#cannot put it all into words what it means to me

[cryptfile]

Ꮺ˖˚₊ leeches, [ logan howlett x vampire!reader au ]

summary — logan howlett lacks of patience (and he can also be a nice little blood-bag while losing his temper). 8k+

warnings — 18+ mdni, fem!reader implied, blood kink (keep in mind you’re a vampire! not twilight but more of a true blood kind?) downright filth im sorry, dead dove do not eat, smoker!reader, endless tension, manhandling, praise kink, kind of porn without plot (LIES CAUSE IT HAS ONE THO??) my boy's into paaaaaain can't help it it's canon, age-gap at first (reader is her 20's but again, vampire), public sex (it just happened), daily reminder to wrap it before you tap it, p in v, choking, filthy mouth, pet names.

side notes — thought this could take place after days of the future past? au cause why nottttt ,,currently on ovulation season so bare with me,,, been a little mia cause i’m surviving aka going through the worst semester of my life at uni? internships are breaking my ass currently so well, here i am just existing, also, english’s not my first language and everyday i’m grateful for it, so any mistakes i’m not sorry in advance lol i’m also too lazy to correct once published,, feel free to send more logan requests since i've basically been a slut for him for a while now (i'm rotting in hell).

He could swear the mansion got ten degrees hotter when you came in.

It’s inevitable. It’s this thing you carry, the way you move — Graceful, elegant, almost compelling as the air fills the room. It’s not public knowledge that you’re not a mutant itself, yet you’re presented like one, like you have healing factors and age painfully slow, but human after all, a subtle lie, one that can harm no one.

It’s safe to say you catch his attention in the most annoying way: How couldn’t you? All you do is this weird seduction he’s appealed to, whether you’re conscious or not it’s just captivating, an invisible force that even when you ignore it is there, there waiting for the perfect moment to flood every time you happen to be in the same room.

Captivating. That’s the word.

The room becomes smaller after, the air grows thicker, and it’s almost like a ticking bomb, the way you wouldn’t even look at his face while he’s noticeable pinning after Jean Grey, the mystery that surrounds you and he cannot seem to resolve no matter how much time he puts into it.

It’s like he's the plague. You don’t really try to exchange more than just a few words, only when it's needed and you cannot avoid him any longer, and he didn’t say anything at first, keeping his distance too cause he don’t see how you’d become friends, cause after all, what he could have in common with a girl that doesn't surpass the twenty years?

But soon he's upset about it, even when he doesn't really say anything out loud, it's a spike he cannot reach under his skin. You seem to become friends with anyone but him, mutant kids in your history lessons, the rest of the team, even the damn mailman when he delivered a package — You'd say hello like it's a long time lover or so, greeting people like they mean the world to you.

He has students now that are asking for a transfer from his class to yours cause it seems you're fun to be around, more like he is, and he fucking hates it.

It's fair to say it's been getting into his mind lately. That thing you do with your hair, twisting it in your index finger on a lock as you speak, the subtle red glow in your eyes he always catches by mistake, not enough fast to stop looking at you, pretending he didn't even see in your direction at first.

Tension. Logan just happens to hate tension.

In fact. He's almost sure your problem is personal, that you might hate him enough to act like he didn't exist at all, enough to avoid him like he was not there.

That's why it's just so weird.

When he finds himself walking down the hallway to the kitchen and he smells this cherry-scented aroma that settles under his nostrils, he changes the direction he's walking to, to instead, follow the path to the person that was silently smoking outside. Hiding. Maybe, a student he'll have to scold like the old man he was turning into.

No smoking in the mansion!

However, as the night is just settling, he doesn't recognize a little mutant, but instead happens to recognize you in the middle of the gardens of the mansion, close to the maze; escaping the comfort of the inside to enjoy a self-rolled cherry tobacco he has smelled before in the air. He's a victim mostly, cause his legs move on it's own as his mouth go dry, approaching you in silence.

"What do you want?" you ask when he's halfway there. And your tone is just cold as ever, not an ounce of feeling as he contemplates your side profile, the way the tobacco sticks out of your parted lips, seated on a bench hidden between bushes and trees — "Is Scott bitching about the smell going into the mansion already?"

No. He's not. But he doesn't have enough reasons to explain exactly why he's outside if you asked, why, all of sudden, he followed the scent of cherry knowing it was you the only one who carried a colts package in the pocket of every single jacket you wore, constantly asking Storm if she could hold on to the bag of filters for you while you rolled in the worst moments.

It's distracting, to say the least.

"Yeah," he quickly says, lying cause in reality he hasn't seen the guy in the whole day, yet it sounds like something he would say. "Do you happen to have another one of those to share?"

You don't talk much, hand reaching his as you offered him from your tobacco without a single word, the same that was placed between your lips and now was on his in what seemed to be something more intimate than what he'd like to admit, the cherry taste filling his lungs as they weirdly enough, shared a cig.

"Aren't you too young to be smoking?"

You laugh, and the sound sends a shiver down his spine cause he has never heard a sound quite like it, nothing that resembles that throaty, raspy sound that came out of your lips in amusement thanks to his words. He, out of all people, has never seen you like that — "And how old you think I am?"

He seems to think about it for a second, carefully picking his next words. Logan knows that women and their age are a tricky thing, you cannot say a number that's too compromising, nor act stupid and say something that's clearly not correct — "Not a day over twenty-two."

The answer pleases you, and he just knows he's wrong, but you don't seem bothered by it, instead, you nod pretending he's right, like he just got the answer right away.

He can see why everyone's switching classes now. Cheeky bastards.

"Twenty-two is not young at all, but i'm twenty-seven though," you say, and he scoffs at the statement, seeking for any change in your heartbeat, any sign of a lie. The strange thing happens when he cannot pick any heart at all, any sign of pulse.

"You are pretty young still," he says, against his age, you’re just starting out living—. "You don't look like you are twenty-seven at all."

"Cause I age slower than the rest," it's a practiced lie. One you know from repeating the same explanation over and over again, the priced answer of why you haven't changed a single bit in the past few years and made you a mutant — "I never looked my age."

Such a fucking liar. He doesn't need any heartbeats to confirm it cause deep down you are a terrible actress, he can see it so clear, how you're calculating every answer, thinking about the correct thing to say, the normal thing to say.

"Is that your thing?" he asks, playing pretend almost as bad as you do. Tilting his head to the side as he questions you — "Age slowly?"

"I have healing powers," you explain as he tossed you the joint once again. "My saliva kinds of help healing wounds. It's pretty boring."

"Boring" Logan repeats. The word itself sounds so damn fun in your lips it's contradicting. "That doesn’t sound really boring."

There's a moment of silence after that. Where you smoke in silence taking in the taste of the cherry, and he is having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that your lips also touched the side of the cigar he was smoking before, the plain lies you've been repeating over and over the last ten minutes.

It's almost infuriating. Makes his blood boil without question, he surely endures your treatment of silence, but being lied to? That's a whole different level.

“How old are you, kid?”

Your brows furrow in response, a clueless face. You are pulling out this show once again Logan don’t buy for a damn second. Something about the scrunch in your nose, the way you dismissed your own powers as if they weren’t enough. He knows it’s all a lie. He knows it even when he doesn’t really know you at all, when it’s the first time you’re truly speaking to him after your arrival to the mansion almost a year ago.

“How old you really are?”

You laugh at the question once again, and he just knows it, knows it when he sees you barely illuminated by the dim light of the moon, the act you always keep up, a web of tangled lies you have to be into— “Told you i'm twenty-seven already, didn't you hear?”

“Is it now?” he asks, amused by the sass, exhaling the smoke of the low-quality tobacco he doesn't understand why you're so invested in when passed it to him—. “Cause you don’t seem very convinced, it really sounds like bullshit to me.”

You're almost offended. By the look you give it's like the worst mistake he could ever make, yet you remain silent, not giving the satisfaction of an honest answer yet. Testing his patience like he did have one to begin with.

"Is that why I can’t hear your heartbeats, darlin'? Cause you age so slowly?”

The nickname scratches a part of your brain, and you hate him for it. The word rolls out of his tongue with an accent, smoking your cherry tobacco cause you happen to be nice.

“You can’t?” you’re good at faking it suddenly, at least, that's what he thinks when your brows furrow in alleged curiosity, stiffening your back, uncomfortable. “How weird.”

“Damn right it is” that's when you realize he knows you are lying. Even when you don’t talk much, even when you act all stiff and bothered when he’s close, he knows that you are fully invested in lying. In whatever twisted little lie you've planned, like it was your real life and not something you made up. “Are you going to tell me truth, then or do I have to find out? Does the professor know that you're lying?”

The smoke lingers in the air.

“How old are you?” he asks once again, demanding an honest answer this time — "Thirty? Thirty-five?"

You find his questions annoying, mostly cause he won't stop until he gets an answer, one that pleases him enough to leave you alone, the other part cause you happen to like the playful banter you two keep going, dangerously much. You don't hate attention it's clear, what you do hate it's the way he seemed to see pass the lie, to demand more even when he has no right to.

He enjoys being the one who's right though, Logan cannot help it. He's pleased to catch that look on your face who says everything but nothing at once, to have you where he wanted, almost at the edge of admitting a truth.

Is it payback because you've been stealing all of the little mutants from his class? He's jealous cause kids like being around you? It does not make much sense, but he is fully invested. Questioning all.

Even when you're outside, it seems like the air grows thicker. And Logan finds himself seeking for your breathing, cause he don't know nothing, nothing about you more than the fact you don't seem to have a heartbeat, or pulse and now, breathing.

“If you really are that eager to know, i'm a hundred and twenty-seven” the words float in the air for a while, and he's sure you're just messing with him, cause there's no way a pretty little face like yours had endured a century. “I've been alive for quite a while.”

He doesn't fully believe it first. Of course he doesn't. Logan's sure you're messing with him also, distracting him about your real age.

“And I supposed this do come from you slow aging powers” He tries to give you a point there, but it's difficult to be serious when you're just playing with him—. "How so?"

To be honest, you do have a little temper yourself, you've learned to stand up for yourself most of the time, so when you happen to notice he's teasing you, that he doesn't really believe you, you adopt this attitude of defense he notices as you shift over the wood you're seated in.

"No, it doesn't" you steal the joint from his hands to have a smoke yourself. "You really aren't as smart as I thought you were, huh?"

Do you happen to have a dead wish? His muscles tense beneath his shirt, and in contrast of his problem, you can hear it all. All the sounds his body makes when he's all bothered just by the beat of his heart, that annoying sound his bones make each time he moves.

"What are you?"

"That's it," the praising goes directly into his chest, the tone you use to tell him he's going in the right direction it feels just so right he forgets why he got mad in the first place—. "That's what you should be asking right there."

It's almost a shame having to admit he would also switch classes. That he would also go through all the paperwork himself without a second thought and that right there, is pathetic, but you're smiling at him as if you're encouraging the man to try harder, to find the answer himself, and fuck — He's old, too old, he's tired, he's in a bad mood as fucking usual, and he happens to dig a drink in the quiet of his own room, but he's pulled by something as equal as devastating as the gravity force, shoot towards you in pure need to have some answers even if he has to make you spit them.

"I find it strange, cause when you don't have a heartbeat, you aren't usually alive" Deep down he's fascinated, hazel eyes glues on your face trying to understand. He feels like he has it in the tip of his tongue waiting to leave his mouth as a catastrophic answer, but he doesn't find the right words.

"That's cause i'm not," you state it like it's something obvious. And just as he knows you're lying, this time, he knows you're telling the truth, blowing the smoke in his direction just to bother him — "Why do you think i'm teaching history after all huh?"

He hasn't seen it all, it seems.

Yeah.

He's losing it after that night.

It’s known that Logan has sleeping problems, but that night specifically he thinks about something else rather than what usually torments him, a truth he also has to keep a secret now that he's learned more about it.

See, Logan doesn't expect you to be really dead. Much less to hear what you are and have been hiding this whole time from the rest of the people in the mansion — He also learns that you feed on blood, that vampires are a common thing in the world and that he shouldn't, at least, be that surprised when he's a mutant in a world full of humans himself.

You are a folklore myth on small villages, stories in Rumania and horror character in films, so you don't blame him when as you spoke, he finally understands why you're so damn attractive, so damn seductive as you explained more about your way of living, some memories you've been keeping to yourself since being a vampire was so damn solitary, memories he listens to cause he knows what it's like, to be misunderstood, to be eternal, to be alone as well.

It makes the two of you grow closer by the next weeks. You now talked during broad daylight about random shit at first, about the war sometimes, about your condition as he refers to when people is around, eaves-dropping on what you two are talking so invested in. Friends.

Simple as that.

And it's safe to admit also that in the course of the next days, Logan Howlett is a fucking mess, and he knows it, but he won't do anything about it.

He won't flirt cause he knows you're a hell of a woman, in every good sense of the word, that he's way too damaged for a vampire even, for all kinds of people out there, and as much as he'd like to say anything, he values your attention, how you switched the attitude of acting like he didn't exist to be a friend, one that you came to share secrets with a cherry aroma glued in their skin.

It gets him insane, to the point he's no longer spending much time with Jean and people start to pick up on it as if he didn't have enough headaches already. He doesn't care. Shit you are not bothered by what people say, and to be honest, he cannot seem to care either.

At first, he's reluctant of keep on talking to you as normal as it is. He's not really invested in religious themes, but he sure admits you're a sin by all meanings, a religious experience of some kind if anyone asked him — He agrees with what he has heard also in the hallways. Innocent conversations of teens and their platonic crush on their teachers. You are pretty hot.

He's so interested in knowing more about you, about the nights you spend in Rumania, when you leave to Canada, the different lives you've lived across the years. He finds himself looking forward to share his stories too, weird enough, cause he's over two centuries himself and he just craves to talk about it with someone who also gets him in a deeper level, that weariness that fills your body when you age so long.

You got the best of immortality, and instead of feeling envious, Logan finds himself attracted to you so much like he's never been in his whole existence. Not at the point it happened with you at least.

By the end of the first month he knows your little treats. You use a lot of sunscreen, and avoid activities outside as much as you possibly can with those classic, tiny black sunglasses that hided you from the rays of the sun, always in the shadow so unapproachable; how you'd usually dismiss food offerings from anyone who's kind enough to even offer you something, and when you haven't fed well during the course of the week, you'd become the most maddening woman he'd ever met.

Maddening.

"What wrong with you, Leech?" Leech. You've been in such a bad mood lately that when he's seating next to you in another random smoking session outside, your fingers twitch, clearly pissed at the nickname after saying multiple times you don't like it.

"I'm not in the mood for plays now."

He can tell from before. When you talked to him that very morning and stared at the collar of his flannel for what it seemed a good, nice minute, he realizes the same moment that you were staring at that pulse point in his neck, where the flesh blood was pumping in his blood flow: You're hungry, as any living creature would be and at your own manner, in constant control as you fight the sense of hunger.

So instead, the mutant ask, like he always does when he’s curious about something that involves you:

"When did you last feed?"

"A couple of weeks ago."

That would explain it. You don't talk much about your meal plan, he knows the professor is in charge of all of that. You've told him about blood bags and hospitals, but he's not really aware of how constant you need to eat, how the blood supplies most of your energy, makes you stronger, gives you vitality, so Logan at first, don't really know what its like to not drink any blood in the course of two weeks.

"What happened with the blood bags from the Hospital?"

The mention of blood out loud seems to triggers you. A groan escaping your lips as you can swear you feel the taste in your mouth — "Don't know. Haven't seen a single one this week, Charles said something about next week, problems in the bank I guess."

You're clearly worked up. It's a new look he hasn't registered before, your hair is tangled in a less-composed look, and there's a slight shake in your hands as if you're going through withdrawal, deprived for what you needed the most.

"And animals?" he questions, trying to find a solution. “Can’t you eat a cat or something?”

"Like shit i'm going to feed from a fucking animal," you're almost immediately grossed out, scrunching your nose at the idea. "I can barely handle being so close to a damn human but animals? I'd rather fucking die this time for real, no waking up."

"That bad huh?" the mutant asks, taking a sip from the beer he sneaked outside, chucking lightly afterwards. "So you're a leech with elegant taste, huh? Of course you are."

"Clean blood is rare," you explain, rolling your eyes. It's inevitable. He knows you hate the nickname so much that he insists to keep on calling you that way just to get a reaction—. "Humans nowadays taste like dirt. They consume drugs among other substances, pills, food supplements, even damn vitamins, don’t get me started about blood diseases cause it gets me in a bad temper. Every single thing affects on your taste, even what you eat. It's all registered there. Clean, good blood is rare to find. Call me elegant, call me picky. It's a damn fact."

"And what about mutant blood?" he questions. And it seems like a mere phrase at first, one with no subtle tones, he’s usually curious about your nature so you don’t pay much attention as he spoke—. “You’re picky about mutants too?”

“No, i’ve never had a mutant before.” The truth is, you hate feeding from people, the act being something so intimate, so damn personal, you refrain yourself. Killing humans, picking a next victim to fed on, is considered now a treat you don't appreciate from your kind, making you steal from hospitals and any kind of blood bank before Charles offered you help. You haven't fed from a mutant, cause you avoided everyone equally, but you don't want to be rude about it. “You all smell different, but i’d be lying. Maybe yes, i’d be picky about it too, feeding is something intimate.”

It's an undeniable admission, and now that he's trying to be in your position, he would also be picky about someone's blood. Logan remains stoic cause he’s suddenly filled by the thought of something else, a glimpse of his own weird creativity he forces himself to push aside, to really suppress now that it's not the time or the moment.

“How do I smell?” It's too late to stop the words from coming out of his mouth when he asks her. And at first, is out of pure curiosity. He has never encountered a vampire in his life until you, let alone had someone talking about the subtle tastes of the blood being undead, so he doesn't want to let the opportunity slip — Of course he wants to know if an over two hundred mutant like himself would be as remotely good as a fresh, clean bag from the hospital.

"You stink like wet dog," he surely deserves it after all the times he’s been calling you a leech — "Like those cigars you tend to smoke, alcohol, and musk. It's similar as wood. That smell you got when you're in a forest and it's not raining but straight pouring."

"Is this a way of telling me i'd taste bad, peach?"

You make a mental note to let him know after you like peach way more than leech.

"If i'd found a human smelling like that, you won't be hearing from me anytime soon" you're just messing with him. A playful banter you enjoy more than ever, the distraction you needed to think in something else rather than the blood bags you craved so deeply — "Hell, i've would just walked the other way."

"So i'm taking you won't be feeding from me anytime soon."

It all takes a dark turn there. You're very aware of the tension the last month now that you talk to him in daily basis, but it’s just mere tension, nothing that ever goes beyond the limit. Logan has never said something to flirt with you despite the million chances he got, and he always remained like a friend, one that you enjoy spending time with now. Cannot be blamed when you're taken aback.

“Cat got your tongue, kiddo?” Man. You're about to whine about the name before you remember he is indeed, older than you are. Vampire or mutant.

"You want me to feed from you?"

He seems so willing when you ask. Even when you teased about his smell calling him a wet dog. He just seems so eager to let you just do it, try a mutant for the first time.

"Yeah," he dismisses it like it's not something so deep — "I doubt Charles is going to let you take a bite since you could clearly kill him, and I'm not sure the others would be pleased with the idea of you sinking your teeth in them, so yes. Me, leech."

Logan Howlett doesn't really smell bad. And you don't know why cause he has all the ingredients to fucking stink, yet, you'd call him interesting. That's what you thought when you find his pulse point again, the vein in his neck you looked earlier in the morning, thinking just as the same you were thinking now.

Of course you would feed from him. Is it a good thing to do? No, in any other circumstances you'd decline. He's your friend.

Now? You’re having a hard time.

"So I'm guessing that you're pleased with the idea, then," Real talk?, you just want to hear him say it. He doesn't talk much usually, but now that he's very vocal about what's on his mind, you have to take advantage of it—. "I'm not sure either. But I do think Storm may be interested too."

He seems content with the response, taking a long sip from his beer before adding — "Please, go and ask her so you're less annoying."

You're almost completely sure he doesn't find you annoying. You also don't care about Storm. And maybe he knows you're not going anywhere, that you're not moving.

"You really want me to bite you?"

"I dunno now, princess" he looks at you pleased now cause he got you where he wanted to, cause he managed to awake all the interest now that you're looking at him "Are you going to pull a Dracula on me?"

"No, i'm not going to suck you dry if that's what you're asking."

Logan chuckles. He's a damn masochist. It's been like that as long as he can remember. It may have to be with his healing powers cause he likes it more than usual, but the idea gets to his head soon enough, all falling so damn fast: Your breathing would be against his neck and he'd take the bite like a damn champ.

"Yeah I can handle you," he says, aroused. "You're not gonna hurt me if you take some blood. I'll be fine and you won't be a pain in the ass."

He acts so gruff about it but you hear the sound of his heartbeat already high enough to wake the entire mansion, his labored breathing since he suggested the idea himself. He digs it, strange enough. Thrives on the idea.

He's a grown man already, and he can take a little leech like yourself.

It's clear you're hungry, cause it doesn't take much for you to accept, nodding like you're defeated, like you just lost the war entirely, cause there's no many options here to take and even if it were, you are now interested in have him more than any other blood bag. In fact. To hell with the hospital.

"Okay."

It's a simple answer, and it sure works with him as you get close to him, the bench you always used to sit now seeming so small as you look around confirming you guys really are alone—. "You won't tell anyone?"

It's something stupid to ask, cause after all that time he has never said anything, keeping your secrets as if they were his own, saving you from weird questions people get sometimes as they didn't know much about you. He's clearly not going to say nothing at all.

"Are you going to stop whining for a second and just eat darlin'? Cause I might change my mind here."

He's feeling overload soon after.

You don’t need a formal invitation to lean closer to his neck.

There's no way to describe it also cause he has never seen something like that, never felt a similar sensation more than when he's fucking, the cold touch of your fingers in his chest, taunting the vein in his neck without a previous warning before leaning in even closer than before—. "Stay still" you demand, face close against his bare skin, only one goal in mind. "Don't move for a minute. Just-"

You cannot finish the sentence, and Logan can experience the sporadic pain of the bite first hand when your teeth finally sink in his neck, piercing the flesh so easily as you let the blood fill your mouth. He grunts at the sharp pain, his face contracting momentarily before it's replaced by a nice wave of pleasure, one that hits him right in the guts as he grabs you by the nape of your neck, pushing you against him, almost demanding you to be closer, to keep on taking what you want, what you've been craving for two weeks.

When did he turned into this perverted sick? Getting off by something so primal as the fact you're feasting on him.

The feeling of your lips and the clear suck you gave when feeding are sending him into a spiral, and to be honest, he didn't expect to be so devastated by you, by the way your fingers stay against his chest to prevent him from moving, pinning the mutant between the wood bench and yourself so he won’t move, won’t do anything unless you want him to,pressing on the wound to draw more blood out.

"You heal so damn fast," you complain, looking at the traces of your bite with an unpleased face as they disappeared on his skin as fast as you created them.

"Then bite me again. I don't care."

You chuckle before leaning once again, and you can feel how the air grows hotter than how it was usually, the shift on his breathing as you bite him again, pressing on the wounds once again just to suck.

And you’re hungry, it’s the whole deal. His taste differs from what you believe at first, a huge change from what humans taste like, from what you’re used to deal with in hospitals. There’s a subtle taste of alcohol yes, but it mixes good with the sweet taste of honey, the weird taste you cannot put into words. It must be a mutant thing for sure cause it’s thicker than usual, a mix of flavors that explode in your tongue.

The headache you suffered from the whole week seems to dissapear as you drink in, feeding the monster you responded to in your stomach, demanding you to make him bleed more, to satisfy yourself until you can’t have any more.

Logan, on the other hand, is really fighting against his very own war.

You’re already close enough, but he just wants you damn closer, as much as he possibly can. It’s clear that well, it hurts slightly, but he has endured much worse, means nothing when it’s the pleasure that comes with it who strikes on his body, the light sucking, the idea you’re full of his blood, that you are not on trouble as you were before thanks to him. All because of him.

He's not used to acts on his impulses, but he does it anyway.

"C'mere" he says in a strangled voice, Logan's having no trouble moving you around, grabbing you by the hips to make you straddle him, keeping you glued to his neck as he doesn't want to disturb you—. "You really are a pretty leech, huh?”

You hum against his skin, pleased at the contact, and when he realizes you’re not complaining about his actions, he let his fingers grip your tights, keeping you against him.

You can hear him making this sound, quite like a moan but not exactly when you’re licking the holes you left in his skin, he does heal fast and don’t need any of your help when you’re done, but you coat his skin with your saliva anyway just to speed up the process, cause you want to do it, looking down to him after to check if he’s pale or nearly dead. You never really know.

And Logan himself is just fine cause his fingers gather the blood under your lip when he takes the sight of you sitting in his lap as the pearly white rays of moonlight makes your skin shine, and he pushes them inside your mouth so you don't waste any drop of what it can be considered food.

"So what's the final verdict?" he asks as his hands are now grabbing your tights, there's something so intimate about the moment, so personal, hot as he presses his fingers against the flesh of your muscles, he understand what you said before—. "Do I taste like utter shit?"

"Well, i’d need another taste to have my final decision" he laughs, and he don't really laugh often so the unexpected sound sends a shiver down your spine now that you’ve heard the sound quite a while now—. "Not much, just a little."

“Have you fill then, peach” He encourages you. “I want you full so you don’t whine the rest of the week.”

You don’t have any heartbeat, but if you did, it would be ragging in your ears at his words. At the warmth he’s spreading like a disease on her body that, despite being dead and cold, you can feel more than ever.

“I like peach,” you admit, this time pressing a soft kiss before directly hurt him—. “Leech is annoying.”

He’s going to say something, tease you about it maybe but he’s interrupted by the nice feeling of what he considers are your fangs tearing his skin apart, familiarity hitting him all sudden as he moans, a rough sound that comes from the deep of his throat, hands coming down to squeeze your ass, making you gasp against his neck when you experience the aching need physically forming in his pants.

“Still,” you say, concentrated on not allowing the wounds to close. But at the lack of complaints on what he's doing, Logan’s hands kept wandering around, making you move against his now clearly stiffed cock—. “Fuck’s sake I said still.”

“Stop being a damn brat. You can eat while I move you,” he grunts annoyed, shoving you against him, the friction of his jeans against the thin fabric of your shorts is enough to keep you quiet: Feeding from a stranger and feeding from a person you’re attracted to are two different things, especially in the position you find yourself in. “You don’t have to do anything. Quit whining about it.”

In response, your fingers press against the wound, not caring if it hurts or if it bothers him, but just enough to get him to bleed more and prevent the cut from closing, lapping at the blood that gathered over his collarbone, staining his white tank before you could even avoid it.

Your fingers grab the fabric just to pull it slightly down so it won't bother you, and the deep sound his chest make when he mocks about your desperation is stuck on your brain for the next couple of minutes, indulging in his taste, shutting up the rest of the world.

A moan comes out of your lips, muffling it against his skin. You're too zoomed out to hear it, but he's on a hell of a ride too, moaning as he demands more. It's been a while since the last time you did something like that, combine the pleasure of something as primal as eating with a mundane activity like sex, so you kind of forgot how good it felt, blaming yourself from depriving from something so needed.

"Do you always get this turned on when someone bites you?"

"No" Logan answers as you finish. He's rock hard beneath you, and he lets you know it when he's controlling the movement of your hips, working you against him at a slow pace—. "See, the woman i'm trying to seduce don't usually bite me, nor make me their main dinner plate."

You whine at the friction.

He looks down to the cause of all his damn problems just to notice his pants being damped with nothing but a physical form of need, soothing the uncomfortable fabric of his blue jeans — "So wet for me already, you’re making a damn mess, do you always get this turned on when feeding?"

Cheeky bastard.

He's using your own words against you, and you cannot be less bothered as you laugh softly, licking your lips only cause you know there's dried blood in them, drowned in his smell, the honey taste that lingered in your mouth.

“No, I don’t.”

At the sight, Logan's hand grabs your jaw in a rough movement, making you look at him before making you kiss him, deepening the contact as fast as you give him the chance. His tongue is soon invading your bucal cavity as he takes control of it, slow, intense and needy, as if he was holding on so much time before giving in to his own desires.

It is something like that.

You don't need to breathe in daily basis, but there's a burning sensation in your chest of wanting, of infinite lust you've been also experiencing by yourself.

The old mutant can taste his own blood in your mouth, a metallic taste as he keeps on kissing you until your lips are pink and puffed. He has thought so much about it that now that he has the opportunity, he devours as if he's a starved man having his first meal in what seems are ages.

"You didn't tell me if I tasted bad."

You think about it for a second.

"I'm afraid you're a rare breed cause it doesn't make any sense" You don't need any help now moving, cause you're rolling your hips on top of him at your own pace, allowing him to use his hands for something else—. “You have all the ingredients to taste like shit, but it's nothing but the contrary, even better than the fucking blood bags.”

“Sounds like your going to make me your meal plan, darlin. I’m here offering you a hand and you just take everything,” — “Such a greedy little vampire.”

He doesn't seem to care though, same as before he's nothing but willing to let you take everything as much as he tries to bark about it. He's more worried about his hands now that they're sliding down your oversized shirt, tracing patterns over your stomach, his touch so hot against your usually cold temperature.

"Logan," you whine,— "Someone can see us out here."

"Now you care about that?" his hazel eyes are a shade darker when he speaks. "After you're nice and full of my blood?"

His hands are big enough to take your whole cunt, allowing his digits to roam over the fabric of your underwear, almost thanking you for using those loosened pajama shorts he has seen before that very night as he just takes the fabric and pull it to the side.

"Nobody is going to see us. It's late and everyone's sleeping, leech" he teases you, and you cannot bring yourself to care about the nickname at the feeling of his hand taunting you from over the fabric—. "If you can bite me here outside, you might as well take my cock here too."

You cannot battle against that. You're deep in whatever spell he puts you into, giving in to the attraction and the tension that now needs to be taken care of. Logan's fingers touch you in nothing but experience, cause he knows how to please after so much time alive, how much pressure he needs to apply to leave you plain dumb, pliable for him.

"D'you think I need to stretch you out before fucking you?" he asks against your neck after leaving a reasonable-sized hickey in the zone, he likes the idea of people finding out about what you've been doing with him the next morning. "Or you're a big girl and can take me all by yourself?"

He'd like to take your time with you. Thoroughly enjoy you as much as he wants to, let everyone know you're his now, that you're shuddering thanks to him only, but he's too needy for that, too deprived of you to take his time.

"I want you to use that pretty mouth of yours and talk to me," he demands, coming up to look at your face while torturing you, his index and middle finger rubbing your clit from over the underwear—. "I'm not properly touching you yet and you're losing it already, peach. C'mon, you can talk to me still."

"I can take you," you say in a strangled voice. "Please Logan, please."

It's the plea of your tone that gets him, the soft begging of an ache he can only soothe, your face while you ask for more, not aware of anything else but him.

"Please what?"

"Please just fuck me already," you ask in frustration—. "I just need you to fill me up for a damn while."

You are starting to love the sound of his laugh. The deep sound he makes when he’s really enjoying something, his voice in damn general.

"Be a good little vampire" He says in a gentle tone. Logan’s trying to be kind even when his touch is so rough. "Unbuckle my pants and take my cock out. My hands are busy now, and you can do it yourself."

He is busy indeed. Toying with your underwear being the only thing that’s keeping him from the direct contact, pushing the fabric against your hole as it works as a barrier, preventing his digits to fuck you as he’d like to. He’s busy keeping you in place, preventing you from downright melt as your hands came up to unbuckle his belt first, the sound of the metal as it moves filling the air for a couple of seconds before you put all your attention in the button of his jeans, the zipper coming down with the force you’re using.

“Yeah baby,” he praises—. “You’re doing so good, keep going.”

When you pull the fabric of his briefs down, he’s already leaking for you, pink head, slightly curved to the side, moaning, erratically how much he needs your hands on him, how you're wet and ready for his cock. You close your fist around him, stroking slowly as your hips lift up enough to position yourself on top of him.

He’s big. Damn fucking right he is, you’d expected it from before cause sometimes you swear you can see his full length in his jeans, but taking him in your hand is a struggle but itself.

“Are you going to take me yourself or do you need my help? I know you can.”

Despite his words, he does help. Grabbing the black fabric of your underwear to finally make it to the side, the tip of his dick pushing against your clit before he's the one to place it in your leaky hole, forcing himself slowly, giving you time to take him in, inch by inch.

“Good girl," he says, head rolling backwards for a brief moment as he experiences the warm sensation of your walls surrounding him, clenching against his cock as he keeps one hand on your hip, helping you as you lower yourself over him. "Let me look at you.”

His fingers grab your jaw, squeezing you as he makes you look back at him, pushing you once again as you holded a loud moan. He's stretching you at his need.

"One more time," he begs. "One more time and you got it, peach. You're almost there."

Jesus fuck. You can feel yourself getting dizzy. You've drank a lot of blood and you're now overwhelmed by this intense pleasure that formed in your lower stomach, gathering there and waiting for the perfect moment to explode—. "Fuck I-"

Logan's pampering you with kisses as a mere distraction, his lips travelling through your neck to your collarbone before you're finally seated on top of him, a muffled moan you need to shut filling the calm of the night.

"Fuck you're tight," he exhales, and he's lost in the sensation, the way your velvety walls welcome him inside. He stays still for a moment, giving you time to adjust, to make you the one who starts moving on top of him.

You can see his veins popping up. All over his chest and coming down to his shoulders and his arms, and god gracious — He smells so fucking good you’re tempted to ask if you can have a bite again.

The moment feels longer than usual, the seconds pass slowly as you stay there. Logan’s hands are just touching your skin from under your oversized t-shirt, taking in the low moans you gave him, the almost perceptible whispers as you get used to him, to his size.

He likes the intimacy of it, the bliss. Man you look so pretty in his lap when the light of the moon is stripping you all to his eyes, even if you’re fully dressed an he’s seated in a damn bench, he cannot enjoy it more, pulling you in for a needy kiss, one that is rougher than the first one and leads you to move inevitably.

His cock pushes past that nice spot inside, and the friction is enough to make you move again, rocking your hips at a slow pace for a few seconds. The sound of your moans is silenced by his demanding kisses, and now that he knows you can handle him, his grip on your hips turn more firm now, squeezing the skin there so he can control your speed, the rythm of your movements now faster than before.

“Shh, don’t whine” what he lacks of vocal usually, he pours it all in just fucking, talking you through it when he feels you’re being too loud—. “Do you want to wake the others? We can’t have them seeing you like this, all fed up and cock-drunk.”

“Let me bite you again,” you ask soon enough. And it takes a lot to do it, cause you’re doing it out of pure greed, cause you can’t have enough.

“Take whatever you want, leech, just don’t make me faint” he jokes, his panted breathing betraying him as he moans, incredibly interested in the idea—. “Want to be conscious when you cum all over my dick.”

Logan’s sure your eyes glisten in a red color as you lean over his neck. And this time is less affectionate, much less gentle as you finally bite him again, teeth piercing the flesh so easily his hips jolts against you in response of the sharp pain your fangs create, the warm sensation of his blood in contrast of your cold touch, tongue-licking all you get from him.

And fuck it feels good.

He shrudders beneath you, shaking his head just slightly at reflex of pain before continue working his way with you, placing his hand between your tights as he lets his fingers rub on your sensitive clit, just enough to make you bite on his neck harder, the lewd sounds of your cunt taking him between holded moans as you suck on his neck.

“That’s it taking me so good,” He praises — “You like that, princess? Like how you’re full of me?”

You hum against his skin. The blood coates your chin as it goes down through his chest, staining his white tank for a couple of seconds before the holes your teeth made finally closes on their own.

It’s pure ecstasy. He can feel it when you clenching around his cock, cheeks red from his blood going now through your system, his vitality, his energy.

You can feel him fucking everywhere. So when you kiss him it’s all teeth, bite and his blood.

The pleasure’s taking control of you now, and Logan’s dizzy from the blood loss, his body covered now in sweat as his words slur together, not threading any coherent thought.

“That’s it,” he says, making you bounce of his cock. “Gonna’ have you in my room then, all spread out f’me.”

His hand wrap around your neck tightly, keeping the direct contact as he chokes you. Shit. You don’t need to say a word. Logan already got you.

“James-” he’s too deep to question why you’re using that name with him. How you facade is crushing down now as you let go.

When your body trembles on top of him he’s already cumming too, the squeeze on his cock sufficent to fuck him up personally, his bruising grip on your hips shoving you as deep as he possibly can as his release hits him like a brick falling from the damn sky.

He lets you work for it, ride each second of your high, milk him dry as a white circle of his own cum mixed with your juices coated the base of his cock, his underwear now slick with your orgasm.

He’s struggling to breathe, to properly say something as you’re finally coming down from your peak, looking at him through half lidded eyes.

“Did you called me James?” he questions, and you’re a damn bad liar, cause he knows imediately you’re hidding something cause of the look on your face—. “Do we know each other? From before.”

You don’t know how to respond at first, at least, cause you cannot lie in a position like that now.

“Well uh. It’s quite a long story here.”

Before you can continue he gets up, making you wrap your legs around his hips before stsrting to walk to the mansion.

“Logan-” you say in a strangled moan yourself, still sensitive as he’s balls-deep inside you.

“It will be less than two minutes, leech” he responds gruffily,— “Need to get you into my room so I can enjoy you the rest of the night, and you can tell me all of it.”

He don’t care if he’s bloody or a damn mess as he squeezes your ass climbing up the stairs, much less if anyone see the two of you in that state.

“I want to hear all the details, Cause I have a weird feeling that this has happened before.”

You cannot find a reasonable excuse to say no as the man’s already reaching the second floor.

Logan’s fucked after that night. When he learned about all that you were before, weirdly connected to you through the decades.

It must be the bite isn’t? Shit. He’s more in sync than ever now that you’ve been feeding from him a lot the last few weeks.

Ah. You fucking leech.

my masterlist

[the-goo-goo-muck]

NOW PLAYING

DIRTY LAUNDRY PT. 2

JJK characters & what turns them on

Starring: Hiromi Higuruma, Shiu Kong, Shoko Ieiri, Suguru Geto, Takuma Ino

Warnings! exhibitionism, oral (m receiving), size kink, dubcon (alcohol use), voyeurism, fingering, assplay, cucking, overstimulation, oral (f receiving)

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Hiromi Higuruma: Public sex <3

He’d be lying if he said he hates this. He wants to say that he’s uncomfortable, that he doesn’t want this, but when you’re tugging his tie loose & pulling him behind the door of his office, biting his lower lip. . .well, Higuruma hates lying. So he’s completely honest when you ask, “Don’t you want me to make you feel good?” bending down on pink knees, pulling at his buckle, taking his cock into your mouth, wide eyes staring up at him. & you're going to be the death of him one of these days, really. When his coworker knocks on the door & calls out his name, you take him down to the back of your throat & squeeze his balls. Hand keeping your head down on his cock as he cums down your throat, whimpering at the persistent knocking.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Shiu Kong: Car sex <3

Coming as a shock to absolutely no one, Shiu can’t imagine you being prettier than exactly how you are right now: head propped up on against the window, back caved in uncomfortably, tits shaking with every thrust, one leg thrown over his shoulder, the other laying on the jockey box, hair flying wildly around, sticking to your forehead. If he could take you like this every time, he would; grabby hands on your hips with long fingers brushing your waist, pulling back to his sticky pelvis over & over again, listening to you whine about how “big” it is, how it’s “too much,” how you’re “g’na cum, Shiu.” Sticking his fingers down your throat ‘cause you’re fogging up the glass & it’s just so damn hot in here.

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Shoko Ieiri: Intoxication & voyeurism <3

It’s no secret that Shoko likes to drink, but she’s come to find that she likes it even more when you drink. She can hold her alcohol, she can keep her hands to herself, she can control her hips when you’re sitting on her lap, but. . .someone lacks these abilities. When she’s got three fingers lazily pumping in & out of your tiny hole, & her thumb is spreading her spit around your tight asshole, contracting at her positively mean touch, & it’s all hazy & you don’t know where you are anymore, or who’s watching, just that Shoko wants you to put on a show for whoever it is. She would like to see your pretty face, but she likes you even more with your head smashed into the pillows, ass up meeting her thrusts, drool spilling from your agape lips, head spinning with how good it feels—you can’t even form the words, what would even say? Shoko always makes her pretty girl feel so good, you don’t need to say anything—whining as she pinches your clit, fingers spreading your little hole apart as it twitches from the aftershocks of your orgasm, telling her friends that “she always takes it so well for me, lets me fuck her however I want, such a good girl.”

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Suguru Geto: Cuck <3

Suguru knew he wasn’t supposed to find his best friend’s girlfriend hot, he definitely wasn’t supposed to come up to you at the bar after Satoru had left momentarily, & he most certainly wasn’t supposed to say yes when you asked him to join you that night. But, despite going against his better judgment so constantly, he cannot seem to regret it as he’s fucking your almost limp form, pushing down on the small of your back where he has your hands clasped, using them as leverage to spear you on his cock so you can cum on it for the nth time tonight, with no end in sight. He knows that he shouldn’t find the whole scene so mind-numbingly hot, but he can’t help it, not when you’re mewling for “m-more, deeper, Suguru, please, need it,” & Satoru’s sitting next to the bed, thrusting his cock into the air, hoping for any reprieve, any brief stimulation, begging & whining for you, but also for Suguru.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>

Takuma Ino: Hair pulling <3

Ino never thought something as simple as you pulling his hair could undo him so completely. He was eating you out, starving as usual, & your fingers threaded through his dark locks & he’s moaning into your cunt, stopping his tongue & leaning into your hand, that familiar heat creeping up his neck. “You like that, don’t you?” you whisper, tugging a bit harder this time. His cheeks are burning for more than one reason, & he’s shoving his face into your slick pussy again, trying to get you to pull at his roots again & again. His favorite is when you grip the strands of his hair between your fingers when you’re cumming.

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PART TWO for whoever wants it! | PART ONE: now playing <3

[midnightwriter21]

aot hcs: them as boyfriends

characters: levi, eren, connie

warnings: i have the mouth of a sailor im srry

an: first aot fic lesss gooooooo!!! lmk if y’all want another part with diff characters!!

LEVI ACKERMAN

*sigh* he's so girlfriend

starting off strong...

this man is NAWT kissing you in public lololol

he's got a reputation to uphold

however!!

he will show pda in much smaller, more subtle ways

walking down the street, he's offering his arm for you to loop yours through

or guiding you with a hand on your lower back

if y'all are walking through a crowd he is CRUSHING your hand with his grip

he's not trying to hurt your hand haha

he's just strong, can't see over peoples heads, and doesn't wanna lose you in the sea of people

he'll keep that unbothered bored look on his face but just know that on the inside that this man is stressed lmfao

alsoooo

service bf to the maxxxxx

dude is not good with expressing his feelings

especially romantic ones lol

so he expresses his love by doing little tasks for you

oh you forgot to get food for your cat?

levi already has it

can't get that jar of pickles open?

he's snatching it out your hands and popping it open

and you already know your house is about to be the CLEANEST its ever been on god

next

i feel so bad

for the person to shit talk you in front of levi

on my mama let somebody say something slick lmfaooo

he is not gonna let it slide

forget getting physically violent

this mans mouth is absolutely DIABOLICAL

in more ways than one if ur picking up what im putting down

*ahem* will make said person cry with his words alone

period.

EREN YEAGER

meowwwwwwwww

bark bark bark

*insert other animal noise here*

huh? somebody say something?

no? okay

AHEM

this man right here? cocky asf

dude is fine

and knows it too

and he knows y’all make a FINEEEE ASS COUPLE

shows you and your relationship off all the time

not a day goes by where he’s not posting you on social media

and he coordinates yalls outfits too omg

he makes sure his clothes match yours

not exactly matching ofc but the colors

if ur wearing a red dress to an event

he’s wearing a red tie

it’s a casual day and you’re wearing a blue shirt or dress?

his shoes/accessories/etc. are gonna be the same color

it’s an aesthetic that he keeps up with. period.

also he CANNOT keep ur name out his mouth

brings you up in every conversation possible

“i think y/n mentioned wanting to go see that movie too. was it good?”

“nah sorry, my girl said she wants to have a date night soon so i’ll have to pass. we can make plans another day though.”

“i gotta go to the store when i leave here. i wanna get some stuff to surprise my girlfriend, y/n, when i get home.”

and he is handsy asf

bro is touching you at all times swear

it’s impossible to walk past this man without him latching onto you and lathering you in kisses and feeling you up

in public he’s gonna keep it respectful tho

unless he knows he won’t get caught lmfao

introduces you to mikasa and armin

wants all of the important people in his life to get along ofc

i love him sm

CONNIE SPRINGER

let’s get right into it shall we?

as soon as y’all make it official

i mean the MINUTE y’all are boyfriend girlfriend

he’s calling up all his friends to tell them the news

and then he’s making plans for them to meet up so he can introduce you

i feel like he takes you on a lot of fun dates

y’all don’t jus go get dinner and then go home

that’s too lame for connie

he’s taking you to laser tag, haunted houses, trampoline parks, etc.

and let me tell you this rn

come close

connie is NOT teaming up with you for laser tag

he’s making sure he’s on the opposite team so he can’t hunt you down over and over

will not take it easy on you idc

anyways… when y’all do go to dinner

7/10 times sasha is third wheeling yall

maybe jean too lol

idk i jus think that for connie it’s “the more the merrier”

especially since dinner isn’t something that’s gonna get his blood pumping yk?

but at least y’all can all get drunk and be funny together as a group right?

connie is so incredibly dedicated to being a dumbass around you

like as long as it makes you laugh, nothing is off limits

bro is constantly cracking jokes, telling embarrassing stories, doing stupid shit in public

he wants you happy. at. all. times.

this being said

if ur sad connie is doing anything and everything to cheer you up

i’m talking getting you ur fav snacks, renting that movie you always talk about, and pulling you close for a snuggle

yeah so i want to eat him basically

[hanihazeljade]

Tim Drake as a Rogue "Ursula"

Ursula is known as the sea witch who grants wishes to mers who is desperate enough to ask her to grant their wishes. Ursula is often portray as a mean and bitter octopus who hold grudge to her dearest brother.

And who is more fit to become the Ursula of Gotham City than the Mad Bat himself, Tim Drake.

(CW: Cursing, Disney Plot)

Tim doesn't want to come back as a vigilante. He rather be a dropped out high school that found a 9-5 job as he was subbing for Bruce as he recuperate on his travels in time.

He finished his job. He is not Robin anymore and he will never go back at being Robin, so that he could be tossed out once he was no longer needed.

He doesn't even want to be associated with the bats and it's colleagues but he can never ignore the pleads of the people of Gotham. Especially, the one who is "desperates", that people who have nobody that believes in them.

So, therefore, he weave a new persona. The one who everyone avoids until they used up all of their choices. The one that is supposed to be left alone, or else you are risking yourself to the cruel contracts.

He became Ursula of Gotham. With his already pale skin, he can easily stain his skin with a sheen shade of blue and he acquired a white human hair wig that he tied in an elaborate ponytail. And of course, you cannot forgot the blood red lips. And knowing some ancient curses is handy and one of the advantages he had for having archaeologists.

Tim is having fun being Ursula. Seeing the vulnerable souls come to him and he gave them adequate contracts while those who tried to manipulate him, let's just say that they got what is equivalent of turning into a sea foam.

Ursula, the wicked witch— what the others dubbed him, has a permanent residence in the Tricorner Island. Many will tell him that he is being an idiot as it was the island that also residence the Gotham City Police Department, but you know what they said, the most dangerous place is where the safety exactly is .

As months pass by, he was establishing himself as the largest shareholder of Wayne Enterprise and putting the fear of him among the WE board. It was a hard feat as some old fossils tried to question his credibility but he quickly shut those down. He understand them as he was just nothing but a dropout highschool student and was employed through nepotism. But with his knowledge on how to fuck with Lex Luthor payed off as he can very much see the fear on those old cunts every time he bring up their bullshit plans for the Wayne Enterprise.

And also in the works of establishing the wicked witch of Tricorner Island, but even with the GCPD in his tail, he was doing nothing illegal, except for some murders here and there — not like the bats will care, he is a rogue not a vigilante, he was now one of the established not to fucked with together with Black Mask, Maroni and Falcone.

Of course he is not going unnoticed by the big bad bat himself. He was doing his own deals when suddenly his door got blown up by the Batman the Second and Robin with swords. He was in the middle of keeping the poor lady on signing her contract.

"I am sorry, young Aisha. It seems like the big old bat has something to say to me, come back tomorrow." Tim, or rather Ursula, said as his piercing blue eyes gazed to the pair. He can see the Batman shivered a little bit in his glare.

As the young lady, was now out of the premises, he looks at the pair with degrading look like how Ursula looks at everyone else.

"Well, pray tell, big bat and brat, how could this poor thing could help you." he rolled his eyes.

"What is your deal?"

Ursula gasped, "I am just trying to help some poor unfortunate souls. I am doing a great charity, I believe."

"Cut the flowery words, Ursula. We don't believe in every single words you've said."

"Well, have I done anything wrong? I am just helping."

"Helping but most of your clients disappear, like a sea foam."

Ursula chuckled, "Now, you are coining a little bit too much to Disney. I am nothing but a human, not even a meta."

"Then how— Robin!" Batman was supposed to further the interrogation but the Robin beside him suddenly shank Ursula, clearly his patience run out.

Ursula grabbed the nearest thing and coincidentally, it was a broom. But still, a wooden broom has nothing compare to the steel swords of the brat. So Ursula, did as any regular people would do and grabbed the kid's hood and spray him with pepper spray that he grabbed somewhere.

He released the kid after knowing that brat inhale too much as he start to coughed so bad. He sighed heavily, "This is why Gotham has so much desperate souls, the knight that was supposed to be protecting us was accompanied by a violent demon. The previous one was more tolerable than any of you." he said and aimed the pepper spray towards Batman, "Leave."

"We are not done, Ursula." Batman said as he carried the coughing Robin out of his residence.

Ursula smirked, "It seems like Batman doesn't recognise who Ursula is."

[michibap]

Saw a school that had the esports lounge in the campus athletic center. So I thought of coming out of the gym and seeing someone play a game against someone else and just (To me this is schlatt) At some point he turns around and suddenly he's aware he has an audience. A strong and hot one, too.

Maybe he gets nervous. Maybe he starts acting super cool. Maybe you laugh at him either way. Who knows?

Anyway. Saw that and thought of you. Hope you feel better after kiddiesmores ran you over

okay this is actually so fucking funny

hockey gf and esport schlatt’s beef would be crazy

-coming back to campus to find that they renovated one of your favorite weight rooms into some fucking gooncave for the school’s new “esports” league

-u and a few teammates go to check it out one dat after practice (obvi looking for beef)

-poking around at the computers and the fridge they have labeled as “gamer fuel” (it’s all gogo squeezes, mountain dew and boiled eggs??)

-finding the nerd hiding in the corner

schlatt hadn’t even heard you guys walk in, locked in on the match of whatever the fuck he was playing

-only realizes he isn’t alone after he dies and curses to himself, taking off his headset and jumping when he hears somebody clearing their throat a few feet away

-whips his head to see who was there and finds you, arms crossed over your chest and looking down at him, unimpressed

-the poorly muffled giggles from your teammates peaking over your shoulder and your raised brow is enough to tell him that he’s missed a crucial part of the exchange that he didn’t even know was happening

“Wuh?”

-he watches as your tongue pokes into the side of your cheek, biting back a laugh as you glance back at the other two girls

-and cannot help but wonder what the fuck is so funny

-WHAT IS HAPPENING??

-WHY ARE YOU IN HERE????

-NOBODY PREPARED HIM FOR THIS!!

-HE WAS TOLD THAT THE STUDENT ATHLETES WOULD JUST PRETEND THEY DIDNT EXIST????

-fuckign KNEW putting the esports lounge in the athletic center was a mistake.

“I asked where the rest of the team was… or is it league? I don’t really know how this whole esports thing works.”

-he doesn’t know if you’re talking to him

-but DOES know that he doesn’t like your tone.

-he glances around the room one last time to make you were actually talking to him before turning back to you

“‘S just me in here.”

-LOOK AROUND, DUMBASS

-he flounders a bit when one of your brows raise and your jaw sets into a firm line

“They blew half the fuckin’ budget on you?”

“I- What?”

“What the fuck is an esport anyway?” he watches you turn to look back at your teammates, who look like they’d rather be anywhere but there and mutter something like “This is fuckin’ ridiculous.” and frustratedly motioning at where he was still sitting confused in his gaming chair

-he glances at one of your teammates, who was mouthing an apology to him while the other grabbed a fistful of the back of your shirt and attempted to drag you out of the esports lounge

-you, however either didn’t get the hint, or just couldn’t stop once you started, ranting at him about something or other but he wasn’t really listening

-reclining further into his chair with a smug grin and waving at you a you were dragged out of the lounge, smile spreading when he watches your face go red and the vein in your neck pop as you get your last few words in before the door closes with an anticlimactic click

-the esports lounge being put in the university’s athletic center was a choice, for sure

-but if it means pretty buff girls coming in to yell at him is a regular occurrence, maybe the lingering scent of protein farts will be worth it

[wayfayrr]

SELF AWARE ASEXUAL SKY MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED <3 Maybe I’m projecting, my ex boyfriend was asexual and he was the sweetest gold retriever that loved kisses (specifically slow make outs while we were in bed together) and cuddles, he especially loved it when I ran my fingers through his hair, and we broke things off in a good way and we are still like, best friends, so the thought of having such a wholesome relationship like that?? But with S k y??? Hit the jackpot in a boyfriend fr. We can cuddle in bed together, watching movies and playing games <3

Sure, maybe I would panic at the whole ‘oh shit, Link is actually sentient’ but I feel like I would panic more at the tv breaking, cause like, in this economy?? But even more than that, Link has always been a childhood crush of mine- but there’s something about the first time I played Skyward Sword that had me blushing, giggling, and kicking my feet like a schoolgirl <3 so the thought of having *Sky* in my arms?? Being able to cuddle him??? KISS HIM???? I’m demanding him to get out of the game and helping the babygirl through the tv myself so I can hold him and give him kissies <333

~🍀 anon

I think the funniest thing is (as shown by wars) there was a way for him to get out without breaking the screen but he just chose not to sfsdfsvc or didn't think of it in his desperation, nor the fact that he would end up with a LOT of cuts and glass in those cuts after the fact :( - literally pure luck he didn't get an infection maybe he got so lucky since he had you to be his four leaf clover?

but after that? being able to hold you and cuddle you AND YOU WANT IT JUST AS MUCH? He's in literal heaven, soaking it up more than a sponge could ever hope to. With a headcanon I've been bouncing around a little bit too that he's never had to breathe properly or had a heartbeat in the game, there's just even more potential for domestic stuff. Resting his head on your chest, ear to your heart focusing on the rhythmic beat that just lulls him right to sleep, wanting to memorise it or even better when his own heart (hopefully) decides to start beating that it'll be in sync with your own. and teaching him how to breath by letting him rest his head on your chest in a similar way but this time so that he can inhale and exhale at the same rate as he's playing with your hand or your hair, twirling it between his fingers hoping that each individual strand will never be forgotten by his fingertips as you can press kisses to the top of his head - it'd be the most wholesome relationship you could ever hope for [if you ignore the yan part tbh] he's like a golden retriever fr

also I'm not sure about you but I think sky would adore older disney films, the little mermaid standing out the most for me (yes, yes it is because of part of your world more than anything) but I think he'd be happy to watch and play almost anything that you suggest, I mean even his own game isn't offlimits to him. which is how you end up with a second sky in your house sdvdfsvfdsv

[daily-hanamura]

[lipstickontheglass1985]

honestlyyyy i lowkey need to burn down my smartphone

[tethered-heartstrings]

38. What is something about your writing process YOU think is Really Weird? If you are comfortable, please share. If you’re not comfortable, what do you think cats say about us? Weird Questions for Writers

I have been told it is a red flag and that i am very strange for writing in complete silence. no music, background noise, nothing. I struggle focusing otherwise. I have occasionally put on white noise but only to drown out other sounds, it is not my preference. just me, the tippy tap of my fingers on my keyboard, and occasionally a little mrrp or meow from my cat if she is in the room with me. I used to not think it was weird but the more people that tell me it is the more i am inclined to also find it strange lol

maybe that i keep my writing documents (often porn lol) on the same computer/screen as my school work, but my documents are well organized

[crossbackpoke-check]

about to be sooo nosy so. my apologies. but. morgan frost? girlfriend? do share (or don’t! again this is so nosy i’m sorry)

for legal purposes i can neither confirm nor deny anything about morgan and his girlfriend but afaik i think he’s single right now? at one point (within the past four years 😭) he did for sure have a girlfriend and that is the extent of my wag knowledge

[2024skin]

1 month ago today my exes mom died is it too soon to tell him I unfriended him and ignored his message because I kind of think he raped me

[hopecomesbacktolife]

hey, just. friendly reminder that fanfiction is morally neutral.

yes, that includes smutty fics. yes, that includes self-insert fics. yes, that includes the fics you consider Problematic TM and the fics you don’t think are Smart or New. in fact that’s kind of why I’m writing this post.

I know we all love to talk about Themes And Narratives, but—and please listen to me very carefully here—you are not earning Good Place Points for only reading the kinds of fan fiction you feel are Smart or Only Focuses On The Important Things Like Themes.

fan fiction is morally neutral.

what I mean is this: no one is harming you, themselves, or anyone, by writing a fic about two characters having sex. (are you uncomfortable with the fact that I typed the word “sex”? hi, this post is about you. people have sex. and they write and talk about it. it’s seriously fine.)

no one is being harmed by self insert fics, by smutty fics, by anything not exclusively Smart TM about the fandom or analytically adding to it.

(and that’s not to say these two types of fics, that any type of fic, can’t have those elements— some of my favorite fic authors, my mutuals, my tumblr friends, write fic in these genres, and they also explore Themes and Emotions and analyze character traits and histories and write brilliant plots and incredible character arcs and yknow what, it’s amazing! it’s fantastic to examine what makes two characters react a certain way to x situation while also having them fuck nasty about it!) (and yes, I did just type ‘fuck nasty about it’ and I promise, that’s fine, too.)

what I’m saying, though, is that it doesn’t NEED that to, I dunno, somehow validate it into existing. it just Is. it just Exists. it doesn’t need an aspect you Approve Of TM in order to earn the right to be shared, to be written, to be published and commended and interacted with and read. it just. Is.

and I think a lot of especially younger, or newer, tumblr users especially get uncomfortable with that, and they unintentionally veer right (..ha) into self-censoring, puritanical behavior which is exactly what every person trying to ban books and generally kill art, wants. (and we’re not even going to examine in depth here, beyond mentioning it, the fact that policing, censuring, and banning art has historically and still today is being used to silence marginalized voices, so, I ask you to keep that in mind as you think on this, too, please.)

what I’m trying to say is this—if you personally don’t enjoy smut, don’t enjoy self insert fics, don’t enjoy a certain genre, that’s great, you do you! but, you must, must understand that this is not a moral stance. You are not objecting to a problematic practice, exploited workers, consent issues, labor crises… none of that applies, because no one in these stories is a real person. a story written about two Star Trek characters kissing on the bridge of the Enterprise is just that, a story. there is no actor for whose rights to fight, no wages to dispute fairness of, no ethical ramifications of scenes to discuss. these are Fictional People in Fictional Situations.

fan fiction is morally neutral.

and the moment you try to make yourself feel Better TM, More Correct TM, or—one of the ones I encounter the most—Smarter TM, by saying oh, I don’t read that kind of fic, I read the good kind, with thought in it—

you’re not only causing harm, you’re actively employing art censoring behavior. is that something that you want to do? I hope not. I certainly don’t.

next time you see a fic or a genre you don’t Approve Of TM, please remember the easiest way of exhibiting that— simply scrolling by or blocking a tag! If you’re on ao3, their system is incredible for niche content searches, and blocking a tag even here on tumblr will (most of the time) work.

I just., there’s so many better options out there for you than to… act like this. I believe you, we, all of us, can be better than this.

fanfiction. is. morally. neutral.

[pansy-out-of-the-wardrobe]

I am trying to pick up Swedish again after taking four German classes in Uni…. At this rate I am creating some unholy matrimony of Germanic languages. Who next will be added to the soup

[faerociousbeast]

dude. its pride month. and people are dying. go join an organization or something 😭 telling me on anon im not queer for some reason is not "activism". there are other things to concern yourself with. who deemed you people the gate keepers anyway

i am not like you, so i will not doubt your status as lgbtq people who are probably just concerned but ""stealing resources"" and ""infiltration"" like really? seriously? are these our problems right now? there is no "right way" to be queer and even if there were, you certainly arent the ones who can decide that for me.

youre wasting your time. put this effort into more tangible areas. trying to kick out your fellow members when we are all still being fucking murdered is. not exactly the best option? idk. 💀

[dragongirlbunny]

confession time while i will usually play along as a bit if someone else starts it i do not really see myself as a dragongirl so much as a girl with dragonlike tendencies. viridia is my fursona (scalesona?) not actually me.

[formulapisces]

shamelessly vagueing here and this sounds harsh but jesus some people really need to start realising not everything is about them.

not in a stuck up, the world revolves around me, arrogant way. but in a they’re not laughing about you, they’re not gossiping about you, you’re just insecure, reading into every little thing, hurt and need help type of way.