in addition to all other modifiers, such as STAB.

Moonblast[Fairy]: Power 95 | PP 24 | Acc 100%

deals damage and has a 30% chance of lowering the target's Special Attack by one stage.

Dazzling Gleam[Fairy]: Power 80 | PP 16 | Acc 100%

The user damages opposing Pokémon by emitting a powerful flash

Iron Tail[Steel]: Power 100 | PP 15 | Acc 75%

a physical attack that has a 10% chance to lower an opponent's Defense stat

Hyper Voice[Normal]: Power 90 | PP 15 | Acc 100%

can now hit Pokémon even if they are behind a substitute, will destroy certain natural objects found in the background of battles

Item: Blank

◈Dewpider [Dewy]- Bug/Water ♂︎

Ability: Water Bubble- halves the damage dealt by Fire-type attacks and doubles the power of Water-type moves used by the Pokémon with this Ability. It also prevents the Pokémon with the Ability from being burned

Icy Wind[Ice]: Power 55 | PP 18 | Acc 100%

deals damage to all adjacent opponents and lowers the Speed of hit Pokémon by one stage

X-scissor[Bug]: Power 80 | PP 24 | Acc 100%

deals damage to all adjacent opponents and lowers the Speed of hit Pokémon by one stage

Scald[Water]: Power 80 | PP 15 | Acc 100%

inflicts damage and has a 30% chance of burning the target. Upon execution, Scald will thaw the user if frozen

Liquidation[Water]: Power 85 | PP 14 | Acc 100%

does damage and has a 20% chance of lowering the target's Defense stat by one stage.

Item: Blank

◈Lopunny [Lottie]- Normal/Fighting ♀︎✧Shiny

Ability: Cute Charm- that can cause the Infatuated Status Condition 30% of the time if the user is directly hit with an attack, must be of opposite genders

Thunder Punch[Electric]: Power 75 | PP 23 | Acc 100%

has a 10% chance of paralyzing the opponent, cannot paralyze Electric-type.

Bounce[Flying]: Power 85 | PP 8 | Acc 100%

bounces up high on the first turn, avoiding most moves. On the second turn, the user slams down onto the target, inflicting damage with a 30% chance of paralyzing it

Drain Punch[Fight]: Power 75 | PP 15 | Acc 100%

deals damage and the user will recover 50% of the HP drained. If the user is holding a Big Root, the move instead recovers 65% of the damage dealt (30% more than normal)

High Jump Kick[Fight]: Power 130 | PP 14 | Acc 90%

A strong jumping knee kick, if it misses, the crash damage is equal to half of the user's max HP, rounded down

Item: Blank

◈Mime Jr. [Mimi]- Psychic/Fairy ♀︎

Ability: Filter- reduces the damage taken from super-effective attacks by 25%

Copycat[Normal]: Power -- | PP 32 | Acc --%

causes the user to use the last move that was used in the battle. If no move has been made, Copycat fails.

Psybeam[Psychic]: Power 65 | PP 30 | Acc 100%

does damage and has a 10% chance of confusing the target.

Psychic[Psychic]: Power 90 | PP 15 | Acc 100%

deals damage and has a 10% chance to lower the target's Special Defense by 1 stage

Fake Out[Normal]: Power 40 | PP 14 | Acc 100%

This attack hits first and makes the target flinch. It only works the first turn each time the user enters battle.

Item: Blank

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this-is-z-art-blog · 1 year

Photo

[ID: traditional drawing of Sam Manson as a half ghost. She’s wearing Danny’s jumpsuit, black with white accents, but she’s wearing white combat boots instead, has removed the fingers from the gloves, and has replaced his DP logo with a simple skull icon stitched on. Her hair is flaming and one of her earrings is a small black ghost. She’s floating with one leg tucked up and her hands held out at her sides, smilingly bittersweetly. The drawing is in pencil, with the lines gone over again in bright green gel pen and the eyes filled in neon green.]

♪ Emerge transformed in a million years From days like these ♪

DannyMay 2023: Day 12, Traditional Art, from my au where Sam goes into the portal in Memory Blank / fic that accompanies this piece here

#sam manson #Danny Phantom #Dannymay2023 #traditional art #image description #substitute blank au #dp fanart #tune doodle #song: Lakeside View Apartments Suite #artist: the mountain goats #2023

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dothwrites · 3 years

Note

13 and 20

13. and 20.--Detective AU and Teacher AU

---

Castiel represses a sigh as he stands up straight. His spine pops as he subtly stretches out the kinks in his aching body.

He'd thought that he was a reasonably fit man, but bending over and scrubbing at filthy floors and tables every day is playing hell with his lower back.

The bell rings, and Castiel curses under his breath as he moves back against the wall. Less than thirty seconds later, all of the doors near him burst open and a flood of teenagers courses into the hallway.

Castiel's had a lot of unpleasant assignments in his life, but going undercover at Carver Edlund High School is among the worst. He thought that he'd seen some of the worst that humanity had to offer: murderers who cared nothing for the pain of their victims, kidnappers who plunged families into turmoil for years, robbers who were willing to kill just in order to get a few quick bucks. But upon seeing the horror show of the cafeteria after a group of freshmen finished lunch, Castiel has to start reevaluating his list of atrocities.

The tardy bell rings, and Castiel sighs as he steps out in the hall. He rolls his eyes at the debris that the students have left behind and grabs his push broom to start clearing it away.

Going undercover at Carver Edlund wasn't Castiel's first choice of assignments, but with several students ending up in the hospital due to drug overdoses, something drastic had to be done. Castiel's job is simple: gather as much intelligence as he can about where the drugs are coming from. If possible, he's to find the dealer and shut the whole production down.

In theory, it's a good assignment. Success here would mean a potential commendation, maybe a promotion if the operation is big enough. But the reality of the situation is much different. Castiel's been masquerading as a member of the maintenance team for a little over a week, and he's no closer to finding the source of the drugs than he was when he started.

His captain had ultimately decided to send him in as a member of the janitorial staff for access reasons: as a janitor, he has keys to every door. Not even lockers are safe from him. There's no place in the school off-limits to him. Unfortunately, it also means that his opportunities for questioning potential suspects are limited: no high school student wants to have long conversations with the janitor. He's reduced to sweeping around gaggles of kids, hoping that they'll just so happen to let something slip.

His plan hasn't worked. So far, he's learned about the latest TikTok challenge, who's rumored to have slept with who, and who on the football team is getting suspended, but drugs? Either these kids are savvier than he gives them credit for, or they don't know anything.

"Oh, sorry, 'scue me... Oh. Hi, Steve."

It takes Castiel just a second too long to respond to the name. Part of that is because he's still not used to answering to his cover name, and part of that is because he's still not sure how to act around Dean Smith.

He braces himself before he turns around, but that still doesn't prepare him for the sight of Dean Smith leaning against the wall. Looking at him is like looking into the sun, if the sun was in a dingy hallway with flickering florescent lights and questionable stains on the floor. Even with those inauspicious surroundings, however, Dean Smith, with his sandy hair, vibrant eyes, freckles, and bright, crooked grin, stands out.

"Hello, Dean." Castiel allows the hint of a smile to cross his face. He'd called Dean 'Mr. Smith' exactly once before Dean had put a stop to it.

"Oh, no," he said, grimacing in distaste, "I get enough of that from the kids. Just Dean, man." Castiel hadn't argued, and the slightly stuffy Mr. Smith became Dean.

"Another beautiful day cleaning up the debris of the world?" Dean gestures towards the small pile of dirt and dust that Castiel has managed to collect.

"It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it," Castiel answers.

No doubt his superiors would be screaming if they could see him right now. Zachariah, his Captain, would sneer, You're there to catch drug dealers, Novak, not to play nice with pretty boy teachers, but Zachariah isn't here right now. Plus, it's not like Castiel's making any headway on the drug dealers, so he might as well indulge his crush with a guy who's miles out of his league.

Dean is the kind of good-looking that gets noticed by modeling companies in the line at the cafe. Castiel has found himself wondering, more than once, what a guy like him is doing substitute teaching. It's obvious that Dean is smart, and he doesn't doubt that he could have a job doing whatever he wanted. Still, Dean's being a substitute teacher works out well for him, so he doesn't complain. Not if it means that he can be just a little closer to him.

Maybe if Castiel wasn't undercover and wearing an unflattering jumpsuit with the name 'Steve' stitched across the front pocket. Maybe if he were dressed in his customary suit and had a badge and gun to flash around. Maybe, maybe, maybe.

"Don't talk to me about dirty jobs," Dean says, his voice entirely too low and insinuating for the circumstances. Heat blooms underneath Castiel's collar.

"Well, I'm not sure what else to talk to you about," he confesses. He resents the broom handle in his hands.

Dean shrugs. His smile is still carefree, but there's something else in his eyes when he says, "What about any books that you've read lately? TV shows that you've watched?" His eyes flash to Castiel's, and his tongue flirts with his lower lip as he asks, "Restaurants that you'd like to go to?"

Castiel's heart stutters. For a second, it sounded like... But that can't be right. Dean can't be inviting him out. Guys like Castiel don't go out with guys like Dean. That's just the way the world works. Maybe if he was Detective Castiel Novak, but now when he's Janitor Steve.

He takes a second too long to answer. By the time that he's managed to figure out that Dean is serious, Dean's expression has shuttered. He flashes a painfully fake smile at Castiel. "Hey, man, don't worry about it. I'll catch you later, okay?"

He's turning to go, and fear grabs at Castiel. He knows that if he lets Dean walk away, then everything will change between them. No more jokes, no more stolen conversations in the hallways. They'll become nothing more than vague, uneasy colleagues, at least until Castiel's assignment ends and he disappears forever from Dean's life.

The indignity of his assignment and the frustration of his ineptitude rises in Castiel, and bursts out of him in a quick call. "Dean!"

Dean turns around. Hope flickers in his eyes before he hides it. "Yeah?" he asks. The carefully blank tone in his voice is like a knife twisting in Castiel's chest.

"I like Italian food," Castiel answers. He offers a hesitant smile towards Dean, hoping against hope that Dean will accept his overture.

After a second, Dean's smile spreads slowly across his face, as bright as the sunrise. "Yeah," he says, nodding slowly, "yeah, I think we could do that."

---

Dean's heart dances in his chest as he walks away from Steve.

He did it. After weeks of ogling and tentatively flirting, he finally asked out the hot janitor.

Steve is a lot more than a pair of pretty blue eyes and a five o'clock shadow that makes Dean's lip yearn for stubble burn, though. (Though Steve does fill out a jumpsuit better than anyone Dean's ever seen. One day, he was lifting a desk onto the dolly so that it could be moved, and Dean thought his eyes were about to pop out of his skull. Between the thick thighs attempting to pop the seams on his pants, and the biceps rippling, Dean hadn't known where to look.) Steve has a wicked sense of humor, an innate sense of kindness, and he's caught every single one of Dean's literary references (the pop culture ones, not so much. Seriously, who's never seen Indiana Jones?). There's more to Steve than meets the eye, and Dean's itching to peel back the dozens of layers.

He ignores the tiny voice in the back of his head (which sounds like an alarming mix of Sam and Bobby) saying Don't get too involved. This is a temporary thing. Dean frowns and tries to tell the voice to shut the fuck up.

He's only here for as long as it takes him to figure out who's bringing drugs into the school. At the first viable lead, he'll be yanked out, and Dean Smith, substitute teacher, will die, to be replaced by Agent Dean Winchester of the DEA.

Because of the environment, there are multiple law enforcement agencies working on this case. There's state police, the DEA, and maybe even a few FBI agents sniffing around. It's naive to believe that there aren't other agents working in the school, but he hasn't come across any yet that he knows of. He's not entirely sure; he lets Bobby deal with all of the inter-agency bullshit. He has his mission and his cover, and Bobby, as his handler, can navigate every other pitfall.

Beyond small talk and leading conversations, Dean hasn't tried to get close with anyone. Every smiling face could conceal an undercover agent or a dealer. With suspicion everywhere, it's best not to succumb to temptation.

Which makes his attraction to Steve all the more intriguing.

Just thinking of the other man sets off a series of fireworks in the pit of Dean's belly.

This is probably a terrible idea, doomed to failure, but Dean is going to enjoy the ride while it lasts.

Whistling, he goes back to the classroom and prepares for his next class.

#destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fic #deancas #deancas fic #supernatural #supernatural fic #dean winchester #castiel #teacher au #detective au #dothwrites #i forgot how much i loved tumblr ficlets

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dreamingsnowflake2013 · 3 years

Photo

Nakyum has his own AU where he allows himself to love Seungho openly to hs heart's content! Proving that it costs him all his willpower not to laugh and hold Seungho each time he sees him.

Nakyum not only acknowledges that he's already given his heart to Seungho (when he leaned in for the kiss he was only following his heart), but also that he feels loved by Seungho, having his love reciprocated is a first time for him, and that Seungho is his last love and no one can compare.

Nakyum is hugging Seungho's duvet, imagining it's his lover, using it as a substitute for him, dry humping his itty bitty hips against it, fantasizing they are between Seungho's muscular thighs, his groins against Seungho's, and he's being enveloped in his strong but gentle embrace. Inhaling Seungho's lingering scent, imagining his powerful body moving under him and his skillful tongue inside him,... just the mere thought and fantasy of it makes Nakyum's tippy toes curl in pleasure.

The reality is such a stark contrast to Nakyum's fantasies and his memories of Seungho's earlier gentle lovemaking. No more loving and playful eyes and smiles, Seungho doesn't allow him to see his face, the whole time.

This is a genuine mental illness caused by Seungho's unresolved trauma. It's like he is in a daze, completely out of control, when he can't think. It's like a fit and seizure during which he doesn't merely hurt others but himself, as well. That's the real tragedy of it. His only thought is to get rid of this pain the only way he can and which worked in the past. Just look how convulsively he holds Nakyum, like he has spasms. It might seem like 10 steps back, but unlike when he hurt Nakyum in the past, this is something outside of Seungho's control.

It's a trance-like state where Seungho can't feel Nakyum's touch or hear his voice, his mind's completely blank, all he comprehends is the need to seek relief and comfort the only way he knows, except for opium, so much that he doesn't allow Nakyum participation, which Seungho always craved, only submission. His father's message always triggers Seungho and sends him spiraling and instinctively seeking comfort in Nakyum, clinging onto him for dear life.

This is a man whose mental illness has never been cured or properly treated. You don't need a PhD in clinical psychiatry to see it.What could have even healed him? Herbal medicine? Shamanism? Functional family and healthy friendships he doesn't have? Or the therapy that doesn't exist?

In the past, it only took a mere touch from Nakyum and Seungho stopped immediately,not now. It's not because he would change his mind out of nowhere, after months of restrain and being tame as a lamb,he CAN'T even change his mind because he isn't in control of it, showing it's not deliberate.

When the veil of madness and pain falls from his eyes, Seungho wakes up from his stupor and, horrified, realizes what he's done and fucked up. How he broke his promise not only to Nakyum but to himself, thinking he broke Nakyum's trust and hurt him and that his lover lies under him silent and unresponsive.

Just like with Seungho, we never see Nakyum's expression during the sex scene, except for one panel. So the biggest cliffhanger is whether Seungho has really hurt him, leading to a lost of trust, or if it's merely a shock at the rough and sudden sex, while he’s enjoying himself hidden from the readers’ view, and Seungho may end up more frightened by it than Nakyum.

This is a perfect example how a great author can create an explixit sex scene without it being gratuitous to tell, explore and develop the story and a relationship. It's ambiguous and the readers have a limited POV since a lot is hidden from them, including the character's expressions. How it will end? Will the fact that Byeonduck showed Nakyum being horny and fingering himself, thus being prepared to some extent when Seungho entered him, and him saying 'wait', instead of 'stop' play a role? Or will everything go down the drain and back to square one again? Also, Nakyum's tears has been proven to be an extremely unreliable hint considering he cries even when he's enjoying the sex. This episode contains hints which support both theories.

What strikes me the most about this particular spoiler picture after episode 81 is not the snot (suggesting it might be Nakyum), but the blush on the cheek. People don't blush when they are scared or disappointed so it's possible episode 82 won't go the way some people think it might.

#painter of the night #yahwacheop #potn #byeonduck

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earnestly-endlessly · 3 years

Note

Cherik angst!

Ooooh the angst!! The cherik fandom has an abundance of angst fics and I could probably make a list of hundred fics to recommend, but these are some of my favourite angsty cherik fics. I should warn you though, some of these require tissues.

Cherik Angst

Everyday Love in Stockholm – tahariel

Summary: Magneto is the ruler of the posthuman world.

His only secret? Charles Xavier, the human he's kept locked in his bedroom ever since his right-hand woman, Mystique, came to him pleading for mercy for her stepbrother, who accepted her mutant form and protected her as a child. The human he started fucking after Mystique was killed in battle, despite the guilt he feels at contaminating even this last promise to the woman who was integral to his life's work and happiness.

Boden’s Mate – kaydeefalls

Summary: "Shaw has information that we need, and we need him alive to extract it," Moira says, and there it is: the job is on the table. Extraction.

XMFC/Inception fusion AU. Erik is an extractor, Alex is his point man. They're assembling a team to go after the most dangerous mind in dreamsharing: Sebastian Shaw. But unless Alex and the team can keep him in check, Erik's desire for vengeance might just rip the whole job apart around them -- and then there's the shade that haunts his dreams...

Ritual Self-Torture – TurtleTotem

Summary: Shaw is King, Charles is his royal consort and Erik is a Knight/Lord. Shaw is sterile but his kingdom can't find out, so he asks Erik to impregnate Charles.

He doesn't know Erik and Charles are in love.

The Winter of Banked Fires – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles Xavier has returned from the dead -- but is lost within his own mind. Rogue has cast aside her own power and doesn't know where she fits in the world any longer. The production of synthetic Cure means mutantkind itself is newly at risk. And Magneto, turned human against his will, is in despair until the day he feels a familiar consciousness tugging at his own

Us – Pangea

Summary: “Charles,” Erik says, and if his voice hits a pleading note then who can really blame him, “Charles, it’s me.”

It takes several longer moments before Charles musters up the strength to answer, breath stuttering horribly as he tries to breathe. He’s shaking, entire body trembling.

“Erik,” Charles says, his voice cracking, “Erik, I want to die.”

Enigma – Yahtzee

Summary: Erik dies, or finds a reversey-time mutant, or a magical time travelling device, and wakes up in the past. This time, though, it's before he ever met Charles - in fact, it's before his mother died.

He can save his mother that one time (thanks to his mastery over powers carrying back), but what does Erik do after that? Does he stick around, or escape and run to find Charles again (and hope everything doesn't go wrong)?

By Faint Indirections – kianspo

Summary: Erik is in his ~50s, and lonely and bitter. He survived the Holocaust and was only ~14 when the war ended; and even ~40 years later, living in a country that helped to end WW2 and the Third Reich, homosexuality is still a taboo topic. Then one day, he stumbles over Charles, who is young(early 20s) and bright and smart and cheeky and full of energy and beautiful. And moving in the same street where Erik lives.

Lonesome on the Shelf – ikeracity

Summary: After three years of marriage, Charles has to admit that his relationship with Erik has significantly cooled off. These days, they're barely ever home at the same time and it seems like every conversation they have turns into an argument. Charles misses the way they used to be, misses the spontaneous dinner parties and the surprise morning sex and the wake up calls in the early mornings to catch the sunrise. But it's going to take two of them to fix this marriage, and some days, it seems as if all Erik wants is to be rid of him.

A fic about rekindling marriage.

When the Spell Breaks – kianspo

Summary: Erik, a high-profile lawyer with a successful career, meets a 21-year-old grad student in a bar, and within a few short months marries him. He and Charles are blissfully happy, until Erik's boss runs a background check on Charles and discovers he's been cheating on Erik. Charles denies everything, as there was no affair, but Erik doesn't believe him and throws him out. As Charles tries to figure out how to survive and stay at school that he can no longer afford and makes a lot of bad if not plain dangerous choices, Erik has to fight his own battle of discovering the truth and winning Charles back.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary:(Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

The Attempt – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles knows everything about Erik, knows how obsessive and self-destructive he is, how Erik would do anything, give anything, in his quest for vengeance against Shaw. But he also knows that Erik loves him in ways that aren't exactly platonic.

I'd like to see a completely straight!Charles, out of pure love and care of Erik, initiate a romantic relationship with him. It can be because he wishes to give Erik something positive in his life or because he thinks it might help change Erik's mind about Shaw, the reason is up to author. Also, while Charles finds intimacy with Erik strange and awkward, he does enjoy the new, non-romantic layers that have developed in their relationship.

Apple Seeds – pprfaith

Summary: Charles, Erik, apple seeds and Shakespearean love affairs.

Ashes, Ashes – winterhill

Summary: Post-apocalyptic AU — When the bombs fall, and mutually assured destruction occurs, it turns out that Shaw was right and radiation does enhance mutant powers. Snapshots of the XMFC main ensemble in the time after the bombs: Erik decides to stay, Moira thinks she might be the only human left, Raven is having trouble sleeping, and Charles is losing his mind.

Warnings: nuclear holocaust: death (death in general, not a specific character), cancer, burns, medical procedure, mutant powers gone awry

Five Bullet Points – Sperare

Summary: It was supposed to be Erik locked away in a prison one hundred stories below the ground.

Charles was never supposed to be there with him.

Tequila on a spaceship – faerie_ground

Summary: In 2014, Charles Xavier gets brutally murdered and Erik Lehnsherr spends the rest of his life mourning his death.

In 3014, Captain Lehnsherr and CMO Dr Xavier are colleagues, best friends and maybe a little more besides that aboard the Magneto I.

The Tower and the Hurricane – dreamlittleyo

Summary: Post-movie AU.) Five years after Shaw's death, Erik's predictions prove painfully accurate. Violence rages on both sides of the human/mutant conflict. In a world ravaged by war, it doesn't really matter who's more at fault. Charles struggles to teach his students a better way, but what choices will he make when peace really isn't an option?

Simple and Uncomplicated – Pookaseraph

Summary: Erik and Charles had been fuck buddies for some, but when Charles is in an accident he figured their relationship would be over. Erik's visit to his bedside in the hospital changes his assumptions even as he has trouble believing Erik is sincere.

Lazarus – Clocks

Summary: Erik is 19 when he says ‘I love you’ for the first time.

It would take five long years before Charles says it back.

Broken Eternity – CractasticDispatches

Sumnmary: It starts with being alone. It shouldn’t, perhaps, but it does because, of course, alone is what no one ever wishes to be.

Shout it Out Loud – dreamlittleyo

Summary: (Movie-Concurrent AU.) When Charles forges a telepathic link between himself and Erik, the two men find themselves bound together by more than just destiny. With the world on the brink of war, Charles and Erik struggle to cope with a psychic connection that may well be permanent.

Call Me By His Name – sinuous_curve

Summary: Charles wakes from the absence of noise.

There is an empty space in his room, beside his bed. Not quiet as in an abandoned room, but utterly, featurelessly blank. Like a box made of unblemished, impenetrable metal and Charles knows before he opens his eyes.

The Longest Word – septicwheelbarrow

Summary: "I'm Charles Xavier," he says, smiling from ear to ear. Then he gestures to his wheelchair. "Terminal spinal osteoblastoma, reaper due to collect in a year."

After some time, the man gestures at himself with a sardonic smile. "Same, one year. Lung." And then, reluctant, as if trying to keep his name to himself, "Erik."

I reject your reality and substitute my own. Doesn't really work that way, both ways.

Copy – chantefable

Summary: Charles wakes up without his memory. His sole caretaker, Erik, claims to be his husband, and tells him he's recovering from a car accident on their honeymoon.

Slowly falling for Erik again, Charles begins to regain his memories. He starts to notice strange things about his body, Erik, and their secluded mansion.

Myosotis – SomeCoolName

Summary: When Charles got back from Cuba, he lost the two things which made him stand: his legs and the love of his life, Erik Lehnsherr. Charles can get used to the wheelchair but he won't ever be able to get pass the loss of Erik.

"I wish I never met him" is something Charles says one night, maybe a bit drunk, absolutely wrecked for sure. It's a bit silly but Charles figures out his only solution is to use his own powers to erase Erik from his mind, progressively.

Except one day Erik comes back to the Xavier mansion to win him back. And even if Charles doesn't want to stop forgetting about him, Erik will do anything he can to convince him otherwise.

Das Haus am See – sareyen

Summary: The Lake House AU:

Erik is an estate planning lawyer who takes some time off to get away from the big city after his marriage fell apart. He lives in a picturesque lake house by Chautauqua Lake for almost two years, before moving back to New York City. This is in 2019.

Charles is a famous but very private author stuck in a creative rut, and moves to his lakeside estate for a short while to try and find a reason to write again. This is in 2017.

By magic or fate, Charles and Erik discover that the letter box at the lake house has the ability to send letters through time, between Charles in 2017 and Erik in 2019. Through letters that transcend the barriers of time, Charles and Erik fall in love. Charles vows to find Erik two years in his future, and Erik promises to wait for him. Two years - just two, meagre years.

But, fate is fickle, and time waits for no one.

Appropriate Boundaries – Yahtzee

Summary: Charles has been having serious problems with back cramps in the year and a half since he's been in a wheelchair. His doctor prescribes massage therapy. But when Charles meets his masseur, Erik, in some ways they begin to heal each other. So how do you cross the boundaries between professional touch -- and the personal?

Unbound – Cesare, helens78

Summary: Thousands of miles apart, Erik Lehnsherr and Charles Xavier form a soulbond. But when that bond is severed five years later, they have to spend the next ten years trying to rebuild their lives alone.

Do You Love Me – cgf_kat

Summary: Charles and Erik have been married for 25 years, thrown together by a mandatory post-apocalyptic pairing system attempting to increase and strengthen the population. They have seven children. They have never spoken of love, but change is on the horizon.

A Quiet Riot – cloudstroke (aQuired)

Summary: Erik can't stand the fact that his father has brought home a boy less than half his age.

But mostly because he's madly in love with Charles Xavier himself.

#cherik #cherik fic recs #fic recs #angst #asks #earnestly answers

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holylulusworld · 3 years

Text

Her substitute (1) - Need you

Title: Her substitute (1)

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms.

Square Filled: Cordell Walker

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Stella Walker

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, grief, unrequited love, smut, protected sex, scared of feelings, guilt, sneaking around, secret affair

A/N: This is partially an AU. Cordell didn’t go undercover. Emily and the reader’s boyfriend died together on their way to Y/N’s birthday party. And the reader is Cordell’s partner for the sake of my story. His partner from the show will have an appearance either way.

Word Count: 1,7 k

Created for: @walker-bingo

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Once upon a time life was good to you, great even.

Life was all you ever dreamed of. Until. One day. Your world exploded.

One day your best friend, the woman you considered family, and your boyfriend got killed after you tried to arrest an unforgiving man. You and your partner lost the people you love on the same day.

While you tried to pick up the pieces and put your life back together, Cordell preferred to despair, and to use you as an outlet for his pain, grief, and frustration.

He can be gentle and cruel within a heartbeat.

Emily was the love of his life but Jason was just someone you spend your days with to fill your empty life. Sometimes he calls you cold or heartless only as you gave Jason’s belongings to the Salvation Army after one year of grieving.

Cordell can never know the reason for your fast recovery…he can never know…

“I need you—“ it always starts with these three words, followed by a desperate look and his hands. God his large hands reach out for you to touch, caress and grope. “Baby Girl.”

“We talked about this, Cordell,” you weakly press your hands against his chest, shaking your head ever so slightly. “I can’t do this. We are partners and she was my best friend.”

“Didn’t stop you from fucking her widower not six months after she got killed,” here we go. The sweet and desperate Cordell is gone, replaced by a blank nerve wanting to hurt and drag you down. “Only as you got over Jason like he meant nothing to you doesn’t mean I can just stop grieving.”

“Then why do you come here to fuck me?” he takes off his cowboy hat, nervously playing with it. “Cordell, we shouldn’t do this. It’s no good for you or me. What if your kids find out?”

“All I can think about is to have you underneath me, pinned to the mattress and my cock so deep inside it hurts,” he drops his hat, steps over it to grasp for you. “I want you, baby girl.”

“Shit—” pinned to the wall seconds later you find yourself falling for your best friend’s widower all over again. It’s not a secret you were in love with Cordell before Emily even met him. He just never showed interest in asking you out and when Emily came into the picture, you backed off like the good friend you were.

“Say you need me,” he buries his face in your neck, inhales your scent deeply. “Baby girl, tell me that you need me and that you want to feel me.”

“Cordell, fuck baby,” you whimper his name, ignore the guilt eating your soul up once again. All you can focus on are his hands grip your waist to hoist you up, holding you midair until you sling your legs around his waistline hands cradling his face to kiss him deeply. “I need you.” It’s not a lie. You always needed him; he just didn’t know it.

“I need you too,” he kisses you fiercely, almost desperate to forget all the pain and his empty bed at home when he tugs at your clothes or moans your name. “Give in, baby girl.”

You are a mess, both of you. While you let Cordell strip you bare, not just your body but your soul and heart, he pants, moans, and whines on top of you.

It doesn’t take long for him to slide into you and pin your hands above your head to make sure you know this isn’t love-making.

Two sides of the very same coin hit you where it hurts the most. Every. Single. Time. He doesn’t take his time to be gentle and loving. Its raw, unadulterated lust driving him into you.

“Fuck, baby girl,” he watches your lips part and your eyes dilate when he starts to move his hips. “Look at me.” It’s a command you follow immediately. He holds your wrists pinned to the mattress to make sure you can't touch him gently. “Good girl, always so good for me.”

“Cordell, you need to—” his lips kiss your protest away, force moans and tiny whimpers out of you. “Please.”

“Just tell me you need me as much as I need you, Y/N,” he finally says your name, not baby girl, and you nod, ashamed you let the widower of your best friend fuck you like a whore on cheap sheets.

“I need you,” you choke the words out, looking away, not wanting to hold his gaze when the familiar burn is back, the one pushing you violently over the edge only to leave you hollow in the end.

“Look at you, so responsive,” his hands finally let go of your wrists to roughly cup your breasts. His thumbs toy with your nipples leave them hard and throbbing. “Those tits, so pretty,” he dives in, suckles one nipple into his hot mouth to push you closer to the edge.

He moves slow, deliberate, plays your body like an instrument. You are in trance, only feel his body press yours to the mattress, mind blank once again.

Another deep thrust makes you moan his name loudly. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you grasp for his shoulders to bring Cordell closer to your heated body to hold him, even if it’s only for this fleeting moment. “Cordell.”

“So tight and warm for me,” his hands grip your thighs to spread you wider. He loves to watch his huge cock disappear in your pussy, the one only he owns. “You take me so well and deep, baby girl.”

You cry out in pleasure, back arching off the bed when his cock hits that spot taking your breath away. His large hands cup your ass, squeeze it tightly.

Cordell holds himself inside your body, stops moving to feel you clench tightly around his thick length. Just staring down at you.

“Cord, what’s wrong?” you whimper breathlessly.

“Just wanted to feel you cum before I fill this cunt up,” his pace becomes brutal after your orgasm.

He moans, eyes glued to your face as he tries to pretend you are only a warm body he can use, a toy to fulfill a primal need, not the woman he could fall for…

“Oh—” you watch him move on top of you, memorize his features, the way his hair is glued to his sweaty forehead, and those obscene veins in his arms, popping out. “I want you to cum, let me feel it, Cordell. Fuck me.”

“Fuck, you—shit Y/N,” he groans, hips jerking violently before he allows himself to let go.

When it’s over he rolls off you to dispose of the condom, already looking for his clothes on the floor.

You have a routine. He comes to your apartment, convinces you to let him fuck you, and leaves you alone and cold moments after your high.

Tonight, you wrap yourself into a sheet and turn around to not watch Cordell hastily put his clothes back on. You would give the world for him to stay the night, but you know he will leave soon.

As usual, you take deep breaths to hide the tears forming in your eyes. “Thank you,” he says, and you feel like a fool all over again.

“I got a job offer in New York,” you casually say. “Do you remember? I always wanted to be with the FBI. Three years ago, they didn’t have a position for me, but last week, I got a call.”

“Oh—” is all you get. You can hear the ruffling of clothing, and then the door opens. “You should take their offer. Being my partner is a dead end. A girl like you shouldn’t stay a Texas Ranger,” the coldness in his voice breaks your heart.

“Yeah, maybe I should,” you clear your throat while you try not to cry. “I will call them on Monday. Have a great—” the door closes before you can say another word. “Figures…”

“FBI?” Stella blanches. “You want to go to New York to work with the FBI, Y/N?” she cries. “You can’t leave me too. Why is everyone leaving me?”

“Stella bear, nothing is decided yet,” you sit next to her on the steps, patting her thigh. “They called me two weeks ago, and I just thought I should at least fly to New York to talk to them. Don’t you think?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “What did dad say? You are his partner, Y/N. He needs you,” you sling one arm around Stella’s shoulders, hiding she just added another crack to your fragile heart. “We need you. You are family to us. Mom loved you.”

“I loved your mom too, Stella bear,” giggling at the awful nickname Stella leans her head against your shoulder, and you feel the guilt overwhelm you once again. If only the girl knew you are banging her father. “She was my best friend and your dad is my friend too.”

“Y/N?” Cordell walks toward his house with long steps. “Is there an emergency? Do you need my help? It’s Sunday.”

“Your mom invited me for dinner, and I met Stella in town and drove her home. If you don’t want me here, I understand,” you try to keep the sadness out of your voice.

“Grandma wants a family dinner, dad,” Stella grumbles. “If I must spend time with my lame brother and you, I want Y/N to join us. At least she’s cool.”

“Cool?” Cordell smirks, glancing down at you. “I remember there was a time when she had braces and was a shy little mouse.”

“Y/N shy? I don’t believe a single word, dad,” she nudges your side. “Right, Y/N. You never were shy.”

“I hate to admit it, but I was a little shy. Your mom helped me break out of my shell and become the woman I am today. I miss her,” you sniff, watching Cordell sit next to his daughter.

“Emily, she always talked about you. How you helped her get better grades,” Cordell says. “She loved you too, Y/N.”

When you sit at his table half an hour later, watching Cordell with his family you decide your last encounter was the last time. You won’t risk messing his family up even more...

“We can’t do this again, Cordell,” you sigh when he leans in your doorframe, that look in his eyes again. “I told you after the dinner with your family we should stay only friends.”

“Y/N, we are friends but—” he cups your cheek with one hand, thumb swiping over your lips, “I need you, baby girl…”

>> Part 2

Walker Tags

@mimzy1994, @rach-12, @jaredpadaleckisbride

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

All works Tags

@yolobloggers

@shikshinkwon

@miraclesoflove

@mogaruke

@shatteredabby

@soryuwifeyxx

@letsdisneythings

@i-love-superhero

@psychicforest

@thevelvetseries

@anaelsbrunette

@sabascio

@goodgodimaweirdperson

@that-place-called-middle-earth

@trumpettay

@zxph-yr

@belovedcherry

@matsumama

@emoryhemsworth

@buckybarnesplumwhore

@coldmuffinbanditshoe

@princesssterek

@xoxabs88xox

@wandering-spiritash

@riathearora

@the-loml-got-nailed

@greeneyedblondie44

#Her substitute (1) - Need you #cordell walker #cordell x reader #walkerbingo #cordell walker x reader #cordell walker fanfiction #cordell walker x fem!reader #smut #grief #loss of a loved one

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smallhorizons · 2 years

Note

SUPER LATE, but if there's any of these you haven't done for the WIP game i would love to know more 👀 "to eat well - sequel" || "TMA S1 - Token Straight" || "MAG what if dating??" || "TMA Self Indulgent Time Travel AU"

Hello hello! Thanks for sending me WIPs, and sorry for the delay!

I've answered TMA Self Indulgent Time Travel AU here and MAG what if dating?? here, so I'll focus on the other two.

to eat well - sequel

As the imaginative title suggests, this fic is a sequel to to eat well, in which Jon and Martin's developing relationship over the course of S1-4 is explored through food and the preparation thereof. When I outlined to eat well, my intention was to end the fic with a final scene of Jon and Martin cooking one of the recipes Jon prepared for Martin together in the safehouse. However, this fic was for an exchange, and I was working on the fic at the absolute last minute, and there ended up being a natural stopping point before they could cook together.

After posting to eat well, I almost immediately outlined a sequel based on my first experience making kibbeh, in which I had to keep substituting ingredients since the store near my parents didn't have several of the more traditional ingredients the recipe I had called for. Cue me texting my friend whose family recipe it was frantically, asking what substitutions would be okay. I'd really like to return to the fic, because, well. It's fun, and Syrian Jon holds a special place in my heart.

Here's the start of the fic:

“Well,” Martin says, already beginning to unpack the groceries before Jon even manages to fully detangle himself from the blankes, “they didn’t have lamb, so I got beef instead.”

“That’s fine,” Jon says, eyes tracking the array of spices Martin is lining up on the counter. “Many recipes call for either.”

“And, um, they didn’t have harissa, but I asked one of the grocers and she looked it up, and apparently sriracha is an okay substitute, and you can add some of the extra spices in yourself? So, I got that, too, and the spices that I could find.”

“Well, that’s--that’s not ideal, but we’ll manage,” Jon says. He frowns at the sriracha that Martin clunks onto the counter.

“And, well, they didn’t have bulghur wheat, and I couldn’t find the grocer again to ask, so I got, um, well. Couscous and quinoa? Maybe one of those will work?”

Jon blinks at the duo of bags, feeling vaguely unsettled. “Ah,” he says. “That’s. Hm. I’m--I’m honestly not sure if we’re making kibbeh at this point.”

More below the cut!

TMA S1 - Token Straight

This fic was born out of conversations with @dathen in which we both were peeved by how common it was in fic for the Archives crowd to assume Jon was straight, and how it seemed like it was becoming a trope for them to (affectionately?) bully him into coming out to them. The fic was gonna address how unfair it was to make assumptions about a person's sexuality to them in a way that essentially forced them to come out, the ace (and aro) fears of not being "queer enough", and complicated conversations about how people choose or choose not to be "out".

I have the beginning written and the emotional beats of the rest of the fic outlined, but I sort of lost steam after my initial annoyance faded XD

Here's an excerpt:

“Hey, boss!” Tim said, leaning back in his chair and grinning at a sour-faced Jon.

Jon scowled at him. “Tim. What are you wasting time on now?”

“Oh, we were just talking about how you’re the token straight in the office,” Tim said easily. Martin sputtered, feeling his face go hot.

“Tim, why would you say that?” Martin hissed as, exasperated, Sasha said, “Really, Tim?”

Tim shrugged. “Well, it’s the truth, isn’t it? Tell me, Jon, how’s it feel to be the only straight dude in a department full of queers?”

“I’m sorry,” Jon said after a brief pause, “what?”

“You know.” Tim waved his hand dismissively. “I’m bi. Sasha’s bi. Martin is gay as the day as long. None of us is particularly subtle about it. And you’re ...” He gestured. “You know. The only one who’s straight. Our token straight representation.”

“I know what a token straight is,” Jon said, clearly exasperated. “I’m just curious to know what on earth gave you the impression that I’m heterosexual.”

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #osiris writes #shinyopals #answered

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